Author's Notes: Am I the only one annoyed by the fact that when you want to pick Michael in the drop-down it says Michael B. and not Michael N.?

I would really appreciate some feedback on this one, to let me know if it's worth continuing to post other chapters I've written. Constructive criticism would be welcomed. Thanks!

Chapter 2

After the unexpected, confrontational phone call from his best friend, Michael was in one pissed off mood. He really hated that Brian dredged up all that crap, especially about things that happened years ago.

He sat in the dark living room for a couple of hours, alone with his thoughts and a bottle of beer that he scrounged up from the fridge.

Hunter skidded into the living room on the way to the kitchen for a late-night snack when he noticed Michael sitting there in the dark, looking upset. He walked over to the older man and sat on the edge of the couch. "Whatcha doing in the dark?" he wondered.

"Just sitting here, thinking."

That much was obvious. When Hunter asked why, Michael retorted that he felt like it.

"Where's Ben?" was the next obvious question.

"Out," Michael said without adding more information.

Raising a brow, Hunter wondered what that was about. Ben had been going out lately at night. Funny because he used to be the one who always wanted to stay in, even if Michael wanted to go out with his friends. How—and more importantly when—had that changed?

"So you weren't fighting with him then?"

Squinting in the dark at his soon-to-be-adopted son, Michael told him he wasn't fighting with anyone.

"I heard your voice all loud and angry."

Frowning, Michael said he was sorry and once again Hunter asked what was going on. "I was on the phone with Brian," he explained.

"You were fighting with Rage? But he's like your BFF."

Chuckling, Michael admitted, "Yeah, you could say we were arguing. And even though he is my best friend, there are times when we get mad at each other and fight, even times when we don't get along or communicate."

This was unsettling to Hunter who felt that Brian Kinney and Michael Novotny went together, sort of like peanut butter and jelly, when one was without the other, it just wasn't the same.

"That sucks, man."

Shrugging, Michael told him, "It is what it is."

Hmm. Hunter observed Michael's demeanor. "What did you two fight about?"

Shaking his head, Michael told him it was complicated. Hunter hated when adults used that as an excuse to not explain something. It was patronizing.

"I'm not a little kid."

Taking in his son's look, Michael said, "I know you're not. I just…I'd rather not get into it right now. He just threw me an unexpected curve ball. That's all."

Hunter nodded and he remained seated on the couch and they sat there like that, in companionable silence for a while, until he decided to try to wriggle the story out of Michael.

"It's because of Jenny Rebecca, isn't it?"

Michael's head whipped around when Hunter mentioned his sister's name. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, didn't Kinney pay for the lawyer that the one lesbian—Lindsay—hired? Didn't he give her the name and tell her stuff that only he knew about? Stuff that damaged your character?"

Swallowing, Michael asked how he knew. "I heard you and Ben talking after the custody hearing. That's it, isn't it?"

Finally acknowledging the truth, Michael nodded. "That's part of it. There are other things; other reasons…You know what's funny?"

Giving Michael an odd look, Hunter asked what could possibly be amusing about this situation.

"He found the lawyer and paid for him and yet he didn't have the balls to show up in court that day. Ma was there, Emmett and Teddy, you were there. But Brian? Conspicuously absent."

"Maybe because he knew that it was wrong. To support Lindsay, I mean. You're his best friend."

"I don't know why he chose to support her over me. Even if he disagreed with my position and felt for hers, he actively supported her. I really don't know how he could do that." He gave a sad shake of his head and Hunter ached to have the words (or the actions) to comfort the man that he'd really grown to admire and even love.

"Me either."

"I mean the two people I should be able to count on—aside from Ben that is—are Ma and Brian. And Ma sided with Mel because of the whole "single mother solidarity" thing or something, I don't know except that if it was her precious Sunshine in a custody battle she'd be supporting him," he added bitterly.

Snorting, Hunter had to agree with that assessment. He didn't really get why the loud-mouthed red-head could be nicer to Justin than to her son. And not for nothing but he didn't see anything special about the blond twink. What Debbie or Brian saw in him was beyond Hunter. He saw Justin's type as a dime-a-dozen. There were hotter guys who cruise the streets. And certainly much nicer ones—like Michael.

"But Brian? I mean, yeah, he and Lindsay are friends—though honestly sometimes I wonder why, I wonder what he gets out of that friendship—but I thought we were best friends. Doesn't twenty-one years of friendship trump anything, anymore? Doesn't the support I've given him count for anything? You weren't here when Gus was born or a baby, Hunter, but the lesbians—at least Mel but to a degree, Lindsay—didn't want Brian around and they were pushing for Brian to give up his paternal rights because it would make things easier on them. Not to mention all the times they milked him for money. And who was there to support him but me? There to remind him that he should be there for Gus, screw what they thought. Brian, more than anyone, knows how much me not having a dad has messed with me and how much I wanted to be a father. To actually be there for my child. I guess it's too hetero or lesbianic for him."

Shrugging, he leaned against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You have rights. Or at least you should, dude. You're Jenny Rebecca's father. And unlike my father and especially my mother, you give a shit about her. You want to be there for her. I don't get why anyone would think that's wrong," Hunter stated plainly.

Giving him a grateful smile, Michael placed a hand atop Hunter's and gave it a little pat. "Thank you," he said softly, appreciating the teen's point-of-view.

Brushing hair off his forehead, the teen gave a small smile to the other man. "No prob. Besides, I uh, I kinda like having a little sister around; for a baby she's pretty cool."

This remark brought a genuine smile to Michael's face. "Yeah, she is. You're already good with her. And she's lucky to have you as her big brother."

Feeling embarrassed by the praise, Hunter shrugged and said, "I don't know about that but she's just easy."

"Easy? Are you kidding, she's an infant and needs a lot of attention and care and a whole lot of fucking patience and you seem to have it with her. It means a lot to me."

"Okay dude, enough with the compliments."

Michael couldn't help but chuckle at the teen's modesty. "All right, all right. Just wait 'til she hits those 'terrible twos.' Of course, if I only get to see her once a month for five supervised hours, I guess you won't have to deal with it."

"Hey, you never know. Didn't the judge say she'd review the case again in a few months?"

"Yeah. Months. Six, actually. That's six months of time that I don't get to spend with your sister, that she doesn't know that I love her…" his choked voice trailed off.

His tone turned serious, Hunter told him, "Michael. Jenny Rebecca knows that you're her dad and she knows that you love her. You told her that in the womb for fuck's sake! She's a smart kid, she'll know."

Shaking his head in amazement, Michael asked, "How did I get so lucky? I have two of the best kids."

Hunter laughed and said that he didn't know. Michael decided to get up and out of the dark, so he headed into the kitchen with Hunter on his heels and he made them a late-night snack. Despite Ben being M.I.A., despite the fight with Brian, and despite the general sadness he felt over the situation with his daughter, Michael truly felt better having talked to the one-time runaway who managed to secure a special spot in his heart.

At least I still have Hunter, he mused. No one's going to take him away from me.

Cynthia and Ted were in a meeting with Brian the next day at Kinnetik and they observed their boss's demeanor which said one thing: stand back, I'm pissed off. Okay, so that was two things. Both employees were used to Brian's moods as they had known him for a long time and Cynthia certainly had worked with him long enough, so in general they tried to ignore it, but Cynthia was concerned. He was acting even pissier than he normally would. So she decided to confront him about it when the meeting had adjourned and their client departed the conference room.

"Theodore, you got all that?"

Giving Brian an odd look, Ted was sarcastic when he replied. "Yes. I took notes and everything."

Even though he hadn't worked for Brian that long (about a year now), he knew it was okay to be sarcastic with "the boss." At least he hoped.

Rolling his eyes, Brian pushed his chair from out of the desk and said, "Gold star for the day, Schmidt."

"Brian, what's going on with you?" Cynthia blurted out to the surprise of her boss and of her co-workers who thought she had some balls to confront him.

"What are you on about, Cyn?"

"You were completely distracted in that meeting," she pointed out.

Not caring, he asked what did that matter, he did his job. "Not like the customer had any complaints."

"Of course not. You are Brian Kinney."

"Exactly. So who cares?"

Looking him in the eye, Cynthia stated plainly, "You do. So what is it? Anything Ted or I can do for you?"

Snorting, Brian chuckled before responding. "The last person I need help from is the ex-crystal junkie."

This resulted in a glare from Ted.

"You can always come to me though."

"I know, Cyn. Thanks. But I'm fine. Really," he insisted.

A fear that had been niggling in the back of her head presented itself and she couldn't stop herself from inquiring about his health. "You're not…sick, are you?" She was wary of using the "C" word with him.

Sighing, Brian leaned back in his chair and faced her, noting her concern. He did appreciate it. But he didn't need to be mothered, not at work. "I'm fine. Doc gave me a clean bill of health the last time I saw him." His voice was sincere so both Ted and Cynthia believed him.

Thank God, Cynthia whispered to herself. So if it wasn't his health and it wasn't his work…well, she did remember that phone call she received from her boss last night, asking for the home phone number of a certain someone.

"Michael's not called lately. In fact, I can't remember the last time he called."

"Mikey's a busy man these days, what with having a house, a husband, and two kids…"

"One," Ted interrupted and Brian narrowed his eyes at him. "Well, it's not like he gets to see his daughter," he reminded.

Oh fuck me. Brian was not going to be guilted about this again and this time from Theodore of all people!

Shaking her head, Cynthia commented, "It's such a shame. He loves that little girl so much. Remember when he brought her over to the office to introduce her? She was what, a month old, maybe? She was so precious and he was so sweet with her."

Listening to his assistant practically swoon over his best friend and his best friend's baby annoyed Brian. Since when was Cynthia all gushy over babies? She hadn't been particularly over Gus…then again, he never brought Gus around Ryder or Vanguard.

"Michael's a good dad. Or tries to be," Ted said.

"I hope, for Jenny Rebecca's sake, that the three of them are able to resolve things and soon," added Cynthia.

Nodding, Ted looked at Brian who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Getting more than annoyed with his co-worker, Brian glared at Ted before saying, "I don't exactly see you going to Smelly Melly and asking her to ease up on Michael. After all, you and Mel are bosom buddies. She'll listen to you."

"Since when does Melanie Marcus listen to anyone? You can go to Lindsay, and get her to back off."

"She's a mother."

"So is Mel. And Michael's the father. That's all well-established. What's ridiculous is the custody that was decided in court."

"Take it up with the judge."

Rolling his eyes, Ted decided to try another tactic. "You know, for someone who claims to be Michael's best friend, it's a little odd how conspicuously absent you were from that hearing."

Tapping his foot on the sleek floor, Brian said, "I am his best friend. Besides, it's not as if Mikey was lacking in support—he had you and Em, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and he had Benjamin and the kid."

"Not the same thing," Ted pointed out. "Could it be because you were feeling guilty?"

Cynthia's blue eyes widened at Ted's audacity. Brian gave him an "Oh no you didn't" look, which would otherwise be amusing but right now that look could kill.

"What the fuck do I have to be guilty of?"

"Financing Lindsay's lawyer," stated Ted, bracing himself for the fallout of his words.

"What I do with my money for the mother of my son (and oh god he inwardly cringed saying that), is none of your concern, Schmidt."

"Well, that says everything."

"You might want to start looking for a new job. Most bosses don't like attitude like that."

Gulping, Ted realized he'd gone too far. Well, no one could say he didn't do his part in trying to help Michael.

"Gentleman, go to your respective corners, leave work because it's long past closing time, and cool off. And let the games begin again…tomorrow."

Cynthia, ever the voice of reason. Sometimes Brian hated that.

"I want the Dixon files on my desk first thing in the morning," Brian told Cynthia, without giving a look (or word) to Ted who'd already had the decency to leave the room.

"Will do, Boss." Shuffling papers together, Cynthia hesitated before leaving.

"You should call him, you know."

Sighing, Brian stood up and pushed his chair back in before grabbing his briefcase. "Good night, Cynthia."

Realizing there was nothing more for her to say, Cynthia smoothed over her skirt and gave a nod before leaving.

Brian left the conference room for his office where he packed up his stuff for the night, including his laptop. He looked at his answering machine—no blinking lights which meant no messages—and then he flipped open his cell to find no messages there either. Not that he was expecting Michael to call.

Of course Brian could have easily called Michael, but after the way their conversation went and then ended last night, he really wasn't up for anything that was certain to give him a headache. Not to mention that he figured that he was about the last person his best friend was interested in talking to. Knowing there was nothing that he could do about the situation at the moment, Brian stood up, straightened his tie, picked up his laptop and secured it under his arm before heading out. What he needed was some time to cool off, as Cynthia had suggested. The best way to do that was via recreational drugs, booze (preferably Jim Beam) and some hot guys.

"You didn't answer your cell," came a voice from behind.

Cringing at the accusatory tone of his husband, Michael continued the task at hand, preparing the vegetables to go into the salad he was making for dinner along with steak and potatoes.

Ben surveyed the food that Michael was cooking. "Steak? You know that I don't eat…"

Cutting him off, Michael said, "It's for Hunter and me. We didn't think you'd be home for dinner."

Rolling his eyes, Ben pointed out, "Well, if you had bothered to look at your cell, you would have noticed that you had messages waiting for you, from me. Voicemail and text."

"Well, if you had been home this morning, I could have asked you then, but you weren't," retorted Michael.

"I had an early class."

That was his justification? Stopping mid-chop, Michael let out a frustrated growl. "I know your schedule, Professor, and you don't have any classes on Thursdays until ten-thirty."

"I hate it when you call me Professor. Sounds condescending, like something Brian would say."

"Condescending?" snorted Michael who turned his attention back to the cucumber he was chopping. "That's rich, coming from you."

Raising a brow, Ben pushed up his glasses on his nose. "What is that supposed to mean? You know what, on second thought, I don't think I want to know. I didn't intend to come home and argue with you."

"Really? Could've fooled me. And if you're being sincere, then don't use Brian to prove a point."

Biting his tongue to keep an acidic remark held back, Ben said, "You're right. Need any help?"

Shaking his head, Michael told him that he had everything covered. Ben felt awkward just standing there, so he pulled out some plates and went about setting the table.

"Did you even come home last night?" Michael finally asked after a long break of silence.

"What?" Ben choked, looking up and over at his husband.

"It's a simple 'yes' or 'no' question. Did you come home last night?"

Hesitating, Ben answered, "Of course I did." Michael though, had picked up on the hesitation.

"You didn't come to bed," Michael pointed out.

Nodding, Ben said, "It was late. And I didn't want to wake you up. So I slept on the couch."

"I wouldn't have minded. It would have been nice to know that my husband came home and that he wanted to sleep in the same bed with me."

"Michael, I…" Ben's voice faltered.

Holding up a hand to stop him, Michael went on. "I wouldn't have minded being woken up. You know I can usually fall back to sleep pretty easily. Especially if I'm being held."

Ben couldn't deny that. He really did owe Michael an explanation. Problem was, he didn't want to give it—or at least he wasn't ready to.

"Hunter asked about you."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you were out. I don't think he bought it, but I had nothing else to tell him. Especially when I didn't know the details myself."

"Michael…"

Turning around to face his husband, Michael met Ben's troubled eyes. "We need to talk, Ben. Not now, maybe not even tonight, but we need to talk."

"We do," Ben quietly agreed.

Michael didn't say anything further, he just resumed the finishing touches on the salad and then got the steak and potatoes ready and beverages set out before calling Hunter to join them for dinner.

Ben stood off to the side as Hunter strolled into the room, his ear buds hanging on his neck, attached to his iPod. "Yo," he said casually to Michael, not noticing the other figure in the room.

Michael laughed at the teenager's nonchalance. "Yo."

Raising a brow, Hunter laughed at his elder. It always amused him when the parentals tried to act hip. Not that Michael was uncool (he certainly was more than Ben), but it was funny.

"Dinner smells good, Man," he said as he sat down at the table.

A cough filtered through the air and when he looked up, he finally noticed Ben in the room. He gave a nod to him, but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his focus on Michael, to gauge his mood.

Michael carried the salad bowl over to the table and placed it down on a mat before going to get the main course. Ben just stood there, not saying anything and not offering to help. What a lazy bastard, the other two thought. Hunter decided that he could help, so he grabbed the rest of the food and placed it on the table while Michael pulled out a bottle of Ranch dressing (his and Hunter's personal favorite) and set that down before taking their seats.

Michael filled his plate with some salad and Hunter, not standing the tension any longer turned to Ben and said, "Dude, I know you don't eat meat and all—well, except for Michael's man meat," which eased some of the tension and they all chuckled, albeit awkwardly. "But," he continued, "you can eat salad and potatoes so sit down."

Taken aback by Hunter's insistence, Ben did as requested and sat in his chair which was across from Michael. He started to fill a bowl with salad when he stood up, the other two looking directly at him.

"Just getting dressing," he informed them before pulling out a bottle of raspberry vinaigrette from the refrigerator.

Hunter and Michael went back to piling their plates with steak and potatoes as Ben sat down and got his salad.

"Thanks for making dinner, babe," Ben told Michael sweetly, a little too sweetly for Michael's comfort so he responded with merely a nod.

"Thanks, dude," Hunter said between mouthfuls and Michael laughed at the teen who was chomping the food like there was no tomorrow.

"You don't have to eat that fast, Hunter. You can actually chew and then swallow."

"Funny, I prefer spitting to swallowing."

Both Ben and Michael's eyes widened, particularly at how casually Hunter threw out that statement. Hunter laughed at their expression. At least now maybe they could eat without suffocating from the tension.

But then the three of them were startled by the sound of Ben's cell going off, signaling a text message. He turned to the side to view the message before looking back at the men who were just waiting for his move.

Swallowing, Ben stood up and pushed his chair in, not missing the questioning looks on both of their faces.

"I uh, I have to go," he said with no further explanation.

"Dude, we're eating dinner," pointed out Hunter as he looked at the sad expression on Michael's face.

"I, I know. I'm sorry." Ben hadn't missed the pained expression on his husband's face. Sighing, he walked over to him and leaned down, kissing him on the forehead. "Thanks for dinner, baby. I'll see you later."

Michael didn't bother to ask how late he'd be. He didn't even look at Ben, he couldn't.

Ben quietly exited the room, leaving Hunter and Michael in a room that was once again filled with tension.

He picked up his glass of Pepsi and hand shaking, began to down it, knowing that he was going to need something stronger to make it through another night.

~~&~~&~~&~~... TBC...~~&~~&~~