Breakfast was loud and annoying. Apparently this raise is the best thing that's ever happened to this family, Stewie thought disdainfully as he chomped on his Frosted Flakes.
"This raise is the best thing that's ever happened to this family!" Peter cried, breaking out the booze early.
"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Stewie mumbled. Oh lord, if only he could get himself out of this highchair. Brian chuckled next to him, not looking up from the paper. Stewie felt himself smiling as he watched the dog. Despite the four persistently annoying interruptions sitting around him and Brian at the table, Stewie was in a rather good mood. He hoped Brian had nothing going on today, or god forbid a date. Suddenly he just wanted to do something with him. Perhaps a little cross-country trip, just for kicks?
"Brian! You missed the best celebration ever last night!" Chris squealed from across the table. Brian hummed, obviously not paying the teenager any mind. "There was a clown, and a cowboy, and then the police came and there were gunshots everywhere…can we go again, Mom!?"
Stewie and Brian exchanged glances. Sounded like another typical day for the Griffin family. If anything, their quiet evening together was much more out of the ordinary.
"Only if your father manages to get another big, fat raise," Lois giggled, kissing her husband and making the kids stick their tongues out in disgust.
"Dad, what did you even do differently to get a raise?" Meg asked with a skeptical look.
"Oh, like I even had to do anything different? I'm naturally gifted. Don't be stupid, Meg," Peter chastised.
"Yeah, Meg, don't be stupid!" Chris said.
"Yeah, Meg!" Stewie joined in.
"Who wants more bacon?" Lois called out with a smile. From then on, the room only got that much louder. Getting a crap-load more money than they needed was always very exciting for the Griffins.
The noise of the party carried up the stairs and into Stewie's room; the child furiously covered his ears and sang to try and drown it out. His improvised tune about wanting to live alone for the rest of his life was too short, though, and the noise immediately infiltrated his brain again. Everyone else was downstairs attending the party, which Peter had thrown together to…yes, celebrate the raise. All the neighbors were crowded in the living room, and Stewie could've sworn he hadn't heard the words "congratulations" or "raise" even once. These people just wanted an excuse to drink before 2 p.m. on a Saturday.
The baby had tried to join in the party as well, only because Brian seemed to be having a good time, but it had gotten to be too much. He was more partial to sophisticated parties, with suits and gowns and glittering wine under the moonlight; not a bunch of New England drunks playing charades in a cramped living room.
Stewie's mind drifted to more important thoughts; like, what was he going to do tonight? He'd had enough of this house for one day—half a day with his family and already he was sick of seeing them. And, no, spending the evening sitting in his room trying to put blocks into alphabetical order was not going to fly.
The door swung open all of a sudden, and Brian stomped in looking like he wanted to throw something. Stewie handed him a wooden alphabet block and the dog hurled it into the far wall so fiercely it left a crack in the paneling.
"Soooo? Havin' a fun time down there?" Stewie grinned.
"He is so FUCKING…! Ugh!" Brian flopped face-first onto the carpet and gritted his teeth. A few seconds later he slammed the floor with his fist.
"Who now?"
"That disgusting rapist of a next-door neighbor," Brian growled into the carpet. "He has the nerve to talk down to me when he's the one who's fucking…disillusioned by reality."
"There, there, B-ry. I'm sure you'll work through this breakup and find someone that's even better." Stewie patted the top of the dog's head. Brian just turned away from the infant and continued steaming.
"I can see why you're so pissed at everyone all the time," he grumbled, so quietly Stewie almost couldn't hear him. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm the only one who has any common sense."
"That's how I feel at school." Stewie smiled, firmly placing down M before N. He had always been confused by those two, but this time he thought he had it right. "You wanna go somewhere tonight?" he asked suddenly, not allowing himself time to build up the courage to ask such a bold question.
Brian lifted his head a little, looking defeated. "Sure," he mumbled. "Where?"
Stewie twiddled his fingers. "Well, I was hoping you could think of a place. I mean, it is Saturday, and there must be a lot of clubs open on Saturdays…"
"You and your clubs," the dog scoffed. He still had a hard time accepting Stewie's more provocative double-life, complete with cross-dressing, delusional suitors, and flashy gay bars. Frankly, it made his stomach twist with anxiety, but he never said anything. He sighed, sitting up onto his knees. "Fine, I'll see what's open tonight."
"Aww, you're just the most generous doggie ever, aren't you!" Stewie cried, clapping his hands in excitement. He could've melted with happiness; his evening would totally not suck now!
"Yeah, yeah, you owe me," Brian grunted, standing up. Stewie's heart leapt when he realized that he had the perfect return gift—currently hidden under his bed in the form of a da Vinci-esque masterpiece (appropriately, as he did have some da Vinci blood in him); once they came home, Stewie could hand it to Brian and nonchalantly watch as the dog gave in to its sophisticated artfulness.
Then again, if the picture itself was a return gift, that meant Brian wouldn't feel obligated to pay Stewie back for it. And he would have to be pretty dense to not know what Stewie wanted in return. Conflicted, the baby stared down at his alphabet blocks, which stopped at O. He couldn't even focus enough to figure out what came after it.
Maybe he could just repay the canine with some money or something, and give the picture to him on a completely separate occasion. Because that was the classy thing to do.
He sat up suddenly, eyes wide with excitement. "I've got the perfect outfit for clubbing," he gasped, and ran over to his dresser.
"You keep your clubbing outfits in your dresser?" Brian asked, wrinkling his nose. "What if Lois sees them?"
Stewie leaned into a drawer, pulled out a small black box with a knob on it, and looked at Brian slyly. "She'll never see these babies." He turned the knob and suddenly the wall next to the dresser opened up, out of the blue, to reveal a closet full of dresses, shoes, wigs, hats, rubber chickens…and a whole lot of glitter.
"Oh, so…," Brian said, staring in awe at the hidden closet. "That's where you keep those things."
The child skipped over and began to search through the various skirts and gowns that Brian recognized from the past: Desiree, the dress from his magician stunt, the nurse. Then he saw the Karina outfit and pulled at his collar in embarrassment. Stewie gasped and pulled a sparkling red dress out from between two more classy-looking costumes. From the look on the kid's face, Brian could tell this was the "perfect outfit" he was talking about.
"Isn't it pretty? I bought it a little while ago; it's a total hit at parties." Stewie smiled, looking at the dress with great fondness. Brian swallowed, noting how short and tight-looking the piece of clothing seemed.
"So you've…worn that before? In a club?" He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Alone?"
Stewie glanced up at Brian, confused. "Just a couple times. I had to test it out, see if it was worth having bought."
"But when do you even have time to go to places like that?" Brian was well aware of how judgmental he sounded, but he was the family dog after all, and he had an obligation to protect the family from things ranging from helicopters to perv-infested clubs.
"I go when I feel like it!" Stewie snapped. "What's the problem, anyway? You know I can take care of myself. Sometimes I just feel like having a little fun."
Brian didn't want to get into an argument that he knew wouldn't go anywhere. "Well, I wish you'd at least bring me from now on. I can't help but worry about you."
"Wh-whatever, Mom." Stewie turned around, pretending to inspect his beloved garment, but in reality he was desperately trying to hide his blushing face. "Now…what wig would look good with this? …Oh my gosh, wig! Kristen Wiig! No wonder there's a connection! I knew we were meant to be together!" Brian rolled his eyes and sat on the floor again, ignoring the baby's nonsensical rambles. He would've probably gone back to the party if Quagmire weren't still there, talking up a shit storm.
"This one will have to do," Stewie said, spinning around on his heel; he held up a black fluffy thing that was apparently supposed to be a wig. Brian didn't really care what the kid dressed like at this point—he couldn't convince him otherwise.
"Do you have like a fake ID or something?" the dog asked, knowing the answer.
"Brian, don't you worry about a thing. I know people."
"That worries me just a little."
Stewie stuck his tongue out playfully and placed his ensemble carefully on his bed. After picking out a pair of white, laced stockings and some dazzling rouge heels, he shut the secret closet. Brian couldn't help but laugh as he watched the kid eagerly gathering up combs and makeup to complete his collection.
"You know it's only like 2:30 in the afternoon," he said, settling down on the floor using one of his elbows.
"Give a man a day to get ready and he'll use every second of it," Stewie said sagely, his nose high in the air.
"I think that mainly applies to girls." Brian smiled and shook his head. "And I barely think being a one-year-old classifies you as a man."
"Well! I hardly think being a rotten mutt classifies one as a man, either!"
"Touché. Really though, what would everyone say if they saw you walking around the house like a slu—I mean, classy lady all day?"
Stewie gave him a look. "Then I suppose we'll have to leave earlier than originally planned," he said. "We can find something to amuse us for the day, can't we?"
Brian grumbled, "How about I go to the Clam and drop you off at a mental institution?"
Stewie shoved past him, his pile of girly accessories in tow. "Either stay in here where my animals will judge you or come keep me company," he said snobbishly. Brian took one look at the stuffed animals and, while he knew they certainly weren't alive…he actually wasn't that sure at all. He followed Stewie into the bathroom and shut the door behind them.
Without looking at the dog, Stewie stripped down to nothing but his socks. Also without looking at the dog, he slipped into the lacy girly underwear he had sneaked out of his dresser while Brian wasn't looking. Next came the stockings, and his heart raced when he thought about how close Brian was standing while he did this. He had made the canine join him on a sudden whim, as sudden as his proposal to go out had been.
The lace felt nice and smooth on his skin, and he could only imagine what it would feel like to have them pulled down by a certain pair of furry white hands…
Brian would probably be gentle, but efficient. He'd place the baby on top of the bathroom counter, kissing so deeply Stewie would lose sight of where he was. The stockings hit the floor and Stewie's on his back, waiting impatiently for Brian to get on top of him…
And then he does, with his hands on either side of Stewie, pressing their tummies together with lusty thrusts…there's overwhelming warmth flowing through their bodies as Brian finally enters him and…
And he's back on his feet, with half-raised stockings, staring at the sink with partially opened eyes. Brian glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I just…I just…was thinking," Stewie mumbled, breaking out in a cold sweat. His face was as red as his dress.
Stewie waited out on the front lawn while Brian convinced Lois to let him bring the baby "out to lunch". She was pretty shit-faced already, so it wasn't that hard. Stewie rolled his eyes in disgust. He could hear that ever-annoying "celebration" even from outside.
While he waited, he pulled out a tiny mirror from his purse, checking out his dress-up job. Flawless as always: tasteful red lipstick that matched his dress, faint violet eye shadow, and a short, shiny black wig that wrapped around his face perfectly. He brushed the long bangs away from his eyes and smiled. Definitely a hit.
Brian came rushing out of the house, looking slightly scared. His face was pink. Stewie ran up to him as best he could with heels on. "What did she say?"
"She was…so drunk," Brian said, looking back at the house uncertainly.
"I know that…," Stewie grumbled.
The dog just shook his head, his ears flapping back and forth. "Never mind, it's okay for us to go. Just as long as we're 'back by supper'."
"When the fuck is supper supposed to be?"
Brian laughed, shrugging. "I have no frigging idea. Let's get outta here."
Breaking into giggle fits, the duo rushed to Brian's Prius and hopped inside. Stewie slammed the radio on and turned it up as loud as he could before Brian slapped his hand away and turned it down.
"No country today, I can't stand it," the dog groaned, changing the Carrie Underwood song to some 80's station. Bruce Springsteen came on, and Stewie's disappointed expression disappeared immediately.
"'Dancing in the Dark'…I love this song," he sighed dreamily, turning it all the way up again. Brian sighed but didn't argue. "Doesn't it just make you want to find someone and dance? That's what it does to me."
"Sure," Brian grinned. "Now help me find one of your little gay clubs."
"If you insist," Stewie said over the music, grinning cheekily.