Okay, so with all the mess-ups with fanfiction . Net last week I wasn't able to put this chapter up until today … sorry about that. Also, I have no idea of the rules of alcohol in the stadiums, I looked EVERYWHERE on the internet but it was still unclear so I just went with them being allowed to drink in the stadiums.

Several Years Later

All over the country, lives were coming to a halt. For the next few hours, the TV would be king, men, women and children were sitting down to enjoy the spectacle, whilst an equal number of men women and children were being banned from talking, interrupting or being within a yard of the TV or the remote.

Bars were all flicking to the same channel, a nation united and equally split by what the television had to say, mainly;

"Hello sports fans and welcome to the forty-ninth annual Super Bowl. It's shaping up to be one of the best and most controversial Super Bowl finals in recent years, so if you don't want to miss a second of the action, this is the place to be."

"This is amazing, isn't it?" Emmett beamed, clapping a little as he and the rest of the family followed Justin up some stairs and towards the area where all the players families and friends were seated. "I feel like a VIP."

"You are a VIP," Justin smiled, "at least today." He finally stopped and pointed out the seats that Brian had got them. Kent and Brody were already sat there, a crate of beer at their feet.

"Well it's about time you arrived," a man Justin recognised as Kent stood up and embraced him tightly.

"How long have you been here?" Justin asked knowingly.

"Since it opened," Brody yelled. "Go Jets," he lifted his t-shirt to reveal the Jets sign painted onto his body.

"You wouldn't believe how long they took," Kent chuckled, lifting his own shirt to reveal the same thing. "Still, it's not everyday one of your best friends plays in the super bowl. How was he holding up?"

"Umm … I think he threw up twice this morning," Justin said honestly. "But you know Brian, he's a nervous wreck until he crosses that white line…"

"… and then he's an arrogant son of a bitch," Kent chuckled. Then he peered past Justin to the group or loud, brightly coloured people. "Is this the entourage?"

"The family," Debbie corrected immediately.

"Sorry," Justin smiled let me introduce everyone. "Everyone," he turned to his family, "this is Kent and Brody, Brian's friends from college."

"Nice to meet you all," Kent smiled.

"Go Jets!" Brody yelled, pulling his shirt up to reveal his body paint on a perfect six pack which went down very well with most Brian's family. Kent just frowned at his friend, "I thought you were a Giants fan."

"Not today," Brody beamed, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt to shout 'Go Jets' again.

"Alright," Kent frowned. "We don't need to see it again at least not until the game starts." Then he turned to the others. "Sorry, he's a bit drunk."

"Oh well if he wants to show off his torso," Emmett smiled, flirtily "don't make him stop on our account."

Kent chuckled a little and Justin continued the introductions. "This is Emmett." Emmett gave a little wave. "This is Ted and Michael."

"Michael," Kent shook his hand. "I believe we've met before, when you came to visit Brian in Miami."

"Yeah," Michael nodded.

"And this is Debbie."

"Hi."

"Mel and Lindsey. And this," Justin ruffled the hair of a small boy who couldn't have been more than about three, "is Gus. He's Brian's son."

Kent raised an eyebrow and Brody said, "but he's a fag."

"Well, he's our son," Mel explained, putting her arm around Lindsey's waist. "We raise him and look after him. He's just 50% Brian's genes."

"My daddy plays football in the super bowl," Gus said brightly to Kent.

"Yeah, that's right buddy" Kent said. "So are you a Jets fan then?"

"No," Gus shook his head. "I support my daddy's team."

"Right," Kent smiled as Gus continued,

"Did you know that the super bowl isn't a real bowl?"

"Really?"

"Nu-uh, mama explained it to me on the way here."

"It took the entire car journey," Mel groaned, "but I think he's getting it now."

"Hey Gus," Kent said suddenly, "would you like to get your face painted so that everyone knows you're here to support the Jets, er … I mean, your daddy's team."

"Can I mommy?" Gus turned to his mom's pleadingly. Mel and Linds both looked to Justin, who confirmed with just one brief nod that Gus would be perfectly fine with Kent.

"Okay, you be good then," Mel warned.

"I will mama," he smiled.

"Come on then, Champ," Kent grinned, "your uncle Kent will have you looking like a Jet's fan in no time."

"That kid's got more uncles and aunties and parents than he knows what to do with," Debbie chuckled.

"It just means we're never short of babysitters," Lindsey smiled.

They were all sat down now and Justin couldn't help notice the four free seats to his left. They'd puzzled him for a moment, he couldn't imagine who else Brian would have got a ticket for and then, like a sickening jolt to his gut, he realised who it would be and he couldn't help think it might have been very wishful thinking. He wished Brian could just let go of his family. He wished he could cut off his ties to them, like they had with him. He wished they weren't four empty seats, he wished that they weren't seats at all.

Kent brought Gus back, complete with Jet's shirt, scarf and a hat, as well as the Jet's symbol painted on both of his cheeks.

"Look mommy," Gus beamed. "I'm like Daddy." He turned around the reveal 'Kinney 69' on his back.

"Oh Kent, you shouldn't have got all this," Lindsey said.

"It was no problem," Kent said honestly. "I couldn't have Brian Kinney's son without a shirt."

"How much do we owe you?" Mel asked.

"Put your money away," Kent chuckled, "I can afford it."

"But I…"

"Mel," Justin whispered in her ear, "his names Kent Pukett of Pukett Sports Clothing. Trust me, he can afford it."

"Well, thank you," Mel said gratefully, shaking Kent's hand firmly.

"Anyway," Justin smiled, "if he hadn't bought it, I would have. How could you have brought your son to the super bowl without a single item of Jets merchandise?" He chided, with a big grin on his face.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed, "what kind of dykes are you?"

"And of course," Debbie said, suddenly looking proudly at Justin, "you could afford to buy anything now, I heard one of the pieces at your show last week sold for nearly two and half grand."

"Yeah, it did," he nodded, blushing a little as everyone around him began to congratulate him.

Time began to wear on. The cheerleaders had stopped dancing and the bands were dying out, prompting Emmett to suggest that the best bit of the super bowl was now over and that perhaps he'd go shopping until half time, which earned him glares from everyone around him.

"Er, I mean … go jets," he whooped half-heartedly, slumping back into his seat miserably, earning himself a chuckle for Ted.

Justin looked to his right, the four seats were still empty.

"Look, there's daddy!" Gus cried suddenly and Justin's attention snapped back to the field as Brian stood near the centre, his helmet under his arm clapping the supporters. The announcer, who was reading out the names suddenly got to Brian's and the stadium erupted and Justin felt tearful as the pride brimmed up inside him. He stood up, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves, when he looked to his left he saw Lindsey and Michael in a similar way, Debbie was practically bawling.

Suddenly, Justin felt someone appear at his right hand side, and whisper, "we haven't missed the start, have we?"

Justin looked up and was surprised to see not one Kinney but two. Brian's brothers were there to support him; both of them.

"You're just in time," Justin answered honestly.

"Excellent," Eric said, a look of relief on his face. "The traffic was a nightmare and Jack can't read a goddamn map," he groaned. "Anyway," he smiled, holding out his hand, "it's nice to see you again Justin."

"You too," Justin agreed, shaking his hand warmly. "Brian will be so please to know you're here."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world. As soon as I knew the Jets had a chance of reaching the final I'd been searching everywhere for tickets. I was considering taking out loans against Kinnetik if I had to."

"Kinnetik?"

"Oh it's my advertising business in Pittsburgh," he grinned. "I'd pulled all the strings I could with all my biggest clients even Pukett Clothing. Hey Kent," he looked up and smiled at one of his clients, who replied by offering him a beer.

"I dropped names everywhere," Eric continued, taking a sip of his beer, "explained he was my brother, explained I did work with one of the match sponsors but I couldn't get anywhere. Then a few weeks ago, a ticket to the VIP box drops on my doormat. I rang up Jack and we made arraignments to get here."

"Speak for yourself," Jack insisted, in a muted grumble, also receiving a beer from Kent. "I'm just here for the free Super Bowl ticket."

"Don't let him fool you," Eric winked. "He's proud as hell, he just can't be seen to show it."

Justin smiled and looked past the two men, at the empty seats, "what about your parents?"

Eric just shook his head sadly and looked to the match as the teams were getting ready to start. Justin understood. They weren't there, they couldn't see past the fact their son was a fag.

::

Jack Kinney turned the Super Bowl game on in his sitting room and called Joan to bring in some more beers and snacks. He'd invited the bowling team over to watch the game like he had every year since he'd been married. He intended to eat too many salty snacks, drink too much beer and pick a team to support, New York Jets vs. Indianapolis Colts. The Colts were firm favourites, everyone knew it but Brian Kinney had been playing out of his skin this season and had lead the Jets firmly to this game.

"Hey Jack," one of his friends joked, "Kinney, he's not a relation of yours is he?"

"No," Jack said firmly.

"He may be a fag," another one chimed "but the kid can sure play."

Brian played the game of his life. Jack watched every perfect pass completion, every perfectly called play, every run with precision timing. He just watched, finally realising the skill his youngest son possessed. Despite Brian playing the best game of his life, it still all came to the last play.

::

Brian breathed steadily. He called the play. He knew this one so well, he'd been running it all his life. He ran this play every time he closed his eyes at night, every time he'd imagined this moment, every time he was alone. He breathed out and received the ball. Then he ran.

He side stepped one.

He twirled away from another.

There was a free sprint to the end zone.

He stretched his legs and ran.

::

"GO ON BRIAN!" Justin screamed.

"RUN DADDY!"

"RUN BABY!"

"GO ON!"

"SPRINT BRI!" Eric joined.

"RUN FAGGOT!" Jack bellowed.

But their voices as well as the frantic yelling of the others sat with them were lost in the cheers of the Jets fans all egging Brian on. He ran, he could see one of the Colts gaining on him. He could see him coming quickly in the corner of his eye. He didn't think he'd make it. And he dug deep, he dragged something from somewhere, another burst of energy from a place he didn't know existed and he sprinted even faster and dived...

"TOUCH DOWN!" A commentator yelled.

Jack Kinney got to his feet calmly and left the living room as his friends clapped and complemented the run.

Jack just went outside and looked into the sky. He held his beer above his head, pride welling up inside him, pride he'd never show anyone, not even himself and he whispered tearfully;

"Here's to you sonny boy. You played a great game."