[Three]
Brian holds Gus so tightly on his lap that the usually attention-starved little boy squirms and kicks the whole ride back. Justin would be annoyed but Brian looks so desperate in the seat beside him, eyes bloodshot and chin resting protectively atop Gus' head.
Justin flips on the news station. By the time they get back to the house there have been fifteen fires reported across the US and Canada so far, and not one of them has spread or has been at all put out.
Brian says nothing about this fucking bizarre circumstance. Justin suspects that he already knew; that it's the reason he went and talked with the fireman.
They park. Brian opens the door and lifts Gus off of his lap and onto the ground, but doesn't cease bodily-contact with his son even as he himself gets out and walks towards the house. He steers Gus in front of him, one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other splayed flat across his chest. It's a wonder they can move tangled up like that, but it's seamlessly coordinated. Almost like watching a ballet. Justin stays back to look at them until they've gone inside and finally follows them in a moment later.
After he hangs up his jacket Justin makes his way into the kitchen. Gus is sitting at the table pouring himself a bowl of Golden Grahams and Brian is leaning against the counter, the cordless phone tucked between his shoulder and ear.
"Yeah, well, normally I wouldn't give a flying fuck, but my five-year-old kid could have died and my boyfriend's fucking allergies are shot to goddamn hell. So yeah. I care."
Despite himself and his fucked-up morning, Justin smiles. He ruffles Gus' hair on his way to the fridge for some bottled water so he can take his allergy medicine.
"Well, fuck, I don't know! Were you with the little inbred piece of shit at every single moment from midnight to right fucking now, Norman? Or was he out with his punk friends setting fire to goddamn apple orchards and God knows what else? Jesus."
Justin shakes his head, bemused. He tosses back three of the little capsules and swallows them down with the water. Gus is staring at his father, entirely too fascinated by the conversation, so Justin catches his eye and winks. "Your dad is, like, so old, isn't he? 'Kids these days! Why, when I was that age we didn't have TV! We had to play with sticks! In the DIRT!'" Gus giggles, and Brian shoots him a death glare.
Brian is silent for a few moments as Norman from six houses over bleats into his ear. He rolls his eyes and generally makes dramatic, exasperated gestures the entire time; he slaps the counter, taps his foot, and checks the clock on the wall next to the fridge until it's his turn to rant again.
"I don't give a shit if your worthless progeny is on motherfucking probation, Norman! He's the one who lit the goddamn orchard on fire, and I want you to… belt the fucker until he can't sit for a week, or feed him to the cows, or do whatever the hell it is that you farmers do when one of your youngins goes the way of sin. CHRIST." Brian screams the last of his tirade directly into the mouthpiece in true Brian Kinney fashion. He looks angry enough to throw the phone against the wall, but they don't have money to buy a new one so he just hits the 'end call' button really hard.
"That went well," Justin murmurs, turning on the stove so he can make breakfast for the two of them.
"Norman Reed's worthless kid did it, Justin. He and his little deviant friends have done nothing but cause shit. This is just another one of their stupid pranks."
Justin nods. "Whatever you say." Gus giggles again.
Brian glares at them both.