"Don't stay out too long, all right, sweetie?" The woman's nasally voice nettled the irascible infant, who was seated on the tawny-curtail step of the rickety staircase, ebulliently donning carob rubber boots, "I wouldn't want my baby catching a cold!" To this he irately grunted, springing to stand and rushing toward the wooden door—creaks emanating from the decrepit structure beneath him—as to not have to tolerate any more of the constant vexing.
"Yes, yes," He dismissively started, "Whatever you say, mother." The boy knew it to be true that the plan was not to follow Lois' guidelines born of paranoia and social expectation; he was also well aware that the auburnette truly couldn't care less how much time he actually decided to dissipate under the gloomy sky, as long as she had her red wine, or whatever it is that doleful middle-aged mothers indulge themselves in on the daily.

He leapt upward to gripe the brass handle, briskly twisting it before landing on plush, Persian carpet and swiftly making his way out of the hell he called 'home'. Sighing with relief as the door sharply swung to a close behind him, he beamed, pulling up the Tuscany hood of his nylon coat and stepping into the drizzling rain. The young boy looked up at the dull, flint sky, painted with harbor gray clouds, inhaling deeply and allowing for the moment's tranquility to embrace him. Faucets of nature's creation pelted the jagged ground, encompassing the unlevel dips in frigid aqua, as the shrewdest of juveniles took notice of his form, mirrored in the rippling pool of water.

Over time, such weather only came to grow on him more and more. It allowed opportunity, for him to be alone with his thoughts, feel whatever repressed pains he needed to feel, reflect on his life, his decisions, who he really is as a person, truly a pleasure one who is a neophyte to struggle could not understand, but today he had decided that he wanted to have fun. Today he had decided that it'd be better to enjoy his time in this crepuscular downfall than to partake in his usual musings, to dwell on past-mistakes. The blithe infant vivaciously darted through the peaceful neighborhood, puddles roiling beneath his wader soles. He was unable to suppress the small, silvery giggles emanating from him, "My God, I feel ridiculous, but this is thrilling," The boy took in the view, looking on at the empty streets and grinning to himself. He took amusement in the absence of the usual crowd; the obnoxious imbeciles who roamed the small town of Quahog. There was a satisfaction in being alone in this God-awful place, and the tot felt an inflated sense of control, "The world may not be mine yet, but I feel this is close enough for now. Look out, universe, I am Stewart Gilligan Griffin, and I don't take shit from nobody, even if you're an attractive boy from my class named Tyler!" He chortled, "Man, I think I'm a little rusty on the whole evil schtick. Need to-need to work on that, yeesh."

Haplessly, his ephemeral fun had been abruptly drawn to a close by the sight of a particularly familiar scotch-white canine, who was forlornly sat at a nearby street corner, his head resting in his hands. The toddler sharply halted in his tracks, feeling his smile fade, a frown taking its place, "Oh, for the love of God," He hastily approached the despondent dog in a beeline, "What the hell, man? What are you doing here?" The Labrador's ears perked up, him flinching slightly and turning to glance at the mildly irritated toddler.
"Oh, Stewie..." His gaze returned to the graphite-gray concrete below, "Were you in the middle of-of something?" The eldest of the two unenthusiastically inquired, his usual baritone, carried by conviction and undeserved confidence, muddied, uncharacteristically faint and shaky. The other droned at the ignominious display that was the prosaic dingo.

"Uh, yeah," He declared in a matter-of-factly tone, "I was going to drop the SS Stewie, and get my arm ripped off by a seedy sewer clown like that boy in the movie; I even have the appropriate attire, one couldn't tell me and that kid apart," The child discontentedly huffed, "But I can't do that knowing of this bumbling sad-sack sat in the pouring rain," He empathetically took a seat next to the other on the glossy, dampened concrete, "What's up, buddy?"
"I don't..." He heedlessly shook his head, "I don't want to waste your time. Go have fun doing whatever it is you were doing, Stewie." The infant's eyes-widened at such a response.
"You, not wanting to talk about yourself?" He somewhat condescendingly questioned, "That's so not like you, Brian. Please, tell your pal Stewie what's wrong." The canine suspired sharply, gently rubbing the back of his neck, a habit of his.
"I'm not leaving 'til you do, and here I am, getting pelted with rain for you; my rump's especially soaked, I'm sitting in a puddle," He deadpanned, "Do you want that? Do you want me to get wet for you, Bri?"
"That," The lab warily squinted, turning to face the other once again, "That has to have been intentional." To this, the toddler nonchalantly shrugged.

"Well," He wore a casual smile, "It got you to look at me, so that's a start."
"I guess it did." The rain continued to hammer down on the pair, the uncovered mongrel the most affected by such harsh conditions, but the caliginous scene sure made for a relaxing, placid ambience.
"So," The young boy started, possessing much forbearance as he rested against the mutt's side, "Tell me... why you're out here." The powder-lab wistfully chuckled, maintaining a small smile.
"It's... stupid, I..." The other nodded, allowing for him to continue, "It's just that... another one of my flings ended poorly."
"Oh my God," Stewie facetiously replied, holding a hand in front of his face to express surprise, but still keeping about his light-hearted, caring demeanor; he wanted the canine to know he meant no harm, "Really?"
"Hah... I know," His smile faltered, "It just- it really got me thinking... about everything. Life, death... what am I-what am I even doing with my life, Stewie?" The boy's expression contorted to a more concerned one, as he gently began to rub circles in the other's back and spoke.
"You're in one of those moods again, huh?"

"I-I guess," The canine paused discerningly, "But-but I really mean it, Stewie. I know this happens a lot, and I'm sorry to be a burden to you, it's just that I-I think over my life and-and I have nothing to be proud of. I've taken so much, but what have I really given back to the world?" He continued, sorrowfully taking a gander at the young boy leaning into his snow-white fur, "I'm... alone, and-and even when I'm-I'm not alone I feel like I am, and it's like I spend my life searching for the perfect woman, but I find so many different women who fit the criteria and I don't want any of them?" The infant thoughtfully hummed in acknowledgement.
"Maybe," He deadpanned, "You're gay." His comment caused for the ricotta hound to chuckle heartily.

"It's not like I haven't thought about it," The mongrel immediately regretted his choice of words, quickly trying to rectify his statement, "I-I just mean, women, right? Hah, they're a pain in the ass. Only... a dick in the ass could get rid of... women being a pain... in-in the ass. I-I mean... bros before hoes, as we- as-as people say nowadays, right?" Stewie guffawed at the other's futile attempts at false normalcy; the canine momentarily forgot how he himself usually thought.
"You're silly," He playfully stated, quickly standing on both feet and tugging at the Labrador's hand, suggesting the other did the same, "Come on, let's head back. Don't want to walk around smelling like wet dog, do ya'?"
"Y-Yeah, ahah," A warm smile painted his face, "Thank you, Stewie. I appreciate you listening to me prattle on about my sad love-life."
"Anytime, Bri. Anytime."


The fledgling sat in the corridor, his back to the bathroom door as he patiently waited for the pooch to finish his shower. The rapid running water was loud, and could be heard throughout their home—save for, perhaps, the side-room—it being your typical suburban household with thin walls. Still, he was distracted, conversing with the honey-hued bear to which it didn't respond, but the boy perceived its behavior differently, "God, I am too good, aren't I, Rupert? This guy," He gestured toward himself, "Is always there to comfort the soppy mutt's sad arse. Christ, when will it be my turn, Rupert? When do I get a reliable companion like he does?"
"Ahem?" The small teddy coughs jovially.
"R-Right, of course you're here, Rupert, and I love you, I appreciate you," He ruefully sighed, "It's just that I... I don't know, I just wish that-that Brian could be more dependable, you know?"
"You feel like you're always there to help him through his frivolous flings and overall depressing life, and he does none of that for you, correct?" The cotton doll questioned, to which the others' eyes widened.
"Yes, exactly!" The child grinned, "You understand me, Rupert. Unlike Fido in there; the guy's dense, I tell you." His brief joyous bout was short-winded, as his smile fell, and the stuffed bear felt sorry for the other, sharing an empathetic look.
"I'm sure he'll come around sooner or later, Stewie."
"I-I hope you're right, Rupert."

The boy flinched at the small clicking noise he heard behind him, falling backwards as the door swung open, but landing in a pair of short, fluffy arms, still slightly wet from the shower he had partaken in moments ago, though, the scent he carried was more in resemblance of a pet shampoo than the unpleasant one from the dreary day's downfall.

"Shit. Sorry, Stewie," The mongrel lowly muttered, to which the youngest gently simpered, his gaze captured by the mutt he so adored, "You, uh, OK?" Snapping out of his stupor, he mirthfully giggled.
"You look funny after showers, I like that. Makes me laugh," To this, the canine gaily chuckled, setting the infant back on his feet, "You seem to be in a better mood now. Would that be correct of me to assume, Bri?" The Labrador placidly nodded.
"Yeah, I've calmed down," He lovingly beamed at the small tot, to which the other jested:
"Brian, you're staring," He feigned distress, "Oh my God, you did not poke holes in the condoms, you reckless shit! We can't take care of a baby!" The daisy-white hound rolled his eyes, knowing the boy's way of fooling around far too well to feel even an ounce of concern.
"That last part isn't exactly a joke; it already happened, Stewie." The youngest bashfully chortled, fidgeting with his jasmine sleeves.
"O-Oh, right."

Still, the young boy had a vaguely saddened way about him, to which the canine's eyebrows upturned upon noticing. He casually put on his collar, briskly leading the other to his now-soundproof room—they had made it so after having been informed that Meg knew of their time-adventures due to the machine's volume—to talk privately.
"So," He inquired, the other's off demeanor apparent, and still irking him, "What's wrong?" The toddler seemed genuinely confused.
"Huh?" The child tilted his head. The eldest wasn't the most confident in his ability to read others, but he certainly felt there was something wrong, and wanted to get to the bottom of it.
"It-it's just that you look a little down," He spoke, unsure, "I won't claim to be an expert when it comes to body language, but I know this certainly isn't how you usually act." The boy scoffed.
"And I know it isn't often that you use the term 'certainly' in casual conversation."
"Stewie," The diminutive dog's expression shifted to a frown, "I-I know you-you want me to be there for you more often; I know you want me to be more reliable." The infant's eyes instantaneously began to water, him blinking away his translucent tears and sharply retorting.
"Then why are you so terrible at it? Why are you never there for me if you knew I felt this way?!"
"No, no," The hound quickly gestured with his paws as if to deny the other's comment, correcting himself, "I-I meant that I heard you talking to Rupert while I was in the shower! I had no idea you felt that way, Stewie!" The boy in candy apple-overalls was quick to respond.

"You were spying on us?!" He questioned, enraged.
"What? No! You were loudly conversing with him right outside the door, I was bound to hear you!"
"Over the running water?!"
"I finished showering before you finished talking!" The tot bashfully looked up at the other, catching his breath from the laconic, but heated, argument.
"O-Oh," He mumbled, a little embarrassed, "S-Sorry about... that."
"It-It's fine..." The canine glimpsed at the boy, both woebegone, "Stewie, tell me how to be a better friend, companion. Tell me what it is that I'm doing wrong." The toddler felt his chest ache; he could tell how much this newfound information affected the other, but he had to admit that it was nice to see the mutt care so much for him and his well being.

"Well, for one, it'd be great if you stopped, y'know, screwing me over for self-gain?" He rhetorically asked, a frivolous way about him, though, he was indeed very serious about this.
"I-I do that?" The mongrel queried, "When have I ever done that?" He had earned an eye-roll from the youngest of the duo.
"When you wrote 'Wish It. Want It. Do It.' and it became a bestseller, when I wrote a better play than you," He prattled on, continuing to upbraid Brian, "So you buried my work in the backyard—tell your gay cousin to go fuck himself, by the way, I know he put you up to it—that time you thought my sociopathic preschool teacher was hot and so you, rather than calling in the authorities first thing, decided to hit on her, and rammed my dislocated shoulder back into its socket with a heavy book rather than taking me to a hospital." The chiffon-canine was disturbed by what he was hearing; they were such obvious things, occasions he hadn't forgotten about, and yet his ego managed to drown them out. His actions were abhorrent, and to someone who has done so much for him, as well.
"Oh-oh god, I'm awful..." He sorrily uttered, his baritone aquiver.
"I know you are." The infant jocularly riposted, before snickering and rubbing the other's back caringly, "But I still love ya'." A minute smile made its way to the hound's crestfallen face, him sullenly chortling to match the others' half-comedic way of facing this situation.
"I don't know why you put up with me."
"Me neither."

"What else?" The Labrador lugubriously probed, hesitant; he wanted to expiate his wrongdoings. Brian clarified, "What-what else is there for me to improve on?" The other immediately knew the answer, the mutt gulping, ready for the other to lay into him yet again.
"You need to stop it with the flings; they're killing me, man!" This one was a little less clear to the older, him squinting, mystified.
"What-what?" Words weren't coming to him easy, "Wh-why? I mean, you want me to be happy, right?" The infant almost felt offended by the way this was asked, as if to imply he was asking this out of a want for the dog to be miserable; still, he paid no mind to it.
"Of-of course I do, Brian!" He continued, "But they're... they're not making you happy!" The eldest was perplexed.
"What? How-how not?" His tone was very much a genuine one.

"Look-look at how things went just today!" He was truly passionate about this, "You-you had another fling, you weren't satisfied with someone you claim 'met the criteria', and then sat on a street-corner, alone, in the rain! Face it Brian, you will never be satisfied with any of the women you meet!" The pooch was shaken.
"Do you want me to be alone? Is that what you want?!" He bellowed, lachrymose.
"No, of course I don't!" The boy emitted, tremulously, "I want you to be with me, Brian! Forget all those stupid blond bimbos, I need you a-and you... need m-me..." He felt a wave of despair, regret and panic wash over him; he hadn't intended on confessing. In the heat of the moment he had admitted something so personal, and froze up, his lip quivering as he fearfully stared, his eyes locked with the other.
"Wh-what...?" It didn't take long for the tot to realize the weight of his situation, bolting out of the room urgently, "W-Wait, Stewie!"

There he left the canine, alone in his room as he made a run for it. The mutt was stuck in his place, his ears still ringing from the argument passed, as his mind raced, attempting to fathom this newfound information. Incredulity; it struck the dog.
'Stewie... he couldn't have meant it like that... could he?' The boy's words echoed in his mind.
"I want you to be with me, Brian!"
'Well... how else could he have meant it?' He pondered, 'In a platonic friend way?' The mongrel gave it some thought, shaking his head, 'No, surely he wouldn't have ran off like that otherwise...'
"I should go talk to him."

The boy balmily hugged his knees to his chest, cradling himself hushedly as he gently rocked back and forth in the capacious screen porch, raindrops' pitter-patter emanating from the grand windows. The tawny teddy served as his emotional support, though he was sat wide-eyed, vacillating; it had yet to be effective.
"Stewie, you need to calm down." The stuffed animal firmly stated, the infant still practically speechless.
"R-Rupert, you-you don't seem to understand," His voice was almost monotonous, but still atremble, "I-I messed up, Rupert. It's... it's out in the open; Brian knows how I feel." The other sighed, his focus returning to the boy philanthropically.
"Stewie, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm guessing he had his suspicions before now," He added, "It's not like you were the most... subtle with your crush on him." To this, the mortified toddler snickered, his expression softening a little.

"You think I came on a bit strong?" The doll rolled his eyes in jest.
"To say 'a bit' would be a gross understatement," The two laughed in unison, "I mean, you've made full-fledged advances on the guy, Stewie. Didn't you strip down to lingerie for him that one time?"
"I told you about that?" The baby tittered, "Man, am I really that obvious?" The bear sarcastically retorted.
"No, I don't think touching his tip in drag was clear enough."
"In my defense, that was the most subtle of my advances."
"And how does that help your case in any way?" The plush inquired.
"Well, because... oh, you're right," He softly smiled down at the small toy, "I know I don't say this much, but I really do appreciate you being there for me. I know I criticize Brian for not being of much use to me, and I'm sorry for being a bit of a hypocrite, but I swear I'll make it up to you soon. Why don't we go somewhere nice this weekend?"
"That would be great. Thank you, Stewie."

Their dialogue was interrupted by a voluntary cough, the boy's heart dropping upon noticing the Labrador stood in the doorway.
"Stewie... hey." The child nervously chuckled, twiddling his fingers.
"Hey, B-Ri... ." The eldest mirrored the other's discomfort, again rubbing the back of his neck.
"Stewie, uh..." He awkwardly gestured finger guns, noticing what he was doing and quickly stopping, hushing up briefly before breaking the thick, agonizing silence, "...I have questions."
"I thought you would," A sense of dread grew in his chest, his stomach queasy, "Take a seat." The mutt obliged wordlessly, settling onto the sofa, and uncomfortably tapping his knees as the room went deathly still.

"What you said earlier..." He started, avoiding eye contact with the small boy, "What exactly did you mean by that?"
"You'll have to elaborate, Brian," The infant replied, "How is it that you expect I know what you're referring to? I may be smart, but I'm no psychic." He was clutching at straws, obviously; he knew exactly what Brian meant.
"You said that I should 'forget all those stupid blond bimbos', and that you want me to be with you," He resumed, "What were you getting at?" To this, the toddler scoffed.
"It's not rocket science, Brian." The dingo frowned at his snarky response.

"Please don't be like that, Stewie."
"I'm not being like anything," He scowled, "But God knows you deserve the worst."
"Stewie," He sullenly muttered, "Please..." The tot sympathetically glanced up at the other. He couldn't upset the dog like this, especially under their current circumstance; it wasn't just. He welled up, reaching to tug his hair with balled fists.
"I-I-I'm sorry..." He weakly mumbled, his act already falling apart, "Please don't- fuck, don't look at me like that."
"No, no, please. Calm down, Stewie..." He pacifically reasoned with the young child, "I'm-I'm not mad or anything," He gently grabbed the boy's wrists, carefully lowering his hands, "And I don't hate you, so please, just calm down."

The boy took steady breaths, attempting an exercise he saw online. He regained his composure a little, subtly smiling up at the other.
"Sorry, I-I don't know what," He nervously giggled, "What came over me...!"
"Stewie, it's not unusual to have emotions; you don't need to explain yourself."
"R-Right." The canine hesitantly added, hoping to let the boy down gently.
"But you-you know why I can't reciprocate, don't you?"
"Well, I get why you wouldn't want to reciprocate in the sense that you make advances and flirt with me, yes," He returned, "Emotionally, no."
"What-what do you mean by that?"
"I know that, societally, it would most likely be viewed as "unusual" or downright "messed up" for you to act toward me the way I act toward you. That I fully understand, and I get why you wouldn't want to break any laws," He distended, "That being said, I don't see why that'd prevent you from feeling about me the way I feel about you. Morals can't always override emotions."

"So-so you're implying I have a secret, undying love for an infant in diapers?" Stewie sneered at his choice of words.
"I feel your failure to mention my ability to talk and superior intellect changes what we're referring to," He pointed out, "This isn't some leaking sack of crap we're talking about; it's me, Brian!" His demeanor had quickly shifted from the fretful one he presented only moments ago, "Really speaking, you could objectively call this bestiality as well, but we live in a world where dogs can marry humans, and no one bats an eye! Bestiality's immorality stems from an animal's lack of communication skills, but that doesn't seem to be a problem for you, and the only reason the laws aren't as lenient when it comes to others like myself is that we are few and far between; how is it any different for me than it is for you?"

"The main difference between our situation is the law, Stewie." The child rolled his eyes at this remark.
"Right, because Fido over here, with a body count, cares about the law," He smugly quips, "Brian," His eyes lit up, "You and I belong together. I-I know you don't see it that way, but think about it, Brian. Two unusual individuals become the tightest of friends under unlikely circumstances, and it blossoms into something more; is this not the perfect romance?! We fit together like puzzle pieces; a cliché thing to say, yes, but it's really true. You and I are so awfully different, and yet our bond is so close. We've been together through everything, we give each other meaning, and in the words of my ethereal idol, you belong with me! Put your rectitude aside just for this, won't you? For-for me...?"

The mutt's mouth went dry, he was lost for words. The child seemed sure of his claim, it being trenchant, well-delivered, but still, Brian wasn't quite convinced of its sagacity.
"Stewie, this-this all makes sense in theory, but-but I can't be attracted to a one-year-old's body. That's so... weird, so foreign to me." The infant grunted.
"Oh please, spare me; we both know I look good," He effeminately posed, in an attempt to copy something he saw a model doing in one of the fashion catalogs he had looked through, "Plus," He crossed his arms, "You're attracted to dog anus, the bar obviously isn't set too high." The mongrel couldn't help but chuckle at this denigration, to which he replied teasingly.
"So are you." This was a response the other wasn't expecting, causing him to guffaw along with the other, squinting, and his eyebrows furrowing playfully.
"Touché, Brian." Their laughter ensued, the room filled with the pair's cheerful hysterics.

As they began to calm, the two simultaneously became acutely aware of how close they were sitting together, the amount of eye contact being made. The boy froze up, the powder-pooch following suit, "B-Brian?" He sputtered nervously.
"Uh... yeah?" The other's tone of voice was concerning to him, rightfully so.
"Can I," He hesitantly muttered, "Can I kiss you?"
"Wh-what? Stewie, that..." The hound had no rebuttal, but something about the way the boy intently stared into his russet eyes compelled him to go silent. Why was he feeling this way? He hadn't felt so nervous being so close to the boy before, had he? It had to have been the circumstance he was currently under, yes, the circumstance, he convinced himself, as he mindlessly tilted his head, leaning in, it being too late for him to go back after having realized what he was doing.

Their mouths tenderly locked together, and despite the dog's initial hesitation, it took mere moments for him to give in, feeling the boy's lips on his, his heart pounding out of his chest as the other pulled away, and in that moment, an epiphany hit Brian like a hurricane; Stewie was right. He wanted this, and he now understood that. Through all the repression of how he felt, he had tricked himself into a state of ignorance, but his eyes had been opened, and as he swiftly moved in closer, leaning in for another kiss, the tot twinkled, euphoria enveloping him and the canine both as the youngest of the pair smashed his lips into the other's, this time more rough, passionate than the first. The toddler wrapped his arms around the dog's neck, and the Labrador positioned his paws on the child's small waist, relishing in the ecstasy that was this moment.

The child softly beamed, pulling away breathlessly.
"I love you, Brian." He adoringly whispered, amidst their affections, to which the other melted. The canine was finally in acceptance of his own feelings toward the boy, and was happy to hear those words. Who could've known that the one for him was there all along? Through thick and thin, every heartbreak, the sunshine and the storm, he was always there, by Brian's side, and he wanted to do the same for the tot, to requite his care, his kindness. He wanted to finally be there for him, to hold him close and let him know that everything is going to be all right.
"I... I love you too, Stewie."
There the two continued to embrace one another blissfully, warm and sheltered from the pouring rain.