Justin was pacing, folding and unfolding his hands, his eyes unfocused. Brian sighed, picked up the bottle of water Justin had set on the counter, and stepped right in front of him. Justin jumped a little (he'd almost run into Brian) and blinked a couple of times. Brian squeezed Justin's shoulder and handed him the bottle. "Stop worrying and drink your water."

Justin took the bottle and frowned. He'd already drank an entire bottle in the last 15 minutes, and he was supposed to drink another, an idea he did not relish. He felt cold all over, and he needed to piss, and badly. But he took a big sip anyway. Then he asked, in a near-panicked voice, "So what do I say again?"

Brian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd already explained this twice. But then he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He knew Justin was nervous. He wasn't good at lying, and he was anxious enough about seeing a new doctor and the lateness of his sonogram without feeling pressure to get their story straight.

The greatest source of unease for Justin was the timing. Brian and Justin had been too focused on getting to Vermont without anyone knowing where they were going to worry about Justin's doctor's appointment that week (the week they'd left), at which he was supposed to have his second sonogram, and Brian had been very selective in his search for what he deemed a 'qualified' obstetrician to serve as Justin's new doctor. This far north, doctors were in short supply, let alone Ivy league educated doctors, let alone Ivy league educated obstetricians, particularly in Westmore, as it only had 306 people. Brian had managed to find one 20 miles away, in Newport, but it had taken two weeks. Brian couldn't really understand why this was so upsetting to Justin. So what if he had a sonogram two weeks later than most people? But in Justin's mind, the delay made him a bad parent.

So Brian kissed Justin's cheek tenderly and repeated, very patiently, for the third time, "You, Grant Dickens, are an orphan. Your orphanage burnt down shortly after you came of age, and you don't remember your general practitioner's name from when you were a kid. You only realized you were pregnant a couple of months ago because you haven't been gaining much weight. You went to a clinic to confirm the pregnancy, but you don't remember the name of the clinic or the doctor you saw. That doctor recommended that you start seeing an obstetrician regularly, but you didn't have a chance to do that until now because you've been moving around so much. I've already explained all that to the receptionist. All you should need to do is confirm everything with the doctor."

Justin swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay, I can do that. And who are you again?"

Brian placed both hands over his heart and fell back a little, moaning, "You wound me!"

Justin smiled brightly. "Come on, Brian. Be serious."

Brian sighed and repeated, again for the third time, "I'm Rex Connor, your loving but slightly clueless fiancé, with whom you moved to Vermont so that we could get married and live happily ever after."

Justin stared at Brian for a moment. Then, his voice laced with unshed tears, he asked, "Do you mean that?"

Brian quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you really happy we're engaged and having a baby?"

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth. Then he said simply, "Yes."

Brian knew it would happen, he knew nothing could stem the flow of tears once they'd entered Justin's voice, but still, he was hoping that just this once maybe 'the right answer' (to a question asking for reassurance) would actually prevent them from falling. But that didn't happen. When Justin needed reassurance, he couldn't help but cry whether he received it or not. The only difference was whether they were happy tears or sad tears. So a second after Brian responded, Justin was in Brian's arms, sniffling and half-moaning, half-saying, "I love you so fucking much!" Like clockwork. Brian smiled a little and held Justin tight, even rubbing his back.

He whispered, a little huskily (despite the regularity of the crying, it still affected Brian, every time), "I love you, too, Sunshine."

Then a moment later, he added, "Drink your water."

Justin laughed and pushed Brian away. But he stopped crying and took another big sip.

**********

Justin and Brian were waiting in the examination room for the doctor, Justin sitting on the bed and Brian standing nearby. Justin was still very nervous, so he was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Brian slung his arm around Justin's shoulders and leaned into him. He tilted his head downward and whispered against Justin's ear, "If you don't relax, I'm going to yank down your pants and start sucking your cock."

Justin couldn't help but flush at the thought. He protested, albeit weakly, "No, Brian." After a pause, he continued, "Well…" and looked up at him. Why did he have to wear his Armani suit? Justin found it nearly impossible to resist him in that. After a few heartbeats, Justin shook his head. "No. No. Definitely not." Then he groaned, "Why did you have to wear your Armani suit, anyway? I can't even believe you remembered to pack it!"

Brian snorted. "My Armani suit. As if I have just the one. Together almost 6 months, and you still can't tell them apart. And you call yourself a gay man! What I can't believe is that you're wearing sweats and a T-shirt. Cleo's going to think her papa's a hobo."

Justin shook his head, but he was smiling. "She can't see through my belly!"

Brian smirked. "Maybe not, but she'll see this." Then he pulled a small disposable camera out of his pocket, held it out in front of them backwards, and snapped a picture.

Justin had still been smiling when Brian took the picture, but when he realized what Brian had done (that he'd thought to bring a camera to document the event), he gaped at Brian, his eyes wide.

Brian moved in front of Justin and took a picture of him with his mouth hanging open. But when he saw through the viewfinder that Justin was getting teary, he muttered, "Fucking Christ. Here we go again."

Justin whispered, "That's so sweet!"

Brian growled, "I am not fucking sweet!"

Justin nodded and sniffled. "Yeah, you are, Brian….you really are."

Brian ran his fingers through his hair, and roughly.

But he stopped when a little old lady carrying a pink purse (it was hanging from the crook of her arm) and wearing thick glasses, pearls, and a pink dress and matching hat shuffled in. Brian blinked. He hadn't gotten high or even drank really in the last couple of months; he was beginning to think constant sobriety was messing with his head. Clearly it must be, if he was hallucinating little old ladies. He rubbed his eyes, but she was still there when he pulled his hands away. She walked around the bed to Justin and started petting Justin's longish hair. Then she cooed, "Such a pretty young lady you are. With beautiful, silky blond hair. You shouldn't cry. It'll make your eyes all red and puffy."

Now it was Justin's turn to stare blankly and blink. Brian covered his mouth to keep from laughing, but he couldn't keep his eyes from dancing.

Then the little old lady unclasped her purse and started rummaging through it. She stopped when she caught sight of Brian (for the first time, despite the fact that she'd walked right past him to get to Justin). She shuffled toward him and ran her hands down the front of his jacket. "Such a fine suit. So soft. Is it silk? You must be very important!"

The old lady turned back to her handbag. Justin giggled. Brian glared at him coldly.

She muttered absentmindedly, "I know I have it somewhere…Oh here." A victorious smile on her face, she produced a compact, opened it (it took her a minute or two), rubbed the powder puff against the pressed powder, and then walked toward Justin again, zombie like, the powder puff extended. "Now, I'll fix you right up." Justin shrunk back a little, a look of horror on his face.

"It's all right dear. Just a little powder."

Brian couldn't hold his mirth in any longer. He burst out laughing. In fact, he was laughing so hard that he doubled over.

That's when the doctor entered the room. He was short and stocky, with white hair, and horn rimmed glasses. Brian gaped a little. Where did these people come from? The stone age? The doctor entered looking at a chart, probably Justin's, so he didn't see the little old lady at first. Still perusing the chart, he said, "Grant Dick—" That's when he looked up. He stopped abruptly when he saw the interloper. Then he rushed over, placed his arm around her, and guided her toward the door.

The little old lady protested, "Wait…I was helping that young lady."

The doctor interrupted, but gently, "That isn't a young lady, but a young man."

She looked back at Justin and squinted. "But…I…she's having a baby."

"He's having a baby."

She shook her head and began to mutter, "In my day…boys didn't get boys in trouble. Not like that…anyway. What was the husband thinking…getting a boy in a family way…What will his wife think?" After a heavy sigh, she lamented, "And he looked so very important…did you see his suit?"

To a nurse passing in the hall, the doctor said, "Martha, could you take her for me?"

She smiled and took the little old lady's hand. "Come on, Betty, we have cookies in the break room."

The little old lady giggled. "I like cookies!"