Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Brielle.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Het, Stripping, Exotic Dancing, Domestic Violence, etc.

Phil and Matt sat on opposite sides of the couch, their arms crossed over their chests and their feet on the coffee table in equal states of defiance. If Jeff wasn't so disturbed, he may have noted the humor behind it. Phil and Matt, two men who claimed to have nothing in common, were more alike than they cared to admit. And it was funny, it was. Jeff was terribly amused. On the inside, of course. Phil would seriously hurt him otherwise.

Jeff wandered into the den, some chamomile tea with honey (two teaspoons, exactly the way that Phil had asked) in hand. Matt studied his brother's every movement. No doubt, he wondered how his brother had become so whipped in such a short amount of time. Jeff could see it in Matt's eyes. He wanted to smack that look off of Matt's face. But he couldn't. No, he wouldn't. Because that would upset Phil. And Phil would seriously hurt him.

But then, that didn't exactly make much sense to Jeff. Phil and Matt hated each other, as evidenced by the distance between them and their defiant stance. But, at the same time, if Jeff asked his brother to leave, Phil would cuss him out. And if he told Phil to rest for a little while, Matt would bite his head off. He couldn't win, so he didn't even try. He set the tea down and looked at the space between them, before he sat down in an arm chair far, far away.

"So," Jeff said, just to break the awkward silence. In the end, it only made it more awkward. "I see that the two of you haven't killed each other. That's nice. Um…" Jeff looked anywhere other than the two men.

Phil blinked dumbly, almost as if he hadn't realized that Jeff was there. "What do you mean, the two of us? For all I care, I'm the only one out here." Phil stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you hear the call of the Little Whiney Bitch? It's an extremely rare, egotistical bird. I've always wanted to take a picture of one." Matt said.

"Did you hear that, Jeff? It sounded like a pup that's been neutered by his bitch." Phil bit back just as fiercely.

"Now, boys," Jeff felt like a mediator. "Matt, Phil is not a bird. Phil, Matt is not a neutered dog."

Phil and Matt turned to face each other simultaneously, a cold look shared between them. And then, still synced perfectly with each other, they turned back to stare at their section of the wall. Jeff sighed. While he knew that the world would end before Phil and Matt became the best of friends, the kind that ran off into the sunset at least, he wished that they could at least be civil to each other.

Phil reached out and took his tea cup off of the table, sipping at it for a few seconds, before he placed it back down. His insomnia had had the best of him over the last few days, and he had been unable to sleep for more than three or four hours a night (on a good day). Matt stole a look at Phil, narrowing his eyes at the younger man. If looks could kill, Phil would be twenty-four feet under.

"Jeff?" Jeff turned around to face his boyfriend. "I'm gonna head out and grab some stuff for dinner. Is there anything that you want?" Jeff shook his head. "Okay. I'll be back in an hour."

"Okay. Be safe." Jeff told him, before he watched Phil walk out of the room. Once he was gone, Jeff turned to his brother and scowled. "Did you have to run him off like that?"

"He's an asshole, Jeff. I don't understand what you see in him." Matt said.

"I know that you don't. But he's gonna have my baby, so you could at least treat him with respect."

Matt just shook his head. "If he was so afraid that he would hurt you, you would think that he would be more respectful toward your brother. You know, your own flesh and blood."

Jeff frowned. He should've known that his brother just wouldn't understand. "Whatever." He dumped the rest of the tea into the sink, before he took his keys off the table. "I'm gonna head out. I'll see you later."

Matt didn't even look away from the television. "Later."

"Which one do you think that Doan will like better? Powder blue or periwinkle?" John held out the color swatches so that Mike could look them over. Mike stared at them blankly.

"You lost me at 'powder'." And then, a dry laugh. "C'mon, Johnny. You know that he won't care about it. He'll be a few hours old. The only thing he cares about is a clean diaper and when his next meal is."

John sighed. "I guess you're right. It's just…" Here, John paused. Tears started to streak down his face and he collapsed in the nearby arm chair, exhausted from the overload of emotions.

Mike frowned. He hated to see John cry. "What's the matter, Johnny? It's not just the paint, is it?"

John stuttered on his words for a few minutes, before he shook his head and threw the paint swatches down. He felt sick to his stomach, but it wasn't from the nausea. There was just so much work that still needed to be done, and it seemed like the date predicted for Doan's birth was closer than ever. He was just so worried that he would be born and they would be unprepared. He didn't want to mess up this kid like he had been screwed up.

All of his life, John had been taught that self-appearance was life. If you weren't beautiful, then why did you exist? That was where John's fear of the baby had come from. He was so afraid that when the baby stretched out his stomach and he gained the extra weight, Mike wouldn't want him anymore. With Mike's help, he was able to discard some of that fear. But it was still there in the back of his mind, a monster in the darkness waiting to be unleashed.

"How about this? Mark is gonna be released from the hospital next week. I'm sure that he'll be looking for something to do with his hands to keep his mind busy. I'll ask him to help and we'll have this room done in no time."

John sniffled and nodded, a small smile forming. "That sounds wonderful. But you're right. It wasn't just the room."

"What was it, then?" Mike asked, concerned for the smaller man.

"It was a lot of stuff, but I'm better now. I'm glad that you're here with me."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Johnny. Love you." Mike said sincerely.

John smiled. "Love you too."