“Come on! It’ll be that much more fun.”

“You must’ve left part of your brain behind in California, because the former you would know that there’s no fucking way you’re gonna convince me.”

“You are such a drama queen. It’s only a mask, it’s not like you have to wear some elaborate head-to-toe costume.”

“My face is its own beautiful mask.”

“Everyone knows what your fucking face looks like, Brian, along with every other inch of your body,” he accentuates his words with an eye roll.

“I don’t do masks.”

“Liar. You wore a mask at the Rage party.”

He says it with such nonchalance, unfazed and unbothered, as if he were speaking of any other night. I personally avoid the topic altogether, because what’s the point in dwelling on the past? It has nothing to do with the present. Or at least I like to pretend that it doesn’t.

“I only wore it so that no one could mistake the fact that I was Rage. I was the spitting image of your comic. It was one of those vanity things on my part.”

“Right,” he deadpans. “Look… Let me put it this way… If you don’t come out with me and let me buy you a motherfucking mask for the masquerade, I’m not only withholding sex, I also won’t go with you to the fucking party, and you’ll have to spend New Years alone.”

I laugh in his face genuinely and heartily, wondering if he has seriously forgotten who I am.

“It’s not funny, asshole! I’m fucking serious!”

“That’s why it’s funny. I’m now fully convinced that Hollywood did give you a partial lobotomy.”

He glares at me, his arms crossed, head tilted in that defiant way of his.

“I know you like to pretend sometimes that you don’t care whether I’m with you or not, and that any ass will do just fine, but we both know that you would hate to spend your favorite holiday without me and the perfection that is my ass.”

He lifts his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

Little fucker.

Yeah… Cancer, Los Angeles, and moving back in together have changed a thing or two between us. The main thing being that I can’t seem to shut him out anymore. We’re on the same page, at long last, and he has no reservations at all anymore when it comes to handling me. It’s second nature to him now, and sometimes I don’t know what to do about it. A lot of the mystery is gone, because he can see right through me. And he’s such an open book, that I’ve always been able to see through him.

So now things between us are almost alarmingly normal. Now I know that no matter what happens, I’ll never be able to get rid of Justin. I’ve tried and failed so goddamn many times, and I’ve come to realize that it just doesn’t work.

These days we’re practically attached at the ass. And although I thought it would bother me and get on my nerves, especially with everyone calling it our ‘honeymoon phase’ not-so-discreetly behind our backs, I really haven’t gotten pissed off at Justin once since he’s been back. And it’s been almost four months now. Him getting pissed at me… that’s another story. But I know how to handle him too.

“Why is a goddamn masquerade at Babylon suddenly so important to you?”

“It’s not that it’s important. I don’t care if we just stay here all night. I just don’t understand why every little thing has to be such a fucking big deal with you. It’s a mask-a-rade, and I think you should wear a fucking mask. Why doesn’t that make sense to you?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, if you’re going to queen out over it, then buy me a fucking mask and shut up about it. But I’m not going to the damn shop with you.”

********************

“Oooh, that one’s pretty cool. Try that one.”

“Fuck you, Justin. I’m not wearing anything with sequins or feathers on it.”

“It only has sequins around the rim.”

“No.”? I can’t believe I got dragged here. It’s not that I’m a pushover; I just knew that if I let him go on his own, he would find some hideous monstrosity to saddle me with just to get back at me for giving him a hard time about the stupid thing in the first place. I came with him to avoid getting screwed over later. I’m not some fucking obedient little woman.

“What about that one?” he asks, pointing to a garish red and black number.

“Why don’t you scurry along and find something for you to wear tonight. I think I can manage all by my little self.”

“Fine,” he says, jaw clenched as he stomps away.

I look around for a while and finally manage to find something decent enough to suit my impeccable taste. I pay for it hastily, and call to Justin that I’ll be waiting in the car.

I’m on my second cigarette when he opens the passenger door, all smiles and non-pissyness. He must’ve found an artistic masterpiece of a mask.

“What the fuck took you so long?”

“Hi sweetums, I missed you too,” he coos annoyingly, patting my cheek.

Then he leans in bringing his slightly puckered lips closer and closer to mine. I turn my head at the last second, and abruptly pull away from the curb, causing his head to snap forward and bang against mine painfully.

“Ow! Fucker!”

I try to hide my smile as I rub my temple.

********************

When we get back home, Justin is a ball of energy. I hate it when he gets like this. It’s like having a damn kid running around terrorizing your existence. When he’s in such a state, there are only two ways to get him out of it. Let him draw, or fuck his brains out.

I normally choose option two, because why wouldn’t I? Maybe it’s selfish not to let him put it into his work, but what can I say? Selfish Bastard is one of the few labels I can still live up to on most occasions.

So I fuck his brains out.

Afterwards, there’s still a lot of time left before we even have to start getting ready, so I fuck his brains out again.

After that, we eat left over takeout from our favorite Chinese place.

Then we take a shower, and blow each other.

Then we start drinking. After all, what is New Years but a big excuse to throw a huge party, and get more trashed than you have the entire year previous? And to fuck… a lot.

By the time we start getting dressed, we’ve had two drinks each. Just enough to feel good, not nearly enough to start getting a swimmy head. After we dress, sans masks of course, I break out a joint in order to get that cushy marshmallow effect going.

Justin’s subsequent fits of uncontrollable laughter prove to be contagious, and we end up telling one another stupid jokes and stories about our youth. This brings up the subject of Mikey, and a brilliant plan forms in my head. So I call him up.

“Mikey,” I say a tad too gleefully when he answers.

“Hey Brian! Happy New Year!”

Of course Mikey gets, in his own words, super excited when this day comes around each year. He’s even more of a sickeningly sweet, maudlin mess than usual. It’s been our favorite holiday since we were in high school. We’ve never spent a New Years apart since we were 14.

“Not yet, Mikey.”

“Did Justin convince you to get a mask yet?”

I eye the little fucker sitting across from me, who is still grinning like an idiot.

“He didn’t convince me of anything. I make my own decisions, like a big boy.”

They both laugh at my answer, and leave it at that.

“So, what’s up?” Mikey asks.

I never call anyone without a reason.

“Justin and I have been drinking, among other things, and we were planning on taking a cab tonight. But then we got to talking, and I thought I’d call and see if you’d rather give us a ride instead. Give us a chance to hang out like we normally do.”

“Um… well, we have to drop Hunter off at his big New Year Hetero Party debut…”

An indignant cry of ‘fuck off’ can be heard in the background.

“…Then we have to stop by Mom’s to see her before she goes to her New Year Hetero Cop Party debut…”

“Kinky.”

“…And pick up Emmett. And I think Ted is meeting us at Babylon, in case he feels any pressure, and has to head out before we’re ready. So, it’d be a tight fit, but I guess we could squeeze you in.”

“You know how fond I am of tight fits. I prefer them 10 to 1 to loose fits.”

Justin cracks up, but Mikey doesn’t see the humor. Then they both start talking to me at the same time. Since I’m looking at Justin, I pay attention to him, while Mikey’s words go in one ear and out the other.

“Are they going to Debbie’s? We should go with them.”

“Why?” I ask, and Mikey keeps rambling on from his end.

“Because… it’s her first New Year without Vic. We should stop by and cheer her up.”

“We already had to do ‘A Very Novotny Christmas’, and you saw how amazingly scary that was.”

“Hey!” Mikey whines angrily in my ear.

“Sorry Mikey, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“No, you were only talking about me.”

Justin is laughing hysterically again. I hope his high wears off soon.

“Justin wants to go to your Mom’s place for some reason.”

“What, and you don’t?”

“Will there be hot shirtless guys there for me to fondle?”

“We’ll be at Babylon later. You could come by with us and say hey. You know she loves that shit. Besides, her place is closer to Liberty. Picking you up afterward would be out of the way. Plus, if Justin’s already set his mind on it, is there really any point trying to fight him?”

“What, because I couldn’t possibly win? You know, one day I’m gonna figure out exactly how the two of you have managed to come together and make my life a living hell, and I’m going to fuck it all up for you.”

“Whatever you say. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“Whatever,” I say, hanging up.? “Debbie will be so surprised!” Justin enthuses.

“Yay!” I mock.

He throws a pillow, and hits me in the face. Then he laughs.

********************

By the time the buzzer sounds, Justin and I have just finished our fourth drink. He’d also convinced me to smoke some more pot, and we’d started reminiscing on everything that’d happened during the year like a couple of sentimental lesbians.

The sound of the buzzer was quite welcome.

“I’ll get the masks!” Justin says jumping up and running into the bedroom.

We get downstairs, and as I greet Mikey with a hug and a kiss, Justin opens the back passenger side door, exclaiming, “Fuck!”

“Great to see you too, asshole,” Hunter’s sarcasm-soaked voice responds.

We squeeze in the back of Ben’s economy compact, and head off as Michael apologizes.

“Sorry, we were running late, and Hunter’s going to a place near here, so we figured we’d pick you up first.”

“Why the fuck haven’t you bought a car yet, with your Rage riches?” I query.

“What for?” he asks, like this is not a completely logical question. “Why hasn’t Justin gotten one? He made more than I did.”

“I don’t need a car,” Justin answers. “I have Brian.”

I roll my eyes.

“I know you like to ride me, but I am not an automobile,” I tell him, and he starts laughing again. “And I am also not giving you any pot ever again.”

“See! They smoke pot all the time,” Hunter booms out next to us.

“They are not 16, and living under my roof,” Ben says parentally.

I would never say anything like that to Gus. I mean, what was I doing at 16, besides smoking pot, having sex, and getting into trouble? I managed to get good grades, but it wasn’t because I really tried. I was just smart. It was easy to me.

“I’ve been telling Justin that he needs to stop sitting on his money,” I say, switching back to the earlier topic. “At this point, he’s so used to mooching off of me, that he can’t even think about spending anything on himself.”

“Hey! That is not true! I paid you back for my school loan, and I bought you that expensive-ass chair for Christmas.”

“Yeah, you bought me a chair. You still haven’t bought yourself anything worthwhile. And you should. You’ve earned it.”

“Well sorry if I’m not interested in buying a classic car, or a Prada wardrobe. I just haven’t found anything I want yet. Besides, what’s wrong with being sensible, and saving my money for when I need something?”

“Like you said before, you have me.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit…”

“Christ!” Hunter yells again. “You two are worse than those two,” he gestures to Mikey and Ben.

Justin starts laughing again, and I shut my mouth for fear of sounding too much like a bickering married couple.

A shudder racks my body, and I realize that everyone in the car is now laughing. But I refuse to, because there’s nothing fucking funny here.

Assholes.

********************

We pull up outside of Debbie’s, minus one irritating brat, and as usual I have to shield my eyes from the frighteningly hideous Christmas decorations that are still up in the yard. One thing Mikey must be paying for with his Rage money is Debbie’s electric bill, because the rainbow of lights radiating from the premises are brighter than the fucking sun, and they stay on all night, every night.

Debbie throws open the door before anyone knocks.

“Happy New Year, sweetie!”

She pulls Mikey in for one of her signature suffocating hugs. She moves on to Ben, and then sees us standing behind them.

“Holy shit! How’d they manage to drag you two over here?”

“They didn’t have to drag us, Deb. We wanted to come,” Justin replies.

“Oh, I see. So I have you to thank for dragging Sir Fuck-a-lot over to my humble abode on New Year’s Eve.”

“He didn’t fucking drag me. Why wouldn’t I wanna be here?”

“Oh come here you little asshole,” Debbie tears up, and pulls me into her death grip. “I love you so much, baby. Just like you were one of my own.”

Jesus. All this fucking sentimentality is starting to really piss me off.

“Let go of me.”

“And you,” she says dramatically, moving on to Justin. “I just may love you most of all!”

“Hey!” Mikey shouts bitterly, as Debbie’s arms envelope Justin into their vice.

“You really tamed the untamable Brian Kinney! I never thought I’d see the day.” She’s teared up again.

I roll my eyes, and snort in disgust, leaving the scene on the porch behind. But stepping into the inner sanctum of the Novotny Christmas Massacre is even more horrible than being on the outskirts.

It’s like everything shiny, plastic, cheap, gaudy, and offending with the added bonus of a Christmas theme, exploded and regurgitated onto every available surface of the house… walls, tables, floors, trees (yes, that’s plural)… it wreaks havoc on my delicate sensibilities every time I set an unfortunate foot through the door.

I plop down on the hideous Christmas blanket covered couch, and wait for my torture to end.

“Hellooooooo,” Emmett singsongs as he comes down the stairs.

I look over at him, only to be shocked and horrified all over again. I definitely should be used to this shit by now.

Emmett is wearing quite possibly the loudest ensemble I’ve ever seen him wear. The keyword is neon. Neon purple pleather pants. Neon pink and orange shimmery shirt. Neon purple, pink, and orange feathered mask.

I haven’t seen him look this queeny in years.

“Isn’t it fabulous?”

“It’s fabulously faggy.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“If you say so.”

“Justin!” he calls, as everyone starts walking into the living room. “Tell your boyfriend that my outfit is fabulous.”

He raises an arm in the air, and puts the other on his hip, posing halfway up the stairs.

“Um… it’s… very… neon,” Justin manages, and I bust up laughing.

“Damn you, Brian. Neither of you are any fun anymore.”

“If fun has ever been measured by our approval of your so-called taste in fashion, then we’ve always been this boring.”

Everyone sits down to talk, and I encourage Emmett to take off the mask for a while and make us some drinks. As he and I are in the kitchen, I hear Melanie and Lindsay arrive, so I go to investigate.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”

“Happy New Year to you too, Brian,” Lindsay says, kissing me on the cheek.

“Where’s my son?”

“We left him and Jenny with Dusty for the night. She’s not exactly the partying type,” Mel answers.

“And you are?” I kid.

“Yes, asshole, on occasion we like to try and have a night out,” she spits.

“Besides, it’s New Years. And we have a lot to celebrate now that we’ve gotten through the year,” Lindsay says.

“What, that you’ve sworn off dick for all eternity?”

“Fuck you, Brian!”

“No thanks. I have a penis, remember?”

“Brian,” Justin says, materializing at my side. “Why don’t you leave the girls alone and come sit with me?”

He licks his lips, and smirks playfully.

“Done,” I say, not sparing them another glance as I follow Justin to the couch, watching his ass all the way.

“Where’s Deb?” Mel asks. “We came by to do her make-up for the party.”

“She still has you doing that for her?” Mikey asks.

“From time to time. We don’t mind,” Lindsay says.

“She lives with a man whose half a step away from being a drag queen, and she has two lesbians doing her make-up?”

“Brian!” the room erupts.

“Asshole!” can be heard from the kitchen.

Debbie chooses that time to come down the stairs, wearing yet another stunningly unattractive dress. Granted, for Debbie, it’s actually kind of toned down. It’s black with blue shimmering stitch woven through. It’s not half bad, if you like that sort of thing.

Compliments are thrown her way and she beams appropriately, before running off with the girls to get her face on.

“Who wants a Cosmo?” Emmett asks, appearing with a tray of red-filled martini glasses.

“I told you to make something butch.” I glower.

“Well, I didn’t want to make something butch. I wanted to make something tasty. Now, drink up.”

I do so begrudgingly, and after that it gets really dull, so I make out with Justin on the couch until it’s time to go.

********************

“Will you two quit it? You’ve been at it for like an hour now,” Emmett complains, elbowing us away from him in the backseat of Ben’s car.

I ignore him, but Justin starts to pull away. I prevent it simply by following the movement of his head, refusing to detach my lips.

Justin makes a muffled sound of disapproval, which turns into a moan of approval, and then quiet acceptance.

We arrive at Babylon insanely horny, and the first order of business is getting him to the backroom as soon as possible.

We wait for everyone to gather on the sidewalk after parking, and people start whipping out their masks. Mikey and Ben have matching styles in different colors. They’re actually pretty nice. They’re wood carved, and stained, one red, one blue, with a lacquer finish. Pretty cool.

Mel and Lindsay also bought matching masks. Fucking couples. Theirs are sequined and sparkly. One yellow, one purple.

Justin puts his on, and I see it for the first time. I was right about why he was excited. It’s a very unique design. It looks to be hand painted, and strongly resembles the abstract modern art of Rousseau that Justin is so obsessed with. The colors are vivid, but the design is not gaudy. It’s very him.

I huff a little when it’s my turn to unveil my mask, which is a simple black with shiny red crosshatching. Everyone looks at me expectantly, so I put it on very fast, and turn away. But Justin pulls me back around to face them.

“It’s nice,” he says. “Very you.”

I chuckle, and pull him to me announcing to the others our need to fuck immediately.

“We need to fuck immediately, so let’s get the fuck inside, shall we?”

We lead the way inside, greeting the bouncers in our ass-kissing manner, and part ways with the gang just inside the doors, heading off to our second favorite place to fuck.

Everyone is wearing masks. Some are even more elaborate than Emmett’s, and some are even simpler than mine. It’s actually pretty hot looking around and seeing all the hot half-naked bodies, with the faces obscured. And it isn’t really all that similar to the Rage party, although I have seen a few people with plain black masks on that for all I know could be from that very night.

Maybe Justin has the right idea of not letting it get to him anymore. Because if you really think about it, the Rage party was lifetimes ago. It was just a bad time for us. There have definitely been others.

I fuck him fast and hard up against a column in the middle of the room. It’s as good and satisfying as it always is. Definitely takes the edge off.

We head back out, and approach the bar where everyone is situated, talking and laughing.

“There you are!” Emmett exclaims. “We ordered a bottle of champagne. We wanted to wait for everyone so we could toast.”

“Where’s Theodore?” I inquire.

“I’m here,” he says stepping out from behind Emmett.

This provides the best laugh of the night, hands down. Theodore is wearing head to toe black, complete with cape, and topped off with a plain white mask covering the right side of his face, cut in the unmistakable shape of the Phantom of the Opera.

Justin swats me as I continue laughing, but then he can’t help it anymore, and joins me.

“Fuck you,” Ted intones flatly.

“Theodore… you always manage to outdo yourself with your inherent patheticness. It’s almost endearing.”

“What kind words coming from you, Brian,” Emmett says cheerily, and starts handing out flutes of champagne. It’s probably cheap and disgusting, but what the fuck. It’s New Years.

When everyone has a glass, we raise them, and everyone waits for someone to give a speech.

“Well, I guess it falls to me, as usual,” Emmett begins. “Wait, maybe we should take off our masks for this.”

Everyone pulls their masks up on top of their heads, and raises their glasses again.

“Well… it’s been an exciting, eventful year for everyone. In some ways good, in others, very bad. We’ve seen wildest dreams come true, and other dreams shattered. But ultimately what matters is that we all came out on top. We got through everything, and here we are. Where we always are, really. At Babylon on a Friday night, drinking, dancing,” he glances at me,” fucking, and most importantly, living. Living the way we want to live. So in honor of surviving break ups, heartbreak, family turmoil, brief bouts of heterosexuality, drug addiction, professional setbacks, difficult pregnancies, HIV, Hollywood, and fucking cancer… and in honor of Vic… May every single one of us have the best fucking 2005 imaginable… Happy New Year!”

There’s a pregnant pause while everyone looks around at everyone else, gauging reactions and noting misty-eyed demeanors, before erupting in a very loud cry of “Happy New Year!”

We drink, we kiss, we reapply our masks, and we head to the dance floor as one big group.

It’s almost corny enough to make me hurl, but then glancing around at the faces around me, I can’t help but feel glad. Because these are the people that I chose to surround myself with. People, who despite all my faults, have kept me in their lives for longer than any of us probably expected. The people I chose as my family. I wouldn’t give them so much shit all the time, if I didn’t think they deserved to be happy.

And yes, maybe for the first time, after everything that’s happened to me, I feel genuinely happy too. To be alive… to be with someone… it’s not so bad after all. Some of the time.

So we dance, and we drink, and I break out the poppers, and we all get high, even Lindsay for fuck’s sake, but not Mel, who is still breastfeeding, perish the thought. And everything seems good and even hopeful. I’ve never been an optimistic person, but I guess everyone feels a little more invincible on New Year’s. The future feels promising. And above all, it feels like a new beginning. Like the calendar, something invented to keep track of events in relation to time, has some power to make things better, simply by repeating its cycle.

It doesn’t make sense, but then what does? You can’t avoid this kind of shit during the holidays.

When it’s time for the countdown, I grab Justin around the waist and pull him tight against me, smiling down at him.

He smiles back brightly, if not a little drunkenly, and pulls up his mask. Then he pulls up mine.

“Brian...” he begins seriously.

“Don’t start getting sentimental on me now, Sunshine. Tonight’s about having fun.”

“Yeah, but it’s also about endings and beginnings. Reflecting on the past, and hoping about future opportunities. And I just want to tell you… that I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m so fucking glad, because I was so scared that you wouldn’t be. With the cancer, and the separation when I was in LA, everything was so hard this year. But like Em said, we’re here together and that’s all that matters. So, I don’t care if I’m being a sentimental pussy, because I really am so happy. I love you.”

Fuck, I can’t take it when he looks at me like that. And he uses those stunningly honest words. So genuine and true. ?And I do what I always do. I look through him, and he looks through me, and there’s a moment of clear understanding, and before the moment is gone, I kiss him. Not hard and deep, but sweet and soft.

We stay like that, as if in a bubble, through the countdown and the loud wave of noise following it.

When I’m sure that our bubble will be burst by excited friends any minute, I pull away and whisper, “Happy New Year,” in his ear.? The onslaught of excited hugs, yelps, and best wishes come not thirty seconds later.

“Brian!” Mikey says when he gets to me. Then he bursts into tears, and pulls me to him. Fucking Mikey.

I hug him tight against me, and pull away studying his face as he wipes his eyes.

“Don’t you go getting all sentimental on me too, asshole. I just had to deal with Justin’s ‘I’m so grateful you’re not dead’ speech, so please spare me another one.”

He laughs through his tears, and hugs me again briefly, before giving me a brief kiss on the lips.

“You are so pathetic,” I say with a smirk.

“I love you too, dickhead.”

I turn around only to be assaulted by Lindsay.

Christ, I can’t catch a fucking break tonight.

********************

I wake up before Justin, as usual, glancing over at the clock to find that it’s 11:30.

I turn my head back to look at him, groaning when my head starts swimming, and my vision blurs.

Fuck. I can feel the toxins flowing through my body so acutely. The sweat seeps out with the stench of what’s inside it, and my head starts pounding against my skull.

Great. If I’m this hung over, Justin is going to be even worse. He becomes completely unbearable when he has a hangover. And on top of that, he hates waking up in the morning.

I slide up closer to him, wanting his added warmth to help fight off the January chill, and my hard-on slaps against his hip.

Fuck. I hadn’t even noticed that.

He shifts in his sleep, turning into me in a way that makes my dick rub up against his belly. Not to mention traps his hard on up against my legs, so that’s it’s poking me in the balls.

Fuck. He’s gonna have to wake up now. Sex is needed.

I start by rubbing his back softly, move down to his ass, squeezing and massaging it just so, and he starts jutting against me, still not waking up. So I reach a hand down between us, and wrap it around his dick, pulling very slowly.

I feel his hands slowly start skimming over my skin, and after a couple more tugs his eyes flutter open, glassy and confused.

Then he groans, more in agony than pleasure.

“My head is going to explode,” he rasps sleepily.

“Which one?”

“Don’t joke,” he says through a chuckle.

“My hand is on your dick, and you’re complaining about hangovers and jokes?” I ask, speeding my hand up.

“Mmmm… I so don’t feel like doing this right now.”

“Your dick says otherwise.”

“What do you expect? It’s morning wood.”

“Which should always be taken care of, first thing.”

“Okay, get it over with then.”

“Now Sunshine, what kind of attitude is that? If I had any pride at all I would get out of bed and leave you to your own devices.”

He groans again, more out of pleasure this time, and my hand picks up the pace even farther. I grab his hand and put it on my cock.

“Give a little, take a little.”

In our absolute hungover exhaustion, we jack each other off, coming together, and quickly pull away from one another, falling on our backs.

I almost start drifting back to sleep, when the phone rings.

“Make it stop,” Justin growls.

I reach over and grab it after the third ring.

“What?”

“Morning, Brian!” Emmett’s shrill voice greets.

“What do you want? Some of us have hangovers to sleep off.”

“Aw, poor babies. Tell Justin I hope he feels better.”

“What do you want?” I repeat.

“I was wondering if you and Justin would like to come over to our place tonight to have a New Year’s Day dinner. It’s kind of an impromptu thing. Last night got me thinking that we could all use a little family time once in a while. This is a perfect metaphorical way to start a 2005 trend for all of us.”

“Huh?”

“See the catch is that you have to make something to bring to dinner tonight. Everyone has to make a contribution.”

“Excuse me?”

“A dish. You have to make a dish. And so does Justin.”

“Why? Last time I checked you and Debbie were both okay cooks.”

“That’s not the point,” he sighs exasperatedly. “It’s the idea of every family member contributing to the end product.”

“Did you have some kind op hippie fantasy dream last night?”

“No, I did not. Those are the terms of the dinner. It would be nice if you two came, since you’re both an integral part of the family, but you can’t come in if you show up empty handed.”

“We’ll think about it.”

“Think about it?”

“Yeah. We’re pretty tired. Justin doesn’t look up to it. We’ll see what happens.”

“Fine. It starts at six.”

“Six? What the fuck are we, senior citizens?”

“It’s so we can all spend time together beforehand, asshole.”

“Right. Fine. We may decide to make an appearance.”

“If you can manage to get the fuck out of bed, we’ll be here.”

And he hangs up on me.

No one fucking hangs up on me!

“What was that about?” Justin asks.

“Emmett. He’s hosting some kind of family dinner tonight where everyone has to make a dish. What the fuck is that anyway?”

“A potluck?”

“Don’t be a fucking smartass. I just mean, since when has anyone ever expected us to bring food anywhere?”

“I think it’s kind of a cool idea.”

“Well then you can make something, and put both of our names on it.”

“Fuck you. If we’re going to cook, you have to participate.”

“Let’s just not go. We can lay around all day, and when we get our strength up, we can have a nice long fuckfest.”

“But everyone will be there right?”

“Probably.”

“And they’ll get pissed if we don’t show up. Especially Debbie. And Lindsay too, if Gus is coming. We’ll get shat on for weeks, and you know how I feel about scat.”

“I’m not cooking.”

“But Brian… it could be fun.”

“Fun? If I thought it was fun I’d be a chef in my spare time. As it is I prefer fucking.”

“Big surprise.”? “And don’t forget… if we go, we’ll have to deal with not one, but two small children, plus a fussy grandmother, in addition to her hetero life mate. It’s not gonna be like it used to.”

“It’s family, Brian. Think of it as one last holiday obligation.”

“What the fuck are we gonna cook, Justin? Do we even have any food in there? I’m definitely not going to the grocery store in this condition.”

“We’ll figure something out. But first, let’s sleep for another hour.”

“That sounds fucking brilliant.”

********************

Two hours later we stumbled out of the shower, almost as reluctantly as we’d stumbled into it.

We dressed slowly, and walked into the kitchen where I distributed the pain pills, and broke out the bottled water.

Then we started hunting for food in the depths of the cupboards in our often-lonely kitchen.

In the end, we turned up lots of canned food that I’m not sure why I ever bought… or even if I bought it. I haven’t eaten anything out of a can in over ten years.

“This is perfect. We can totally make a dish… even two, if you wanted.”

“What? With what?”

“You are so clueless. My mom bought most of this that one time ages ago, remember?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well she did. She bought me stuff that I liked to eat when I lived at home, so I could make it here. I just never did, because you know, we hardly ever cook.”

“You hardly ever cook. I never cook.”

“Whatever. The point is. We can make a dish.”

“What are we making?”

“We can either make green bean casserole, or macaroni and cheese. They’re both really easy and really good.”

“Actually, I have a better idea. We have the makings for a pie in the cupboard over there. We could make my great great grandmother’s ancient Irish pie recipe.”

“Really!”

“No, not really. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You’re such an asshole,” he says, smacking me. “I should make you do all of the fucking work.”

“Casserole and macaroni? I don’t think that would be a huge hardship.”

“What the fuck do you want? I guess we could put our heads together and come up with some complicated recipe that will wow everyone, but one, we’d have to go to the store, two, you don’t know how to cook, and three, I’m not in the mood to do anything extravagant. So. Macaroni, or casserole?”

“Who the fuck cares? They both sound gross to me.”

“You’re gonna make it, and you’re gonna eat it, and you’re gonna like it. Now, get out the pasta shells.”

********************

An hour later, I’m standing over my fucking stove, stirring this disgusting, goopy, mushroom soup from a can. And I can’t even take a break from stirring, because when I do, the fucking Soup Nazi over there loudly orders me to “keep stirring.”

The macaroni and cheese was easy. I was in charge of the noodles, and that’s one thing I do know how to cook.

Justin made the cheese. I don’t know how hard it is to melt cheese, and add milk to it, but you know, whatever. It’s baking in the oven.

The canned green beans have been cooked, and are currently awaiting the soup to be added. Then apparently the deal is that you add those canned French onions that I am positive are not French, and stick it in the oven.

We are going to get laughed at. Hard.

“I love cooking with you, Brian,” Justin singsongs, pinching my nose and wiggling it.

“I’m not fucking you for at least two days.”

“Aw, I love you too.”

************************

We arrive at Debbie’s around half past 6, and face the harsh field of evil lights as we trudge quickly up to the door. And yes, I’m carrying a fucking casserole dish I didn’t even know I had in my hands.

Justin is smiling like a fiend, and I hate him so much right now.

He moves to knock on the door, but I push him out of the way and swing it open without knocking.

Everyone else is already there, and they all glance up in surprise as we make our way in. I head straight to the kitchen to unload the dish, without answering any greetings.

Of course, everyone immediately starts praising Justin for his ability to force me into doing things that I don’t want to do.

“I can’t believe you got Brian to come,” Emmett says as I walk back into the room.

“He can always make me come. Why does this still surprise you people?”

“You two are so cute!” Debbie starts in.

I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into her lately, but ever since Thanksgiving, she’s been constantly gloating about how everyone she loves is sooooo happy, and in love, and all kinds of other bullshit. It’s getting really old.

“Save it, Deb.”

“And you cooked! What did you cook?” she asks.

I snort. “Nothing complicated, believe me.”

“Brian was very good at stirring soup, and he kicked ass at boiling water, and adding pasta.”

“Fuck you. All you did was melt some cheese, empty a can, and turn on an oven. Big fucking deal, oh master chef.”

“The point is,” he says turning away from me, and addressing the others, “we did it together, and Brian was a real trooper.”

“Make that four days, Sunshine,” I tell him. “Did everyone hear that? No sex for the little blond boy for four whole days.”

“So fucking cute!” Debbie is guffawing again, amidst the laughter of everyone.

Assholes.

“Can we get this fucking over with?” I grumble.

“We’re not eating ‘til eight, so grab a drink, and then grab some… floor, I guess. Looks like the furniture is taken.”

“You know, I’ve always hated this place,” I say retreating back to the kitchen to find the hard liquor.

“Brian, will you bring me a beer?” Justin calls from the suspiciously quiet living room.

“Yes, dear,” I say in a falsetto, and the whole place erupts in laughter again, and I distinctly hear the words ‘honeymoon phase’ float through the air.

For a split second, I think about putting the beer back in the fridge, and telling Justin to get it his fucking self. But in the end I don’t. I take him the goddamn beer, and I even take the time to open it for him.

I sit down and glare at him as he takes the beer from me, then knock back half of my whiskey.

“I’m just fucking with you,” he leans over and whispers in my ear.

“I know. Get ready, because I’m going to be fucking with you all night long. And not once in the way that you’d like me to.”

“Yeah right. You know you won’t last four days. I won’t let you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Is that a challenge? Because you know I like a good challenge.”

“Does everything have to be a competition with you?”

“You started it.”

“I started it? You’ve been fucking with me. How did I start it?”

“You just did.”

“You are a fucking nutjob, and it’s starting to drive me crazy.”

“You love me.”

I knock back the rest of my drink. “Woops. Refill time.”

This time, as I’m pouring my drink, Ted’s voice yells out of the suspiciously quiet room, “Hey Brian, will you grab me another beer while you’re in there?”

“Get it your fucking self!” I yell back.

The laughter booms out again, and Debbie’s true love bullshit keeps pouring out.

I have got to find a better crowd to hang out with.

The End.