Part One
Part Two



04/11/2008 - Magna, Utah, The Great Salt Air Theatre

Brian isn't sure whether he's frightened by or thankful for the organizational skills of the Brothers Way.

Within fifteen minutes of arriving at the hotel, Gerard and Mikey have claimed Nell for a trip to the hotel pool and Frank and Ray maneuver Brian and Bob into the same room and shut them in with stern looks. Brian knows they need to talk, to stop being assholes and start acting like grown-ups.

He just doesn't want to be the one to start.

Bob is leaning against the dresser, his arms crossed. He looks imposing and more than a little pissed off. Brian wants to rage against the unfairness of it--that Bob gets to be the one who's mad after lying for years--but he runs up against the thought that Nell's mom is dead and it's not Nell's fault that Bob kept them both a secret. Nothing about this is Nell's fault and Brian acting like a douche towards her is just stupid.

"I'm sorry for hurting Nell's feelings. I didn't mean to."

Bob's posture loosens a little, "You're going to talk to her today. Make sure she knows you aren't mad at her for anything. You can be mad at me all you want, but none of this is her fault."

"Yeah, no. Of course." Maybe that'll help Brian feel a little better about making a little kid cry.

Bob nods and drops his arms, "Okay, let's hear it then."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you're pissed at me, so," Bob makes a little 'carry on' gesture and it's so flippant, so dismissive that Brian nearly loses his breath at the rush of anger that sweeps through him.

"Don't you fucking dare! Don't act like I'm being irrational or some shit just because I'm mad. You fucking lied to me for years, Bob!"

"Hey!" Bob has the nerve to look insulted. "I didn't lie so much as neglect to tell you the truth."

Brian actually feels his blood pressure rise, "Oh my fucking god. I am going to fucking kill you in your sleep. Even if we ignore the fact that I'm your fucking manager and it's my job to know shit like this so I can protect you, I thought we were friends."

Shit. Brian didn't mean to say that, let alone for it to sound so desperate.

"We were." Bob pushes off the dresser and takes a step towards Brian, "We are."

Brian makes a helpless gesture, "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I was trying to that morning, I swear, but you got a phone call."

Brian remembers that, but, "Would you have told me if we hadn't fucked?"

"Christ, Brian." Bob pulls at his hair, "Maybe someday, eventually?"

Brian jerks back like Bob hit him, re-evaluating every single one of their interactions ever--every time he felt that little flutter of maybe--and coming up with Bob being a tremendous asshole. "You fucking cunt. What? Were you going to fuck me then disappear every so often to spend time with your family?"

Bob grabs Brian's arm when he would have just fucking left and it's all he can do to not punch him right in the face. "It's not like that, Brian. I hadn't planned on sleeping with you and I'm Nell's father first and last and always, okay? And you're an addict who hasn't even been clean a year."

And now Brian wishes Bob had let him walk out because that's--Brian didn't really think it was possible to feel like this and not be bleeding out onto the ground. Bob had been fucking unwavering in his support of Brian once they recognized he was out of control and got him help. It was one of the things that helped him climb out of the fucking hole he'd dug himself into. If everything about that was a lie, a front, Brian isn't sure what he's going to do.

Bob's worried face appears in front of him like magic and Brian realizes his vision has tunneled down to a narrow focus on the door, on escape. He can't listen to this anymore without completely losing his shit. He can't listen to Bob piss on the years of their friendship, on the months he's fought to stay sober. He barely even recognizes his own voice when he manages to suck in a breath, "I need to get out of here."

"Brian, no." Bob molds his hands around the curve of Brian's skull, forcing him to look away from the door. "Listen to me. I didn't mean it like that. I am so proud of you for getting clean and staying that way. I know how fucking hard it is for you. Am I worried about you relapsing? Not especially, no. But this isn't just about you and me. If it were just me, it wouldn't matter, but I couldn't open Nell up to that."

Brian closes his eyes for a second, trying to pull himself together before he completely falls apart. Bob makes sense, he does. Brian gets that on a purely intellectual level but that doesn't mean he's not hurt. "And now?"

Bob's smile is nothing more than the tiniest crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he leans forward to set his forehead against Brian's. "Please don't fall off the wagon."

"One day at a time, right?" Brian brings his hands up and squeezes Bob's wrists.

"Right."

For the first time in a week, Brian relaxes. Things aren't fixed and they aren't perfect, but for the first time since Bob walked out of the dressing room and returned with a kid, Brian feels like maybe there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Bob lets out a shaky sigh and tilts Brian's head up to kiss him.

Brian crowds into Bob's personal space, going up on his toes to press their bodies together while still kissing. They're both a little desperate and if Brian feels like he's been scraped raw inside, he can't imagine what Bob feels like. It almost feels like the last kiss of some ridiculous Hollywood tearjearker and that's okay, maybe.

Maybe a fresh start is just what they need.

Bob pulls back just far enough to brush a kiss over the edge of Brian's jaw before sliding his arms around him and squeezing for a moment, "I'm fucking exhausted."

Brian reaches up and digs his fingers into the tight muscles of Bob's neck, "You've had a hell of a few days."

He makes a noise of agreement and slumps into Brian, letting him hold up his weight. "I keep forgetting. That she's gone. I pick up the phone to call her every night."

"I didn't say before, because I'm a dick, but I'm so sorry, Bob." Brian sighs, "I remember her, you know? She was just so unimpressed by the whole scene and she cracked me up. She told Bert he needed a shower!"

"Yeah, she had no patience for crazy shit like that. I don't know why she even stayed with me as long as she did."

"Because she wasn't stupid."

"Yeah, well." Bob shrugs that off and very obviously changes the subject. "I would murder someone for a cigarette right now."

"You quit ten days ago," Brian kisses him and pushes Bob back towards the bed.

"How do you know that?" Bob makes a face and yanks the slick bedspread off the bed and onto the floor before throwing himself down.

"Because I know you. You wouldn't keep smoking around Nell." Brian pulls off Bob's shoes and sits down on the bed next to him, "Besides, who did you think bought you the giant pile of nicotine gum?"

"You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

Brian shrugs, "I was getting some for myself and grabbed some for you while I was at it."

Bob grins and pulls Brian close for a brief, smacking kiss. "Let's take a nap."

"Just for a little bit," Brian settles next to Bob. "Then I'll go rescue Nell from Gerard."

Bob's smile is worth what's probably going to be a supremely uncomfortable situation. "Or vice versa."

Brian tucks his head under Bob's chin, "Right. Or vice versa."

***

The sharp smell of chlorine makes Brian wrinkle his nose as he opens the door to the enclosed pool. He has to laugh at the sight that greets him. Mikey and Gerard are both wearing head-to-toe black--Gerard even has a sweatshirt on--but both have rolled their pants up and are dangling their feet in the water, taking turns letting Nell ride their kicking legs. Worm is camped in a lounge chair just inside the door, making sure no overzealous fans get in. He flicks his eyes over Brian like he's looking for bruises and relaxes a little when he realizes Brian is undamaged.

"You have a nice nap?"

Even though he knows he can't do anything about the pillow creases on his face, Brian's hand automatically goes to smooth down his hair. "It was fine, thanks. Bob wants Nell back so they can eat something before we have to head to the venue."

"I'll get her," Worm starts to stand, but Brian waves him off.

"You stay here with these two idiots. I'll take her."

"You sure?" Worm raises his eyebrows, but settles back into his chair.

No. "Yeah, I'm good." He takes a deep breath and turns towards the suspiciously quiet pool.

Both Ways are staring at him like he's the Grinch come to steal Christmas, for fuck's sake, and Nell is at the edge of the pool with her chin resting on her folded arms, any and all signs of her previous laughter completely missing. She tracks him as he skirts around the plastic tables and lounge chairs cluttering up the poolside, tilting her head back when he's standing over her.

Brian knows he's already on shaky ground with Nell and if he wants any sort of future with her and Bob, he's got to handle this right. He's always been pretty good at getting a read on any situation and moving forward from there, but he sort of has no idea what to do here. It'd probably be a lot easier if he knew Nell at all, but he wouldn't be in this situation if he did.

Fuck it, he thinks, You can't go wrong with polite and respectful.

He crouches down so she doesn't have to crane her neck quite so much, "Hi, Nell. Your dad asked me to come get you so you guys could eat before we all have to leave for the theater. Are you ready to get out of the pool?"

Nell stares at him for another few seconds, absentmindedly rubbing the side of her face on one of her waterwings, before nodding and half swimming, half flailing towards the steps at the end of the pool. Once she's out of the water, she wraps herself in one of the giant bath towels from the pile on the table and plops down on the cement to shove her feet into the little pink flip-flops she grabs from under a chair. When she stands back up she's not streaming water anymore and since Brian isn't going to manhandle her to get her any closer to dry, he figures they're good.

She tugs up a corner of the towel to cover her wet hair and heads towards the exit without a second look at Brian. He hangs his head for a second, resigning himself to spending approximately forever making amends to another stubborn Bryar, before catching up with her just before she gets to the door. He pulls open the heavy, metal door and gestures her through.

The cooler air of the hallway is a relief after the cloying humidity of the pool area and Brian takes a deep breath of air conditioned air, stretching a little and heading down the hallway at about a quarter of his normal speed. Nell pulls the towel more tightly around her shoulders and falls into step with him. This is his best opportunity to talk to Nell, Brian knows, so he slows down even more and looks down at her, "I'm sorry for making you sad. I'm not mad at you for anything. I was just upset Bob didn't tell me about you."

Nell frowns up at him, "Did my daddy make you say that?"

"No. I didn't realize I was making you sad, so he told me that, but I wanted to apologize once I knew." Brian's holding his breath. He's not sure what Nell's reaction is going to be, but he hopes she's willing to give him another chance.

She chews on her lip, just like Bob does, "You're not mad?"

"Not at all." It's easier than he thought to reach out and brush a reassuring hand over her towel covered head.

"Okay." She nods once, but doesn't smile, and starts walking again. Brian takes a couple of big steps to catch up, laughing a little at how much like Bob she actually is.

Bob's room is about as far away from the pool as it can be while still being in the same hotel and by the time they're halfway there, Nell is shaking from the cold. Brian stops again and crouches down in front of her. Her lips are sort of blue and he can hear her teeth chattering. "I know you don't know me very well yet, but we could get back to the room a lot faster if I carried you."

Nell studies him for a second, but she's obviously too cold to be stubborn so she steps forward and presses against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, forcing his head into a weird position with the waterwings.

"Oh, you're freezing, kid." Brian stands up and shifts until he's got a secure hold on her, "Let's get you to your dad."

She never completely relaxes, but after a couple of minutes she lets her head rest against his. Brian hurries through the hallways, rubbing at the damp towel covering Nell's back. She feels a little warmer by the time he swipes the keycard through the door, but Brian would be happier if she was wearing socks. And a sweater or something.

Bob looks up when the door opens and seems surprised Brian is carrying Nell, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm cold, Daddy." She kicks to be let down and Brian lets her slide to the ground. She shuffles over to Bob and worms her way onto his lap.

"You are cold." Bob peels the damp towel away and tugs off the waterwings. He unzips his hoodie and tucks her into his chest, folding the halves around her. "Did you have fun swimming?"

"Yes! I love swimming! Gerard and Mikey didn't go in the water, only their feet. Worm didn't even put his feet in!" She reaches up and pulls the sweatshirt over her head, muffling her voice. "I'm hungry, Daddy. Is it lunch time?"

"Almost." Bob kisses her wet hair, "I think maybe you need a bath first. You smell like a pool."

Nell nods and burrows closer, shivering dramatically, "Coooooooold."

"You are such a ham," Bob laughs and stands up, pausing when he sees Brian is standing awkwardly by the door. "Would you like Brian to eat lunch with us?"

Brian shifts as they both turn to look at him. It really isn't fair they both have eyes that color blue. It makes him want to start looking around for sandworms.

"I want fish sticks and corn. And milk. And a cookie."

Brian lets out a relieved sigh when she--well, she doesn't exactly approve of him joining them, but she doesn't disapprove either.

Nell slides out of Bob's arms and starts stripping out of her clammy swimsuit. "Bath first, Daddy."

Bob smirks at Brian, "You get all that?"

"Fish sticks, corn, milk and a cookie, jackass."

"Swear jar, Mr. Brian!" Nell's voice is muffled from where her suit is tangled up in her hair.

Brian makes a face and barely stops himself from swearing again. He's heard all about the swear jar from Frank and Gerard. "What do you want for lunch?"

Bob quickly untangles Nell and pushes her towards the bathroom. "Whatever. You know what I'll eat."

Brian nods absentmindedly as he starts flipping through the room service menu looking for fish sticks.

Bob steps into the bathroom and turns on the tub, adjusting the water until it's just the right temperature, while Nell starts telling him about Princess Rescue's underwater adventures. "Can you grab Nell's clothes when you're done?"

It's so casually domestic--something Brian never thought he'd want, but he's pretty sure he does--that his voice catches in his chest. He has to clear his throat before he can answer, "Yeah, just give me a minute."

He just needs a minute.

***

04/12/2008 - Mexico City, Zero Fest

To: Brian Schechter <brian@...>
From: Greg Morris <g_morris@...>
Subject: Re: RE: Re: RE: FYI

Brian, I understand your feelings, but this is bordering on completely unacceptable. He can't just let the internet rumor mill take care of this. Figure it out.

To: Greg Morris <g_morris@...>
From: Brian Schechter <brian@...>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: Re: RE: FYI

Don't threaten me, Greg. This has nothing to do with music or album sales. This isn't 1953 and their contracts have nothing even close to any sort of morality clause. This is his life and he can handle it however he wants. If you try to force his hand, I can guarantee he'll walk, contract be damned.

That he's willing to do anything is a miracle and you know it. I'm not going to speak for him on this, but I think a personal posting to myspace is doable. Maybe a press release in a few days?

To: Brian Schechter <brian@...>
From: Greg Morris <g_morris@...>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: RE: Re: RE: FYI

I've got the framework for a press conference set up in Chicago for the 18th. I'm waiting on the reaction re: myspace to finalize.

This will not be optional if I do set it up.

To: Bob <bobb@...>
From: Brian <brian@...>
Subject:

I talked the label down to a myspace post from you with an option on a press conference if they want.

It was the best I could do.

- Brian

To: Brian <brian@...>
From: Bob <bobb@...>
Subject: Re:

Fuck. Fucking fuckers.

Fine. I'll post to stupid myspace.

- Bob

PS - I know you did your best. They're just fuckers.

***

04/14/2008 - Denver, Colorado, The Fillmore Auditorium

Hey, everyone. I just need a second of your time to stop all the rumors flying around the boards. After the death of her mother, my daughter has joined us on tour. Please respect her age and situation. Thanks, Bob

"Is that your official announcement?"

Bob jumps a little when Brian leans over his shoulder to read the draft of his blog posting. "Yeah."

"Hm." Brian leans against his back, "It's a little sparse."

Bob feels himself tense up. He fucking hates dealing with this kind of bullshit. "You said I just had to say something to make the label happy, not give my whole life story."

"It's fine, Bob." Brian digs his thumbs into the tense sides of his neck, releasing the tight muscles, "You know the label is going to want more at some point, even beyond the press conference. Probably even some interviews after the tour."

"As long as Nell stays out of the spotlight, I'll give as many interviews as they want." Bob can feel Brian's laugh where he's pressed against him. "You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you, but I also know that you'll spend the entire interview dodging questions about Nell and Amy and only talking about your drums and turtles." Brian kisses the top of his head, "Don't worry about it; that's my job."

Bob thinks that him not worrying about this is pretty unlikely, but he tries to let it go and points towards the laptop screen, "Is this good to go?"

Brian leans over his shoulder and makes a couple of changes before moving back to let Bob read over it again. He makes a satisfied noise and clicks on the 'post' button.

posted to myspace.com/mychemicalromance, 1:15pm, April 14, 2008

Hey everyone. I wanted to clear up all the rumors flying around the boards about me and the mystery kid. My daughter has joined us on tour after the untimely death of her mother. Please take into consideration her age and situation and respect our privacy. Thanks, Bob

***

04/15/2008 - Kansas City, Kansas, Memorial Hall

Bob knows he shouldn't be doing this right now.

They've only got about twenty minutes before soundcheck and Nell is wandering around the venue with Renee, but when he sees Brian heading towards what he knows is an empty office, he can't stop himself from following. It's been two weeks since Vegas and he misses Brian. It's been better since they stopped fighting--Brian looks at him again, talks to him and touches him, but he just wants ten minutes alone with him.

Fifteen, tops.

Bob's maybe a little greedy at this point.

He manages to catch up to Brian and slips into the office before the door even finishes closing. "Hey."

Brian startles a bit and turns around, "Hey, what's up?"

Bob doesn't even bother answering, he just moves forwards into Brian's personal space and leans in, catching Brian's lipring and giving it a gentle tug. Brian makes a funny, desperate noise and pushes up on his toes to get closer to Bob.

It knocks Bob off balance and he stumbles back until he's leaning against the warped filing cabinet, Brian leaning against his chest. The weight of him loosens some of the anxious knots Bob's been trying to breathe around for the past two weeks. They've only had sex once, but Brian has been an important part of his life for years and Bob is pretty sure 'important' got upgraded to 'necessary' without him even noticing.

He shuffles them around until Brian's back is against the cabinet and drops down to his knees, nuzzling at Brian's stomach through his shirt. He pushes up the worn, grey fabric until he can get to skin, biting gently at the hint of soft flesh around his waist.

"Oh, god," Brian's hands twist in his hair, holding him close for a second before pushing him back a few inches, "We can't do this now."

"Sure we can." Bob opens his belt and undoes the button of his jeans, "Soundcheck isn't for another fifteen minutes."

"No, I--"

"Brian, are--Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry!" The door slams shut.

Bob freezes when he hears the door open, frantically trying to think of something--anything--that would explain his position without him ending up on the cover of Big Gay Drummers Weekly or whatever. He recognizes Cortez's voice after a second, though, and collapses with his head on Brian's thigh. "Jesus Christ."

Brian smacks him across the back of the head, "You are going to give me a fucking ulcer, Bryar, I swear to god."

"So, we really can't do this right now." Bob sits back on his heels and watches Brian re-fasten his pants.

Brian shakes his head, "Matt's my eyes and ears in the crew. He said there was some shit he needed to talk to me about."

Bob sighs and levers himself up to his feet. He catches the back of Brian's neck in his hand and pulls him in for a quick kiss, "Later?"

"Definitely."

***

04/16/2008 - Chicago, Illinois, unnamed hotel

In the end, Bob decides to stay in the hotel with the guys instead of opening up his apartment. He figures it'll be easier on Nell if they don't get settled at home only to leave again in a couple of days.

Plus, he thinks it gives him a fighting chance of hiding from Fall Out Boy's collective biological clock and getting away from his mom at some point.

The band has designated his rooms as the lounging area, but none of them are around when someone starts pounding on the door. Nell is out of her chair and across the room before Bob can even push himself out of his seat. "Hey, no! What's the rule?"

Nell pulls up a couple of feet from the door, "Never ever open the door until a grownup checks to see who is there."

Bob steps around her and puts his face to the door, squinting out the peephole to see who is now knocking out the bass line to "House of Wolves". Completely unsurprisingly, it's Pete and Patrick. He rests his forehead on the door for a second, but he's known Pete long enough to know he will keep knocking until either someone answers or someone calls security. He scoots Nell back a few steps and opens the door, bracing himself for Hurricane Pete.

"Bob Bryar, you sneaky, sneaky bastard."

Bob's, "Hey, language!" overlaps Patrick's exasperated, "Pete!" and Nell's, "Swear jar!"

Bob can only roll his eyes because, really, what else did he expect?

Pete angles past Bob to get into the room, setting the package he's holding down against the wall, and holds out his hand to Nell, "Hi, I'm Pete."

"I'm Nell," she shakes his hand. "You need to put a dollar in the swear jar."

"Is she serious?" He looks at Bob and laughs his stupid obnoxious laugh at Bob's nod, "Gerard and Frankie are going to pay for medical school, aren't they?"

Bob tries not to look smug.

Pete digs in his pocket and pulls out a ratty dollar bill, "Okay, kid. Where's this swear jar?"

Nell runs over to her enormous duffel and pulls out the economy-size plastic pretzel jar she's had since she was a baby and Amy instituted the swear jar policy. It's nearly packed full of dollar bills and Pete's eyes bug out a little.

"Holy shit."

"Swear jar!"

Patrick laughs from behind him and gives Bob a one-armed hug in welcome as he walks further into the room. "I think Pete wants to hire her for his little empire."

"He'll have to fight Frankie for her, I think."

"He'd probably sell that sh--stuff to Pay-Per-View." Patrick shifts, almost swaying on his feet and Bob gives him a little push towards where Pete is giving her investment advice.

"Go on. I know you're dying to get over there." Patrick looks torn for a second, and Bob knows Patrick will keep talking to him just to make sure he feels loved, "Ask her about drumming."

The mention of anything musical is enough win Patrick's attention, just like Bob planned, but he totally gropes Bob on the sly as he walks past, "For old time's sake."

Patrick crouches down next to her and holds out his hand, "I'm Patrick."

"Hi, Mr. Patrick. You have a hat. It says 'g. e. e. k.' on it. What's that spell?"

"'Geek'."

Nell finishes looking him over as she shakes his hand, "I like your green shoes."

"Thank you."

"I have green shoes, too. Wanna see?"

Pete laughs again, "Patrick always wants to see shoes."

Patrick gives him a dirty look and punches him in the leg, but Nell has taken Pete at face value and is halfway into one of her bags, totally missing the by-play. She has an armload of shoes when she surfaces and she dumps them on the floor in front of Patrick, quickly sorting them into pairs.

"These are my green shoes, but they're for summer and Daddy says it's too cold to wear them yet. And these are my black shoes. They're for all the time. My tennis shoes light up! Look!" She pulls the pink and white shoes on and starts jumping up and down, activating the LED's in the heels. "Do you have light up shoes?"

"No, but I sort of want some now." Patrick is smiling helplessly at Nell and Bob can practically see the hearts and stars in his eyes.

Nell stops jumping and collapses in a heap next to Patrick, "Are you in a band like my Daddy?"

"Pete and I are in a band with our friends Joe and Andy."

Her face lights up, "What do you play?"

"I sing and play guitar and Pete plays the bass."

"Don't be modest, Pattycakes." Pete leans over the side of the couch to whisper to Nell, "He also plays the piano and trumpet and drums."

"Drums!" Nell crawls over to her pile of stuff and pulls out her practice pad and sticks. She sets herself up at the coffee table before giving Bob the big, sad eyes, "Can Patrick use your sticks, Daddy?"

Bob saw this coming a mile away and has his pad and sticks ready to go before Patrick can add his own version of the big, sad eyes. "Thanks, Bob!"

It's sort of weird to watch someone else correct Nell's rhythm, but, despite the circumstances, Bob is so happy to have a chance to share Nell with his friends, to show her his life, that he's willing to get over it. He's content just sitting and watching them and almost forgets about Pete until he starts fidgeting.

"How did all this happen?"

"Well, Pete, when a man and a woman--"

"Shut the fu--Shut up, Bryar." Pete casts a guilty glance towards an oblivious Nell. "I mean, how did you do it? You guys have been on the road for like a thousand years straight."

Bob checks to make sure Nell is still occupied learning a simple roll from Patrick, "Amy and I weren't together anymore when she found out she was pregnant. We weren't going to get back together, but I was going to quit touring and get a sound gig back home so I could be around. Then Brian called me about drumming."

"So, what? You just toured and came home whenever you could?" Pete is oddly intent, like the logistics of being an absentee father were completely fascinating and Bob finds himself answering more honestly than he would have any other time.

"Yeah. And I called every night, no matter what. Amy worked from home so she had video conference crap we used whenever we could, too. It wasn't the same as being there, but it was better than nothing at all."

Pete nods and chews on his lip for a second before shaking off whatever he was thinking and rolling off the couch to grab the package he'd set down when they first came in. "Hey, Nell, we have something for you."

"Pete, you didn't have to--"

"A present?" Nell drops her sticks on the table and is practically vibrating in place. "For me?"

Pete shoots a half-apologetic look at Bob and nods when he gets a wave, "Yeah, from my band."

Nell tears through the Dora wrapping paper like a raptor and tosses the sturdy cardboard lid behind herself. She pulls a quarter-sized guitar case out of the box and flips open the latches to reveal a gleaming, child-sized guitar, "Oh, Daddy."

She strums her fingers over the strings, wincing a little at the discordant twang, before throwing herself at Pete and Patrick, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Bob shakes his head, "Ray and Frank are going to kill you guys."

Pete laughs, but Patrick doesn't even look up from where he's hugging Nell. After a few seconds, she scrambles off of them, carefully picks the guitar up, and stands between Patrick's knees, "Show me?"

Patrick turns her around and pulls a pitch pipe out of his pocket, "This'll help you learn what each string should sound like."

Pete's grinning like a loon next to them on the couch, a weirdly considering look on his face that Bob doesn't trust for one second.

"No."

"No what?" Pete looks confused.

"No, you can't have Nell or borrow her or whatever you were just thinking."

Pete doesn't answer, but grins, wide and almost impossibly happy.

***

04/17/2008 - Chicago, Illinois, Congress Theatre

"Grandma!" Nell drops Mr. Unicorn onto the couch and launches herself across the room.

Kathy Bryar picks up her granddaughter and spins her around, "Oh, I've missed you!"

Nell hugs her tightly and seems to dissolve into her, "Mommy's gone."

"I know, honey." Kathy looks a little helplessly at Bob and sits down on the rumpled bed. She settles Nell on her lap and leans back against the headboard, "I'm so sorry."

The only response Nell has is to shake her head and push her face into Kathy's neck as she starts to cry. Bob's frozen in place for a second--except for the nightmares, Nell hasn't really cried since he first picked her up--but pulls it together enough to sit next to them on the bed and pull both of them close. His mom is crying a little too, holding on to Nell and just letting her cry for a little while.

After a few minutes, Kathy pulls her sleeve over her hand and dries her own eyes before starting to soothe Nell down from the edge of hysteria. Her quiet voice reminds Bob of a thousand different nights from his childhood and he automatically relaxes against her. Eventually, Nell quiets and dozes off. Kathy tips her off her lap and tucks her into the bed before turning to Bob and pulling him into a hug.

"Come here, kiddo."

Bob leans on his mom for a minute, resting his head on her shoulder and letting the last of his tension seep out of his spine, "This sucks, Mom."

Kathy tugs on the ends of his hair, "We all know life's not fair, we just forget until it kicks us when we're down."

Bob nods against her shoulder--that'd been one of Kathy's favorite life lessons when he was growing up and he took it to heart. "I just wish Nell didn't have to learn it so early."

She rests her head against his, "Were your guys mad?"

Bob shrugs--he doesn't want to get his mom worked up about Brian--and reaches over her to tug the blanket higher up on Nell's shoulders, "Not for very long."

"Okay." She raises her eyebrow, but lets it go. "How are you holding up?"

"Eh." That's as much of an answer as Bob has and he launches into Princess Rescue's latest adventures with her new friends Mikey-the-stable-boy, Gerard-the-squid-rider, and Ray-the-flying-tree.

His mom laughs in all the right places and tells him about everyone she met on the cruise and all the crazy goings-on she witnessed. At some point, his eyes start to blink closed and her voice fades in and out. He stirs when he feels a blanket settle over him and his mom pulls off his knit cap, but then he's out for the count, sliding deeply into sleep for the first time in two weeks.

***

04/18/2008 - Chicago, Illinois, Congress Theatre

"I think I'm going to puke."

"You're not going to puke."

"No, I really think I am." Bob bends over and rests his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. He can't see Brian, but he's pretty sure he's rolling his eyes, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it." Bob breathes out hard and stands up, trying to ignore the milling music journalists he can hear in the neighboring banquet room of the hotel.

Brian is very obviously trying not to laugh at him, "You're acting like you've never given a press conference before."

"Not by myself, I haven't!" Bob has to close his eyes when his vision wavers a little. Warm hands on his shoulders guide him down into the folding chair behind him and push until his head is between his knees.

"Just breathe for a second, okay?" Brian crouches down next to him, one hand on his back, the other on his knee, "There's no reason to freak out. You're going to read your statement and then you're going to take five questions I've already vetted. These guys know if they fuck with you, they'll never get access to the band again."

"Okay." Bob sits up, leaning into Brian's hands a little before standing up, "Okay, let's do this."

***

Afterwards, Bob honestly has no idea what the fuck he said at the press conference. The guys assure him he didn't look like an asshole or an idiot or anything, but it's all a blur to him. The only clear memory he has is of looking at the picture he agreed to send out with the press release.

The label wanted something with him and Nell--some bullshit staged happy family shot--but he was adamant about keeping her face out of the public eye as much as possible. It's inevitable that the fans or paparrazzi will get more pictures of her, but there was no way he was going to knowingly whore out his little girl. Just, no.

There had been a few dicey minutes when Bob was sure he was going to end up punching the douchebag attorney Warner Brothers had sent down. The guy obviously had orders to not take 'no' for an answer, but Bob was ready to walk out on his contract if it came to that.

Brian knew it too, and spent hours hammering out a workable compromise. Now, every reporter who was in the room had a copy, both hard and soft, of some of Tom Conrad's best work. Tom had taken a shitload of pictures--leaving the memory stick with Bob--and promised there were lots of other shots to send to friends and family when he wanted. For one of the few times in his life, Bob's glad he knows Pete Wentz because there's no way some random photographer would have been able to do that.

Or get the shot Bob picked for the press release.

Bob is facing the camera, holding Nell. She's got her chin hooked over his shoulder, looking the opposite way, so all that's visible of her is the back of her head and whatever parts of her back aren't covered by Bob's arms. Bob doesn't know jack shit about photography, but it's sort of an awesome picture, even if he'd been backed into a corner about it.

Brian has a copy of it hanging in his bunk.

***

04/19/2008 - Detroit , Michigan, The Fillmore @ State Theatre
04/20/2008 - Detroit, Michigan, The Fillmore @ State Theatre

Nell gets sick almost as soon as they pull into Michigan.

She's been tired and cranky since leaving Chicago, but Bob dismisses it as missing her new best friend Patrick until she starts rubbing at her ears.

"Do you feel okay, baby?" Bob pulls her up onto his lap and touches his lips to her forehead. She seems a little warm and he can feel a tiny ball of panic start to form in the pit of his stomach. He'd been around when Nell was sick before, but Amy always seemed to have some sort of magical mom knowledge of what to do, so he just followed her orders. Now it's all him and he's pretty sure he's going to screw something up and Nell is going to end up blind or something.

Maybe if he'd seen Nell like this before it'd be easier. In the past, it'd mostly been colds--coughing and sneezing and what seemed like a metric ton of horrible green snot--and on one especially memorable occasion, the stomach flu, but she seems to be wilting before his eyes, snuggling into his side and making unhappy noises.

"No. Don't feel good."

Bob kisses her head and tucks her into the corner of the couch. He's got the kiddie pharmacy under his bunk, but it's sort of daunting. There's Children's Tylenol and cough medicine and Vaporub and a dozen other mystifying little bottles. First things first, though. Bob finds the thermometer and pushes her hair back to get at her ear. The thermometer beeps after a second and '100.1' pops up on the display.

"You've got a little fever. Does your throat hurt? Are you stuffed up?" Bob starts reading the instruction on various bottles and separating them out by symptom.

"My throat hurts," Nell tucks herself into a little ball, "And my ears itch."

"Okay. Let's start with some Tylenol for the fever and sore throat then we'll go from there." Bob pours out a dose of the bright red liquid, "Open up."

***

Bob does not play his best show ever that night.

He doesn't fuck up, but he's definitely distracted by worrying about Nell. She'd been asleep when he left for the venue, Brian and Renee sitting with her and keeping her dosed with Tylenol and Pedialyte, but he hates himself a little for not staying with her. She is his little girl and she's sick. Really sick if her pale face and glassy eyes are anything to go by and Bob should be there.

He doesn't really remember much about the show and, after what feels like a million years later, he's back in the van on his way to the hotel. They lucked out and their dressing room had halfway decent showers so Bob could slip into his room without having to worry about cleaning up. Renee had obviously packed it in for the night, but Brian was asleep in the second bed, slouched over his laptop. Bob saves Brian's work and moves the computer to the small table before scooting Brian down to rest properly on the pillows and covering him up.

A quick check with the thermometer lets Bob know Nell's temperature is holding steady at about 100 which isn't great, but is better than it getting any higher. Even though it's early for him, Bob slides into bed next to Nell and lets himself drop off to sleep, the stress and worry of the past several hours finally catching up with him.

He's asleep before he knows it.

***

Bob isn't sure what wakes him up at what he's sure is an ungodly hour. A quick look at his phone tells him it's three in the morning and he flops back against the pillows, ready to fall back asleep when Nell makes a noise. He touches her head and frowns at the heat coming off her. He gropes on the night table for the thermometer and it's like getting punched in the kidneys when he sees '103.4' blinking back at him.

He's moving before he even thinks about what he's doing. He pulls his shoes and hoodie back on before sliding shoes on Nell and pulling her favorite fleecy blanket out of her duffel bag to wrap her in. He makes sure he has his wallet and insurance information before shaking Brian awake, "Hey, wake up."

Brian jerks awake, sitting up and looking around in a panic. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nell's temperature spiked. I need to take her to the hospital." Bob shifts restlessly, trying to ignore the voice in his head whispering hurryhurryhurry as Brian blinks at him, looking confused for a second.

"Shit." He snaps out of it quickly, though, pulling on his own shoes and calling down to someone on his cellphone. "Okay, thanks. Bye."

Brian grabs both keycards from the top of the dresser and shoves them into his backpack, "The hotel has the shuttle van waiting downstairs for us. Worm knows where we're going, too."

Bob picks Nell up, making sure she's all covered and follows Brian out of the room and into the elevator. Nell is restless in his arms, rubbing at her ears even in her sleep, and her breathing is a little labored. Bob is not afraid to admit he's scared shitless at how flushed she is. Brian reaches up and touches Nell's cheek, frowning when he realizes just how warm she is. By the time they get to the lobby, the rest of the guys have piled out of the other elevator and they stumble after Bob as Brian leads them out to the waiting van. Brian helps get Nell settled in the back before climbing into the passenger seat.

The drive to the hospital doesn't even really register with Bob as he keeps one hand on Nell's chest to monitor her increasingly shallow breaths and the other curled around the back of Brian's seat so that he can feel Brian's arm brushing against his fingers. Brian handles checking them in at the Emergency Room desk and, while Bob has never been happy about Frank's inability to go a week without hurting himself, it definitely gives Brian the skills to get a doctor to see Nell in an amazingly short period of time.

"Okay, let's see what we have here." The doctor takes Nell's temperature and listens to her lungs and checks her ears before making a few notes and looking up at Bob. "I'm going to admit her. Her fever has me a little worried and I'm as sure as I can be without more tests that she's got an upper respiratory infection and a pretty severe ear infection. She's already a little dehydrated despite the fluids you've been giving her."

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever she needs." Jesus. Bob needs to sit down.

"I'll have a nurse get her settled and I'll let you know when you can head up to her room if you want to go back to the waiting area."

"Did you hear that, Nell? A nurse is going to take you up to a room, then I'll be right up, okay?"

Nell looks a little scared, but still mostly tired and pale, "Okay, Daddy."

Bob wanders back to the rest of his guys, a little shellshocked, and drops down on the couch next to Brian.

"Is everything all right?"

"The doctor wants to admit her. Says she's got an ear infection, an upper respiratory infection and she's dehydrated from the fever."

Frank makes a face, "That sucks."

Bob nods and leans over to let a little more of his weight rest against Brian, "Yeah."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the late hour catching up to everyone all at once, but they all stand when the doctor comes in.

"OK, she's all set. The IV and antibiotics should take care of everything in a couple of days."

Bob is a little shocked at that, "A couple of days? She only got sick yesterday."

"It's probably been brewing for a while. You were just in Mexico, you said? The airport is a cesspool of germs and living on a bus..." The doctor's voice trails off, but before Bob can jump down his throat at the implied criticism of his parenting, Brian curls his hand around his bicep.

"I'm going to send Worm back to the hotel to get Nell's stuff if she's going to be here for a couple of days."

The reality of everything hits Bob at once. "Shit, Brian. What am I going to do about the tour?"

"We can reschedule a couple of dates, no problem." Gerard shoots the doctor a suspicious look, as if he's going to jab an IV into Gerard when he's not looking.

Bob knows exactly how much of a problem that would be after the disaster last fall. "No, you guys. Use a sub or something. Don't cancel dates."

Gerard looks ready to argue and Frank does too, but Bob absolutely does not want to create more problems. He's gearing up for a argument when Brian interrupts.

"Hey, manager here. How about we all listen to me?" Brian looks strangely uncomfortable for a second, "I'll stay."

"What?" Bob knows Brian has been trying to make up for being a dick, but this is a bit much.

"I'll stay with her. You play and we'll catch up with you as soon as we can."

"Brian--"

"I'll stay, Bob. It's not a big deal."

"If you're sure." It's not a perfect solution--Bob hates the very thought of leaving with Nell in the hospital--but it's better than any other option. He trusts Brian.

"I'm sure."

***

04/22/2008 - Cleveland, Ohio, The Agora Theatre

Being away from Nell--especially when she's sick--is torture for Bob. He doesn't know how he survived four years of it before. If Brian hadn't volunteered to stay with her, he's pretty sure he'd be coughing up his own money for whatever penalties they'd get for canceling shows.

He dials the number he memorized before they even left Michigan and can't help but smile when he hears her voice.

Hello?

"Hey, how's my girl?" Bob sprawls out on the couch in his bus. It feels empty without Nell.

Daddy! Me and Brian was playing!

"Oh, yeah? What were you playing? Princess Rescue?"

Mr. Unicorn is too sick to play Princess Rescue, Daddy. She's sleeping right now.

"You're right. How silly of me."

It's okay, Daddy. She coughs a little and Bob feels his worry spike again. Brian went to the store and got toys! He says we can leave them here for sick kids when we're done playing.

"That's very nice of him, isn't it? What kind of toys did he get?"

LEGOs to make a pirate ship, but that's for tomorrow. Today we's playing kittens."

"Kittens?" That's a new one for Bob.

There's white ones and orange ones and one black one. There's no mama cat, but Brian says the kids here at the hospital can take care of them when we go. If Bob weren't so thankful to Brian, he'd be recording this shit for blackmail.

"That sounds like a good plan. What else is going on?"

I had Jello for lunch today. The red kind. It was yummy. I had to eat all my peas first. Brian said.

"Brian said, did he? Is he there right now? Can I talk to him for a little bit?"

Yup. There's a fumbling noise as she obviously shoves the phone into Brian's hands.

Hello?

"Kittens?"

Shut up.

"How is she, seriously?"

She's fine. The doctor is happy with her progress and says it'll be just another day or two tops before she's released.

"Thank god." Bob relaxes back into the couch, trusting Brian's read of the situation. "How about you? How are you doing?"

I'm fine. Getting some work done in between playing and coloring.

"If you bring your pages home, we'll put them on the bus fridge."

Oh, my god. Shut up.

Bob laughs, "I'll call you guys tomorrow, okay? Now let me say goodnight to my kid."

Yeah, okay. Bye, Bob.

"Bye."

***

04/24/2008 - New Orleans, Louisiana, House of Blues

"Hello?"

Hey, it's Brian.

Bob sits up a little. It's several hours before he's due to call them, "Is Nell okay?"

Nell is fine. She's being released, in fact. That's the good news.

"There's bad news?"

Her ears are still a little tender, so the doctor doesn't want her to fly for another couple of weeks.

"So..." Bob is mentally flipping through other travel options--car, train, Greyhound, fucking cruise down the Mississippi--trying to decide which would be the least traumatic for everyone.

So I'm renting a car and we'll see you guys in Austin.

"You really think it'll take four days to drive it?"

It's fourteen hundred miles, Bob.

"I know, I know. I just--"

You miss her.

"Both of you."

Bob--

"Brian." Bob's tone brooks no argument.

Yeah, okay. We'll call you when we stop tonight.

"Brian--"

You should talk to Nell before we leave. Call her room while I'm picking up the car.

"We're not done with the conversation, Brian." Bob hears Brian talking to someone, probably at the car rental place.

Fine. I believe you. Happy now?

"Ecstatic." Bob figures it'll take Brian a little while to get used to...everything.

Okay, I've got to go. Talk to you later?

"Definitely. Bye."

Bye.

***

04/28/2008 - Austin, Texas, Stubbs Amphitheatre

"Daddy! Daddydaddydaddy!"

Nell might be little, but her voice carries like crazy and it takes Bob several seconds to actually see her through the milling techs in the venue. She's running towards the stage from the back of the hall. Her hair is scraggly and it looks like she slept in her clothes, but she's the best thing he's seen in days. He grabs her as she runs up to him, swinging her up and tossing her into the air before catching her in a hug. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Daddy." She rests her head on his shoulder and pets at his beard a couple of times.

Bob looks around, but doesn't see Brian. "Where's Brian?"

"He brought me in here and said he had to find a cash machine." Nell laughs and blows a raspberry on the side of his neck. "He swore lots in the car."

"Oh yeah?" Bob's been in the car with Brian before. He's not all that surprised. "Did you have fun, though?"

"Yes! We played I-Spy and the animal game and padiddle and find the alphabet."

Bob tries to picture that and sort of fails, "Wow, that's a lot of games."

"We were in the car forever."

"Forever, huh?" Bob lets Nell slide down to the ground when she wiggles.

"Days and days." She stands on his feet, tugging on his hands until he starts to lurch around like Frankenstein's monster.

Bob moves them over to the stage and boosts her up onto it, pointing to the rest of the band, "Some other people missed you too."

Nell grins and takes off across the stage, throwing herself at Frank. He watches them all smother her in hugs for a second before he's distracted by a hand on his back. Brian steps up next to him, sliding his hand around his side before propping his arms on the stage.

"Hey."

"Hi. I heard you're paying for Harvard."

"Jesus fucking Christ. That kid is merciless with the swear jar." Brian shakes his head and leans over to rest against Bob. "I hate driving."

"I bet." Bob loves Nell more than anything, but can't imagine driving with her for over a thousand miles in a car instead of a bus, "The trip was okay otherwise?"

"Yeah, it was fine. And she's fine too." He pats at the pocket of his backpack. "She's got another few days of antibiotics to finish."

"And then that's it." It's not a question and Bob's shoulders drop a couple of inches.

Brian's hand scrabbles under the shirts he has on to get to skin, "What the fuck? How many layers do you have on?"

Any answer Bob has is cut off when Nell runs up to them, "Daddy! Brian! I want to sleepover with Frankie tonight!"

"What?" Brian reaches forward and reties Nell's loose shoelace.

"You need special time, so I'm gonna have a sleepover."

Bob can feel his face slacken and next to him, Brian freezes, "Nell, what--"

She plops down on the stage and props her face on her hands, "You are special friends, right? I asked Gerard, but he said I had to ask you."

Brian is sort of spluttering next to him and Bob risks a glance over at the rest of the band who are, as expected, pissing their pants with laughter. He sort of expected to have this conversation eventually, but not for a couple of years. Like, twenty. He knows he's turning bright red, but Nell is waiting for an answer, so he takes a deep breath, "Yeah, we are special friends."

Nell nods, "So you need special friend time. Grandma said."

"What the fu--hell?" Brian turns to look at Bob.

"I don't--What did Grandma say?"

"She said someday you'd have a special friend and would need time alone together sometimes." Nell does a backwards somersault and clambers up to her feet, "So I'm sleeping over with Frankie."

Bob watches her run back to the rest of the band and get picked up by Ray to settle on his shoulders. Brian is quiet next to him, but shifting nervously.

"Special friends?"

"It's better than 'boyfriend'?" Bob scratches at his beard, trying not to smile at the face he knows Brian is making.

"Right. So..."

"Special friends."

***

Bob's not quite sure what to expect when he lets himself into his hotel room after the show that night, but Brian jumping on him and climbing him like a tree is pretty far down the list. He falls back against the door and gets his arms around Brian to keep him close. Brian is desperate against him, kissing his mouth, his cheek, his neck, but unable to settle down enough to concentrate on anything.

The doorknob is digging into Bob's back and he's afraid he's going to lose his balance and take Brian down with him, so he pushes off and stumbles towards the stripped bed. He pushes Brian back so he can pull his various layers off over his head. Brian's naked and working on Bob's pants by the time he untangles himself from the way his hood is wrapped around his neck. He kicks out of his jeans and lets Brian wrestle him down to the bed.

He rolls over until he has Brian pinned, twining their fingers together next to his head to keep his hands out of trouble while Bob kisses him slowly. It only takes a few minutes for Brian to stop straining up against Bob and to relax into the bed, squeezing his hands in a syncopated rhythm. Bob bites gently at the line of Brian's throat, scraping a little with his beard, "What do you want?"

"You." Brian shakes his hands free of Bob's and rubs them over his back.

Bob smiles against Brian's skin, "You have stuff?"

Brian reaches into the pillowcase beneath his head and pulls out a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms, dropping them on the sheets. Bob ignores the pile on the bed, sliding down Brian's body instead, kissing and licking whatever bits of skin catch his attention. Brian moans, his muscles tensing, as Bob nibbles under the curve of his rib and continues down the soft skin of his belly. He detours over the cut of his hip, leaving tiny red marks, before licking the crease of his thigh and nudging his legs further apart.

"Fuck, Bob," Brian growls, tangling his fingers in Bob's hair.

Bob chuckles against the skin of Brian's inner thigh, enjoying the way it makes Brian twitch and gasp. "Patience is a virtue."

Brian tugs firmly on Bob's hair. "Fuck patience."

Bob lifts his head up and grins at Brian. He's got about seven stupid come-backs on the tip of his tongue, but really? They can banter all day long and Bob has a really limited window to touch Brian like this, so he licks up the underside of his cock and sucks the first couple of inches into his mouth.

Brian makes an inarticulate noise and twists his hands in Bob's hair, trying not to just push into his mouth. Bob's never been one for any of the rough stuff, but there's something satisfying about having Brian strung tight under him, obviously fighting his instincts to just take.

Bob takes it slow at first, savoring the taste and feel of it. He doesn't get to do this nearly often enough, and even when he does, there's never enough time to savor it. Bob knows he's torturing Brian just a little bit by going so slowly, but the little noises he's making are totally addictive.

He relaxes his throat and goes down as far as he can, holding in place until he absolutely has to breathe. "Oh, god," Brian gasps.

He does it once, twice more before groping on the bed for the bottle Brian had dumped there. He slicks up his hand and slides his fingers behind Brian's balls to nudge at the opening of his body.

Brian sighs and pushes down against the slight pressure. The tip of Bob's finger slides in a little at Brian's movement and he presses in the rest of the way. Brian makes a soft noise, high at the back of his throat. Bob freezes, not moving at all, as he asks, "Was that a good noise or a bad noise?"

"That was an oh-fuck-keep-going noise." Brian tugs on Bob's hair again.

"That's the best kind." Bob turns his head to bite the inside of Brian's thigh as he works his finger into Brian's tight heat.

Bob pulls his finger most the way out before curling another next to it and pushing back into Brian. He kisses the same place he just bit and twists his hand a little. Brian, as Bob well knows, is an impatient little fuck. And he's used to calling the shots. So Bob really shouldn't be surprised that it's only a few seconds before Brian is ordering him to go faster, add another finger, fuck, Bryar, I'm not fucking fragile, fuck me already.

"One of these days, I'm going to make you fucking beg me to fuck you," Bob says, twisting his fingers in a way that he's already learned makes Brian gasp and swear.

"Good luck with that, Bryar," Brian says, his attempt to sound like a hardass kind of failing due to how husky and fucked-out his voice already sounds. "Stop fucking around and fuck me."

Bob twists his fingers one last time, dragging a ragged noise out of Brian, before moving off him and settling himself on his back next to him. Brian snags a condom from the pile and tears it open. He straddles Bob's thighs and licks around the head of his cock for a second before rolling the condom on and pouring more lube onto him.

He knee-walks forward until he's poised over Bob's hips, leaning forward into his grip on his waist as he reaches behind himself to hold Bob steady as he sinks down onto him. And now it's Bob's turn to gasp and swear, his hands flexing on Brian's hips, trying not to leave bruises but that's probably a lost cause already. Brian sinks down all the way, his eyes closed and his mouth open in a silent oh.

They stay locked like that for a minute, Bob holding himself as still as he can and Brian shifting in tiny increments. He leans forward, settling his hands on Bob's chest before levering his hips up and sliding back down with a nearly inaudible sound. Bob lets Brian set the rhythm, fucking up into him as Brian slides down. Brian starts out slow, so slow that it's almost torture, but speeds up pretty much immediately. He drops his head down enough to bite the curve of Bob's chest and Bob braces his feet against the bed and goes for it, fucking Brian as hard as he can, feeling him slam back down onto him.

It's--god, it's so fucking good. Bob has wanted this for so long and he pulls Brian forward, stretching for a brief kiss before dropping back onto the bed. He digs his heels into the mattress, grinding up into Brian and clenching his hands on his hips.

Brian shifts his weight a little, leaning on one hand and dropping the other down to jerk himself off.

"Fuck," Bob gasps. The sight of Brian jerking himself off while riding his cock--Bob almost comes right there, and only closing his eyes and biting his lip hard pulls him back from the edge.

Brian's grinning at him when Bob opens his eyes again. Bob can tell he's totally about to make a smart-ass remark. Brian barely has his mouth open to speak when Bob grabs him by the hip and arm and flips them, managing to somehow do it without sliding out. Brian's smart-ass remark comes out as a moan as Bob slams into him hard.

Brian's eyes roll back in his head and his hand falters for a second before picking up Bob's rhythm and speeding it up. Bob can feel Brian's feet scrabbling against the bed next to him and he hooks his hands under his knees and shoves his legs back.

"Oh, fuck." Brian seizes up beneath him for a second before twisting hard and coming all over his hand and stomach. Bob manages to hold out for two or three more strokes, feeling Brian spasm around him, and then he's gone, game over, his brain whiting out as he comes.

Brian is still shuddering and breathing hard when Bob blinks his vision back into focus and he gets himself together enough to grab the bottom of the condom and pull out. He throws the condom into the little plastic trashcan next to the bed and collapses on his side next to Brian, letting one arm rest over his chest. Brian curls his hands over Bob's forearm and squeezes lightly. He turns onto his side and scoots over so he's pressed up against Bob, nuzzling into the curve of his neck and obviously not giving a damn about the sweat and lube and come liberally smeared over both of them.

Bob yawns and wraps his arm more securely around Brian's back, petting at the smooth skin as his breathing slows, and thinks about a hot shower, about falling asleep just like this, about doing this--and more--again and again. He thinks about years of wanting this, of getting it, having it. He thinks about Nell and how she's probably staying up way too late and watching movies tonight. He thinks about breakfast--tomorrow and a lifetime of pancakes and cereal and yogurt stretching about in front of them. He thinks about--

He thinks--

He's happy.

THE END


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