DISCLAIMER
The fictional story you're about to read contains descriptions of a sexual nature that involve minors. If this subject matter is not for you then please don't read it! All characters and situations are fictional. Any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental. Any comments, criticisms, or flames are to be sent to: create.inspire@hotmail.com
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Please do not publish this story anywhere else without the authors consent.




The Ghastly Obscenities of Brady Jeston
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Final chapter


By TurtleBoy



The following morning, Mark woke up to the sounds of chirping birds and gentle waves, splashing up against the beach. The sun was barely in the sky, but provided just enough light to illuminate the inside of the tent. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched out his limbs, releasing a long, relaxed yawn, and then rolled onto his side.

Beside him, Brady slept soundly on his back. His sleeping bag had become tangled in his legs at some point during the night, leaving most of his body uncovered, all the way down to his knees. Seeing him sleep this way made Mark's insides seem tight and warm, which he couldn't decide if the feeling was good or bad. Watching Brady's chest gently rise and fall, passing breath through his partially-parted lips, Mark's eyes slowly travelled down Brady's torso, until he noticed that, at some point during the night, Brady had slid back into his TB boxer-briefs.

Although Mark was momentarily disappointed that he wasn't able to see Brady's lower extremities, he soon felt drawn to the pale-blue fabric and inched his way closer. Reaching his hand out and placing the tips of his fingers against Brady's chest, Mark slowly trailed his hand down across his stomach, toward the black elastic waistband. To Mark's surprise, Brady didn't stir an inch at his touch, which encouraged him to continue.

When Mark's fingers touched the edge of Brady's waistband, his index finger reached forward and touched the baby-blue coloured 'TB' emblem that had been stitched every few inches around the elastic's entire circumference. Just beyond his hand, he could see a slight lump, barely visible at first glance. Seeing this caused a smile to stretch the corner of Mark's right cheek, and his fingers carefully slid down across the fabric.

Taking his time, Mark allowed his fingers to explore every fold and crease surrounding Brady's centre. The warmth that was radiating from below felt moist on Mark's skin, which caused his entire hand to become hot and clammy. In turn, his once smooth caresses were now dragging against the cotton fabric, taking away from the former excitement. However, Mark did not give up that easily.

After one last trip down the leg of Brady's boxer-briefs, Mark changed direction and traced his finger upward, directly beside the gentle rise below the cotton that had caught his eyes before. With only his index finger, Mark carefully slid his finger along the soft length, still hidden below. Mark immediately felt his heart rate increase, as a surge of adrenaline rippled out across his body.

It felt strange to touch Brady's penis when it was not erect, and the circumstance of the moment only seemed to intensify this feeling. At the back of Mark's mind, he was afraid that he'd cause Brady to wake, and he'd be upset with what was happening. Despite this thought, Mark couldn't stop himself. His own excitement wouldn't allow it; not now.

Circling his finger downward and directly across Brady's scrotum, Mark stretched out his fingers and lowered his hand over Brady's centre. His thumb, without prompting from Mark, gently slid back and forth against the fabric, just above Brady's length. He then softly pressed down with his hand, taking a moment to absorb the feel of what was below his palm.

In response to this, Mark noticed a slight change in Brady's size, which caused him to feel oddly proud, though slightly guilty, too. His thumb and index finger were first to react, as they gently pressed against either side of the plumping length. Without a thought, Mark softly squeezed and gave a partial stroke. In seconds, the object had fully stiffened, and now stood at an angle, pointing diagonally upward in the direction of Brady's naval.

Mark squeezed once more, allowing his fingers to wrap themselves around it, and then cautiously continued to stroke. Soon, however, Mark wanted more. He wanted to see all that Brady had to offer, and feel his skin against his own.

Removing his hand, Mark quietly slid his body downward, until his eyes were adjacent to Brady's waist. Using both hands, he carefully slid his fingers underneath the elastic and gently lifted it, just enough to ease any friction it may cause upon descent. And, with his heart beating at an alarming pace, Mark began to slowly slide the garment down.

Soon, the tip of Brady's length could be seen, barely peeking out below the edge of his waistband. To Mark's disappointment, however, the boy's weight was providing too much resistance to lower Brady's underwear much further. Instead, Mark carefully placed the elastic back down, directly above the base of Brady's penis and released it from his grip. He then traced his finger down the 'Y'-like hem, until he located the opening that would lead him inside.

Mark lowered his hand and rested it on top of Brady's groin, then slowly slid it forward, and inside the hidden pocket, until his fingers made contact with the warm, moist skin of Brady's pelvic area. Cautiously redirecting his exploration, Mark soon felt the tips of his finger graze the hot skin of Brady's erection, causing Mark's breath to temporarily cease. Allowing his mind to calm, he then stretched out his fingers and touched against the unseen length. Then, he caressed it timidly, afraid that any harsh movement would force Brady from his dreams. After much deliberation, Mark pushed forward, slowly wrapping his fingers around the object, until finally achieving a worthy grip.

Taking a moment to lightly stroke the length and absorb its heat deep inside of him, Mark carefully tightened his grip and bent his wrist, as he prepared to free his captive. The coolness of the air when it touched his hand was immediate, and sent goose bumps throughout his body, which forced Mark to become tense, in an attempt to prevent himself from shivering.

Mark's eyes widened with joy, and his mouth, oddly, began to salivate as soon as he saw what he had accomplished. Loosening his grip on the hard, standing length, Mark allowed his mind to admire its beauty.

It was then that Mark noticed a small, transparent drop of liquid that was slowly rolling down the head of Brady's arousal. Not allowing this to go to waste, Mark stretched out his thumb and pressed down upon it. With that, his thumb slowly moved in circles, working its way upward, to the tip of Brady's head.

The more that Mark watched himself explore, the more he felt he could do. In turn, he moved his left hand down and placed it on Brady's hip, while sliding his right hand's fingers down to the base of Brady's length. Immediately following, Mark readjusted his weight, and then slowly leaned forward, so that his face was now hovering directly above Brady's groin.

His head began to lower, without a moment's thought, and his tongue gently slid along his lips to remove any spot of dryness. In seconds, Mark could smell Brady's scent, growing stronger as he neared. Soon, he pressed his lips down against the tip of Brady's head, and gently pursed his lips and kissed.

It was then that Mark disregarded all caution he had held in waking his friend, and he parted his lips. His tongue pressed forward and pushed down against Brady's tip, until slowly rolling downward, in slow, gentle circles. It wasn't long before Mark felt his head becoming heavy, and he slowly lowered himself down. His moist, warm lips gently slid along the smooth skin of Brady's heated length, allowing his tongue enough time to taste each passing inch.

Below, he could feel Brady's muscles tense, and his knee lifted into the air. Without a sound, his erection twitched and stiffened, as his hips gently rose up and then down. Mark froze in place, hoping his actions would go unnoticed, as impossible as that might seem. He waited for what felt like an eternity, causing his jaw to become sore and his muscles ache.

In time, after Brady's movements had diminished to nothing, Mark awkwardly swallowed, and then cautiously resumed his motion. Almost immediately, Mark felt Brady's penis plump and flex in his mouth, causing his tongue to greedily press against the length, encouraging Mark to change direction.

It wasn't long before the once slow, cautious motion was replaced by Mark's continually increasing speed. With every ascent, as his tongue grazed Brady's head, he could taste the slightly-sweet flavour of Brady's natural lubricant. And with every taste, Mark couldn't help but want more.

Due to Mark's heightened concentration, he barely noticed that Brady's hips were now rising and falling in prefect contrast to Mark's movement. And while Mark continued to taste the smooth and savoury length, his hands pressed down against Brady's body and caressed his heated skin.

Without warning, Mark heard a long and gentle hum escape from Brady's throat, which was immediately followed by a strange and salty liquid that flooded throughout his mouth. At the same time, Brady's length became even harder than it already was, and shook with uncontrollable trembles, which seemed to travel down and throughout his entire body.

Unsure of what else to do, Mark released Brady's erection from his mouth, as two tiny drops of cloudy-white fluid fell from its tip and landed on his abdomen. In surprise, Mark lifted his head to face Brady, and guiltily stared him in the eye.

Brady, however, grinned in a half daze and dropped his head back down to the floor. "Wow," he whispered. "Wish I could wake up like that every morning."




* * * * *



Jolting upward from where he lay, Peter cringed and grumbled at the sudden surge of sharp, consuming pain. He had dreamt again; the same dream as before, and many, uncountable-nights prior. The same dreams that had tortured him throughout his life, and the same dreams he still hoped he could save Mark from experiencing.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Peter looked down at the lonely space beside him. It was she who had always been there for him, helping him to heal and live. He loved her for that, along with many other things. She was his saviour, in a sense; the one who had pulled him through when no one else could. Whenever he thought back to where he would be without his Brittany, he would become dizzy with grief. 'But where was she now?' he thought to himself, as his ears tuned in to yet another dreaded verse.

"...Sixty-two bottles of coke on the wall! Sixty-two bottles of coke! You take one down, pass it around, sixty-one bottles of coke the wall!"

"Dear God!" shouted Peter. "Give it a rest, James!"

Outside the tent, sitting beside the fire, James crossed his arms and stomped both feet on the ground simultaneously. "FINE!" he yelled back. "But I'm gonna finish before we get home!" he added through an angry, trembling voice.

Brittany smiled and wrapped her arm around James's shoulder, pulling him closer and into a half-hug. "It's all right, James. You know your dad. He's a bit grumpy in the mornings."

"No," replied James. "He's always grumpy."

Taking a moment to contemplate, Brittany shrugged and rubbed James's shoulder. "I suppose he has been a little snitty lately," she decided. "Have patience, love. He'll sort himself out, soon."

James pushed himself away from his mother and looked her in the eye. "A little?"

"Behave, you little monster," snickered Brittany, as she stood up and walked toward the fire. "Better get your things together and grab some breakfast, Peter!" she warned. "We'll be leaving in half an hour."




* * * * *



Slowly forcing himself onto his knees, Brady followed Mark outside and fell back into the grass. "Wow, I'm still all tingly," he said in praise, while grinning at Mark. "Do we have to get up?"

Sliding on his shoe, Mark nodded. "Bloody-rights we gotta get up. I'm starving!"

"Seriously? You're hungry again?" Brady asked, as he sat up and grabbed his things.

"Of course I'm hungry! We haven't eaten in at least eight hours!" he reminded him. "Now, hurry up!"

Brady reached for his shirt and casually slid it over his head and pulled it down to his waist. "But we had a good thing going in there," he said, hinting toward the tent. "Come back to bed!" he begged, rolling onto his side toward Mark.

"We'll go again after!" promised Mark. "But right now, I need food!"

With a disappointed sigh, Brady grabbed his shorts and put them on. "Okay, but once we get you fed, I need to return the favour," he said, while sliding on his shoe.

Mark looked at Brady and grinned. "Okay, it's a date," he agreed, just as Brady screamed and kicked his foot forward, against the ground.

"Oh frick, that hurt!" Brady howled, while struggling to remove his shoe, by kicking his heal against the ground.

"What?! What happened?" asked Mark, rushing to Brady's side and dropping to his knees. "Are you okay?"

Brady hissed in pain and tore off his shoe, then chucked it at the tent. "Fuck!" he cried in a loud, screechy voice. "It burns!"

Mark observed uselessly as Brady clutched his foot and rocked back and forth. "What do I do, Brady? What do I do?!" he repeated in panic.

"Check the shoe," instructed Brady. "See what it was."

Looking over at the tent, where Brady's shoe had fallen, Mark rapidly crawled toward and picked it up. "I don't see anything!" he announced and gave the shoe a shake. Suddenly, a small, black creature fell out, onto the grass, and started crawling away. "Shit! It's a spider!" Mark squealed and jumped back.

"What's it look like?!"

"It's small and black," replied Mark, afraid to get to close.

"Does it have a mark on its back?"

Carefully taking a closer look, Mark looked back at Brady and nodded. "Yeah - like two splotchy red dots, kinda like one of those bomb clouds."

"Shit, okay... It's fine," said Brady, trying to remember what he was supposed to do. "Get some water and poor it over the bite."

"Okay... uh," Mark turned and started walking toward the lake, then stopped, and turned back around. "Where's the water bottles? That's better than lake water, right?"

"Behind the tent," said Brady, as his heart began to race. "Shit, dude, hurry. I'm startin' to freak out."

Briefly disappearing behind the tent, Mark grabbed several bottles of water and ran back to Brady. "Just dump it right over it?" he asked, fearing that he would make things worse.

"Yeah, just poor it over the bite," repeated Brady, as the world began to spin.

Just as Mark began to poor the water over the spider bite, Brady's rolled to the back of his head, and he fell back, unconscious.

"Brady?!" shouted Mark, afraid to stop pouring the water. "Brady, are you all right?!"

Dropping down onto his knees, Mark grabbed Brady by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Brady, wake up! ...Fuck!" Mark could feel his veins surging with a dose of adrenaline, and he jumped up to his feet and ran over to his large pile of wood. Branches immediately began to disperse, as he desperately chucked them in all directions, looking for something he could use.

Within moments, Mark had uncovered a couple long, dried up branches, which he quickly dragged back toward the tent. The moment he had put them down, he ran back to the tent and retrieved his sleeping bag, only stopping for a brief moment to collect Brady's spool of fishing line.

In a matter of minutes, Mark had slid the sleeping bag over the branches and used the fishing line to secure everything in place. With that done, he grabby Brady under the arms and slowly dragged him over top of the stretcher. "Come on, Brady!" he yelled, "Come on!"

After carefully lowering Brady down, Mark grabbed a shirt from his bag and soaked it with water, which he quickly wrapped around Brady's foot.




* * * * *



"James, stop," asked Peter, following in behind his wife, as they climbed a small hill.

"...forty-four bottles of coke! You take one down, pass it around, forty-three bottles of coke on the wall!"

"James!" Peter repeated, even louder. "For the love of..."

Brittany turned around glared angrily in Peter's eyes. "Stop it, Peter!" she demanded. "What else is he supposed to do out here?!" Brittany tried to point out. "He's been dragged across the country side, with no one other than three old farts to talk to. Let the poor child finish his song - for everyone's sake!"

"Are you kidding me?!" shouted Peter. "I'm up to my knees in filth, stress coming out of my ears, and a child high on oxygen!"

"Excuse me?!" Brittany wailed, stomping her foot on the ground. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be out here! Above that, you have no bloody-RIGHT to be whining about stress!"

Peter dropped his head and stared at the ground, knowing full well that it would be useless to argue any further, and quickly walked ahead. "All right, Brittany. Let's sing our hearts out and ruin any chance in hell that we hear our sons in the distance."

Although Brittany hated to admit it, she could see that Peter had a point. If Mark or Brady were in trouble, there would be no way they'd hear them above James's merry tune. However, before she could reply, Peter had disappeared in the trees.

Natalie, who had been observing from the front of the line, walked up to Brittany and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "It's okay, Brittany. We'll find them soon," she promised.




* * * * *



Peter thrashed his way through the trees, beating every plant and bush in his path with a stick that he had plucked from a dying tree. He knew that his actions were childish, at best, but his mind didn't seem to have the ability to deal with everything that had been happening; at least, not as well as his wife or Natalie.

Of course, his dimwitted actions, as he had just realized, had managed to get him lost. "This is just perfect," he muttered to himself and circled to try and recall which way he had come from. "Brittany!" he half-yelled, but stopped himself from shouting too loud. If he called for her help now, especially so soon after a fight, he'd never hear the end of it, and have to admit that he was wrong. Taking a moment to collect himself, Peter spotted a small, narrow path in the near-distance, and quickly raced toward it.

Deciding to take a left, Peter resumed his search and walked alone, in silence.




* * * * *



"Okay, Brady? If you can hear me, I'm sorry," said Mark, staring down at the small cliff that they had climbed when they arrived.

Taking one last, deep breath, Mark turned around and slowly stepped backward, trying to climb down ahead of time, before attempting to bring Brady. Ever-so-gently, Mark backed up, with his fingers gripping tightly into the grass, until he suddenly felt the ground below.

To his surprise, the cliff was nowhere near as high as he had remembered it from the other day. In spite of this, however, retrieving Brady would still be a challenge.

Carefully reaching for the handles of the homemade stretcher, Mark gently pulled it back over the edge of the cliff, toward him. By the time the other end reached the point of no return, Mark regretted his decision to use the same path that they arrived on. Of course, by now it was too late.

Suddenly, just when Mark was unprepared, the hind-legs of the stretcher dropped and fell to the ground with a hard, gut-wrenching thud. Afraid that he had just made Brady's condition worse, Mark dropped to his knees and placed his hands on either side of Brady's head. "Holy shit, Brady! I'm so sorry!" he said in tears, and leaned forward to press his lips against Brady's forehead.

"Mark?!"

Opening his eyes and sitting up, Mark looked down Brady, who was still lying motionless below him. "Mark?!" yelled the same, excited voice as before.

Mark turned his head toward the voice and felt his entire body fill with dread and relief at the same time. "Dad?"

"Mark!" shouted Peter, dropping his stick and running over to his son. "Where have you been!" he squealed in loud, high-pitched tone.

"Dad!" Mark repeated, when realizing that the person approaching was real. "How did you find us?!"

Peter didn't bother with a reply, and instead grabbed for his son and pulled him into a hard and disparate hug. "I thought we lost you," explained Peter, feeling his eyes well up with tears. "Oh God, I thought I lost you!"

Mark pushed himself away from his father, taking note of the man's hurtful expression. "Dad! We need to get Brady to the hospital!" he said and dropped back down to his knees. "A spider bit him, and, and..."

Finally realizing what was happening, Peter rushed to the other side of the stretcher. "How long has he been out?"

Mark shook his head and wiped a tear from under his eye. "I don't know. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. It happened so fast - he just..."

"It's all right, Mark, lift!" he yelled, struggling to straighten his knees as Brady rose above the ground. "Do you know what kind of spider it was?"

"I think it was a widow," replied Mark, walking toward the path. "Brady said there were only two spiders to worry about up here. A black widow and... something else."

"It's all right, Mark. Most spider bites aren't lethal," said Peter, trying to bring his son some comfort.

Mark's eyes widened and his brow suddenly beaded with sweat. "LETHAL?!" he screamed in fear. "Dad!" he shouted and increased his pace, "hurry up!"

Just then, off in the distance, Mark saw a strange screeching creature, flailing its limbs in all directions, and heading straight for him. "MARK!" it shouted, approaching faster and faster, as it ran down the slope of a small hill. "MARK!" it shouted even louder. "MUM! I FOUND MARK!"

Suddenly, Mark recognized the abstract creature as his little brother, James, who was approaching at an alarmingly fast pace. "James!" shouted Mark. "Get out of the way!"

A mere five feet from his brother, James quickly ground to halt and stared at his brother with tears in his eyes. "Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked, noticing his dad carrying Brady on blanket. "What happened?"

"He got bit, James!" Peter said urgently. "Run ahead and tell your mum we have them. They need to get back to town and call an ambulance."

Not needing to be told twice, James quickly turned around and ran back the way he came. "Mum! Mum!" he yelled. "Call a doctor, Mum!"

On the other side of the hill, Brittany watched as her son reappeared, speeding toward her. "What's wrong, James?" she asked.

"We found Mark!" he said proudly. "But Brady's sick - he needs a doctor!"

Natalie instantly dropped her bag and ran ahead, disappearing through the trees on the others side of hill.

"What do you mean? How sick?" asked Brittany, grabbing James by the shoulders to help direct his attention.

"Real sick! He's being carried in a blanket - Dad found him!"

By the time Brittany caught up with Natalie, she was already at Brady's side, forcing Peter and Mark to place him on the ground. "What happened?!" she demanded to know.

Peter lowered Brady to the ground and stepped back. "Spider bite. Mark says it was a black widow."

Dropping to her knees, Natalie unravelled the wet shirt from Brady's foot to look at the bite. "How long ago?" she asked, while examining the slightly swollen toe.

"I don't know. Fifteen or twenty minutes, max," replied Mark, just as Brittany ran into him and pulled him into a hug.

"Don't you ever, EVER run off like this again!" she pleaded in relief.

"Mum! Not now," he tried to say in a minimally-offensive tone. "We need to get Brady to doctor."

Natalie crawled toward Brady's head and studied his eyelids for swelling and then placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "Has he been vomiting at all?"

"No," Mark shook his head. "He just freaked out and collapsed."

"And this was only twenty minutes ago?" verified Natalie, as Mark nodded again. "Okay, that's good," she said with a relieved smile then leaned over to stare down at her son. "Brady?" she said softly, tapping the side of his cheek. "Brady, can you hear me?"

Several taps later, Brady's head wobbled from side-to-side and a soft, tired groan escaped his throat. "Mom?"

"It's all right, Brady. You're going to be okay - can you hear me?"

Brady nodded weakly then tried to sit up. "What's going on?"

"Shh," hushed Natalie, lightly pushing him back down. "Rest up. We're taking you to see a doctor, to get that bite checked out, okay."

Nodding again, Brady tried to roll onto his side.

"No-no, hun," Natalie giggled softly. "We're going to carry you, so you need to lie on your back."

With a grumble, Brady back over, as Peter and Mark lifted the stretcher back off the ground. "So he's fine?" asked Mark, feeling stupid for overreacting.

"He'll be okay," confirmed Natalie. "You did a great job. Thank you," she said sincerely, while following beside her son up the hill."




* * * * *



Sitting in the waiting room of the West Parry Sound Health Centre, James sat next to his dad, with a coke in his hand, singing happily, while waiting for his mum and Natalie to return from the vending machine... "Only two bottles of coke on the wall! Only two bottles of coke! You take one down, pass it around..."

"Only one bottle of coke on the wall!" interrupted Peter, surprising the hell out of James.

"Hey!" shouted James. "You can't start singing now!" he informed his father. "You need to start from the beginning!"

Peter rolled his eyes and took a long, deep breath. "Five hundred bottles of beer on the wall! Five hund..."

James jumped on his father's lap and pressed his hands firmly over his mouth. "No, Dad!" he said sternly. "Let me finish!"

"All right, all right," Peter snickered. "I see where I'm not wanted."

Picking James up and placing him on the neighbouring chair, Peter stood up and began to walk down the hall. "Where are you going?" asked James. "Don't you want to hear me finish the song?"

Peter grinned and shook his head. "No, you go on without me," he said in hope. "I'll be right back."




* * * * *



Mark sat on the edge of Brady's bed, staring at the IV that had been brutally shoved into Brady's arm by a psychotic nurse from hell, who had taken three whole tries before finally finding the right vein. Now, with his hand lightly wrapped around Brady's, he impatiently waited for him to wake up.

Finally, as if he had sensed Mark's frustration, Brady lazily opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side. "Where am I?" he asked, while trying to focus his eyes to the brightly lit room.

Mark looked up from Brady's arm, as a huge grin stretched across his cheeks. "Brady! You're awake!"

Still feeling groggy, Brady repeated himself. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital. We got popped by our parents," Mark explained. "Don't you remember?"

Brady slowly shook his and groaned. "My head hurts," he complained, trying to roll onto his side.

"Don't do that, dumb-dumb. They've got you rigged with a tube. You'll rip it out, and then that crazy-ass nurse will have to come back to shred your other arm."

"What?" worried Brady. "What's wrong with my arm?"

"Nothing - just a couple bruises, that's all," explained Mark. "They've got you hooked up to an IV, because you dehydrated. And the doctor said you're a wimp," he added.

"What? Why?"

"'Cause you freaked out over nothing and made yourself faint like a girl."

"What are you talking about?"

"Back at the lake, when you got bitten by the spider, you gave yourself a panic-attack, apparently."

Brady looked confused, and scratched at his itchless forehead. "So, it wasn't a black widow, then?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah it was. But it didn't get you that bad. Said you might be sore for a couple days, and to keep an eye on you, but you'll be fine."

Brady stared up at the ceiling in silence for a long moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning. "What did our parents say? Is your dad gonna kill us?"

"Hard to tell," replied Mark, shrugging his shoulders. "Everyone's been all weird since they found us, especially Dad," he explained, then fell back into silence as his eyes began to water. Out of nowhere, Mark lowered his head and rested in on Brady's chest. "I thought I lost you back there," he said quietly, through a sniffle.

Brady moved his hand and placed it on Mark's head and gently stroked his hair. "Nah. It'll take a lot more than that to keep me from you."

"Still - it really sucked," said Mark, moving his arms to Brady's sides and squeezing in a half-hug. "I don't know what I'd do without my Brady-doodle."

Briefly chuckling, Brady reached down and placed the back of his hand under Mark's chin and guided him closer. Feeling Brady's touch, Mark stared at Brady, helplessly following the motion of his hand as it steered him closer to his face; until, at last, their lips met.

At first, Mark didn't move. He just pressed his lips against Brady's, absorbing their warmth and inhaling the wondrous scent that he had feared he'd lost forever. His heart ached so much that it was causing his stomach to churn and drop, as a warm surge of tingling electricity seemingly rushed through his veins. In time, he allowed his lips to part, but only enough to taste Brady's breath and feel his life blending with his own.

Standing silently near the doorway, Peter leaned against the wall and placed a hand over his mouth, attempting to drown out the sound of his shameful sobs. He could feel tears streaming from his red, burning eyes and begin to pool against his finger, but he didn't dare move. He had seen it all from the moment Brady had woken. Initially, he had planned to separate them, to make Mark sit on the chair, but when he saw how happy they were, something inside of him wouldn't allow him to move.

Every deep and buried secret that had haunted Peter throughout his entire life, boiled to the surface and overflowed in a cruel and powerful rage, yet just as he had thought he couldn't bear to feel anymore, he heard the sound of James, proudly singing the final verse of his song down the hall, distracting him from his thoughts. And as Peter continued to watch his son, with someone else's son, he felt his chest begin to ache.

It was then that Peter finally saw what he couldn't bring himself to see before. He knew it had been his own hate that had forced his family to crumble, but now, through his son's inseparable love, it was finally put back together.

Wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his shirt, Peter watched as Mark raised his head and stared deep into Brady's eyes. He smiled softly and ran the backs of his fingers down his friend's cheek. "I love you," he said, while placing his hand on top of Brady's.

"And I love you."





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