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[silverhammer]

Max can't find his fucking phone.

After a while, after he's finally remembered and checked the pockets of his slacks and his coat, he realizes he probably dropped it. But he's sure as shit not going back near that bookstore to look for it. He's still on edge, even though he knows whatever happened down on that part of Park Avenue probably wasn't as big a deal as he thought it was.

He needs to head home though, needs to make sure he was just seeing things and it wasn't Pru there, as crazy as that is in the first place.

Somehow, though, he ends up at Brian's instead. He doesn't always call ahead, but today, it's not exactly an option. He knocks, running one hand through his hair as he leans against the door frame and tries to calm the hell down again.

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[silverhammer]

Max looks down at the key on the table, nonplussed for a moment before he slides it to the edge of the table and picks it up, turning it over in his hands.

"No more waiting in the hall," he says. Not that there's exactly been a hell of a lot of that. Usually it's not like today. Usually, Max has got a phone and a way of at least trying to call ahead or something. He was never too good at messaging on that thing like most people do these days.

He tucks the key into his pocket.

"Thanks."

[minimumbullshit]

"I had a spare," he shrugged, because it could easily be written off as nothing. It was just too inconvenient to be expected to let Max in, every time he came skulking around, he might as well just save himself the trouble.

Sitting himself back down, with a sigh, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, leaving the floor open for Max to say whatever he needed to. If it happened to be nothing, that was Max's choice.

[silverhammer]

Max is quiet for a long moment, then finally pulls off his coat, setting it on the couch next to him. The last thing he wants to do is keep talking about it, but he still can't manage to get what happened on the street out of his head. It'll pass, it usually does, but he doesn't have a goddamn idea when it finally will.

"Father-son Sunday?" he asks, empty small talk as he nods over at Gus.

[minimumbullshit]

"The kid's gotta get a strong, male influence from somewhere," Brian said, a genuine smile flickering across his face as he watched Gus pull himself to his feet, using the walls of the playpen to test his balance.

"You're letting it hold you back," he said, after a moment of silence. "If you want it to, that's your choice, but it doesn't have to."

[silverhammer]

"You mean I can just stop? Gee, why didn't I think of that?" Max asks, sarcastic as he frowns over at Brian.

Max knows it's done a hell of a lot to change the way he lives, and if he thought there was a way to change that, he would. Mostly, he just tries to keep the hell away from anything he thinks might set him off, but it's not like he can help it if some asshole decides to fire off a gun in public.

[minimumbullshit]

"Right, that's exactly what I said," Brian laughed, rolling his eyes and cutting Max a look.

"This, today? You've got no control over that shit. It happens, you deal with it. But I'm not talking about just today."

Not that Brian could say anything about anybody's drinking, and if Max wanted to hop from job to job, that was his business, but he'd been in a backslide since the wreck, a fact that he was pretty skilled at denying.

"But hey, what do I know?"

[silverhammer]

"Look, can you not give me shit for this right now?" Max replies, and he scrubs a hand over his face again. It's starting to sound like the beginning of yet another lecture, like ones he's gotten from his parents or from his sister or from countless professors before he dropped out of Princeton.

The last person he needs to hear it from is the guy he's sleeping with.

[minimumbullshit]

Gus watched them through the mesh of his playpen, eyes wide with sudden interest. Brian gasped, mouth open with shock, a pantomimed uh oh gesture, for his son's benefit. The kid giggled, bouncing happily on his diapered butt. He babbled, the way he had been for weeks-- no longer just noises to himself, but an actual conversation he seemed to expect Brian to understand.

A lot of dee dee dees and muh muh muhs.

He'd pulled himself up, again, and was reaching over the edge of the playpen, his little fists opening and closing in Brian's direction. With a sigh, Brian got to his feet and crossed the room, lifting his son into his arms.

As far as he was concerned, the conversation between Max and himself was over.

[silverhammer]

It's fucking weird. Anyone else would have pushed it. He knows Lucy would have pushed it. As much as he can tell she's on eggshells around him a lot these days, Max feels like he wouldn't have let it go so easy.

As it is, Brian jumps up and heads over to grab Gus instead, leaving Max by himself on the couch. He ought to feel grateful for it, but for some reason it feels almost empty.

"I can deal with this, alright?" he says.

[minimumbullshit]

"I know you can," Brian said, and for once, it wasn't flippant, it wasn't a dismissal. He truly believed that Max could handle it. Maybe not alone, and maybe not right away, but he never would've bothered with someone he didn't have at least some faith in.

"I never thought you couldn't."

[silverhammer]

This is the stuff they usually don't talk about. Or at least, the stuff that Max doesn't, because pretending it's not there's a hell of a lot easier. Or at least, pretending he's not pissed the hell off about it all.

Max says the words, says he can deal with it, but there's not a lot of conviction there. Mostly because days like today, he wonders if everything below the neck working just fine is enough to get by on. His expression softens as he looks up at Brian, and he sighs.

"I should probably go buy a new phone," he says, "My sister's gonna try to call once she hears about Pru."

[minimumbullshit]

It was bullshit. Max could've easily called from Brian's phone and gone out to get a replacement later, but if he wanted an excuse to get some fucking air, Brian wasn't going to stop him.

Nodding, he said dryly, "Well, if you decide to come back, we've got a rousing evening planned. Sesame Street, mac and cheese, Mega Bloks."

With Gus still babbling in his arms, Brian leaned down, pushing a hand through Max's hair and tipping his chin up into a brief but warm kiss. Lingering only for a second, he stepped away, heading into the kitchen to get Gus a snack.

[silverhammer]

Max only just took off his jacket, but he pulls it on again before pushing to his feet. He needs a cigarette or a joint. And he'll definitely go looking for some place to buy a new phone while he's out, even though he knows it's something that can wait. Brian's got a phone— and he thinks Lucy probably has the number— and from what Brian's said, Pru's fine.

But Max still needs a minute before he feels like a person again, and not just pieces of himself put back together the wrong way.

"Yeah. I'll be back," he says, "Maybe save me some macaroni?"

[minimumbullshit]

"Maybe," Brian agreed, glancing up from his search in the fridge to flash Max a grin.

Lifting one of Gus's hands in a wave, Brian said, "Say bye-bye, Sonny Boy." Waving enthusiastically, the kid let out a string of sounds, hitting on buh at least a few times.

"Close enough."