A Boy Named Charlie Brown Written by JM
-- Disclaimer: Not mine, never were. None of it's true and that's the lovely part. Don't like the cute Southern Backstreet Boy and the cocky *NSYNC boy together, move on. Don't like me, smile really hard and maybe I'll go away. Not of age, get a fake ID. Everything else isn't worth mentioning right now. --
To be honest beyond unreasonable necessity, he was happy. He could say it almost religiously. Here, there, anywhere. Without question and he was never prompted. It was just there. A smile that was lit like a neon sign in Vegas. Eyes that were draped in a glassy blueness that spoke unspeakable thoughts of pride, glory. It could've got better, but he didn't need much more. Just this. Just his life, his happiness.
He couldn't take all the credit. In fact, he never did. Everyone knew that and if they didn't, they weren't looking hard enough. They were missing the picture, overlooking the secret in the wire of images that surrounded him. They were just clueless. Frankly, they didn't know Brian.
It was this feeling that sent him into this frenzy. This delicious feeling was brought about by what God gave him. He's thankful for it. Just blue eyes, lighter blue eyes, delicate blue eyes. Then there were golden curls, a softer mane of blonde, caramel blonde baby curls. And large hands, small hands, baby's hands. Romantic kisses, child-like kisses, lips that drooled on him when offering a kiss. All of it built like momentum in his heart. He couldn't quote anyone for this feeling and maybe that was the good part. They just made him feel that good. Made him Brian. They made him ordinary but yet so vital.
Like the shadows of the morning
Climb up to the August afternoon
Charlie has a way of picking up the day
Just by walking slowly through the room
Wednesdays were never lazy like Sundays for the general public. He was glad he wasn't a part of that class because then he wouldn't have this. They wouldn't all be at home, like they were now. He'd be stuck in some studio, in some other part of Florida, recording a song that didn't fit this mood.
This was an appreciated moment. Just his husband, his son, his daughter, and himself, in the den with another Charlie Brown moving colorfully across the screen while his daughter laughed at the dogs from her playpen and his son laid across the carpet with his hands cupping his chin while he watched.
His husband worked, well, cleaned. Washing clothes like a wife would while the children were at school. And he sat, eyes wide with life because they were all here and he was too. Everything just felt pleasant. So simple yet so wonderful.
It was some so fantastic when his son laughed at something Snoopy did. Nothing he would find funny, but he was deprived of that child-like emotion.
It died some years ago. What a deathly feeling, but he survived. Still, watching Angel tilt his head to one side, giggle with a smile that he couldn't see but knew it existed. Sort of like the wind. And he smiled to himself because Angel always did that to him. Always did something so small that reminded him that love existed in rare forms.
He listened with open ears as his son hummed along to some song from the movie. A happy tune. Wasn't it called Linus & Lucy? He's pretty sure that's what it was, but that didn't matter. His son was there, tapping his feet against the carpet while holding perfect measure with the melody on the television. Was that good? He wasn't going to let his son become a singer, not so that he could lose moments like this. Not like his father did.
He found himself stuck in some rush of emotion and he had to be closer. He spread out on the floor next to his son, folded an arm over his son's small back and rubbed a thumb through perfectly blonde hair. He traced an ear, rubbed a smooth check and smiled like he was laughing at something Snoopy did. Why were smiles just that easy to come upon when Angel was around? His mere existence made it all worth it.
His son shrugged him away for a second and he watched his husband's bare feet pad past them. "Daddy," came a whine and he grinned. He wanted to reach out and rub cautious fingers over his husband's feet, check to see if they were cold from walking around without socks. He controlled the urge and concentrated on Angel.
He gave his son a quick peck on the head and tickled his ribs. There was laughter, wild like lion's roars, lifting into the air and it wasn't just his son releasing it. He let his dimples flare and watched Angel roll over, laughing and pushing him away and staying perfectly content.
"Charlie... Charlie!" Endearing as it was, he knew what his son wanted. He pulled away but kept a wet smile across his lips. He rubbed his son's stomach for good measure and withdrew. He let his son be and let his thoughts roll to other facets of the room.
Maybe it's a kind of magic
That only little boys can do
But seeing Charlie smile can make you stop awhile
And get you feeling like you're you
He twisted his wedding ring around his finger and thought about writing a song about Angel. A lovely little ballad over the guitar. He'd never find a title though and decided to move on. That was always best.
He felt long fingers weave through his hair and desired to look up but his husband was already gone. He was moving on, carrying a basket of clothes upstairs and he wanted to follow. He wanted to wrinkle the clothes his husband already had on and find secret skin that was hidden beneath them. But he couldn't and probably shouldn't. He settled for being with them. He settled for spending time with his family.
A dreamy coo stole his mind and he felt small paws on his thigh. He placed his hands behind his back for support, palms flat against the carpet. He smiled at JB, her deep eyes draped in smiles as she panted. He lifted his eyes higher to find his daughter struggling to stand up on the side of her playpen, laughter still bubbling from her strawberry lips. He let a well-designed smirk cross over his thin pink lips, losing jurisdiction over his glee.
Autumn. Soft like magnolia petals and delicate like fireflies. Autumn Ava Littrell was different. She made him more of a father. He didn't chose favorites, even though he and Angel were almost inseparable. She made it better for him. She brought him back to where he was when they first adopted Angel. She needed him more than he ever did. It was restraining like silk scarves on his wrists. Something he didn't expect but like the feel of.
She always attempted to speak and never got far. Still too young. But her attempts made it all better. She wanted the dog to run around. She wanted to laugh again and he couldn't deny that he wanted that too. And he did it so casually. He pushed JB off of his leg and threw a nearby tennis ball across the room for her to chase, for her to recreate that spirited energy she had that entertained Autumn.
A laugh muffled by something caught him and he stared at Autumn, watched her take a bottle between her lips with a broad grin. "There you go pumpkin," came his husband's twiggy country accent and he laughed. Justin always said his accent faded when he became a Mouseketeer. Funny, he never knew why Justin thought that. It was still there. Always thickest when they made love and Justin couldn't control how it rolled off his tongue every time he called out his husband's name. So down-home with cowboy hats and tractor pulls. It was there in every flavor.
He stole away from Autumn to look at Angel who was caught in some wrestle with JB over the tennis ball. He wondered if his son would find an accent? He would probably get it from his fathers and end up talking like some Georgia peach boy at elementary school. Wouldn't that be cute? He chuckled and his husband kicked him because they had some link that was worth being studied. "Don't got no accent," his husband muttered when he passed again and this time, he raised his hand and rubbed it across Justin's ass. Just a feel, just something to remember until later.
He's only a boy named Charlie
A boy named Charlie Brown
He's just a kid next door
Perhaps a little more
He's every kid in every town
He often wondered how he got this at the age of twenty-seven? It didn't seem common. His cousin was thirty, almost thirty-one, with no marriage, no children, and no real happiness. But Chris did have something similar at the age of thirty. Nick was no way there, not at the age of twenty-two, but Justin was twenty-one. He was twenty-one with two kids and a growing marriage. Justin did better than the statistics and he questioned where he ranked in those numbers? Twenty-seven with an adopted son and daughter. He was famous, gay, married to a man six years younger than he was. Sure as hell wasn't a common thing. Sounded like something he could read in the National Enquirer and that just didn't sound like the wholesome Southern family he came from. He still didn't know if that was good.
He excused his thoughts when Justin lifted Autumn from her micro-prison and permitted her to crawl around with Tyke. He inched back to the couch and rested his back against it. He wanted to call out to Justin but he was gathering up toys from around the room, doing things that would be uncommon to a man just barely legal enough to drink alcohol. Shouldn't he be doing something else? Out with his friends at some bar or racing around town in some flashy car? It made sense. Felt like the thing for any young man to do. Except Justin. He didn't want that. He, for some very unapparent reason, wanted this. He wanted domesticy.
The world is full of lots of people
Here and there, and all around
But people after all, start out as being small
And we're all a boy named Charlie Brown
He got to kiss Justin on the nose when Justin knelt down between his spread legs and pushed his bangs back in an overtly caring way. Justin slipped a ragged yellow cap on his head with the brim in the back. "Rocky," was whispered before he got a kiss on the lips and a smooth thumb traced one of his dimples.
Justin started to move away because Angel was fussing at Tyke about something and Autumn was crawling over his feet. He wouldn't let Justin recede. He hooked his fingers into Justin's belt loop and tugged, pulling his husband down onto him until Justin's nose bumped against his forehead and the pressure of Justin's knees were against his groin. He would've spoke but Justin was kissing his forehead while still trying to escape him. He kissed Justin's Adam's apple and shook his head, laughing because he knew this was what he wanted. He desired to remind every portion of his body that their marriage was still breathing. It was still beating with that rainbow bright feeling it had when they first got married almost three years prior. Three years, two kids, and some dogs. Yeah, he needed revival.
Justin got away. Just barely and it left a tingly bright gleam on his lips. He got a kiss as tasty as candy before Justin slipped away, crawling across the carpet to drag Angel away from Tyke. His daughter was climbing his leg and this didn't end, did it? Probably tomorrow when Justin had to go see Wade and work on some new song or probably later on tonight when he knows he'll get a call from Nick about another new song he recorded for his solo album. But this right here was a reminder.
"Go play with your brother while I play with your Daddy," Justin snickered out, scooping Autumn up from his leg and she fussed just a bit until she found her father's eyes, a warning and an assurance. He giggled at Justin's control over her. They were so alike and weren't even bond by blood. What a sight.
Angel rolled around with Autumn, a sideways picture of splendor that kept his attention from Justin for a brief moment. Just a brief moment because nice, very nice lips coaxed him to find something else to look at. He laughed into the first kiss and tried not to moan into the second, the one that included Justin's slick tongue running over his teeth. A child hit his feet and he gave it no thought because his arms were around Justin's back and he could feel Justin resisting the want to rub the budding erection through his jeans.
He still questioned why he had all of this, but most of all, he questioned why he still had Justin. Four years? Almost. He never missed a beat, not through any of the bad things. Teeth grazed his bottom lip and they were both laughing now because they could picture their children's faces while they kissed. Angel was barking at them and they nuzzled noses for a second, his mind still reeling with thoughts of how great it was to be with Justin. Especially when days like this were available.
"Daddy loves Dad," Justin mumbled against Brian's lips and pulled back, petting Brian's chin while Autumn tugged on her father's sock. He nodded and it was special. He had his Littrell's. He had his Justin, his Angel, and his Autumn. Welcome to happiness.
Now the shadows of the morning
Are going past the August afternoon
And Charlie had his way, his very special day
His morning's, and his evening's, and his noon
It felt that good to be that ordinary. They were all almost asleep, with Autumn breathing a soft buzz on a blanket between his knees. Angel tried to blink back the sleep, tried to watch Linus argue with Charlie Brown about his blanket. But Justin's steady fingers in his hair prevented him from keeping the battle going. He laughed when Angel yawned, head pressed against Justin's thigh, eyes drooping shut again.
He massaged his husband's shoulder, a warm arm wrapped around Justin's shoulders. Justin's head rested on his shoulder, his own eyes finding solace in the need for sleep. He mouthed "I love you" on Justin's forehead, taking in a breath of his husband. Could this feeling have been measured? Not with just any old tool from the shed.
He smiled against Justin's forehead and heard another yawn, this time from Justin. Justin rubbed the skin of his stomach, keeping his shirt lifted with his wrist. He traced his navel, thought to drift lower but he knew Justin wouldn't. Not in this state. "Sleep Beanie," he suggested because there was always later. There was always later to capture this feeling again. Happiness didn't wash away, it just faded away with enough alcohol. He was glad he was sober. He was glad he was just Brian Littrell.
He's only a boy named Charlie
A boy named Charlie Brown
THE END.
-- "A Boy Named Charlie Brown," (Rod McKuen) - A great melody and song to brighten the day --
** Inspiration came from my favorite childhood cartoon, Charlie Brown. Yeah, I'm probably the only one out there who cares, but all those Charlie Brown movies always made me feel good and I still collect some now for nostalgia. Anyway, this story is what I call sweet. It's a feel good one. Hope you liked it and you can e-mail me at catsfan1@hotmail.com if you have any song ideas for stories. I'm pretty open, but I tend toward Alternative, Pop, R&B, and some country. Nothing too out there please. **