Michael is not exactly known for his sense of humour -- or his fashion sense, or his fine taste in literature -- but occasionally he manages to sneak something under the wire and catch Brian unawares. Brian watches him carefully over the rim of his cup, but when Michael just nods and takes another bite of his cheese sandwich, Brian knows this isn’t one of those times.

“Well,” Brian says, “isn’t that going to be a bit of a problem in Hebrew school?”

“Mel and I talked--”

“Don’t you mean yelled?”

Michael smiles, a little lopsided, and Brian sets down his cup and wonders exactly when this conversation took place. He pictures Mel stalking through her tiny living room in the great white north, cell phone stapled to her ear and completely oblivious to anyone else, specifically oblivious to the presence of one particular child with big ears and a vivid imagination. Brian would say Gus gets that imagination from Justin were the idea not ludicrous. So he just thinks it instead.

“There may have been some raised voices,” Michael concedes, “but in the end Mel agreed.”

Brian remembers Lindsay showing up at the loft, lugging Gus in what appeared to be a baby life preserver, and ranting about Mel’s “thoughtlessness” and “insensitivity” on the subject of Gus’s religious upbringing. He’s pretty sure he was nursing a hangover at the time, and since he believes all organized religion is a crock of unadulterated bullshit, he had just let her rave. He’s not really clear on how Lindsay ended up winning in the My God Is The Only God sweepstakes; he’s just certain that in a few years he’s going to be hit up for private school uniforms or some such shit. And as long as it’s not St. James Academy, he’ll agree to fork over the dough.

Sure, Mel caved where Gus was concerned. But that was Gus. Not really her child -- much as Brian hates to think that she thinks it, he knows she does. She didn’t give birth to Gus. The connection is not there for her. With Jenny Rebecca, it’s different. Mel may have approved of a christening, but he wonders if Michael truly thinks Mel is just going to roll over on the issue altogether. Surely Michael is not that naïve.

“Mikey--”

“She agreed that we’ll teach JR about all the different faiths,” Michael says around his last bit of sandwich. “I know I’m not exactly the best Catholic--”

Brian snorts.

“--BUT Ma really believes. And Mel will teach her about being Jewish. And Ben. Ben can teach her about... like, Buddhism... and stuff.”

“You have no idea what Buddhism entails, do you?”

“I know there’s a fat guy and we rub his stomach for luck,” Michael grins before turning serious. “I just want my daughter to have options. I don’t want her to think there’s only one way she has to be.”

Brian is used to slotting Michael into that convenient corner of his mind -- the one labelled Dorky High School Best Friend -- and sometimes it gives him a jolt to realize that Michael isn’t that kid anymore. That neither of them are. He rounds the kitchen island and slings an arm around Michael’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Mikey.”

When Michael beams at him, he wonders if there’s a corresponding corner for him in Michael’s mind -- one labelled, perhaps, Ultra Stud Best Friend That I Always Wanted To Fuck But Now Don’t Really Want To Anymore.

Then Michael is shrugging into his jacket. “The ceremony is a week Saturday. I’ll make sure you get all the particulars.”

“Can’t wait,” Brian drawls sarcastically before the light bulb goes on. “Wait -- they’re coming here?”

“They’re coming here,” Michael confirms, and by the look on his face and the light in his eyes Brian knows he deliberately saved that information for last. That somewhere along the way Michael realized that Gus... that he might not be the best dad, but Gus...

Michael waves a good-bye, but Brian has already got the phone in his hand and the speed-dial depressed. Justin first, then Lindsay, then Cynthia. He’s got to clear his schedule for the weekend.