Prompt: Could you do a prompt about Beckett and Emmett after they grew up? Did their relationship improve?
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Beckett entered the little café and immediately spotted his brother. He sat across from him at the table, and ordered himself a Bailey's coffee. He always felt he needed a little liquor when he and his brother had these meetings.
They tried to get together once a month. They'd been doing it for a while now, in an attempt to repair a severely damaged relationship. They rarely talked about their violent history, and instead settled for safer topics like their own families and work.
Once Beckett had his drink, the two ordered sandwiches and were left to themselves. Emmett sipped his drink, and Beckett noticed how Emmett wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Emmett?" he said.
Emmett abruptly set his drink down. "My daughter was misbehaving yesterday. We'd gone out to dinner, and you know how she gets sometimes. She was being rude to the waiter, and purposely spilled her drink, and ordered a meal and then refused to eat it because she was mad over something or other. I was so mad at her. And you know what I almost said? I almost said 'why can't you be more like your brother' because he was just sitting there, quiet and polite. And it felt like someone hit me."
Beckett knew why. He couldn't count how many times he'd heard his parents say that to Emmett.
"So instead, I let my son order dessert and I told my daughter that she didn't get any because she was misbehaving. And when we got home, I went in her room and I asked her what was wrong. I told her I wanted to help her. You know what she did? She burst into tears and told me she hadn't slept the night before because she was working so hard on a research project for class. So I sat down with her and helped her, and when we done, I made her a milkshake and promised to take her to the arcade to relax this weekend." Emmett still wasn't meeting Beckett's eyes.
Beckett wasn't exactly good with emotions, though he'd gotten better over the years. Still, Emmett wasn't someone he was used to being open with.
"Well...that was good," Beckett said lamely.
"She's not as smart as her brother. She has to work so much harder, but she puts in the effort. I wanted her to know that I see that and I respect it," he said.
"You have something to say. Just say it," Beckett said, wishing he'd ditched the coffee part of his drink.
Emmett finally met his eyes. "I'm saying that I'm sorry."
Beckett nearly spit out his drink. "What?"
"I..." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm tired, Beckett. I'm older now and I'm tired. I'm so tired. It wasn't your fault. Mom and dad should've known better. And hell if I haven't had words for them over the years. But that's a whole separate issue I'm working on. The point is, I was a kid and I was jealous. I took it out on you because I couldn't take it out on mom and dad. And as I got older, it was just so easy to blame you. I hated you. God, I fucking hated you."
"This is a lovely lunch," Beckett said dryly.
Emmett waved his hand dismissively. "I'll pay for it."
"You better," Beckett said, and reluctantly gestured at Emmett to go on. They'd been walking this dangerous line for so long. He wasn't sure what to say now.
"You know, I thought of something the other night. One time, you must've been four or five, you came to my room. You were so lonely all the time. You asked me to play cards with you. And I pushed you. You cried, and mom came down and yelled at me and comforted you. I was so mad." He leaned back. "I don't know why anymore. I loved playing cards. I could've just taught you."
"You beat the shit out of me," Beckett reminded. Regardless of the progress they'd made, he wasn't ready to just throw that out the window and forget about it. He was civil around his brother for the sake of their kids and wives. But that didn't mean he had to accept the abuse he'd endured for something he couldn't control.
"I did," Emmett agreed. "And you know, as you got older, I was scared of you. I was really scared of you. One time I told mom and dad I was scared you were going to hurt me. Mom cried. 'He's just a little boy', she kept saying. But I think she was scared of you too. Scared for you and of you. Dad was the only one who wasn't afraid of you. He yelled at me for saying that. He told me you just needed help."
Beckett glared. "I would've hurt you."
"I know you would've," Emmett said. "So I kept hurting you. It made me feel better and it made me feel safer. If you knew I was bigger and stronger, you wouldn't come after me. Not that it's any excuse. Dad was right; you needed help. I just fed your anger. We all did. And then...I got jealous."
"Jealous?" Beckett said in mock surprise. "You? No."
"Of Kaz," he said, which turned Beckett's mock surprise into genuine surprise. "You love him. You always looked at him like he was the most important thing in your life. It made me angrier. I didn't realize at the time I was jealous. I had no right to be. I drove you away and you found a brother who helped you instead of hurt you. I didn't even realize how jealous I was until you asked him to be the best man in your wedding and the godfather of your first child."
"I don't regret those choices," Beckett said. "I never will. I'm glad you're having your epiphany that mom and dad fucked up and not me, but you still tormented me for years. That's going to take a hell of a lot of work to fix."
"I know," Emmett said. "I'm willing to try."
That caught Beckett off-guard. Emmett smiled a little at his look.
"I'm tired," he said again. "I don't want to be so angry all the time. I don't want my kids to see me so angry all the time, Beckett. I see my kids playing together and I think, god, let them love each other. Let them be close." He spread his hands. "This is a verbal apology. The rest...we'll see where life takes us."
"Guess we will," Beckett mumbled.
"Will you come over for dinner tomorrow? You can bring your family," Emmett said.
Beckett knew what accepting that invitation meant. It meant a long, hard road towards trying to untangle the web of hatred and angry and jealousy between them. It meant more than once a month meet-ups for the sake of civility for their families. It meant trying.
"We'll be there," he said.
"I'm glad to hear it," Emmett said.
They stared at each for a long moment. Beckett, no longer full of rage, no longer struggling as much to express himself, no longer crushed under the weight of expectations. Emmett, no longer desperate, no longer jealous, no longer chilled in the shadow of his brother.
"You're still paying," Beckett said at last.
Emmett snickered. "Sure, Beck. I said I would."
In the end, Beckett insisted on paying for half the meal, and the brothers left with the promise of tomorrow.
