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Aug. 12th, 2024 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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hemmingfamblyWHO: Briar and Broderick
WHEN: Jesus Christ idk like sometime in June or whatever, after game stuff
WHERE: Adventure Society/Around Town
WHAT: Stupid idiots picking on each other and also talking about things for reals
WARNINGS: Nah
WHEN: Jesus Christ idk like sometime in June or whatever, after game stuff
WHERE: Adventure Society/Around Town
WHAT: Stupid idiots picking on each other and also talking about things for reals
WARNINGS: Nah
Lately, Briar's been having a pretty good time of it. Work has stabilized, he's gotten engaged, he's made Bracken a table, they'd had another good non-pack dinner. It's made him happy in a way he hasn't really been, and it makes him, at least for the moment, feel more social. So, it's with that whole being social intention that, after work, he heads to Broderick's office, hoping to catch the other man before he heads back to his apartment. He raps the knuckle of his index finger on the ajar door before simply poking his head in - he couldn't have wanted to keep anyone out if he hadn't fully closed it.
"You busy?"
Silence greets the werewolf.
From where Broderick is standing in front of a bookshelf there’s no movement that would suggest the wizard had heard Briar at all.
For a moment, Briar thinks this is a joke, and he huffs quietly, fully pushing the door open. But Broderick still doesn't move, and there's something unsettling about his silence. Briar's easy expression quickly turns into a frown as he moves into the room, reaching out for his friend's shoulder.
"Broderick?"
At first contact, there’s a sharp inhale, like the touch breaks something free. Broderick’s shoulders slump, the previous tension in his frame only noticeable now that it’s gone.
“Briar,” he manages after the briefest moment of hesitation, brow furrowing with the confusion in his voice.
“Fuck. Sorry. I zoned out a moment there, didn’t even hear you come in. Shocking,” he recovers with a sly curve of his mouth, resuming the reshelving of the book held tightly in his hand.
The hand remains on Broderick's shoulder, as does the look of concern on Briar's face. He shakes his head, trying to turn the other man towards him after the book has left his hands.
"That was more than just zoning out. The fuck was that?" He searches Broderick's face for a hint of something - illness? Possession? He's not really sure, but that doesn't mean he's not going to look.
Broderick suffers the concern, pointedly humouring Briar’s appraisal. “I’m a medium Briar,” he brushes the werewolf’s hand off, not unkindly, but firmly nonetheless. “Sometimes my attention goes to the other plane. Did you come here to stare into my eyes, because that might be an awkward conversation to have with your fiancé and brother later.”
This argument is… valid, Briar supposes, even though he doesn't like it. He hmphs, clear annoyed acceptance, as he slips his hands into his pockets. He then graces Broderick with one of his usual faces, a wrinkled nose, a momentary half-snarl of his lip, telling himself that he just needs to trust that what he'd seen really isn't a big deal.
"Keda'd be supportive of it, I'm sure. But unfortunately for you, I just came to see if you wanted to grab a beer."
“But not your brother,” Broderick adds, a pleased smile lighting his face at the invitation for a drink. “A beer sounds great. It’ll be on me,” he warns as he turns away from the shelf to ready himself to leave. “We’re not out of celebratory drinks just yet. Unless…” he pauses. “Do you need to talk to me about something?”
"He probably wouldn't be thrilled, no." Briar shrugs at Broderick's offer, willing to accept one beer, at least. They can save arguing over more for later. Taking a small step back, to give the other man room to get himself readied, he shakes his head. "Not particularly. Just… wanted to hang out." It's mostly true. "Nothing new to celebrate, and nothing that requires sorrow drowning or anything like that."
Broderick’s mouth quirks at that. “A pint just for the sake of a pint? Don’t think I’ve had one of those since before January.”
"We're friends, aren't we?" It's a little defensive, in the way that sometimes Briar's tone is unintentionally, but outside of that nothing suggests that he is, in fact, defensive. He's not actually sure if there is much more of a reason than that. But they'll both find out sooner or later, he figures, after a few drinks smooth over his desire to keep most things to himself.
"And sounds like you need to get better friends if it's been since January."
“I definitely need better friends,” Broderick returns easily, pointedly raising his eyebrow at Briar before the expression devolves into a smug smile. “In fact, we can start with my mate buying me a pint.”
***
Okay. Admittedly, Broderick could have kept his mouth shut. The trivia host hadn't been that bad, and it wasn't like he and Briar had been there to play in the first place.
They had only been on their second beer, having a very animated and pleasant conversation about how absolute shit footie was in America when the host had made his second ridiculous blunder and instead of correcting his mistake when Broderick had pointed it out (justifiably!), he’d doubled down. One full row later and he and Briar were now firmly outside the bar
“You can’t tell your brother about this,” Broderick at least has the decency to look apologetic as they wait in line for a hotdog from the street vendor.
Briar had stayed completely out of the argument that had ensued, calmly making sure to finish his beer because there was no way this wouldn't end in ejection. And, what do you know. He hums at Broderick's comment, noncommittal and amused. He doesn't mind the change of scenery so much - the intention was just to hang out, after all.
"I can't? Seems like just the sort of thing he'd love to hear about."
Broderick grumbles something under his breath at that, brows furrowed like the grown ass man might sulk about that given the chance.
“Oh I know he’d love it. Better than Christmas morning for him. But since you’re such a good friend you’ll eat your free hotdog and shut up about it.”
"You like being bullied, and he'll have fun sassing you. Telling him seems like a win-win-win." Briar's tone remains easy, leaving his actual intentions unclear. Poor Broderick will just have to see. And will have to apparently pony up a hot dog, regardless.
"Do you feel satisfied with your argument, though?" A genuine question, if still clearly amused.
“How can anyone be satisfied with a dickhead like that operating a microphone without supervision,” the wizard scoffed like the question offended him more than the subject of the conversation.
“But seeing as I suitably eviscerated him in a public space,” Broderick sniffs, an imperious tilt to his chin. “Yes. Yes I am. And I noticed you enjoyed yourself.”
Briar's smile tugs a little more at the corners of his lips, and he doesn't put too much effort into smoothing it out. "Pretty funny to watch you get worked up. And managed to finish my beer since I knew where it was going, so I don't have anything to be mad about. And now you have to feed me."
He shrugs with the tick up of a single shoulder. "Can't not tell Bracken, since we're on such good terms now."
Broderick smiles privately at that, turning back towards the vendor now waiting for their order. “Two polish sausages, two cokes,” he hands the 20 over, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket even as he nudges Briar over to the side.
“Yeah?” he hands the other man the can of coke as they wait. There’s nothing teasing about his tone or expression when he looks at Briar. “You two get together and talk shite about me? That’s great,” and he means it.
There's no fight in Briar as he's nudged to the side, and he takes the offered can with the slightest wrinkle of his nose at the change in Broderick's tone. It's more reflex than anything else, though there remains a slight discomfort in this sort of acknowledgement of good things, even if he's the one who had brought it up.
"You're absolutely shittalked." He opens his coke, hesitating a moment as he considers whether to deflect or not. "Talk about other things too. Beer. What horseshoes are the best. When the next speed dating'll be. Important things."
“Important things,” Broderick echoes with all the incredulity possible. He takes the hot dogs from the vendor, handing off Briar’s so the man can get whatever fixings he prefers (and so Broderick can judge them too). “So you’re saying I'm important to you. How disgustingly sweet of you.”
"No, no, shittalking you is important to me," Briar corrects, taking his food with a nod of appreciation and a satisfied smile at easily turning the comment around. He jostles the other man a little as he goes for condiments (onions and mustard, very simple), soda tucked in the crook of his arm after said jostling.
"You're alright though. Don't mind being around you."
Broderick rewards that comment by snatching the mustard right from his hand, though a broad, pleased smile follows.
“You Hemmings and your confessions,” he chuckles, snaking his head, and the good humour remains until Broderick gets a look at the werewolf’s condiment choices.
“Fucking Christ, what is wrong with you lot,” he groans, a future of nonsense spread wide and long in front of him. He’s going to suffer so much. “Not even ketchup, honestly.”
The urge to squeeze the mustard tight as it's taken from him is strong, but Briar has the sense to behave (mostly) in public, so he simply makes a face at Broderick.
"Bracken finally tell you he thinks you're cute or something? And keep your opinions to yourself there, nerd." He nods towards a nearby park bench, but does wait to start heading there so Broderick can finish his own fixings. "Don't need to drown it in stuff."
“It’s not drowning,” Broderick scoffs, sprinkling the last of the pickles before he follows Briar, finger already smeared with ketchup. “It’s properly dressing the tube of questionable meat. And Bracken tells me I’m cute every day because it's the truth.”
He bites into the hot dog, chewing with unnecessary intensity.
He doesn't answer Briar’s question about the confession, not wanting to share things Bracken may not want him to. So instead he says: “I’m in love with your brother.”
"Prefer meat to condiments, and it doesn't smell off, so it's not questionable," Briar replies with a wrinkled nose, ignoring the part about Bracken calling him cute because it doesn't require commentary. It's good, obviously, but he doesn't need to pump up Broderick's ego anymore.
As they reach the bench he settles in, glancing to the other man as he shares his confession. Briar's not surprised by it, particularly, but that doesn't mean it doesn't affect him. It makes him… happy. It feels like a line of security for Bracken, even if he knows that it could also potentially throw off his brother. He pushes down the smile by taking a bit of his own food, chewing as he ponders what to say. He settles on maybe just a little sassing.
"Y'know, normally you tell the person you're in love with, not their brother."
“I did,” Broderick returns easily, thumbing away a bit of the mustard at the corner of his mouth before taking another bite.
“Just thought you should know you won’t be free of me just yet. Well,” he shrugged. “as far as I’m concerned at least.”
Briar nods once, slow and nearly thoughtful. That happiness is still sitting in the center of his chest. The way Broderick's talking about it, it didn't freak Bracken out, which is very good. He manages to look mostly relaxed about the whole thing, but there is a subtle sort of lightness to him.
"Oh, I'd be pissed if you just fucked off. Hard to make friends in your forties. Or ever, really."
“You think you and I are mates?” There's an amused quirk to Broderick’s mouth even as he takes another bite of the polish sausage.
"Not getting a rise out of me with that one, I know what it means. Haven't been living under a rock." Briar gently nudges Broderick's knee with his own. "If you say we're not friends though, I'm kicking the shit out of you. Don't have time for a situationship or whatever."
Yes, he has spent enough time judging hot professors on TikTok that he accidentally absorbed this word.
That actually startles a surprised but amused bark of laughter out of Broderick, one he nearly chokes on.
“Christ, I’m imagining you with teenage daughters.” As an older brother who effectively was the father to a teenage girl less than ten years ago, there’s a petty kind of satisfaction he gets out of the mental image. Bracken too he supposes.
Fuck, he's come to really care about this family.
“We’re friends,” he answers finally on a sigh.
"Raised kids before, I can do it again," Briar replies dismissively, even though there's sort of a couched admission of maybe, someday, kids of his own in there.
"Seemed like it really pained you, saying that," he jokes, his voice remaining light as he leans back, pondering. "Things sure have changed in a short time."
Broderick makes a noise of assent, chewing his sausage with great focus.
Scarily so, if he were to be honest. He didn’t expect any of this (and certainly not finding love after Miles. Not so soon at least. Or really, at all.)
“Do you ever wonder if those things might be dependent on this place,” he gestures uncaringly towards the general direction of the society. “That once we’ve moved on from here, those things will be tested?”
Broderick is offensively confident and bull headed where his beliefs and convictions are concerned, but there may be a thread of insecurity buried deep somewhere in the well of the question.
Briar can't help but turn to look at his companion, his head tilting ever so slightly as he takes another bite. He, of course, waits to speak until he's finished, but one could be forgiven for assuming it was a stalling tactic (because it was).
"Some things will be. Changing any job or place you live upends dynamics and all. But the important things? Worse case they shift in shape a little to accommodate the change. But they don't break." A pause, "Can't imagine much changing with you and Bracken. This job landed you in the same place but it's not like anything about the work brought you two together. Y'all did that all on your own by being annoying and liking that about each other."
Broderick hadn’t really been speaking of Bracken when he asked the question, but as he listens to Briar’s calm reassurance, he realizes that perhaps it was a lingering fear he was refusing to acknowledge.
“We’ll change,” he disagrees, gaze caught on an older couple further down the street, their pace slow and uncaring as the rest of the city’s busyness seems to pass them by.
They’ll change. Broderick just hopes they’ll change together.
“They don’t break, eh?” He blinks his attention back to Briar, parroting the man’s wisdom even as he makes sure his elbow jams into the soft space of the man’s side. What, like he was going to let that ‘annoying’ comment go? “Lord knows why Keda is marrying your sorry self, but you two seem to have weathered quite a bit of change. It’s nice,” he clarifies more affectionately.
"Of course you'll change, but just leaving here won't do it. We've got all other sorts of problems and life changes in store for that." Briar gives a small shrug, not dismissive, just not worried. If Bracken and Broderick change in ways that aren't compatible, he can't imagine that having stayed here would have stopped that from happening. No reason to invite such a shit outcome, though, so he just kicks Broderick a little in retaliation for the elbow, leaving that thought behind.
"Keda's marrying my sorry self because she's just as much of a nightmare as I am. Match made in hell." He glances off, nose a little wrinkled because the sincerity in Broderick's voice is, as usual, a little uncomfortable.
"Honestly, I wonder some if it'll change anything. But, we're practically married now, given how we both know neither one of us is going anywhere. So I can't imagine it really will." Not that that's a bad thing.
“Probably won’t change a thing,” Broderick agrees, but the smile at the thought of this match made in hell is making chewing his hot dog very difficult. “But you’d be surprised. It's not for everyone, titles mean little about commitment and you're obviously victims of a blood pact, but being able to be a husband and call her your wife is going to feel pretty fucking good. Nightmare wife,” he corrects.
Briar nods a little thoughtfully, struggling with his own smile at 'nightmare wife.' It feels good to think of it - better than he thought it would, honestly. The feeling at least feels worth all the fuss it takes to actually get married.
"She's enjoying all the new things she can say. Been a long time since we were anything different to each other." He's quiet for a long moment, and his smile fades a little. "I'm not sure if this would've happened if we hadn't've come here. Or at least, it wouldn't have happened now. Strange to think, with what a shitshow it's been sometimes."
To put things lightly. Broderick gives a derisive snort.
He’s caught though, by what Briar shared. “Why wouldn’t it have?” He looks at the other man, crumpling up the remaining napkins in his hand as he swallows down the last of his meal. He’s curious.
Still contemplative, Briar finishes off his own food. It's a good excuse to ponder his response, knowing he's already given away enough that he has to be something close to honest.
"Couldn't have proposed without Bracken and I being at least… okay with each other. Hadn't really even occurred to me, to be honest, until recently." He's quiet for another moment. "Still weird to think this stupid fucking place evened things out, but… it's good." An understatement, honestly. Briar's happier than he's been in a long while.
Broderick lets that statement hang in the air for a moment, feeling that strange, inexplicable kinship with this man as the words resonate.
The wizard watches Briar for another long moment before he sighs.
“Weird to think that this place has done some actual good for all of us.” He sounds almost annoyed about it, as if the whole episode hadn’t brought him and Byron closer together, helped him process some of his grief, or led to…Bracken.
He clears his throat. “By good, I didn’t mean you,” he flicks the other man in the ear as he stands. “You’re an insufferable irritant to me, don’t get any ideas.”
The flick in the ear is met with a (mostly gentle) jab in the side, the reaction immediate as Briar stands as well. "Yeah, well, I was going to say I'm glad we're friends, but…" The hint of a smile suggests that that was absolutely not what he was about to say, but it's all fine. Broderick will know he means it just the same.
"You're good for Bracken, so I guess I'll keep dealing with you."
“Oh well with your permission then,” Broderick rolls his eyes, but he reaches over to take Briar’s wrapper and garbage just the same, walking a few feet away to dispose of it before Briar can say anything.
“Come on then,” he tugs at the back of Briar’s shirt as he strides past, hip checking the man unintentionally (Broderick is handsy with the people he cares about). “Let’s get properly soused somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t run by complete fuckwits with obvious prejudice against the Welsh.”
Briar allows his garbage to be taken with a little huff, watching Broderick and thinking about how truly appreciative he is of the other man. Even if he can be a pain in the ass.
"You'd be having a very bad time without my permission." He is pulled momentarily, hip checked, completely natural in this state of near constant and fleeting touches. It's ingrained in him. He's glad that Bracken can have this in a partner, like he's found it in Keda.
As the other man moves along Briar rolls his eyes, falling into an even pace with his companion. "You get us kicked out of somewhere else with your damn mouth, you're buying beers for the next month. And no, you can't argue against that."
"You busy?"
Silence greets the werewolf.
From where Broderick is standing in front of a bookshelf there’s no movement that would suggest the wizard had heard Briar at all.
For a moment, Briar thinks this is a joke, and he huffs quietly, fully pushing the door open. But Broderick still doesn't move, and there's something unsettling about his silence. Briar's easy expression quickly turns into a frown as he moves into the room, reaching out for his friend's shoulder.
"Broderick?"
At first contact, there’s a sharp inhale, like the touch breaks something free. Broderick’s shoulders slump, the previous tension in his frame only noticeable now that it’s gone.
“Briar,” he manages after the briefest moment of hesitation, brow furrowing with the confusion in his voice.
“Fuck. Sorry. I zoned out a moment there, didn’t even hear you come in. Shocking,” he recovers with a sly curve of his mouth, resuming the reshelving of the book held tightly in his hand.
The hand remains on Broderick's shoulder, as does the look of concern on Briar's face. He shakes his head, trying to turn the other man towards him after the book has left his hands.
"That was more than just zoning out. The fuck was that?" He searches Broderick's face for a hint of something - illness? Possession? He's not really sure, but that doesn't mean he's not going to look.
Broderick suffers the concern, pointedly humouring Briar’s appraisal. “I’m a medium Briar,” he brushes the werewolf’s hand off, not unkindly, but firmly nonetheless. “Sometimes my attention goes to the other plane. Did you come here to stare into my eyes, because that might be an awkward conversation to have with your fiancé and brother later.”
This argument is… valid, Briar supposes, even though he doesn't like it. He hmphs, clear annoyed acceptance, as he slips his hands into his pockets. He then graces Broderick with one of his usual faces, a wrinkled nose, a momentary half-snarl of his lip, telling himself that he just needs to trust that what he'd seen really isn't a big deal.
"Keda'd be supportive of it, I'm sure. But unfortunately for you, I just came to see if you wanted to grab a beer."
“But not your brother,” Broderick adds, a pleased smile lighting his face at the invitation for a drink. “A beer sounds great. It’ll be on me,” he warns as he turns away from the shelf to ready himself to leave. “We’re not out of celebratory drinks just yet. Unless…” he pauses. “Do you need to talk to me about something?”
"He probably wouldn't be thrilled, no." Briar shrugs at Broderick's offer, willing to accept one beer, at least. They can save arguing over more for later. Taking a small step back, to give the other man room to get himself readied, he shakes his head. "Not particularly. Just… wanted to hang out." It's mostly true. "Nothing new to celebrate, and nothing that requires sorrow drowning or anything like that."
Broderick’s mouth quirks at that. “A pint just for the sake of a pint? Don’t think I’ve had one of those since before January.”
"We're friends, aren't we?" It's a little defensive, in the way that sometimes Briar's tone is unintentionally, but outside of that nothing suggests that he is, in fact, defensive. He's not actually sure if there is much more of a reason than that. But they'll both find out sooner or later, he figures, after a few drinks smooth over his desire to keep most things to himself.
"And sounds like you need to get better friends if it's been since January."
“I definitely need better friends,” Broderick returns easily, pointedly raising his eyebrow at Briar before the expression devolves into a smug smile. “In fact, we can start with my mate buying me a pint.”
***
Okay. Admittedly, Broderick could have kept his mouth shut. The trivia host hadn't been that bad, and it wasn't like he and Briar had been there to play in the first place.
They had only been on their second beer, having a very animated and pleasant conversation about how absolute shit footie was in America when the host had made his second ridiculous blunder and instead of correcting his mistake when Broderick had pointed it out (justifiably!), he’d doubled down. One full row later and he and Briar were now firmly outside the bar
“You can’t tell your brother about this,” Broderick at least has the decency to look apologetic as they wait in line for a hotdog from the street vendor.
Briar had stayed completely out of the argument that had ensued, calmly making sure to finish his beer because there was no way this wouldn't end in ejection. And, what do you know. He hums at Broderick's comment, noncommittal and amused. He doesn't mind the change of scenery so much - the intention was just to hang out, after all.
"I can't? Seems like just the sort of thing he'd love to hear about."
Broderick grumbles something under his breath at that, brows furrowed like the grown ass man might sulk about that given the chance.
“Oh I know he’d love it. Better than Christmas morning for him. But since you’re such a good friend you’ll eat your free hotdog and shut up about it.”
"You like being bullied, and he'll have fun sassing you. Telling him seems like a win-win-win." Briar's tone remains easy, leaving his actual intentions unclear. Poor Broderick will just have to see. And will have to apparently pony up a hot dog, regardless.
"Do you feel satisfied with your argument, though?" A genuine question, if still clearly amused.
“How can anyone be satisfied with a dickhead like that operating a microphone without supervision,” the wizard scoffed like the question offended him more than the subject of the conversation.
“But seeing as I suitably eviscerated him in a public space,” Broderick sniffs, an imperious tilt to his chin. “Yes. Yes I am. And I noticed you enjoyed yourself.”
Briar's smile tugs a little more at the corners of his lips, and he doesn't put too much effort into smoothing it out. "Pretty funny to watch you get worked up. And managed to finish my beer since I knew where it was going, so I don't have anything to be mad about. And now you have to feed me."
He shrugs with the tick up of a single shoulder. "Can't not tell Bracken, since we're on such good terms now."
Broderick smiles privately at that, turning back towards the vendor now waiting for their order. “Two polish sausages, two cokes,” he hands the 20 over, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket even as he nudges Briar over to the side.
“Yeah?” he hands the other man the can of coke as they wait. There’s nothing teasing about his tone or expression when he looks at Briar. “You two get together and talk shite about me? That’s great,” and he means it.
There's no fight in Briar as he's nudged to the side, and he takes the offered can with the slightest wrinkle of his nose at the change in Broderick's tone. It's more reflex than anything else, though there remains a slight discomfort in this sort of acknowledgement of good things, even if he's the one who had brought it up.
"You're absolutely shittalked." He opens his coke, hesitating a moment as he considers whether to deflect or not. "Talk about other things too. Beer. What horseshoes are the best. When the next speed dating'll be. Important things."
“Important things,” Broderick echoes with all the incredulity possible. He takes the hot dogs from the vendor, handing off Briar’s so the man can get whatever fixings he prefers (and so Broderick can judge them too). “So you’re saying I'm important to you. How disgustingly sweet of you.”
"No, no, shittalking you is important to me," Briar corrects, taking his food with a nod of appreciation and a satisfied smile at easily turning the comment around. He jostles the other man a little as he goes for condiments (onions and mustard, very simple), soda tucked in the crook of his arm after said jostling.
"You're alright though. Don't mind being around you."
Broderick rewards that comment by snatching the mustard right from his hand, though a broad, pleased smile follows.
“You Hemmings and your confessions,” he chuckles, snaking his head, and the good humour remains until Broderick gets a look at the werewolf’s condiment choices.
“Fucking Christ, what is wrong with you lot,” he groans, a future of nonsense spread wide and long in front of him. He’s going to suffer so much. “Not even ketchup, honestly.”
The urge to squeeze the mustard tight as it's taken from him is strong, but Briar has the sense to behave (mostly) in public, so he simply makes a face at Broderick.
"Bracken finally tell you he thinks you're cute or something? And keep your opinions to yourself there, nerd." He nods towards a nearby park bench, but does wait to start heading there so Broderick can finish his own fixings. "Don't need to drown it in stuff."
“It’s not drowning,” Broderick scoffs, sprinkling the last of the pickles before he follows Briar, finger already smeared with ketchup. “It’s properly dressing the tube of questionable meat. And Bracken tells me I’m cute every day because it's the truth.”
He bites into the hot dog, chewing with unnecessary intensity.
He doesn't answer Briar’s question about the confession, not wanting to share things Bracken may not want him to. So instead he says: “I’m in love with your brother.”
"Prefer meat to condiments, and it doesn't smell off, so it's not questionable," Briar replies with a wrinkled nose, ignoring the part about Bracken calling him cute because it doesn't require commentary. It's good, obviously, but he doesn't need to pump up Broderick's ego anymore.
As they reach the bench he settles in, glancing to the other man as he shares his confession. Briar's not surprised by it, particularly, but that doesn't mean it doesn't affect him. It makes him… happy. It feels like a line of security for Bracken, even if he knows that it could also potentially throw off his brother. He pushes down the smile by taking a bit of his own food, chewing as he ponders what to say. He settles on maybe just a little sassing.
"Y'know, normally you tell the person you're in love with, not their brother."
“I did,” Broderick returns easily, thumbing away a bit of the mustard at the corner of his mouth before taking another bite.
“Just thought you should know you won’t be free of me just yet. Well,” he shrugged. “as far as I’m concerned at least.”
Briar nods once, slow and nearly thoughtful. That happiness is still sitting in the center of his chest. The way Broderick's talking about it, it didn't freak Bracken out, which is very good. He manages to look mostly relaxed about the whole thing, but there is a subtle sort of lightness to him.
"Oh, I'd be pissed if you just fucked off. Hard to make friends in your forties. Or ever, really."
“You think you and I are mates?” There's an amused quirk to Broderick’s mouth even as he takes another bite of the polish sausage.
"Not getting a rise out of me with that one, I know what it means. Haven't been living under a rock." Briar gently nudges Broderick's knee with his own. "If you say we're not friends though, I'm kicking the shit out of you. Don't have time for a situationship or whatever."
Yes, he has spent enough time judging hot professors on TikTok that he accidentally absorbed this word.
That actually startles a surprised but amused bark of laughter out of Broderick, one he nearly chokes on.
“Christ, I’m imagining you with teenage daughters.” As an older brother who effectively was the father to a teenage girl less than ten years ago, there’s a petty kind of satisfaction he gets out of the mental image. Bracken too he supposes.
Fuck, he's come to really care about this family.
“We’re friends,” he answers finally on a sigh.
"Raised kids before, I can do it again," Briar replies dismissively, even though there's sort of a couched admission of maybe, someday, kids of his own in there.
"Seemed like it really pained you, saying that," he jokes, his voice remaining light as he leans back, pondering. "Things sure have changed in a short time."
Broderick makes a noise of assent, chewing his sausage with great focus.
Scarily so, if he were to be honest. He didn’t expect any of this (and certainly not finding love after Miles. Not so soon at least. Or really, at all.)
“Do you ever wonder if those things might be dependent on this place,” he gestures uncaringly towards the general direction of the society. “That once we’ve moved on from here, those things will be tested?”
Broderick is offensively confident and bull headed where his beliefs and convictions are concerned, but there may be a thread of insecurity buried deep somewhere in the well of the question.
Briar can't help but turn to look at his companion, his head tilting ever so slightly as he takes another bite. He, of course, waits to speak until he's finished, but one could be forgiven for assuming it was a stalling tactic (because it was).
"Some things will be. Changing any job or place you live upends dynamics and all. But the important things? Worse case they shift in shape a little to accommodate the change. But they don't break." A pause, "Can't imagine much changing with you and Bracken. This job landed you in the same place but it's not like anything about the work brought you two together. Y'all did that all on your own by being annoying and liking that about each other."
Broderick hadn’t really been speaking of Bracken when he asked the question, but as he listens to Briar’s calm reassurance, he realizes that perhaps it was a lingering fear he was refusing to acknowledge.
“We’ll change,” he disagrees, gaze caught on an older couple further down the street, their pace slow and uncaring as the rest of the city’s busyness seems to pass them by.
They’ll change. Broderick just hopes they’ll change together.
“They don’t break, eh?” He blinks his attention back to Briar, parroting the man’s wisdom even as he makes sure his elbow jams into the soft space of the man’s side. What, like he was going to let that ‘annoying’ comment go? “Lord knows why Keda is marrying your sorry self, but you two seem to have weathered quite a bit of change. It’s nice,” he clarifies more affectionately.
"Of course you'll change, but just leaving here won't do it. We've got all other sorts of problems and life changes in store for that." Briar gives a small shrug, not dismissive, just not worried. If Bracken and Broderick change in ways that aren't compatible, he can't imagine that having stayed here would have stopped that from happening. No reason to invite such a shit outcome, though, so he just kicks Broderick a little in retaliation for the elbow, leaving that thought behind.
"Keda's marrying my sorry self because she's just as much of a nightmare as I am. Match made in hell." He glances off, nose a little wrinkled because the sincerity in Broderick's voice is, as usual, a little uncomfortable.
"Honestly, I wonder some if it'll change anything. But, we're practically married now, given how we both know neither one of us is going anywhere. So I can't imagine it really will." Not that that's a bad thing.
“Probably won’t change a thing,” Broderick agrees, but the smile at the thought of this match made in hell is making chewing his hot dog very difficult. “But you’d be surprised. It's not for everyone, titles mean little about commitment and you're obviously victims of a blood pact, but being able to be a husband and call her your wife is going to feel pretty fucking good. Nightmare wife,” he corrects.
Briar nods a little thoughtfully, struggling with his own smile at 'nightmare wife.' It feels good to think of it - better than he thought it would, honestly. The feeling at least feels worth all the fuss it takes to actually get married.
"She's enjoying all the new things she can say. Been a long time since we were anything different to each other." He's quiet for a long moment, and his smile fades a little. "I'm not sure if this would've happened if we hadn't've come here. Or at least, it wouldn't have happened now. Strange to think, with what a shitshow it's been sometimes."
To put things lightly. Broderick gives a derisive snort.
He’s caught though, by what Briar shared. “Why wouldn’t it have?” He looks at the other man, crumpling up the remaining napkins in his hand as he swallows down the last of his meal. He’s curious.
Still contemplative, Briar finishes off his own food. It's a good excuse to ponder his response, knowing he's already given away enough that he has to be something close to honest.
"Couldn't have proposed without Bracken and I being at least… okay with each other. Hadn't really even occurred to me, to be honest, until recently." He's quiet for another moment. "Still weird to think this stupid fucking place evened things out, but… it's good." An understatement, honestly. Briar's happier than he's been in a long while.
Broderick lets that statement hang in the air for a moment, feeling that strange, inexplicable kinship with this man as the words resonate.
The wizard watches Briar for another long moment before he sighs.
“Weird to think that this place has done some actual good for all of us.” He sounds almost annoyed about it, as if the whole episode hadn’t brought him and Byron closer together, helped him process some of his grief, or led to…Bracken.
He clears his throat. “By good, I didn’t mean you,” he flicks the other man in the ear as he stands. “You’re an insufferable irritant to me, don’t get any ideas.”
The flick in the ear is met with a (mostly gentle) jab in the side, the reaction immediate as Briar stands as well. "Yeah, well, I was going to say I'm glad we're friends, but…" The hint of a smile suggests that that was absolutely not what he was about to say, but it's all fine. Broderick will know he means it just the same.
"You're good for Bracken, so I guess I'll keep dealing with you."
“Oh well with your permission then,” Broderick rolls his eyes, but he reaches over to take Briar’s wrapper and garbage just the same, walking a few feet away to dispose of it before Briar can say anything.
“Come on then,” he tugs at the back of Briar’s shirt as he strides past, hip checking the man unintentionally (Broderick is handsy with the people he cares about). “Let’s get properly soused somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t run by complete fuckwits with obvious prejudice against the Welsh.”
Briar allows his garbage to be taken with a little huff, watching Broderick and thinking about how truly appreciative he is of the other man. Even if he can be a pain in the ass.
"You'd be having a very bad time without my permission." He is pulled momentarily, hip checked, completely natural in this state of near constant and fleeting touches. It's ingrained in him. He's glad that Bracken can have this in a partner, like he's found it in Keda.
As the other man moves along Briar rolls his eyes, falling into an even pace with his companion. "You get us kicked out of somewhere else with your damn mouth, you're buying beers for the next month. And no, you can't argue against that."
