sliceitwithwind

"It's not the kind of situation you have to be okay in." It was important to let him know these things. Very important. "When they're tucked in we'll get you another glass and you can show me the stances you were suppose to practice this week." If the boy had the stances down properly Nevada would show him some non-regulation throws and holds.

"Okay. You wanna grab Dilan? He's heavier than Aya." And Nevada is bigger. Braig is egotistic, but not dumb enough to think he can carry Dilan with ease. "Not sure how steady I'll be with three glasses in me." he figured a warning would be a good idea.

"Yes, I can get Dilan. Please try not to drop Aya too often." He set Braig's plate of sandwich aside and went to his knees by the couch. It was easy to get his arms under the sleeping boy...trickier to get him unwound from the other two children.

"The room you will all be sleeping in is...?"

"I'd never drop her." Braig said with a certain slightly-drunken dignity, "I'm gonna marry her someday. Both of them. My room. Dilan's and mine. We've got the big bed."

Blink.

Blink blink.

He followed Braig automatically, feet sure and easy on the stairs while his brain churned that little statement over. "I was not aware that this had been decided." It was as neutral a statement as he could manage right now. It was also designed to encourage more talking.

"Well, they don't know yet. Obviously." Braig had Aya cradled like she was the most precious thing in the world, and he moved her thirteen year old body with the ease of years of practise. She tried, bless her, but she was not as much of a night owl as the boys and they'd both gotten used to pouring her into bed.

She was set on the bed and he pulled her shoes and jeans off before tucking her in, without even the slightest hint of impropriety. "I...have known for the last eight years. Can't live without them."

Nevada settled Dilan in the bed beside Aya, tugging off shoes and shirt for him. He knew how young men slept, and shirts could get very tangled. Only when the children were tucked in properly did Nevada wave Braig back to the hall.

With the door safely closed to eyed him, then started back downstairs. "Obviously they don't know. And shouldn't. And you're going to explain your logic to me while we're outside. Don't forget your sandwich."

Dilan tucked himself against Aya and whimpered softly in his sleep.

"Do you...have any idea," Braig said seriously, if blearily, "how much of a fuckin' socio I'd be without them? All the good things in me? Is them. Are them. Gotta let them grow up, though. Right? An' decide they want me. I can wait."

"I'm not entirely convinced of how sociopathic you'd be. You're a brilliant young man, you would have found alternate coping mechanism if necessary." He was nothing if not frank at times. He was also grabbing the Chambord, a glass, and holding open the back door for the boy.

The adults, he was confident, could use as much quiet right now as they could get.

"And yes, they need to grow up free of that particular expectation. Especially considering how much they already tailor themselves and strive to your expectations."

"Total fucking socio." Braig insisted, heading out into the backyard obediently, "I know." morose, now, "I try to...to let them grow up. I jus' want ev-erything to go well. For all of us. Bes' parts of me, Uncle Nevada. Bes."

"It may take a very long time, Braig. Should they love you in that manner at all." He wasn't the best when it came to relationships, but he did understand devotion...and patience. "Eat your sandwich now. You will get nothing more to drink, and certainly no sparring, until you've done so."

He sat himself on the edge of the deck and stared up at the stars, thinking. Could he handle the boys, and this one in particular, taking care of Aya as she grew older? Perhaps, they were good kids. More importantly though..."If you try to shape them, Braig. Even by accident, if you convince them to do something against their desires I will kill you." Just so the boy knew where he stood.

Braig chewed on his sandwich and nodded, "That's good. The killing thing. I don't want to man-ipu-late them. I want them to grow up to be them. An' if they don't want me, okay. I can be a good uncle. Like you, you're an awesome uncle. I can do that. But I won' marry anyone if I can't have them."

It was serious, if not sober, and he kept eating until the sandwich was gone, looking out across the neighbourhood, "Was when she fell into the lion pit. My hear stopped. Literally stopped. Then Dilan went in too an' I just...I'd've died if they'd been hurt. An' I've known since then. I love them. Like I love science."

"What if they, or even just one of them, can't handle a nonstandard relationship? What happens if you can have one and not the other?" Nevada asked, still trying to root out information so he could understand properly.

Ah, yes, the lion thing. He was still rather upset by that, and by not being there. Granted, it led to less dead lions, but still. Lions. "One of them could get hurt now. Or die. What then? The world is not a safe place, Braig. What will you do then? Sociopathy is not a coping mechanism after all." He waved a hand to the grass in front of the deck. "Stances."

"...Dunno." he admits, "Dunno. I guess...if only one of 'em wants me, I'll do that. Dunno what I'd do if they made me choose. Be like cutting off my heart."

"I will rend the space-time continuum and get them back." Duh?

He moved out onto the grass to begin the stances as called out. They weren't picture-perfect because he was still a little tipsy, of course, but he obviously has been practising.

"No. You are not allowed to tear apart time, Braig. Not even for Dilan and Aya." Because there were limits and it was important to make sure they were known. "Left knee Braig, and straighten those shoulders." The boy wouldn't know good posture if it mugged him.

"No matter what happens, it will be a long time. I'm going to request you allow Aya and Dilan to go their own way whenever possible until she is at least twenty-five. That will leave a lot of time for you to drive yourself mad with possibilities if you're not careful."

He didn't argue with Nevada's attempt at giving him a rule regarding space-time, but...that didn't mean he'd follow it either.

To an extent he stood up...straightish. More than usual, anyway.

"...Tha's fair." He allowed, "Not allowed to tell them anything until Aya is twenty five. I can wait. I can be patient." Not I am patient, that would be a lie. A dirty, dirty lie.

"I am serious about Time, Braig." He said mildly, but reiteration was useful sometimes. And dear elements the boy was...never meant to go military. That was for certain.

"Good. And then you will abide by any decisions they make." He slipped from the deck to pace around the boy, eying the poor, poor form. Just...it was almost painful. "What throws have they taught you?"

For the best. The military couldn't handle Braig. He didn't do subordination worth a damn.

"Yes. Of course. It wouldn't be real if I forced it at all." Aside from the curve of his spine, and the drunk, he was actually doing pretty well. "Uh...None yet. They just yell at me about standing up straight. I am standing up."

"You are standing up in the vaguest definition of the term, Braig. Your shoulders are off center, your hips are canted, and if you took a real hit on the upper area of your back you'd probably crack your collarbone at least." What was the boys obsession with slouching?! "You stand as if gravity is winning against you."

He'd circled around to the front by this point, and rolled his wrist until it popped. "Would you care to learn a throw or would you prefer straight sparring?"

"...Scoliosis?" Yeah, he didn't think so. He straightened up by another fraction of an inch and pulled his hips into position.

"Whichever you think best, Uncle Nevada." And that? That was honest. He truly wanted to learn Nevada's way. (Except for the military bearing part.)

"I have known people with scoliosis who have better posture than you." No, he wasn't buying that line in the least. The new posture was slightly better. He'd take it for now anyway.

"I think, Braig, that you are not the sort to follow specific steps and forms in combat. You strike me as the type to brawl more than fight. That means unpredictability and things you won't pick up in a standard class. If you accept that as true we'll begin."

"Nah, sounds about right." Braig allowed, "I don't think martial arts is really gonna be my thing. Aya's awesome at it, though."

The chance to really brawl, even if his ass was going to be kicked hard was sobering him up.

"Then what it is necessary to remember when doing so, Braig, is that you must disable, often by unpredictable means, and move on. Brawling is nasty, grim, and bloody. It is also fun, and that is something you will need to be aware of and temper or it will be Dilan and Aya who lose you." Sober really didn't matter now. There was going to be flying young men tonight. Oh yes.

"When we start your goal, your entire goal, is to hurt me. Mine will be to prevent that, and to keep you from hurting yourself as you figure things out. Do not worry, you aren't going to hurt me any worse than others have in similar lessons. You may crack bones though."

Braig nodded, a little excited and a little grim, and squared himself up.

The next half-hour or so was exactly as Nevada had promised: nasty, grim, bloody, and fun. In the end, the teen was seated on the ground, holding his ribs where he'd managed to ping Nevada just wrong and get a pretty nasty bone-bruise.

"...Thanks." he said, finally sober, "I, like, really needed that. Probably will again, too."

Nevada stretched, working his arms and elbows a bit to make sure they wouldn't stiffen, then looked down at the boy on the ground. "Stretch while you're down there. It will help." He was...going to fill that glass for Braig again now. And stretch his legs a bit as he did so. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He was going to be stiff in the morning.

"And yes, fun. Freeing. Dangerously addictive. Watch that."

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