Page 71 of Fire & Ice

Brett.They’re definitely circling back to that dude later. Tripp makes a mental note, as Beau continues talking.

“But I just kept thinking,howdid I not realize he was that kind of person? That he wasseriouswhen he put you down, when he made jokes aboutpatients…”Beau trails off, looking a little green around the gills and genuinely upset, his hacked-up breakfast now completely abandoned in front of him. And maybe Beau's made mistakes, sure, but Tripp would forgive his little brother anything, least of all this. The majority of the mess is all on Christian’s head, anyway.

“Beau,” he starts, reaching out a hand to squeeze his brother’s bicep, but Beau shakes him off.

“No, Tripp,” he says firmly. “I’m not looking for your sympathy, or whatever. I fucked up. Christian is family and he’s done a lot for me, but I never should have let those things overshadow what a goddamnassholehe is. Tripp, I’ve always thought I was pretty smart, practical.”

“You are—”

“I wasn’t, though,” Beau interrupts, turning on his stool to more fully face Tripp, and he’s angry now, very clearly at himself. “Christian showed me who he was and I didn’t believe him. Even before last night—I told you, he said things about patients, too.” Beau goes quiet for a second and then raises his eyes, looking resolved.

“I’m going to make this right, Tripp. I’m done with him, first of all, I don’t care what anyone else from their side of the family says about it.Ourfamily comes first. And shit, iftheyaccept his behavior, that says it all, doesn’t it? But beyond that—I’m going to talk to our superiors about his attitude, about my concerns regarding his bigotry and how it may be affecting patients. Can’t guarantee they’ll do anything—he’s a surgical star at Central—but I’ll try, and I won’t stop trying.”

Beau looks so fervent, so desperate for his absolution, that Tripp can’t help but give it to him. It’s what he’s always done for his baby brother, and it feels kind of right that they’re getting back to their roots on his wedding day. Anyway, so what if Beau got lost? No one’s perfect, least of allTripp,and if he has faith in anything, it’s that Beau will be true to his word. Tripp absolutely believes that he’ll do everything possible to make things better.

“‘Course you will, Bozo,” he replies around another mouthful of bagel, reaching out again to clap Beau on the back. Swallowing and dusting off his hands, Tripp struggles as the bagel goes down a little rough, his bite too big. “So, about Brett—”

“He’s not like Christian,” Beau rushes to reply. “I mean, maybe he’s notgreat,”he amends. “At least, these days. But he was never the way you’ve seen before I introduced him to Christian. I feel like it’s sort of my fault. He’s here,” Beau adds, nodding his head towards his own room. “Slept on my blowup mattress. Not that you should feel any obligation to hear him out, but he told me that he wants to apologize to you and Lee. Not that—I mean, Tripp, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgiveme, never mind some guy you barely know, but—”

“Listen,” Tripp interrupts, sensing that his brother is about to dissolve into an unfixable ramble. He stands up and puts his plate in the sink before returning to Beau’s side and resting a hand on his shoulder, one finger pressed pointedly into his chest. He waits until his brother makes eye contact before continuing.

“Shut up. I heard you, and I promise I’ll think about everything you said. Maybe. Alright, I’ll at least listen if you need to talk about it sometime in the future. But you and me? We’re good. Everything else? Gravy. This is your day, Bozo. I’m your best man, it’s my job to do exactly three things. One, keep a beer in your hand. Two, Bri's ring in my pocket, and three, steal the whole damn show with my good looks and the best wedding toast in history. Simple as that. You just find your way to the altar and I’ll be right behind you. Got it?”

Like the big, sappy, gentle giant he is, Beau's eyes rapidly fill with tears as he nods, and Tripp isn’t remotely surprised when he stands up to drag him into a hug.

“Alright,” Tripp says gruffly, patting Beau’s shoulder blade and acting mock-grumpy. Secretly, helovesevery second of having his brother back, rescued from the jaws of that homophobic piece of shit for good.

Actually, he thinks, fuck it. It’s Beau's day, he deserves to hear the truth.

“Love you, man,” Tripp grunts at a nearly inaudible decibel, attempting to pull away and flee before Beau can—

“Dammit, Tripp,” Beau sobs, yanking him back with a grip that Tripp is not nearly strong enough to break. “I love you, too. So much. You’re the most important family I have, and—”

“Oh Jesus, Beau, don’t make it weird,” Tripp groans, finally extricating himself from the soggy Sasquatch and high-tailing it back to his room. “Don’t follow me, we’ve hugged enough for one decade.”

“You can’t take it back!” Beau calls after him, like the unrepentant brat he’s always been. “You love me!”

“I do not,” Tripp grumbles, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

***

Hours Later

“I have a surprise for you,” Leander says, when Tripp returns to the bedroom with both of their tuxes, each hanging in its respective garment bag. They still have the better part of two hours until the wedding, but the photographer will be here soon, and the limo to take them to the church should be arriving shortly after. So much for Tripp’s plan to talk Lee into letting him blow off some steam before having to behave in public.

Oh, well.

There’s always Plan B, and Tripp’s got the commitment to prove it. In fact, he’s already wearing his collar wrapped around his wrist, and under Lee's instruction, he prepped and popped a plug in when he showered.

Dear God, he thinks. Please never, ever let Beau find out we used his wedding as elaborate foreplay.

“What’s that?” Tripp asks Lee, doing his best to both refocus (for Beau's sake) and sound nonchalant (for his own).

Currently, Leander is hanging out on the other side of Tripp’s bed, wearing nothing but a threadbare t-shirt and boxers, and he looks ridiculously angelic haloed by the noonday sun streaming in through the window. While Tripp hangs the two garment bags over the door to his closet, Lee rummages inside his duffle, surfacing with a coiled length of thin, white rope raised triumphantly in one hand and his eyebrow deviously quirked.

“Oh,hellyes,” Tripp agrees immediately, pulling his own shirt swiftly over his head without an ounce of hesitation. “Boxer-briefs?”

“Take them off,” Leander instructs, patting the edge of the mattress next to him, and Tripp nearly trips over his underweartrying to lose it, stumbling in his hurry to obey. Leander’s stern expression turns amused but fond as Tripp sits down, back ramrod-straight, eager to please.

---