#d.hawk

"There are a thousand other things that need my attention today, and here I am, thumb up my ass, waiting for Hawthorne..." He knows better than to have these discussions at the diner anymore, and so, stood on the front step of his brother's home, he absently watches the joint between his fingers dwindle down, pinching the end out when the deadbolt shifts back. He pushes past his brother as the door opens, dropping himself down in a kitchen chair with a groan. "Well. I'm here." He declares, motioning to himself and leveling grey-green eyes on Hawk. "What was so important you needed me to come over when I'm still in the middle of getting the hunting seasons put around town? Oh, and I've got to mind the orchard, and clean my house-" All things he should have finished already- the opiates leave him hazy- slow him down.

He's high right now, eyes hazy as brows crease over them. "Matt in? Am I about to get ambushed about something for y'all's wedding I was supposed to get together? I done told ya I don't know the difference between eggshell and ivory, I ain't that kinda gay."

@ghostsbrokenbyfairytales

"Happy Holidays, dumbass." He grins. "I didn't get you shit, not killing you when we were kids is your present every year."

"I'm not even mad you fucked Geanie. I- I know I should be, and I was, that day you tried to snap me out of myself. I was... livid. But... I knew what she was like. And I know what you and I are like, that we burn fast and hot and we're quicker to destroy each other than say anything kind. I wish that wasn't the case. I wish you'd told me about your heart before Huntsville happened. I wish that you and I could communicate like actual brothers who grew up thick as thieves and scrapping like wild dogs instead of you thinking you need to spare me from you, or whatever. You're my big brother. You've never been a burden. I love you, you know."

"Sorry I'm late, got held up at the station." He insists, dropping himself down in the booth across from his brother. "Well, I'm not gonna beat around it. You wanna uh. Tell me anything? Two things, maybe? Three, actually- Things that maybe you saw fit to correct the paper on before even bothering to speak to your own brother?" He realizes, after a moment, that he's being perhaps a little accusatory. So he sighs, retracts, recollects, then speaks again. "I'd like to keep up with you, Hawk." He reminds. "You're my brother. And we're all stuck here except fer Gee, and if she turns up, I'd like to keep up with her, too." He adjusts- he'd had no issues, walking in, sitting down- kicking his injured leg across the other under the table- he's been doing well for a while now- in a way weed couldn't have mitigated old hardware in a leg he should have had operated on years ago.

"Findin' out about you and Hobbes was one thing- ain't like I work with the guy, or anything, and was left clueless. But you an' Matt are engaged and I would have... at least liked to have heard about it from you, so I could congratulate you, or somethin'." He sighs.

@crazedhatesoul

Hawk.

I couldn't figure out the right way to do this, but given that we're not exactly the kind of brothers who... talk, to each other, I guess this'll suffice. I'm sorry. I was a shitty, attention seeking little brother and I know that... left you in the lurch. I'm sorry that I was both the one brother you really... got on with, and also the one who spent most of his time fighting with you. I'm sorry that I'm the reason you wound up stuck here. Maybe it would have been better if we meant it, all those times we said we hated each other. that we wouldn't give a shit if the other one keeled over and died.

I never meant it, at least. You're my brother. And despite it all, I love ya. I've got a fucking porcelain tooth and it's your fault, but I still look at the four wheeler in my garage and remember how much fun we'd been having before I fell out of that desk chair and mulched my face. before you came running to the scene of the crash and begged me 'please ducky don't tell mama!' while trying to bribe me with your allowance for the week. I did tell mom though. Not because I wanted you in trouble, but because I needed a dentist's intervention to pick the shards of my teeth out of my lip, and a doctor to get the chunks of my glasses out of my face. You were a lot nicer to me, the week after, but we still avoided each other. We only got along when we were getting up to trouble. Maybe that's how we were always just. supposed to be.

I'm sorry. I know I was annoying. That you got a degree in medicine around the time I had my first child and that pushed your achievements to the side. That I was some war hero that mom bragged about and you were a doctor who moved away. I'm sorry we ever felt like we were in competition. You're smart. Way smarter than I could have ever hoped to be. Because you're reading this. And I'm dead. I don't know how, maybe I finally just stopped getting lucky. Maybe it was my own stupid fault... No matter what it was, don't hold this against me- I'm really sorry I told on you, after all.

I don't want to ask you to take the kids in. Wren's grown and I know she'd take good care of her brother. But keep them away from Ma. I spent 20 years raising them the exact opposite of the way we were brought up so maybe when they're old and shitty like me and you they'll at least be able to have dinner without getting into a fistfight in the yard.

I didn't like fighting with you. I guess that's stupid to admit, that's... our whole thing, right? But- it's the only thing you would do with me for ages. How many times did I ask you to come out hunting or fishing or just for lunch and you were busy? At least if I pissed you off, we were hanging out. At least if I let you win sometimes, I didn't feel like I'd taken everything from you. You remember when we were teenagers and I tried to talk you into taking a roadtrip with me? I made a tape and everything, and then I totaled the sedan. I guess I've spent most of my life fucking up and making you hate me. I guess I don't blame you.

I'm sorry I hit you with the stock of my gun when you came home. I should have known the only reason you'd come back was because you were worried about me. I got us both stuck here.

When you and Matt get hitched, save me a seat at the table. Pretend I made some stupid speech about when we were kids how I knew you were a hopeless gay just like me. And when you remember you hate me, find some way to make it productive, because I'm not around to beat to shit anymore.

Despite it all, I love you, Hawthorne.

It's attached to the front door with a hunting knife driven through the top. It would be threatening, if it wasn't clearly Duck's handwriting underneath.

Hawk you son of a bitch, when I call you I expect an answer. I need to know if you've got the supplies for an infection at the clinic, that cut on one of the ranger's legs is getting nasty, and if it gets any worse we're gonna need sanitary wraps at least. Answer your fucking landlines. -Mallard.