Password: Kenilworth

He is build on Madelyn’s, Soldier Boy’s, Legend’s show-business-y work. His parental figures are his story tellers. So if anyone can go off script…

And for the first time the script surprised him. Not with glory, not with power, but with a plot twist of a fatherly love.

All Wintergreen knows about Slade’s half-brother is that he has a particular talent for stirring up trouble and messing with people’s heads… He still doesn’t yet know just how far that goes.

Wade downed his glass of wine in one go, smiling with wolfish teeth. He was a handsome man in that same space where Slade was handsome too… And yet, side by side, the two half-brothers had little to nothing in common. Wintergreen had noticed it immediately—recognizing a brother required familiarity with the other.

And if Wade called himself a Lafarge, he carried himself like a Wilson. Even more so than Slade, perhaps; it was enough to see how all his worst traits—arrogance, excess—seeped out of him in every word he spoke. Out of place. Proud.

“Who do I have to fuck here to get more wine, for fuck’s sake?”

Wintergreen, looking highly affronted, folded his napkin and placed it neatly back on his lap. He carefully avoided meeting Wade’s gaze, which filled him with great disgust. He refused to believe that someone so detestable could have the same eyes as the man he had been sighing over for years.

“I cannot stand vulgarity,” he let slip, even though giving this man any attention felt unbearable.

Wade set his wine glass down with a soft clink, then leaned further toward Wintergreen, his smile like a bite on his canine face.

“Oh, alright then. Who should I make tender love to in order to get more wine, please?”

Wintergreen did his best to suppress the smile threatening to tug at his lips. Wade was the very last person in the room he wanted to talk to… after Slade and Addie. But for two entirely different reasons.

“You’re the best man, right?” Wade asked, his voice heavy with Southern drawl and wine.

He had shown up at the end of the ceremony. Wintergreen remembered how Slade had tensed at the altar when he saw his half-brother wandering between the church pews, before Frannie grabbed his arm and forced him to sit down. He had rarely seen his friend so pale, so worried, so…

Wade cut off his thoughts by casually taking Wintergreen’s glass, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and pouring it into his own to refill it. Wintergreen was still disarmed by such a blatant lack of manners.

“Far be it from me to disrespect your mother, but don’t you happen to have a bit of pig’s blood somewhere?”

Wade downed the new drink in one go, then wiped the corners of his mouth. He didn’t look the least bit offended; he only watched Wintergreen from the depths of his too-blue eyes. He looked serene like that, almost gentle, like someone gazing out at the sea.

Wintergreen did not yet know that this calm expression was the one Wade wore when he knew he had found a pressure point.

“So that’s what you like about my brother? Pig’s blood? Or is it the whole handsome, unattainable straight guy thing?”

He said it very calmly, carefully enunciating each syllable despite the heaviness of his alcohol-soaked tongue and the lingering drawl of his accent.

Wintergreen felt his face grow warm despite himself. He forced himself to stay composed as he replied, though the heat likely hardened his features:

“Let me guess… You feel so small and insignificant next to your brother that you imagine everyone is madly in love with him and hates you?”

Wade placed his elbows on the table, making Wintergreen physically recoil in discomfort, and rested his chin in his hands as he studied him even more closely.

He had clearly been affected by the words… but what showed in his expression was mostly a sick kind of excitement. Wintergreen thought the young man was probably congratulating himself on having found a way to sow chaos at his brother’s wedding… and it would have been very foolish—reckless—to let him.

“Small and insignificant…? Psychologically or... physically?” Wade asked, smiling a little wider. It was Slade’s smile—the one after successful training, a sporting achievement, a military medal… and it was hard for Wintergreen to swallow. Hard to face.

And the crude insinuations from the young man made him feel indescribably nauseous.

“Both seem accurate.”

“Think again. I do need to beat my wonderful, wonderful older brother on some kind of field.”

“What kind of man compares his... That to his half-brother's like that… it’s beyond me. Your inferiority complex must be monstrous to sink that low.”

Wade laughed warmly at Wintergreen’s disgusted grimace, who got up and went outside for some air.

It was hard not to replay Wade’s biting remarks. Slade had been right all these years to describe him as a little shit constantly looking for trouble. What an asshole…

And anyway, Wintergreen had little desire to stay for the ball, for Slade and Addie’s first dance… Damn, he was probably worse than Wade in that room. Not being able to swallow his jealousy while his two best friends were celebrating their love… what was wrong with him?

He lit a cigarette and looked out at the sea crashing against the rocks. He stayed there for an unusually long time—thirty minutes, then nearly an hour. No one seemed to notice his absence…

Until he felt someone join him. Slade? No, of course not. Wade.

The young man was watching him with a wide grin, clearly enjoying seeing him in such a foul mood.

“Well… I hope I’m not the one who put you in this state, sweetheart? Or is it because the newlyweds are about to open the dance floor and you ran out here so no one would see you cry?”

“Still getting off on your little scenarios?” Wintergreen snapped. “Want another one? A brother with no job, a criminal record as long as my arm, living off the state and spending his time cursing his brother for having a decent life.”

He flicked ash into the ashtray.

For a precious moment, Wade seemed calm. To Wintergreen’s great surprise—already bracing for a fight that felt inevitable—the hostility left the young man’s face as he came to lean against the balcony railing beside him. It took Wade a long time to speak again, and Wintergreen was surprised not to hear his usual venom:

“You know… you’ll never have him. He’s always been obsessed with normality. Even as a child, you could see it in his eyes: a respectable wife, a nice little family, a good career… I’m not saying my brother doesn’t like men. I’m not saying that at all.

But if he started sleeping with you—the family’s best friend, the uncle of his future kids, a man… it would all fall apart. So he won’t do it. I’m saying this for your own good y’know.”

Wintergreen had been ready for provocation, for insults—but this… it left him infuriatingly disarmed. What could he even say, except repeat that the man was wrong over and over again? He already had, and if Wade was a little shit… he wasn’t stupid.

Then, before Wintergreen could react, still stunned by the surreal words, Wade slipped a small piece of tablecloth into his hand, roughly torn, with a phone number scribbled on it.

“Anytime you want, hun. I don’t mind being your consolation prize once in a while.”

With a wink, Wade disappeared back into the hall, probably off to find someone else to provoke—maybe even the groom. Wintergreen stood there on the balcony for a few more minutes, his hand hovering over the railing, ready to let the scrap of cloth drift away in the wind… and then—

He folded it and put it in his pocket. Because it wouldn’t have been environmentally friendly to throw that into nature.

That was all, of course.

one day he’s crashing there, recuperating after a mission, only to be woken up in the middle of the night by rose’s thrashing and screaming. she’s still reeling from a severe case of ptsd, the kind that soldiers have (like slade himself). slade calls out for billy, realises he isn’t home and then drags himself out of bed. he stands outside of his daughter’s bedroom door for a hesitant second and then goes in. picks her up in his arms and rubs her back, lulling her back to sleep, undeterred by her confused kicking

“calm yourself now, your father’s here”. she’s out like a light. he holds her until she goes to sleep.

to this day, rose thinks she imagined it. or dreamed it. that it didn’t actually happen.