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Tommy stares at Ellie a little wide-eyed after her outburst. He knew she had a mouth on her, but Jesus. Tommy’s confident their mother wouldn’t know what half that shit meant, let alone engage in it as enthusiastically as Ellie suggested. How does Ellie even know that level of detail?
“Ellie,” Joel chides.
“What?” Ellie snaps at him. Joel takes a deep breath.
“That wasn’t nice, Ellie,” he says with a gentleness Tommy recognizes as hard-won. “Why don’t you try that again, honey?”
“Fuck off!” she snaps.
“Ellie,” Joel switches to the voice that used to make Tommy shit his pants. Ellie barely even blinks. “That ain’t how we talk to family. Try again, please.”
“So you don’t talk to him that way,” Ellie says angrily. “He’s not my family.”
Tommy’s breath hitches and Ellie’s eyes dart to him. She looks so much like a cornered coyote that he backs up a few steps.
“Baby, remember it’s okay when we say things we don’t mean. Words are important, but they ain’t permanent.” Joel’s approaching her slowly with a hand out, giving her time to decline contact. She gives a tiny nod and he rests a hand on her cheek. He looks at her intently. “You can take ’em back. D’you want to do that?”
Ellie’s frozen like a deer in the headlights, eyes darting between Joel and Tommy.
Tommy’d never tell Joel this, of course, but it’s pretty impressive the way he can Ellie-wrangle so gently. Tommy’s sure she’s about to lean into Joel’s hand and mutter an apology.
But because she’s Ellie, she bites him instead. Joel grunts and shakes his hand out, probably more in surprise than pain. His eyes laser in on Ellie’s.
“Not. Nice,” Joel says firmly. She tries to bite him again, but Joel deftly takes her by her earlobe and drags her into the kitchen.
“What the fuck, man? That fucking hurts!” Ellie protests loudly. Tommy hears a dull thud followed by a low grunt. He grimaces in sympathy; his niece kicks like a mule.
“Cool it, Ellie,” Joel warns, his voice stern but calm. Tommy hears the murmur of words that follow, unable to discern them, but the cadence is as familiar as an old song. Joel is speaking in that steady, reassuring way he saves just for his daughters.
The groan of the floorboards and a soft thud tell him Joel is kneeling down in front of Ellie. He’s always so careful not to loom over her (and aggressive about making sure nobody else do neither).
Tommy hears Ellie's sharp “No!” cut through the air, followed by Joel's gentle response, a soothing rumble that doesn’t quite reach his ears. They continue in low tones, their voices a push-and-pull of indistinct sounds.
Tommy tries to tune them out to give them privacy until Joel's voice suddenly rises—not in anger, but with a deliberate clarity. Joel wants him to hear this part.
“He won’t be a dick about it, babygirl. I promise,” Joel says soothingly, his voice drifting through the wall like a warm current. “We’ll just go back in and you say you’re sorry. That’s it, baby. He'll forgive you right away. He’ll probably want to give you a hug, but that’s completely up to you.”
Tommy catches only fragments of Ellie’s response, her voice sounding half-desperate.
He feels a twinge of mild insult that Joel thinks Tommy needs reminding not to be an asshole to an anxious child, but his brother is nothing if not an extremely involved parent. Joel’s just making sure Tommy knows how hard this is for Ellie, and maybe reminding him that he needs clear permission before pulling her into a hug. (The black eye Tommy sported for a week already taught him that one; Joel sure don’t skimp on teaching his kid hand-to-hand combat.)
He can still hear the low timbre of his brother’s voice in the next room and Ellie’s hitching responses. Eventually they smooth out into contented sighs that tell him Joel and Ellie are good and wrapped up in each other’s arms.
Then a soft: “Promise?”
“Promise, babygirl,” Joel says clearly. “All you gotta do is say sorry.”
Ellie shuffles back into the room, clinging to Joel like he’s her portable safe spot in tag. She peeks up at Joel anxiously and he nods encouragement. Ellie turns to Tommy and looks up at him like she’s facing a firing squad.
“I’m sorry?” Her voice is barely audible.
Tommy kneels down so he ain’t looming. He speaks in the voice he uses when he’s talking to Maria’s belly and feeling his baby kick: “I forgive you, Ellie bean. Sometimes my words run away with me too. Let’s put it behind us, yeah?”
She eyes him like she’s trying to figure out which trick he’s pulling on her. He opens his arms invitingly but doesn’t move towards her.
Ellie pulls closer to Joel and looks at Tommy’s arms like a bear trap. She looks up at Joel again.
“Only if you want, honey,” Joel says in a voice just for Ellie. “It’s all forgiven either way. Clean slate, babygirl.”
She keeps looking between Joel and Tommy like she’s watching a tennis match only she can see. Then she gives a tiny nod.
Joel immediately glares at Tommy because he’s not already hugging Ellie (as though Joel wouldn’t have throttled Tommy for doing it half a second earlier). Tommy scoots forward so he’s never above Ellie’s eye level and pulls her into a hug. She’s stiff at first, arms tight against her side, but slowly leans into it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers into his shoulder. He pats her back gently.
“All forgiven, pumpkin,” Tommy assures her. “How about we spoil your dinner with some ice cream, hmm?”
Joel shoots Tommy a look over Ellie’s head, but softens when Ellie peels her arms from her sides and wraps them around Tommy with the careful precision of disarming a live landmine.
“One scoop,” Joel says firmly.
“Two,” Ellie counters immediately, voice muffled in his shirt and goddamn adorable.
“You can have Joel’s,” Tommy says. “One for me, two for you, none for him.”
Joel rolls his eyes, but returns to the kitchen. Tommy hears the clatter of bowls being taken from the cabinets as he gently holds his niece.