Chapter Text
It had been decided relatively soon after Ryalnd moved in that the boys would take morning walks together. By ‘decided’, Court meant Jody had decreed it, and what his sister-in-law decreed had to happen. And by ‘walk’, he meant a walk for him, Colt, and Jean-Claude the dog, and a roll for Ryland in his new wheelchair. He used it any time he left the property, though they had been working on strengthening his walking stamina.
Typically they dragged themselves bleary-eyed and half-asleep out of bed and headed down to the pier. Ryland normally started a conversation about some random fact hovering in his brain, or Colt would try to explain his next stunt ideas while throwing a stick for his dog. Nothing serious. Court would watch for photographers hiding in the bushes and smile softly as his brother grinned at the sea air. He sometimes wished he could appreciate squawking gulls and chilling breezes as much as Ry did.
The day of the ‘incident’, Colt and Jody were down in LA for their next project, and Claire was in an Important™ meeting with the town council, leaving Court and Ryland to potter around all day.
“And so they all go on this holiday together-” His little brother continued his story as his arms pumped the chair back up the wooden-boarded pier to the main sidewalk. Court had been given the important task of holding Jean-Claude’s leash... and poo-bags.
“Which is crazy coz it’s like this … crossover event! But for classical literature-”
Yesterday, Court had done a pretty intense arm physio workout with him, so he knew his biceps and triceps must have been burning. Without thinking, he looped the leash onto his wrist, grabbed the handles on the wheelchair and helped push it up the last uneven incline.
Almost immediately Ryland grabbed the wheel rims and spun 180° to face him.
“Could you not?” He snapped, sounding almost exasperated.
“What?” Court shot back; he’d been listening to the infodump and was even prepared to ask questions.
“Please don’t push my chair when I haven’t asked.”
“I just wanted to help!” Jeez, he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
“I didn’t ask for help!”
Court sighed and looked over to the largely empty pier and out onto the grey rolling ocean. At their feet, Jean-Claude growled softly, no doubt sensing the tension.
Ryland scoffed. “You can’t even look at me, can you? Yes, Courtland, sometimes I use a wheelchair coz my bones are fluffed up, so does Colt occasionally, it doesn’t mean I’m any less capable.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“No, your actions spoke loud enough. Statement. You do it all the time!” Ryland sighed and rolled back from him. “Just- I don’t want to fight, but I know the limits of my own body.”
He nodded, honestly just wanting the argument to be over. “Okay.”
“Right, we can forget about it then.”
Before he could find a good enough reply, Ry had already taken off in the direction of the house. He had a distinct impression that it would not be forgotten. Court looked down at Jean-Claude and he could swear he had an unimpressed frown on his canine face.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” He grumbled. “Let’s go.”
Court lasted in the steely silence that engulfed the house until lunch. With the dog no doubt fertilising the yard, he came into the kitchen and found Ryland sitting at the dining table reading through… something on his laptop.
“Ry, can we talk?”
With a sigh, his brother lowered the screen and hung his glasses off his ear. He still looked pretty pissed off.
“Fine.” He still sounded pretty pissed off.
Court urged himself to take a ‘calming breath’ as he rubbed the back of his hand against his eye. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for grabbing your wheelchair when you hadn’t asked. I never intended to make you feel like I didn’t trust you.”
Ryland stayed silent, tracing patterns on the wooden tabletop.
He winced. “Do I really do it all the time?”
“Yes.”
“I never even noticed.”
“You- You automatically think I need help. You never even let me try.”
That’s what separated Colt's and Court’s approaches to his recovery, he supposed. Colt had some similar personal experiences, whereas Court associated any disability as a perceived weakness his enemies would exploit. Colt let Ryland attempt all sorts that they all knew he probably wouldn’t be able to do yet, backing him up after he’d asked for help. Court preferred to not subject his brother to that frustration and disappointment. He didn’t want him to struggle, not after what he’d been through.
“I automatically want to protect you.” He corrected. Never once in his life had he thought less of Ryland. The twins, Claire, and now even Jody were absolutely everything to him.
“I don’t need protection from the pier. We’ve done the same route for weeks, I’ve almost always made it up on my own. What changed this morning?” Ryland tapped twice on the table.
Court sighed heavily. “I knew your arms would be tired after yesterday’s physio. I didn’t want you to be in pain when you didn’t have to be.”
Ry’s expression softened slightly at the admission. He always was too sympathetic. “I won’t lie, my arms are tired! But those sessions are designed to build muscle back slowly, not to push myself so hard that I lose my independence afterwards.”
Obviously.
Court always felt a little stupid around Ryland and his big brain, but now he felt like a real dumbass. He slapped his palm across his forehead.
“I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“Language.” His brother corrected him as he gently wrapped a hand around his wrist, pulling it free from his scalp. “And you’re not an idiot. You’re just oblivious.”
He huffed. “I’ll take that. And, Ry, I couldn’t give a shi-sheet-of-paper if you use a wheelchair, or a walker, or a cane, or - or anything. I don’t care. I just want you to be safe.”
“And I just want you to be my brother.”
“Don’t know if there’s one without the other, bud.” He warned. “Came with the Big Brother Contract I signed 45 years ago. But I will never touch your chair without your permission again.”
“What if I promise to let you know when I need help? Then you could, like, actually help.”
A compromise? “Yeah, okay. And… I’m sorry. I really am.”
Ryland smiled, a small one, but it counted. “Forgiven.”