My Brother's Son Deleted Scenes 6/?
Title: My Brother's Son Deleted Scenes
Chapter 6/?: Release
Characters: Vincent, Jean-Pierre, Sébastien
Genre: Drama, comfort, family
Rating for this chapter: T
Warnings: AU
Pairings: Jean-PierrexVincent
Summary: Scenes that never made it to the actual story, but the idea wanted to be written.
This chapter summary: Jean-Pierre hasn't been acting himself, as of late. Vincent and Sébastien are worried.
My Brother’s Son
Deleted Scenes
Release
My Brother’s Son
Deleted Scenes
Release
Jean-Pierre hadn’t been himself, for most of the week. Vincent was worried about him and anytime he tried to speak to his husband, he got the noncommittal shrug. Vincent feared Jean-Pierre was distancing himself from him, again. Sébastien had no idea what was wrong with his father, and Vincent had to reassure him that it had nothing to do with him.
Everything had been going well, up until this past Monday. They had celebrated Jean-Pierre’s fiftieth birthday and it had been a nice, warm, end of June day. But then, Jean-Pierre got a call on Monday and things had taken a turn from there. What little time Jean-Pierre had at home, he spent it locked up in his home office, and the rest of the time, he was at the restaurant working.
Vincent was willing to give his husband one week, to sort himself out, before confronting him about whatever it was the other was going through. When the following Monday came about, Vincent was determined to find the underlying cause of this and since he knew Jean-Pierre was off, he figured it would be the opportune moment. However, his partner told him he had some errand to run and that he would be home, later in the evening.
He patiently waited, half-worried, and tried to busy himself. He even started supper and made Jean-Pierre’s favourite, in the hopes of getting him in a good mood, but when the older man got home, he looked even more distraught than he had all week. He refused dinner, on the pretext of not being hungry and went straight to bed. Vincent and Sébastien exchanged worried looks.
“Is Papa okay?”
“Don’t worry about it… I’ll talk to him after supper.”
Vincent waited until later that night, before going to their room to see Jean-Pierre. When he walked in, he found his husband curled up on himself, huddled under the blankets. Vincent could tell Jean-Pierre was feigning sleep, but after fifteen years together, Vincent knew better.
He went to sit by the side of the bed and nudged Jean-Pierre’s arm. The other man pretended to not have felt anything, but Vincent could tell by his breathing, and by the way his shoulders were tensed up, that Jean-Pierre was awake and about ready to crack open.
“Chéri, please tell me what’s wrong. I hate seeing you like this.” As an answer, Jean-Pierre turned over, back to him. Vincent took the opportunity of the available space and slide under the covers. He pulled his husband close and was relieved when Jean-Pierre didn’t push him away.
Vincent rubbed Jean-Pierre’s back and felt him take deep breaths. He continued with his ministrations, hoping they would loosen up his husband’s tongue. It took him well over fifteen minutes of back rubbing, but finally, Jean-Pierre looked into his eyes and Vincent was surprised to see tears swimming in those blue eyes he loved so much.
“Jean, qu’est-c’qui t’as mis dans cet état?”/ “Jean, what put you in such a state?” He murmured to him, caressing his face. He brushed the first tear that fell and the subsequent ones that followed afterwards. Vincent grew even more worried. He could count on one hand the number of times he had really witnessed Jean-Pierre cry and this seemed to be the worst.
“Mon père - j’ai vu mon père.”/ “My father - I saw my father.” Jean-Pierre finally sobbed into his shirt. Vincent’s hand stilled in his partner’s hair.
“Ton père? What do you mean you saw your father?”/ “Your father?...” Jean-Pierre tried to explain, but his words were lost in Vincent’s shirt.
“Yé… yé sortit d’prison. Y m’ont app’lé la s’maine passée, pour m’dire qu’y’allait sortir aujourd’hui. Pis chuis allé l’voir. J’y ai parlé. Moi qui avait dit qu’j’allais jamais y r’parler, que j’allais l’frapper, si j’le r’voyais, chuis allé l’voir pis chu juste resté là à l’écouter s’excuser, pour c’qu’y a fait. J’ai pu rien faire… Vincent, chuis juste resté là, chuis tellement hypocrite. Ch’pensais j’avais tout mis ça d’côté, mais quand j’l’ai vu, j’me suis rapp’lé d’toute la misère qu’y m’a causé, de mon enfance perdu…”/
“He… he came out of jail. They called me last week, to tell me he was coming out today. And I went to see him. I spoke to him. I who said I would never speak to him again, that I would hit him, if I ever saw him again, I went to see him and I just stood there, listening to him apologise, for what he did. I couldn’t do anything… Vincent, I just stood there, I’m such a hypocrite. I thought I had put all this behind, but when I saw him, I remembered all the misery he caused, my lost childhood…” He shuddered violently and Vincent held him tighter, afraid Jean-Pierre would break in his arms.
“Jean, mon pauvre, Jean… I don’t know what to tell you. You should have told me about this, chéri. I’m your husband. You’re supposed to tell me these things. Chuis ici pour t’aider, les bons moments comme les mauvais.”/ “Jean, my poor, Jean… I’m here to help you, the good times like the bad ones.” Jean-Pierre looked up at him, apology ready at hi slips, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and Vincent wiped them away, before kissing his brow.
“Y l’ont laissé partir après quarante-quatre ans. Y’a tué sa femme, pis ruiné l’enfance de son gars, mais c’correct d’le laisser sortir après quarante-quatre ans. J’y ai dit - j’y ai dit que j’voulais pas l’voir - que j’lui souhaitais une mort agonisante. Vincent, qu’est-c’que j’fais s’y vient m’trouver? S’y vient faire du mal à toi, ou à Seb? Seigneur, j’veux pas vous perdre! J’voulais pu jamais l’revoir, pis chu allé l’voir.”/
“They let him go after forty-four years. He killed his wife and ruined his son’s childhood, but it’s okay to let him go after forty0four years. I told him - I told him I didn’t want to see him - that I wished him a slow agonising death. Vincent, what do I do if he comes looking for me? What if he comes after you, or Seb? God, I don’t want to lose you! I never wanted to see him again and I went to see him.” He clutched at his husband’s shirt, leaving Vincent speechless. He kept Jean-Pierre close, and they remained that way for close to thirty minutes, before one of them spoke again.
“Chéri, listen to me, okay?” Jean-Pierre looked up to him again and Vincent wanted to kiss his tears and sadness away. He wanted nothing more to ease the older man’s heart and see him smile, one more time. Instead, he took a steadying breath and chose his words carefully.
“He’s an old man now. I doubt he can do much harm. I doubt he’ll be able to find us. We’re not listed in the phonebook. No one will think little of you because you went to see him and no one will force you to see him again.” He passed a hand through Jean-Pierre’s hair and he felt his husband give out a little sigh. “That being said, I think it’s time you tell Sébastien what happened to your mother. He’s been worried about you and it’s his family as well. He’s twenty-one; I think he’s ready to know the truth.” Vincent knew Jean-Pierre wouldn’t agree and he wasn’t disappointed, when his husband pushed him away.
“Non.”/ “No.”
“Jean, come on. You told me you would tell him after he turned sixteen. He’s well over that age now. He deserves to know. You’re doing him a disservice. He’s your son and a Tremblay at that. Wouldn’t you rather he find out from you than from someone else?” Jean-Pierre grew quiet and Vincent kept combing his fingers through his hair.
“He’s not going to think any less of you.” He kissed his forehead and pulled the blankets over them both.
“On verra.”/ “We’ll see.” Vincent let it slide for now and let Jean-Pierre rest.
--
That Saturday, after breakfast, Jean-Pierre went to find his son and told him to get ready.
“On va où?”/ “Where’re we going?”
“Tu verras.”/ “You’ll see.” Sébastien could tell, by his father’s tone, that this was a serious matter and didn’t ask any further questions.
Jean-Pierre was silent during the drive and Sébastien quietly observed the passing scenery. He was confused as to why his father pulled into a cemetery, which wasn’t the one they usually went to see his mother at. When the car was parked, he wordlessly followed him to a small tombstone, a little ways away.
“Papa?”
“Seb, ch’te présente ta grand-mère, ma mère, qui est morte, suite à un accident, quand j’avais six ans, causé par mon père…”/ “Seb, this is your grandmother, my mother, who died, after an accident, when I was six, caused by my father…”
OWARI VI
TO BE CONTINUED
I do accept anonymous reviews.
Started writing: April 25th 2013, 2:45pm
Finished writing: April 26th 2013, 5:22pm
Started typing: September 9th 2013, 10:45am
Finished typing: September 9th 2013, 11:17am
Chapter 6/?: Release
Characters: Vincent, Jean-Pierre, Sébastien
Genre: Drama, comfort, family
Rating for this chapter: T
Warnings: AU
Pairings: Jean-PierrexVincent
Summary: Scenes that never made it to the actual story, but the idea wanted to be written.
This chapter summary: Jean-Pierre hasn't been acting himself, as of late. Vincent and Sébastien are worried.
My Brother’s Son
Deleted Scenes
Release
My Brother’s Son
Deleted Scenes
Release
Jean-Pierre hadn’t been himself, for most of the week. Vincent was worried about him and anytime he tried to speak to his husband, he got the noncommittal shrug. Vincent feared Jean-Pierre was distancing himself from him, again. Sébastien had no idea what was wrong with his father, and Vincent had to reassure him that it had nothing to do with him.
Everything had been going well, up until this past Monday. They had celebrated Jean-Pierre’s fiftieth birthday and it had been a nice, warm, end of June day. But then, Jean-Pierre got a call on Monday and things had taken a turn from there. What little time Jean-Pierre had at home, he spent it locked up in his home office, and the rest of the time, he was at the restaurant working.
Vincent was willing to give his husband one week, to sort himself out, before confronting him about whatever it was the other was going through. When the following Monday came about, Vincent was determined to find the underlying cause of this and since he knew Jean-Pierre was off, he figured it would be the opportune moment. However, his partner told him he had some errand to run and that he would be home, later in the evening.
He patiently waited, half-worried, and tried to busy himself. He even started supper and made Jean-Pierre’s favourite, in the hopes of getting him in a good mood, but when the older man got home, he looked even more distraught than he had all week. He refused dinner, on the pretext of not being hungry and went straight to bed. Vincent and Sébastien exchanged worried looks.
“Is Papa okay?”
“Don’t worry about it… I’ll talk to him after supper.”
Vincent waited until later that night, before going to their room to see Jean-Pierre. When he walked in, he found his husband curled up on himself, huddled under the blankets. Vincent could tell Jean-Pierre was feigning sleep, but after fifteen years together, Vincent knew better.
He went to sit by the side of the bed and nudged Jean-Pierre’s arm. The other man pretended to not have felt anything, but Vincent could tell by his breathing, and by the way his shoulders were tensed up, that Jean-Pierre was awake and about ready to crack open.
“Chéri, please tell me what’s wrong. I hate seeing you like this.” As an answer, Jean-Pierre turned over, back to him. Vincent took the opportunity of the available space and slide under the covers. He pulled his husband close and was relieved when Jean-Pierre didn’t push him away.
Vincent rubbed Jean-Pierre’s back and felt him take deep breaths. He continued with his ministrations, hoping they would loosen up his husband’s tongue. It took him well over fifteen minutes of back rubbing, but finally, Jean-Pierre looked into his eyes and Vincent was surprised to see tears swimming in those blue eyes he loved so much.
“Jean, qu’est-c’qui t’as mis dans cet état?”/ “Jean, what put you in such a state?” He murmured to him, caressing his face. He brushed the first tear that fell and the subsequent ones that followed afterwards. Vincent grew even more worried. He could count on one hand the number of times he had really witnessed Jean-Pierre cry and this seemed to be the worst.
“Mon père - j’ai vu mon père.”/ “My father - I saw my father.” Jean-Pierre finally sobbed into his shirt. Vincent’s hand stilled in his partner’s hair.
“Ton père? What do you mean you saw your father?”/ “Your father?...” Jean-Pierre tried to explain, but his words were lost in Vincent’s shirt.
“Yé… yé sortit d’prison. Y m’ont app’lé la s’maine passée, pour m’dire qu’y’allait sortir aujourd’hui. Pis chuis allé l’voir. J’y ai parlé. Moi qui avait dit qu’j’allais jamais y r’parler, que j’allais l’frapper, si j’le r’voyais, chuis allé l’voir pis chu juste resté là à l’écouter s’excuser, pour c’qu’y a fait. J’ai pu rien faire… Vincent, chuis juste resté là, chuis tellement hypocrite. Ch’pensais j’avais tout mis ça d’côté, mais quand j’l’ai vu, j’me suis rapp’lé d’toute la misère qu’y m’a causé, de mon enfance perdu…”/
“He… he came out of jail. They called me last week, to tell me he was coming out today. And I went to see him. I spoke to him. I who said I would never speak to him again, that I would hit him, if I ever saw him again, I went to see him and I just stood there, listening to him apologise, for what he did. I couldn’t do anything… Vincent, I just stood there, I’m such a hypocrite. I thought I had put all this behind, but when I saw him, I remembered all the misery he caused, my lost childhood…” He shuddered violently and Vincent held him tighter, afraid Jean-Pierre would break in his arms.
“Jean, mon pauvre, Jean… I don’t know what to tell you. You should have told me about this, chéri. I’m your husband. You’re supposed to tell me these things. Chuis ici pour t’aider, les bons moments comme les mauvais.”/ “Jean, my poor, Jean… I’m here to help you, the good times like the bad ones.” Jean-Pierre looked up at him, apology ready at hi slips, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and Vincent wiped them away, before kissing his brow.
“Y l’ont laissé partir après quarante-quatre ans. Y’a tué sa femme, pis ruiné l’enfance de son gars, mais c’correct d’le laisser sortir après quarante-quatre ans. J’y ai dit - j’y ai dit que j’voulais pas l’voir - que j’lui souhaitais une mort agonisante. Vincent, qu’est-c’que j’fais s’y vient m’trouver? S’y vient faire du mal à toi, ou à Seb? Seigneur, j’veux pas vous perdre! J’voulais pu jamais l’revoir, pis chu allé l’voir.”/
“They let him go after forty-four years. He killed his wife and ruined his son’s childhood, but it’s okay to let him go after forty0four years. I told him - I told him I didn’t want to see him - that I wished him a slow agonising death. Vincent, what do I do if he comes looking for me? What if he comes after you, or Seb? God, I don’t want to lose you! I never wanted to see him again and I went to see him.” He clutched at his husband’s shirt, leaving Vincent speechless. He kept Jean-Pierre close, and they remained that way for close to thirty minutes, before one of them spoke again.
“Chéri, listen to me, okay?” Jean-Pierre looked up to him again and Vincent wanted to kiss his tears and sadness away. He wanted nothing more to ease the older man’s heart and see him smile, one more time. Instead, he took a steadying breath and chose his words carefully.
“He’s an old man now. I doubt he can do much harm. I doubt he’ll be able to find us. We’re not listed in the phonebook. No one will think little of you because you went to see him and no one will force you to see him again.” He passed a hand through Jean-Pierre’s hair and he felt his husband give out a little sigh. “That being said, I think it’s time you tell Sébastien what happened to your mother. He’s been worried about you and it’s his family as well. He’s twenty-one; I think he’s ready to know the truth.” Vincent knew Jean-Pierre wouldn’t agree and he wasn’t disappointed, when his husband pushed him away.
“Non.”/ “No.”
“Jean, come on. You told me you would tell him after he turned sixteen. He’s well over that age now. He deserves to know. You’re doing him a disservice. He’s your son and a Tremblay at that. Wouldn’t you rather he find out from you than from someone else?” Jean-Pierre grew quiet and Vincent kept combing his fingers through his hair.
“He’s not going to think any less of you.” He kissed his forehead and pulled the blankets over them both.
“On verra.”/ “We’ll see.” Vincent let it slide for now and let Jean-Pierre rest.
--
That Saturday, after breakfast, Jean-Pierre went to find his son and told him to get ready.
“On va où?”/ “Where’re we going?”
“Tu verras.”/ “You’ll see.” Sébastien could tell, by his father’s tone, that this was a serious matter and didn’t ask any further questions.
Jean-Pierre was silent during the drive and Sébastien quietly observed the passing scenery. He was confused as to why his father pulled into a cemetery, which wasn’t the one they usually went to see his mother at. When the car was parked, he wordlessly followed him to a small tombstone, a little ways away.
“Papa?”
“Seb, ch’te présente ta grand-mère, ma mère, qui est morte, suite à un accident, quand j’avais six ans, causé par mon père…”/ “Seb, this is your grandmother, my mother, who died, after an accident, when I was six, caused by my father…”
OWARI VI
TO BE CONTINUED
I do accept anonymous reviews.
Started writing: April 25th 2013, 2:45pm
Finished writing: April 26th 2013, 5:22pm
Started typing: September 9th 2013, 10:45am
Finished typing: September 9th 2013, 11:17am