Faramir
Who: Boromir and Faramir What: A functional dysfunctional family When: Recent where: Denethor Residence Status: complete Rating: PG-13
Faramir didn’t make a habit of grading his student’s papers downstairs, not when he was at home. That was primarily due to his father’s usual disapproving stares, whenever they crossed paths, but it wasn’t anything Faramir wasn’t used to dealing with. In an ideal world, he would have already moved out as soon as possible and truthfully, he likely should have, years ago. But this was still like a ‘home base’ of sorts in his mind, under his father’s roof, and it was where his brother often stopped in. It was better this way, to further the opportunity to talk to his brother if he happened by, and to quietly keep a watchful eye on his perpetually introverted father.
And what more was expected of two bachelors and a widower anyway? It seemed to him, that they were almost like a sitcom in the making or were stereotypical in their habits, and there was no harm in that, really. Just never bring any dates home that his father would disapprove of or his brother would make fun of, and all was well. Or as well as it could be, all things considering.
He reached out for his cup of coffee, seated at a long dining room table, and took a sip while reading an essay that looked like it was worded by a nine year old, instead of a nineteen year old.
It had been a long day. Between an aid quitting, bad polls and an undercooked burrito at lunch, Boromir was about ready to put his fist through the wall. When he came inside, he slammed the door hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall.
The front room was always so perfect. The perfect family portraits. Just the right amount of knick nacks. He passed a picture of Faramir on the mantle that had fallen over and righted it without thought, like he always did. He opened his mouth and let forth a great bellow. "BROTHER ARE YOU HERE??"
When the door slammed and the picture fell over, Faramir had simply closed his eyes and smiled. The same scenario had played out so many times before, that it was like the sounds of silver trumpets heralding his brother's arrival. And by the sounds of it, it wasn't one of the 'good days' because of the absolute volume of the door slam.
"Dining room," he called out, putting the paper aside and scooting the chair back, so he could give his brother a warmer welcome than merely - and very lamely - sitting there when Boromir was in a mood. "It sounds as though you've had...a day."
Now to hear all about it, after being squished in a Boro Bear Hug. Unless the Boro Bear was feeling punchy, and then everything else would get knocked over first, before he got a hug or a pat on the shoulder. And probably a hair ruffling...even if that was embarrassing as hell, sometimes.
"Try a week," He said gruffly, marching in like he was about to give a lashing to his old command in the army. He knocked over plant, passing his brother and ruffling his hair before disappearing into the kitchen. There was the sound of the fridge opening and bottles rustling, before he came back with two beers, one of which he planted in front of his brother. Good American Beer, of course.
"People are incompetent." All of the people, apparently. "I do not know why I bother delegating responsibility if no one can handle it."
A very ruffled Faramir stared at the beer, and then looked forlornly over at his coffee cup. Since it was a bad week for Boromir, it was best to try to appease him by their version of the 'breaking of bread' and have the beer.
"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate, since I have yet to master being psychic," Faramir attempted to lighten the mood a little before getting to the heart of the problem. "What sort of work did you delegate? Maybe you need to find someone more qualified. A new person to hire or a volunteer with prior experience...."
"I thought he had experience," Boromir replied. "His resume was impeccable and he was recommended by Assemblyman Smith." He looked disgruntled opening his beer and taking a drink. "He spent half his day playing Flappy Bird, and the other half of the day talking his way into the pants of my secretary." Why was it sex sex sex with everyone? Boromir didn't have time for that shit!
"Ahh.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Well? Take heart. Flappy Bird isn't downloadable any longer. I'm afraid you might have a harder time finding someone who isn't going to have sex on the brain, since today's society is centered in part on that ideal. Along with several other things you might find questionable, as well."
Personally, Faramir preferred more romantic intentions over sexual gratification. He merely thought his family was a bit old fashioned that way, even if he was far and away more liberal than his brother or father were with their political leanings.
"Have you thought about hiring a woman," he asked Boromir, "or perhaps a male secretary?" He took a drink of beer and watched his older brother, to gauge his reaction to those suggestions.
Boromir muttered something under his breath, and sighed. "She's too good to fire." But maybe if she was taken. He tilted his head at his brother. "Say, Faramir. She's rather attractive and bookish, and some of her views are more aligned with you." That is to say she was slightly more socially liberal than many of his staff, but a whiz with numbers.
Faramir almost choked on his beer. Almost.
In case he hadn't heard right, he asked in a hushed voice, "Are you trying to set me up with your secretary?" Furthermore, "If she's so attractive, why don't you ask her out? Having someone who has opinions that aren't precisely in line with your own, can often be a valuable resource."
"That's not ethical and you know it," he replied eying his brother over his beer. Even if her rear was amazing and she liked to bend over in front of him, he wasn't taking the bait, oh no he wasn't, that was a trap. "She likes to read on her breaks."
Faramir smiled at Boromir, with his beer clasped on both hands. He always enjoyed Boromir's company and it showed quite plainly, since he was at his most relaxed and open. Even if it was in a brotherly teasing sort of way.
"I think concessions can be made if it's love. Think about it. You could go on the campaign trail with your bookish wife and two point five children in tow, and it would be the perfect image to appeal to middle aged women swing voters." He tried not to laugh. Tried. Very hard. But in all seriousness, he had to point out, "I don't believe either of us are ready for that, despite how old we each are. She sounds intelligent, though. A quality to be held in high regard."
There. See? It's exceptionally polite spin doctoring. For not being involved in politics, Faramir's quite good at it, without making it seem like he's doing that at all. (Yet he so is.)
“Or you could be the one to cease father’s incessant prattling about carrying on the family line,” Boromir suggested, not entirely selfishly. It might improve their brother’s esteem in Denethor’s eyes, which was never a bad thing in Boromir’s opinion.
He eyed his brother, amused as always by how shrewd the man was. He saw so much of their father in Faramir, though much less cruel. “I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”
There. It was decided. He was much too busy to date and he didn’t want to deal with the political consequences of “hookups” as they called it
That was fair enough. Faramir saw a fair amount of their father in Boromir, since they were both very opinionated and strong-minded people. He never felt like he was out of his league when he was around Boromir, because Boromir inspired confidence in everyone around him. He did when he was around their father, because Denethor made people feel like he was looking through someone rather than at them, and the effect could be unnerving. Even after so many years of enduring it, already.
"...or?" ventured Faramir, with a slight grin, "I think that's the job of the eldest son, since the younger of the two wouldn't want to subject his daughters to the 'you are inferior because of who sired you' talks, during the holidays. I would think he would want the one more politically inclined, to carry on the family dynasty he's envisioned. Notice that I'm not a part of that scenario, whenever it comes up."
His expression grew a little more serious when he insisted, "You also don't need to do that. I already have several students flirting with me. Male and female." And just to see his brother's reaction, "I haven't decided who I will say yes to, yet."
.Boromir’s face went instantly red. “You do that and you know father would rip you a new one!” It wasn’t something Boromir himself could face, but he’d defend his brother no matter what stupid ass decision Faramir might make.
It’s not stupid ass. It’s natural. Insert brain sigh, here.
Faramir shook his head a little and replied, "One has to follow their natural inclinations, if they do exist. That's even if a parent doesn't agree with it. I promise, though, that you will be the first to know."
Wondering on that would also keep Faramir from any awkward dates pushed upon him by his brother. He knew what he was doing, after all, but wasn't willing to make an already irritated Boromir even more irritated, by rubbing it in or teasing him further. Instead, he chose to change the subject.
"Other than the problems you're having with your staff, is everything else going well?"
“Well enough,” Boromir replied. He’d gotten a new rank in Call of Duty: Ghosts, but that was his secret passion that no one knew about, Shh. He was the obnoxious sort that bellowed orders over the mic and called everyone dumbasses.
That fits. So so much. Faramir probably had various Free 2 Play hunters rolled up in mmos and he never lost his shit on everyone, was a great team player, and could pewpew his way through solo quest hubs like no one business. He might be leadership material in instances, but he only ever offered suggestions and brought the ranged dps.
Hopefully, somehow and somewhere, there was a video on youtube of Boromir losing his shit, and Faramir could someday stumble across it for a laugh. A laugh, which was muffled by one hand pressed firmly against his face.
"Then it doesn't seem like you have too many problems, other than needing someone more competent. I could try to fill in, in my spare time. It's not as though you would need me, after you're elected."
Because Faramir knew that losing wasn't an option.
“You’re hired,” Boromir said, so quickly that it must have been that he was waiting to jump on the offer. Father might have problems with it and a few snide remarks, but having someone like Faramir around might help him with those...underserved groups that typically got shat upon by his former part. (hey, he’s working on it. Slowly.) “At least as a consultant.”
That he was working on it, albeit slowly, was enough for Faramir. He knew that his brother was a good person and always meant well. Sometimes, he had a funny or rather abrupt way of showing it. As for being snide? That was their father's domain. Faramir would make a few quips here and there, but they were always well-meaning and meant to make one think. While teasing, it wasn't done with malice.
For instance, "Only a consultant? You must be concerned that a registered Democrat helping out, might have some of your old political partners and military friends staring at you funny."
“Half of them are in bed with the Tea Party and I’d rather avoid that taint.” He sneered. He had no respect for anyone that talked about patriotism and then turned around and did the exact opposite. Sure, he hated taxes but they were a necessary evil. They just had to be properly (micro)managed and put into things that were actually important. Like the army.
Or social programs. Faramir still believed those were valuable resources and prevented people in need from slipping through the cracks. Everyone needed help, at some point in their lives.
"Oh, right. That is an unfortunate byproduct of a democratic system of government," he conceded, with a sigh. At least his brother realized that, and hadn't aligned himself along with them. "I'm really only teaching two or three classes, three days a week. I think I have plenty of time to act as a consultant on the side. I'm happy to help out."
Someone should run for public office, himself, but he’s just not doing it. *points at Faramir*
Boromir had left a Reagan Republican and come back still a Reagan Republican, only to find that his party had moved so far right that he was more closely aligned with right leaning Democrats. It was BLASPHEMY. “They make the rest of us conservatives look bad.”
He sounded and looked a little grumbly.
Faramir would have pointed out that wasn't a difficult thing to do, but he didn't want to turn his brother's mood into something even darker or more thunderous. He knew when to refrain.
"I know you probably think it's your duty to right those wrongs, but I hope you aren't pushing yourself too much in the process. You have a short fuse when you get tired."
He snorted, and beat his bottle on the table. “I do not> have a short fuse, Faramir.” He darted his eyes. “Lets talk about something else. Tell me you didn’t volunteer as a clinic escort again. I’m tired of getting an earful from Father.”
Faramir fought the urge to point at the bottle beating. He was successful. Because he was eyedarting also and looked like he didn't want to answer.
"I plead the fifth," he judiciously replied, because he had. Someone had to help those poor women not have their rights infringed upon. Of course, trying to explain to Denethor about people (regardless of gender) needing to make and live with their own personal decisions, as well as the need to defend that, was like trying to talk to a brick wall. At least his brother listened. Their father? Not so much.
"Is this a new earful or a rehashing of the usual condemnations," he asked, looking a little tired. Not physically, but mentally. The years of listening to it had long since taken a toll, even as he accepted it all. Trying to reason or struggle against it all, was a futile endeavor. That was why he simply stopped and let it be. "You should probably ignore it, whatever it is."
Because he is so not admitting that yes, he had. A couple of weeks ago. And that was after he went to a rally to raise money to support gay marriage initiatives. Even if he, himself, was as straight as straight could be. He's simply supportive like that.
“He asked if the woman you’re picture was taken with was a girlfriend,” Boromir said, tiredly. There were too many skeletons in his own past to really cast condemnations. Ahem. “And what I planned to do about it as it will be inevitably linked to my own campaign.” Which was a touchy subject, a needle he’d have to thread and one he generally avoided making peeps about.
Boromir was the kind of man to make his opinion known loud and clear. But some things you just shut up about and hope no one asked about it. Because if he was asked about it he’d have to bluster. And no one wanted that.
Boromir blustering about the right to choose versus the right to life was probably political suicide. Faramir let out a long suffering sigh. He didn't have any skeletons in his closet. Nothing other than embarrassing things when he was a little kid, but that was about it.
That his father was asking Boromir and not him, directly, was just another example of how much Denethor didn't want anything much to do with him.
"Next time he asks, if there is a next time, tell him that it is," Faramir stated in a somewhat more flattened tone of voice, as he stood up to put his now emptied beer in the kitchen. "And I'll try not to do anything that reflects poorly upon you or him."
He would simply find some other causes in the meantime. Or be more sneaky. And he could be sneaky, surprisingly enough. He simply didn’t have much of an excuse or a need to do that very often.
“Faramir,” Boromir said, knowingly. He was squinting at his brother like he knew all of the eight trillion ways his brother could be sneaky and knew that there were at least another hundred thousand he didn’t know yet.
"Yes, Boromir?" It was oh so mildly asked. Faramir was already disappearing into the kitchen area, because he could feel that squint boring holes through him. At least it was from his brother and not good old dad.
“Do you have a checklist of causes guaranteed to send father or me into some sort of tizzy? It’s like you’re trying to give the old man a heart attack.” He got up to throw away his bottle.
"I don't support anything that I don't believe in," Faramir very patiently pointed out, as he made himself another cup of coffee, “and I certainly don't do that to cause trouble with either of you. I don't want him to have a heart attack either, but I doubt he would ever reach that point on my account. If he did, then I might drop dead from shock. Admit it that you might follow suit. I doubt you can disagree but you’ll try to, anyway.”
He knows his older brother very, very well.
“The old man is healthy as a horse,” Boromir begrudged. “However he is very old and set in his ways and you never know when he’ll keel over dead. It’s like with mother and when she was carrying you, I kept expecting you to fall right out.”
Faramir tried his hardest not to wince. That wasn't something he liked to think about, even if it was on his mind a lot more than he would like to admit.
"You would remember that far better than I would." He was dumping a little too much sugar into his coffee, and a little too much cream, and stirring it so the spoon tinked around the inside of the cup too much. Time for a change of subject, back onto the living parent, instead of the deceased one he barely remembered. "If he's healthy as a horse, then I think he has a few more years before he...did you really just say keel over dead? So subtle. I'm sure he would appreciate that."
“He’s father. He would keel over in his study into a stack of paperwork or his latest dissertation.” Their father had the oddest retirement hobby, which generally involved all sorts of research into Very Old Things that had absolutely no interest to Boromir when they didn’t involve people fighting.
In sharp contrast, the Very Old Things did interest Faramir, but it was like pulling teeth to get Denethor to even talk to him about it.
"Hate to point this out to you? But keeling over into paperwork is a lot different than keeling over, dead. I would prefer he's up to his eyeballs in dissertations, instead." At least this sort of talk got his mind off what might have been a potentially awkward subject. Talking about their mother was as dangerous as debating right-wing vs left-wing politics under this roof. Boromir would be too blunt, his father would be too cold, and Faramir knew he would get that all-too-familiar sinking feeling about the entire situation. It was often a matter which was better left unsaid.
If they kept talking about him they'd summon him and Boromir simply didn't want to have to mediate between his brother and his father. Again. As usual. Holiday dinners put the fun in dysfunctional.
He decided then, to change the subject again. "What do you make of the volcano last week?"
That was the reason that Faramir thought they were functionally dysfunctional. Or vice versa. It was interchangeable enough. It was also a situation that Faramir didn't enjoy either, and he often wasn't the one who started it to begin with. Luckily? This family is really good at changing the subject, which was readily apparent when Faramir took the conversational bait without pause.
"...I thought the magnitude of it was a little strange given the distance, but I suppose stranger things have happened," he replied, a little cautiously. The entire thing hadn't settled well with him, but he had done as advised and stayed home. He had been foresightful enough to take the extra step of e-mailing the students who had left contact information, to let them know that they could do class work, at home. Hence, the pile of essays he was having to read through.
"Please tell me you aren't going to insist we go into survival training mode, because you think it's the end of the world," Faramir finished saying after a thoughtful pause, one in which he looked troubled about the strangeness of it all. "It's enough to have one eccentric under this roof. We don't need two."
Boromir wasn't a scientist. Things go boom, make fire and lava, and volcano. He was better at ballistics, but that was necessary for artillery in the army. Those were extra big booms and Boromir had been so disappointed when they'd canceled that super-howitzer. He'd been looking forward to setting that baby on the enemy.
"That's not a bad idea." He clapped Faramir on the back. "When we get a weekend free lets go camping, little brother. Just the two of us!"
Faramir coughed once, before he asked, "I thought I said please tell me you aren't going to? Although, now that you mention it, Boromir...going camping sounds like fun. When's the last time we did that?"
It had been a while. Faramir liked being outdoors but the opportunity didn't often present itself, not unless he wandered off on his own. Which he sometimes did, if only to take a long walk and clear his mind.
“Prior to my last deployment,” he replied. “Maybe five years ago?” That was a long time, and in all those five years they hadn’t spent much brotherly time together. “Until then, maybe we should go to a bar. Mingle with people.” Get Faramir a girlfriend.
No, to get Boromir a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Faramir was all right if his brother swung that way, and he always thought a few of those conservative sorts might be hiding in the closet, since they seemed so obsessed with gay sex and gay marriage.
"We could do that," agreed Faramir, and not for the purpose of hooking up with anyone, but because he welcomed the opportunity to hang out with his brother. His brother was not only family to him, but his best friend. "I mean, camping and the bar. You need to meet someone nice, after all. You have the better genetic material, after all."
“That’s… well that’s true. I really am.” He puffed out his chest proudly and stroked at his facial hair. Boromir was indeed a fine specimen of man, above average in all ways.
And oh so humble about it, too! Faramir grinned at his older brother's overwhelming self-confidence and then gave him a pat on the shoulder. Because someone just walked right into that, didn't they? Indeed, they did.
"I'm so happy you agree, brother. That is why I am leaving the task of giving Denethor his many grandchildren, entirely up to you."
Faramir started to walk back into the dining room with his cup of coffee in hand, lightly whistling a tune of sheer innocence.
"Oh no you don't." He grabbed his brother in a vice-grip hug from behind. "Because who's going to keep my children preoccupied, but your children?"
Luckily, Faramir didn't spill his coffee. The hug stopped him from moving and he laughed, totally used to that happening. It was like being hugged by a big bear, only this was far less deadly.
After a couple seconds to think it over, he prudently replied, "I don't need to have my own children to entertain yours. I'll be the doting uncle who knows stories about mythology and funny children's poems. Is father really on your back about it, this much? Pressuring me won't work. He wants them from you, not me."
Again, never was that meant with malice. In fact, Faramir sounded a little wryly amused, which is what worked perfectly to cover up any residual 'meh' he was feeling about Denethor.
"He isn't really. Maybe I want some nephews to spoil," Boromir replied, voice stubborn. "Or a tomboyish niece, that would be acceptable." SPORTS. GUNS. HUNTING!
The older man set his brother down. “But I know the subject will come up soon.” It was distasteful. He had nothing against children (the idea made him squishy inside) but it had to be HIS idea and NO ONE ELSES.
Of course, because that’s how Boromir worked, since he had a case of the stubborns. His brother wasn’t as stubborn but he did look a little ruffled up. Setting him down caused him to almost spill his coffee a second time, but given a choice? He would always chose a bear hug from his brother any day, over not seeing him and being in a quiet house with their disapproving recluse of a father.
"Try telling him that you haven't found anyone impressive enough to wed, or have children with. That should buy you some time." And to buy himself some time with Boromir, he told him with a smile, "I haven't found anyone I'm compatible enough to wed, or have children with. And now I have bought myself some time."
He made a little toasting motion with his coffee cup and took a drink.
Boromir regarded his brother for a moment, wondering if he should ask him to move in with him. To better keep an eye on him, of course, and not just because his condo was big and lonely. "That's fair enough. Though there was this one woman, once. She was darkly elegant and had breasts that could kill a man."
Faramir stared back at his brother like he was, first and foremost, wondering how breasts could kill a man, and second of all, if he was asked, he would say yes to moving in. The house was big and lonely, although it was occupied. Even so, he felt an odd sense of...he supposed it was duty...to keep an eye on their father. No one else other than the housekeepers were going to do it. And, in Faramir's mind, if he stuck around long enough, maybe Denethor would change his mind about him. Other than having each other on permanent ignore to the point where he had to find out Denethor was even asking questions about him, from Boromir.
Then again, there was a large part of him that felt that day wouldn't ever happen. So waiting for it and being present and accounted for, was a fruitless effort.
"What happened? Did you not want to be killed by her breasts?" Faramir inquired, because that seemed the most obvious way to continue the conversation.
"She was doing...some aid work when I was deployed." He waved a hand like it was nothing, even if the thought of her sometimes made him verklempt, it was most likely thos glorious breasts. "I had the military and she had her refugees."
"Refugees? You should have married that one right away, if she was doing charitable work. It sounds as like she would have done you some good. And you were obviously attracted." Faramir patted one hand consolingly on his brother's shoulder. "Maybe you can attempt to contact her again and see if she's single."
"She's likely been snatched up," Boromir retorted. "She had the uncanny ability to attract the eye of every man and woman in the room. Tis no matter, this was years ago and she's probably rescuing orphans somewhere." Clearly he thought that she'd suit Faramir better.
Oh she did sound quite interesting in that she did such charitable work. And his brother wasn't too far off, since Faramir had been on dates before and he definitely liked the company of women. However, he had never been so bold as Boromir was, as to describe any of them (much less someone helping refugees and orphans) as a woman with 'breasts that could kill a man'. And that was why he was staring at Boromir with a bemused expression, eyebrows raised a little bit, and nodding ever so slightly.
"You're going to regret that you didn't do enough in the way of romantic overtures, yourself. Although, it might be for the best that we aren't involved? We are going to be incredibly busy. You more than me."
"Nonsense. Do not be so stubborn, brother, that's my job!" He grinned at him, his mood vastly improved over what it had been earlier. "And you simply cannot out stubborn me!"
"I know that's an insurmountable task. How dare I even try." Faramir always felt better when Boromir there. Always. This time was no exception and that grin was returned with the greatest of ease. "Someone has to keep you on your toes, or you won't feel like you're being challenged enough."
Boromir gave him the stink eye, then slowly, deliberately reached out, and ruffled his hair. “You are indeed challenging, Faramir. You are so very challenging.”
He had laughed at that look on his brother's face, as well as his hair being hopelessly messed up. He often didn't bother with it very much anyway. Faramir was a strong supporter of bedhead, along with various other causes.
"I learned from the very best," he admitted. "Are you going to stay for a while?"
Well, Boromir was indeed the very best. So he let that slide, because he was. In actuality. The very best. At everything and anything. Especially when he becomes president some day. Ambition? Naaaaaaah.
"I hadn't intended it," He gestured with a hand. "Why don't we go out somewhere. Like old times. I have a few hours."
If there was one thing Boromir had, it was ego with enough ego to spare, but that wasn't ever a bother. In fact, Boromir without his self promotional tendencies would worry Faramir to no end. If that ever happened, he would be convinced the world was ending. His older brother - in his mind - really could do everything and anything.
"Oh. Well?" Even though he had a little reluctance about leaving their father there, locked in his study while studying things he never spoke of, Faramir finally nodded in agreement, telling his brother, "I think I can spare a few hours. The essays can wait."