Prompt: Can we get a prompt of when Leon and Beckett first met?
"Dad, do I have to go?" Beckett said.
"Yes, I want you there," Ken Townsend said, straightening his tie. "Come here, let me put your tie on for you."
Beckett moved over to his dad, watching as Ken put the tie on for him. He smiled a little and tried to fix Beckett's mess of dark hair.
"Constance Academy will be your school next year. You should get to know people there. Connections never hurt," Ken said, putting a hand on Beckett's back and guiding him down the stairs. "Emmett, come on! We don't want to be late!"
Emmett hurried to meet up with them. Ken led his sons outside and into the car, taking off for the Academy.
"Now, no fighting between you two," he said, shooting Emmett a look. Beckett's temper had been growing more unstable lately, and Ken didn't need Emmett to set him off and cause a scene.
The boys glared at each other but didn't say anything. Ken turned the radio on and they were silent until they got to the Academy.
The boys got out and followed their father into the gym, where the headmaster was hosting a party for the employees and their families. The gym was packed with people, tables lining the side with refreshments and snacks.
Beckett looked around, trying not to get overwhelmed by all the people. He saw kids with their parents, most looking bored as the adults talked.
"Oh, there's George," Ken said, lightly tugging on Beckett's arm. "Come on, Beck."
Beckett followed his dad through the crowd. They swerved between people, Ken keeping a hand on Beckett so he didn't lose him. Emmett struggled to keep up with them.
"George," Ken said, approaching the headmaster of the Academy.
George Constance smiled politely. "Ken, I heard your wife is out of town. A shame. Abby was looking forward to seeing her tonight."
"She was sad she couldn't make it," Ken said, tugging Beckett forward. "I know you've seen my son around before, but I don't think you've ever properly met him. This is my youngest, Beckett. He'll be a student here next year. A good one, too. He's the little genius of the family."
George stuck his hand out to Beckett. Beckett shook George's hand, hating the term "little genius" and all the weight that came with it. Sure, he was the favorite son and he got what he wanted. But he got pressure, too.
"Nice to meet you, Beckett." George looked over. "Leon, come here."
Two boys approached, one looking twice Beckett's age and the other looking the same age. George put his hand out to stop the older one.
"I said Leon cone here, not Adam come here," George said. "Go greet your teachers, Adam."
The older boy bowed his head a little and disappeared into the crowd. Beckett furrowed his brow. What a weird way to treat your own kid.