padraig is a little different now. (irishdragon) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-02-03 12:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, mette skoglund, padraig flanagan, shannon reid, stephen knight iv |
WHO: Padraig, Mette, Stephen, Shannon
WHAT: Birthdays gone horribly wrong by a traumatised easily tempered Irishman
WHEN: Sunday afternoon
WHERE: Girls lounge, 5th floor
WARNINGS: Bit of violence, general boy stupidness
STATUS: Complete
For Padraig, social interactions had become nothing short of exhausting. He’d gotten better over the past few weeks, but his progress was slow. At least there was progress, he supposed. Instead of constantly hanging out with the bros like Padraig used to enjoy, he needed plenty of time with birds that would let him sit quietly. Whether she talked or whether they watched a movie didn’t matter, so long as Padraig wasn’t counted on for conversation or laughs. Mette, Daisy, Shannon, and Leona were Padraig’s go-to these days, more so because he wasn’t sexually interested in them and therefore didn’t have to worry about simultaneously impressing them. They were his mixed and matched support network. Today Pad and Mette were hanging out (mostly silently) in the lounge on her floor. He was most at ease with Mette. She’d been there with him, he’d grown to expect her by his side no matter what. They didn’t need to speak, but if they did it wasn’t draining the way it was with others. Padraig only needed to say one word for Mette to pick up what he meant or was thinking. The connection they’d grown was foreign to Padraig, but he wasn’t sure how to survive without it. When Stephen, Shannon’s boyfriend, walked into the lounge Padraig’s eyes narrowed. He tolerated Stephen, at best. Honestly, Stephen could have been any man in the entire world and Padraig would be skeptical of him. “Oi,” Padraig called out. He felt his muscles tense. This lad wasn’t wearing a shirt. And in was in the girls’ tower. Sure it was hot as fuck outside, but this was a bit much. === Mette had been lounging curled against the boy's side, legs tucked in under herself while some random movie unfurled on the lounge television, her head resting against his shoulder. She looked more comfortable there than she did with most others nowadays. Padraig was like the eye of the storm: simple, neutral, reassuring, and it was the most natural thing in the world to hear the rise-and-fall of his breath or feel his presence beside her. Yet Stephen wasn’t exactly a foreign sight around these parts, and so Mette waved to the Canadian. “Halla,” she said, her voice breezy, far more casual than Pad’s own greeting. But having become hypervigilant to shifts in her friend’s mood, Mette cast a sideways glance at the Irishman as she noted the stiffening in his shoulders and his body going rigid at her side. There was an unstated question in her look: What’s wrong? === Having spent the majority of the day with Shannon, it had gone relatively well for Stephen up until the point she was yawning. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was his doing or hers, but either way, he wasn’t averse to having his own caffeine boost considering their previous activities. Shannon reminded him to put on at least some clothes if he was going out to the lounge, because the other girls probably wouldn’t appreciate it. He had mumbled something unintelligible, then pushed his slacks on before fumbling his way out the door. He padded his way down to the lounge area, before noting the lounge was occupied. This wasn’t entirely unusual, considering it being the weekend but what was a somewhat unnerving experience was having someone call “Oi,” at you. Was that a greeting? Was it involuntary noise? Given the source of Shannon’s somewhat zealous and overly protective (even by his standards) Irish friend, he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. What was slightly easier to interpret was the girl -- Meter, Meta, something -- who had a similar ability to Shannon’s. They weren’t exactly friends, but he was aware of her and nodded slightly in greeting to them both. “Just playing coffee boy,” he said, by way of some sort of explanation as he headed over to the machine. “Ignore ahead.” === Padraig didn’t have to look over to Mette to know she sensed his change. He did though, and his look offered nothing more than a pathetic apology in his eyes. He reached down and placed his hand on top of Mette’s. He’d stay calm. For her. Not because he wanted to, but because Mette didn’t deserve to be subjected to anymore violence. Words, Padraig, use your words. He’d been working on this with his counsellor, he’d even been working on it with Shannon. “The fuck you doin’ walkin’ around the birds’ floor without a shirt? Shan know yer roamin about like this?” Padraig’s accent was thick as he tried to subdue his anger and not punch this eejit in the face. That’s all he wanted to do, really. Not even because Stephen may or may not deserve it, but so that Stephen knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do so again in the future if Shannon was ever hurt. Padraig had been punched by an older brother before, albeit he’d deserved it. It was just how things worked. He wouldn’t sit Stephen down and give him a stern talking to, he’d beat him up. But, no. He couldn’t. === It wasn’t distress that coloured Mette’s reaction -- yet -- but rather confusion and decided bemusement as she layered her other hand over Padraig’s. For all that Norwegians were stiff and polite, their attitude towards nudity was much looser: skinny-dipping was fine, as were nudist beaches, and high school shenanigans involved more than a little streaking. What in the world was wrong with simply being shirtless? (Clearly, the girl wasn’t quite so accustomed to stilted Catholic repression. And protective older brothers.) “Uh,” she started. Very eloquent and helpful, that. === That was somewhat unexpected, as it wasn’t as if Stephen had walked out there naked. He stopped, shooting Pad a look of sheer disbelief. Where he went and in what state was entirely up to him and while he had no issue talking to Shannon about it, he didn’t need to check in with her or receive her permission. He bit back a comment about how their relationship was none of his business, instantly remembering one of the relationship’s slight squabbles was over the fact he wasn’t good with her friends. He would need to cut slack. He was probably traumatised or something, after all. He supposed a little understanding would go a long way, no matter how it grated on him. “Yes,” Stephen said, trying not to cross his arms. No conflict. Come on. “She wants a coffee, so I’m getting her a coffee. I put pants on, so she gave me the thumbs up for public viewing.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead, pushed back on the heels of his feet to settle his growing irritation. He considered asking if it would be okay with them if he resumed that, but anything of the sort would be dripping with sarcasm and it was probably better just to go over to make it and leave them both to it before it escalated. === “She -- you’re what --- you what --” Padraig blurted out as Stephen kept talking and talking and making it worse. She was Shannon, he hoped, but just put pants on? Pad’s mind processed the information and he couldn’t help but make a disgusted face. Shannon was like a sister to him now, and Stephen had pretty much just told Pad they had sex. “SHANNON!” Padraig yelled out of impulse, not caring that she was in her room and not able to hear him. Forgetting all about Mette and the promises he’d made, Pad shot out off the couch and angrily walked towards Stephen. Although all Padraig wanted to do was punch the guy in the face, he wouldn’t. He had that much self control at least. “So what,” he said, raising his hand and pushing a finger roughly into Stephen’s chest. Hey, he hadn’t resolved no violence after all. “Ye thought ye’d strut out here with no shirt on ta let everyone know you lot just had sex?” Pad’s voice was full of anger. Not only was he a conservative Catholic, but he took his overprotective brother role very seriously. Shannon already knew what that meant, but Mette and Stephen were both about to find out. === That was a bad move. That was an exceptionally bad move. All at once Stephen realised that not only had Shannon not informed her self proclaimed older brother, but also exactly why she hadn’t. He almost jumped out of his skin when he suddenly shrieked like a fucking banshee for Shannon. He half wanted her to come out and half didn’t, because this could go seriously south and quickly. He didn’t really want her involved with that, friend or not. “Flanagan,” Stephen said, refusing to take an obvious step back but crossing his arms to stand his ground. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him how it was her business who she fucked and when, they were both having consensual sex as adults in a relationship which was more than could be said for a lot of people around there and acting like he had any say in it was insulting to both them. But -- then he thought about what Shannon had said about forgiving him and about how thin the ice was that he was on. He bit his tongue hard and took a breath. “I’m not announcing my love life to anyone. You are.” He couldn’t say that they’d been sleeping in each others rooms long before sex had been in the equation. He couldn’t tell him to fuck off. End the confrontation and move on. “I’m getting Shannon her drink and that is all, all right?” === Welp. Mette rocketed to her feet a few moments behind Padraig, hovering at an appropriately worried two meters away from the two boys as they bristled at each other. Truth, truth, truth, her powers whispered to her, and she almost sighed. This was her least favourite kind of fight: the one where both people honestly, genuinely thought they were in the right. There was no factual misunderstanding that she could clear up, no lying conniving party to be rooted out. Stephen was being rational and astonishingly civil(!) for once, but Padraig was her friend. “Pad, it’s their business. He’s her boyfriend,” she said from behind the Irishman, trying to sound as soothing as possible. Mette shot a concerned glance at the door. Padraig’s hollering might have actually been loud enough to carry to the hallway, and by extension, the bedrooms. This was... not a great way to spend the girls’ combined birthdays. === It was taking forever for Stephen to get her a cup of coffee and Shannon was beginning to wonder if he'd been caught by one of the other girls on the fifth floor and was being interrogated/teased/picked on by one of them. Regardless of who might have cornered him, and for what reason, after a few minutes of waiting and wondering, Shannon decided to rescue him. She pulled on some clothes, shorts and a tanktop, which was more than adequate for wandering around her floor and she headed to the common room. The sight she was confronted with was not one that she'd expected to see; Stephen and Pad sizing each other up Mette hovering near the pair. It took her a few seconds to react, her mouth hanging open quizzically as her mind processed the scene in front of her. "Alright, what the hell's going on?" She finally asked. === “Ye strut out here half naked for the world ta see and ye think yer not braggin about shaggin Shannon?” Padraig said quickly. He wanted to punch Stephen. That’s all he wanted to do, he wanted to hit him in that ugly mug of his, watch as his body crumpled to the floor, and maybe give him a kick for luck. He wouldn’t though. Not right not, at least. Pad couldn’t be held responsible if Stephen came at him or said something provoking. Right? Mette’s voice floated to his ears and Padraig’s shoulders relaxed... slightly. Could Mette talk him down? Maybe. Was he going to let her? He wasn’t sure. “Mette,” he said simply and flatly, not taking his eyes off of the Canadian. He wasn’t even considering her power, but he knew she would understand. Maybe not fully, not in the Shannon or Ophelia would, but Mette knew enough about Pad to understand the basics. Shannon’s voice had the opposite effect. Pad’s shoulders retensed, but he didn’t make a move to turn around. “Shan,” he started, his jaw tight and eyes locked on Stephen. “What’s this all about,” it was a question, but there was no change in Padraig’s tone. His question had become a demand. === "Oh for the love of..." Shannon said under her breath. The display of macho overprotective brotherlyness wasn't a surprise, which was exactly why she had never given Pad any sort of details on her love life other than the fact that she and Stephen were dating. It was, however, incredibly annoying and frustrating to have to explain it to him like she'd done something wrong. "Pad, please calm down." She said, instead of the thousand of sassy remarks that passed through her head begging to be spat out at him with annoyance. She wanted to point out that he wasn't her father, or even her real brother, but for as long as she had control of her temper, she'd keep those inflammatory remarks to herself. "Stephen stayed over last night, it's not a big deal." === “I did not strut anywhere,” Stephen sneered. It was none of his damn business, nor Shannon’s for that matter, how he chose to dress when going out into the same lounge area he’d been coming into since the nightmares catastrophe. There was only so much he could write off the attitude as being an overprotective friend and a vaguely traumatised guy. There was only so long he could stand there and not inform him to get the hell out of his face with his accusations as if they’d done something wrong. They’d been together for almost five months now, this wasn’t some casual fling and even if it were, it would be down to Shannon what she did and with whom. “Hardly the whole world either,” he commented dryly, considering the lack of other people around. However, he had to bite back a smile and wasn’t particularly adept at it. She was more than capable of fighting her own battles and she was doing that even now. “Still want that coffee?” He drawled, trying to keep a more neutral tone. He didn’t, however, take his eyes away just in case he’d end up having to move quickly if this got ugly. === The words 'not a big deal' circled in Padraig's mind. She was lying, of course. Having a lad stay over and having sex with that lad was a big deal. At least it was to Padraig, and he was pretty sure it was to Shannon even if she was trying to downplay it. Pad was hyper aware of where Mette was too. She was the last person he wanted to see him like this, but he also wanted to make sure she was far enough away if - when - a scuffle broke out. Pad's jaw shifted when Stephen found it within himself to talk again. God, he was awful. The hell did Shan see in him? His temper was on overdrive, and Pad still wasn't properly dealing with his feelings. All the coping strategies he was working on in therapy flew out the window. In a flash, Padraig's fist had left his side and was rocketting towards Stephen. Would the lad know leaning into a punch made a weaker hit, or would he risk moving away? Pad didn't want a full fledged brawl, but he wanted Stephen to feel a taste of what was to come if he hurt Shannon. === Mette had instinctively drifted over towards Shannon while they all argued, ranging into girls in a row on one side, the two boys facing each other on the other. Meanwhile, she continued telling herself that this was none of her business, absolutely none of her business. She felt the standard Scandinavian aloofness, the desperate urge to disengage from a socially awkward situation and leave them to it. She was like a deer frozen in the headlights, limbs quivering, silent. But when Pad moved and threw a punch, that finally made Mette stir from her position. “Padraig!” she snapped, her own temper surging. “Jesus christ! What the hell are you doing?!” === If asked, Stephen would have said that he didn’t move more quickly simply because he’d never been afraid of a fist in his life. In truth, he was relatively shocked by such a completely insane reaction to a friend, even a friend that was a girl you felt protective over, getting laid. The shock wore off quickly, as he heard the other girl suddenly snapping at him. He steadied himself, but desperately did not want to get into a fight right in front of his girlfriend. That was pure Irish stereotype. “I don’t know what the hell you think that proved, but she’s capable of making her own decisions!” Stephen snapped at him, feeling the anger surge through him. Calm, he tried to tell himself, but it wasn’t happening. He had no right to step in on their relationship and to be frank, Shannon was more capable of taking care of herself than he was. “Walk away,” He growled back at him, closing his hands into tight fists. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight and he could write one punch off as a traumatised moron trying to take control of something in his life and not being smart enough to realise that was what he was doing, but if he stayed, his own temper would get the better of him. Whether Shannon was watching or not. “Now. I’m not joking.” === With the situation ebbing slightly back to fraught tension rather than outright violence, Mette stole the opportunity to dart forward to Padraig’s side: one hand against his shoulder, the other trying to catch his hand, hoping that she’d be a calming and soothing presence. Her mind was spinning, racing, trying to make the threads coalesce into something that made sense. She’d never seen someone react this harshly to an actual couple sleeping together, unless he were secretly in love with Shannon--? But another truth weighed more heavily on the scene: ‘Christmas’, as she’d taken to calling it. Her therapist would have been disappointed: it was a euphemism, to hide the true scope of what it was. The kidnapping’s ripples and repercussions were still hitting them even now. “Pad,” she said, more softly this time, wrapping her arm around his to steer him back and away. === Did this fuck really think telling him to walk away of all things was a good idea? That was a challenge if he ever heard one. The punch landed squarely where he'd planned, and Pad tensed, preparing to block and punch again. The Canadian didn't seem like he was much of a fighter, but sometimes people surprised you. "That's a taste," Padraig spat at him, "for what's to come if you ever fuck with Shannon's feelings. And a leftover from when you fucking left her." When she was doing all she could to help find Daisy - and him. Fuck this Canadian who the fuck did he think he was? Then Mette touched him. He'd almost forgotten there were other people around. Warmth spread over his hand as it was clutched by the Norwegian's. Padraig's shoulders relaxed, once again. He felt her turn his body, and he let her. Some fucking way to spend her birthday. As he turned, Padraig's eyes met Shannon's. There was no apology in them, only warning. She would be pissed at him, but she would come around. She might not want to admit it, but she would understand. Only she could. "Sorry," Padraig muttered to Mette. "Happy fucking birthday." Well, this wasn't the week things started going right. Maybe the next one. === One minute they'd been posturing and she'd been about to say something to Mette about boys being idiots and had also been about to tell Stephen that yes, please, she would still want that coffee, and the next Pad had lost his temper and had punched her boyfriend. She'd let out a sound of surprise, a high pitched, girlish, squeal rather than a scream and darted to Stephen's side, her first instinct was to check that he was unhurt and once she was satisfied that there was no major damage had been done, she clasped her hands around one of her boyfriend’s fists in a silent plea not to make this any worse than it already was. It was only when Pad used Christmas against him that she turned and glared at Padraig. How dare he bring that up as an excuse to punch Stephen? How dare he bring that up at all? Stephen had his reasons for not being there - fucking stupid reasons - but he'd made that choice and they were finally moving past it. Not to mention that it had nothing to do with Pad. It wasn't his relationship and as much as he might think of himself as her brother, he wasn't. "Pad, get the fuck out of here," Shannon said, her tone deadly quiet and level. === That stung. That stung hard. Frankly, if Shannon hadn’t been holding onto him at the time, Stephen probably would have hit him for that alone. She must have sensed that, perceptive as she was as she promptly told him to leave. He had a better idea. He pulled his fist out from her and and decided it would be better to get Shannon away from this. He could deal with that prick later, when birthdays aren’t going on. He put his hand around hers and tugged it slightly, “Better idea. Why don’t we just go?” He suggested. This whole ‘being the bigger person’ routine sucked spectacularly but for now, it’d do. === Shannon nodded and squeezed his hand, "Aye, let’s." She agreed. She couldn't stand to be around Pad for a moment longer, being in the same room with him was making her feel sick with anger and Stephen was right, going was probably a better idea than forcing Pad to leave or getting into a screaming match with him in the middle of her floor. However, none of this had been fair to Mette, having her birthday spoiled by Pad and Stephen into fighting about her. It wasn't fair at all, but Shannon didn't know what to say so instead settled on; "I'm... I'll text you later, Mette." It was pathetic, and didn't for a moment make up for anything that had happened. === Mette nodded mutely, her look apologetic and abashed as the couple hustled out of the lounge. Her hand was still clasped around Padraig’s, knuckles clenched -- reminiscent of another time when they simply couldn’t let go of one another. Her birthday wasn’t ruined -- there had been the pub and Richie last night, breakfast in bed with Rose this morning, and the mysterious Rooster surprise celebration still to come -- but it was another echo of what had happened. Another persistent reminder. Her chest tight, she pulled Pad close into a hug. “Let’s take a walk,” she said into his shoulder, then led him out. He was quiet and pliable, silently following where she led. |