Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2010-12-07 10:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint david, saint patrick |
Who: Patrick and David
What: Dewi and Patrick hit the open mic night
When: Tuesday Night
Where: The Jolly Green Irish bar
Warnings: Chumminess and camaraderie. And singing.
David looked at his watch again. Where was Patrick? They'd miss the start if he didn't hurry up. For someone who was just popping to the bathroom while David paid the bill, he was taking an awfully long time.
They'd had dinner at a cut little vegetarian place tucked between some shops, a bit out of the way. David had discovered it by happy chance, and decided to bring Patrick there. They did some excellent things with leeks and potatoes. But after dinner, that's where the real fun begins. Going to The Jolly Green for open mic night and a chance to blow off some steam and relax would be brilliant fun. David was going through his repertoire in his head, trying to pick the best numbers to sing.
"Hurry up, Patty," he murmured aloud, craning his neck to see if Patrick was coming or not.
"Don't rush me," Patrick said, amused, as he had been right behind his brother when Dewi had cursed his incredibly slowness.
He was trying not to focus on other things at the moment. Not Neil and not his memories and not John. Tonight was about Dewi and working on their relationship. So he slung his arm around his little brother's shoulders and he grinned widely. "I'm all finished now! I'm ready to sing my heart out. Not literally though," he said, kissing his brother on the top of his head.
"What happened, did you fall in?" David said, elbowing Patrick lightly. "I don't know when we're slated to go on. I think the earlier we get there, the better." He nodded thanks to the maitre'd as they left the restaurant. It wasn't much of a walk through the bracing night air to get there, but it was enough to be grateful when they were back in the warmth of the bar.
Patrick found a spot to sit once they were in the bar and though he was worried about how he would act, he was sure he could keep control of himself in the company of Dewi. "I'm all nervous!" Patrick said cutely.
David laughed. "You'll be great! Was there anything you wanted to sing? I'll go and find the guy who runs this and tell him to slot us in. Order me a water, will you?"
"A water?" Patrick asked, giving his brother a strange look. "If you're having water, you're ordering it," and he winked at Dewi. "As for what I'm going to sing, I was thinking I might do some of my own stuff instead of covers. I'll see how it goes! I hope their piano is tuned. What did you want to sing?"
"What? I'm on a diet." David shrugged, then relented and ordered apple juice instead, as if it was a great treat. The bartender gave him a bemused look.
"You should definitely do some of your own stuff. It'd be brilliant. I'm thinking maybe a Welsh hymn?"
"I love your hymns," Patrick said as he sipped the one Guinness he was allowing himself. "Welsh is amazing," Patrick beamed and then he patted David's shoulder. "And you are too, you know."
"Brother. Enough flattery. I'll say we'll do one each and then... I was thinking we could do a duet, we could be great at that." David took a gulp of his juice, glancing around the room at the people beginning to pack in around the stage. "You know any Proclaimers?"
"I know some!" Patrick liked the idea of a duet with David. "Do you know the music? I can sing, but I doubt I could play it."
"I can pick it out on the guitar. We'll make it." David got up, weaving through the crowd to book their slot in. There were a few groups of regulars at the bar, drinking their Guinness and watching the first act set up. David came back over to Patrick. "We're on in about 45 minutes to an hour, earlier if anyone cuts out. Hope that's good with you, because if it isn't, you can argue it out with Jason over there. He's a laugh a minute."
Patrick glanced in the direction David was pointing and then he went back to his Guinness. "I'm uhm...I'm cool with waiting!" Patrick didn't feel like getting into an altercation tonight.
"Is grunting considered a language?" David rolled his eyes with a smirk. The first act on was doing something indie with a guitar, hiding behind long hair. Not many people were that into it yet, but David tapped his foot along with it anyway.
"Apparently it is for him. Did he grunt at you?" Patrick asked, glancing towards the stage. He didn't mind the music, but it wasn't his cup of bourbon.
"There appear to be a few of the grunting types around." David really wanted to go tie that guy's hair back so he could see him properly. Who knows what he could get caught in it.
Patrick nodded his agreement and then they settled in to listen to the set before theirs. It was nice enough and by the end of it, people clapped politely and it was David and Patrick's turn.
"I might vomit," Patrick informed David as they made their way to the stage. "Do you want me to start, or do you want to?"
"You go first, if you're nervous. Stops you working yourself up any more," David murmured into his ear. He borrowed the house guitar, and made sure it was tuned as he sat down on one of the stools provided.
There was a house piano as well and Patrick nodded and sat down at the bench, putting his fingers over the keys. He let out a breath and then, he started to play Not Perfect which wasn't exactly a bar kind of song, but he was playing for himself anyway.
David smiled a bit, joining in with chords on the guitar to boost it. Patrick sang well, and his songwriting really was excellent. He deserved better than he had in life.
Patrick finished the song and he segued directly into another, Drowned, which he had written about the people who kept him alive with their belief and yet hurt him so much by the things they attributed him with. He sang with all his soul, his eyes closed because his fingers knew the chords by heart.
David was moved by Patrick's words, and he glanced into the crowd to see if they were too. The ones he could see near the stage seemed to be quite into it, quietly listening. It was a little bit of saintly magic perhaps.
When Patrick finished his song, he opened his eyes and nodded to David, letting him take the lead now. If it was something he could play, he would join in, and if not, he would just sing along.
David opened his mouth a moment, then had a slight change of heart, choosing a couple of songs a little faster in tempo than he'd originally been going to sing. A Beatles song, Lucy In The Sky, that people in the crowd could join in with, and You Are Loved by Josh Groban. Perhaps he didn't have quite the same operatic tones, but his voice was made for singing hymns and he made it work. He smiled at Patrick as he sang, nodding in time with the music, enjoying the flow of it. He could stay up here for hours if nobody threw him off.
Patrick grinned as David sang. He beamed at his little brother as he played along, proud to know him. Patrick felt such love in his heart for the other saint, he couldn't even begin to express it.
As the songs ended, Patrick winked, ready for their duet. Singing with his brother would be such a treat.
Singing a song by a Scottish band in an Irish and Welsh accent was maybe a little sacrilegious, but they didn't do a bad job of it. Maybe it was their music mixed with a bit of a blessing that made them get such loud applause at the end of it, but David was beaming ear to ear as they bowed to their audience. Apparently, Sunshine on Leith was a hit.
Patrick grinned as he bowed as well and as they shuffled off stage he grabbed David for a hug and then he planted a kiss right on the other man's forehead. "Thank you for that," he whispered. "I needed it."
"It really was my pleasure. I could come again, any time," David said with a grin, reluctantly giving up the stage to a couple of girls who might have seen Coyote Ugly one too many times. They headed back to the bar, David ordering them a juice each to celebrate.
Patrick watched his brother, looking utterly fond as David ordered them juice at a bar. He still drank his down and then he reached for David's hand.
"I missed doing this with you," Patrick said, his voice full of affection.
A shadow cast itself across their table and Patrick looked up into the eyes of what he could only assume was a Neanderthal.
"Can...we help you?" Patrick asked, gripping David's hand tightly.
David glanced up, glass halfway to his mouth. The guy was frowning at them, and he wasn't alone. A couple of other smaller guys skulked with him, looking them up and down with disgust. David glanced at them, confused and as yet unconcerned.
The first one mumbled something Patrick didn't even recognise as language, and then one of the other ones chimed in and Patrick managed to hear the operative word in the grunted sentence. It was 'faggot'.
The very word turned Patrick's stomach while angering him so much he turned red almost immediately.
"He's my brother," Patrick muttered. "Please go away."
David frowned, it taking a moment longer for the word to sink in and the meaning with it.
"We're not, but if we were, it'd be none of your business. Go back to your drinks, gentlemen." He didn't release Patrick's hand, and he turned back to his glass, shrugging it off.
At David's insistence that they were not, guilt filled Patrick's stomach. But whatever was going on with him and John, it was his business right now, and it wasn't what these men were taking offense to anyway.
"Brothers?" one of them barked. "You're holding hands! Fucking queers. This isn't a gay bar!"
Patrick chewed on his lip before looked back up at the men. "He is my brother, like I said. And I don't see a sign on the door that says 'straight people only'."
One of the men growled while another one shoved Patrick's shoulder.
"Hey!" Patrick said, standing immediately because he didn't want to get in a fight. Not today. Not in front of David.
Not when he was mostly sober and he had a bruise the size of his entire torso on his body. "Please, we don't want a fight!"
"Should have thought about that before you brought your filth in here, faggot!"
"Do not use that word," Patrick growled, gritting his teeth.
"Faggot," the huge one said, pushing Patrick's shoulder again.
"Stop it." David stood up too, angry in defense of his brother. "Do that one more time and you will regret it."
The men laughed. David didn't look like much, but he glared and clenched his fists.
"What're you gonna do?" said the huge one said, and elbowed Patrick into the shorter guy, who pushed Patrick off him again, pulling a face of revulsion.
"Gross! I don't want his fuckin fag germs," he said.
"Right," said David, and punched him in the face as hard as he could.
Despite the pain he was now in because he had been elbowed in his bruise, Patrick's jaw dropped as David punched the Neanderthal right in the face. "Whoa, Dewi!" He gave his little brother an impressed look and then he realised that, very quickly, the others were going to stop being as shocked as he was, and they were probably going to break some faces in revenge.
"Oh, Heavens, we gotta go!" Patrick grabbed his coat and David's hand and he dragged his little brother towards the door to escape.
Perhaps the guys were too stunned to do anything about it, but once they were outside and around the corner (just for safety) it was clear they weren't being followed. David leaned on his knees, getting his breath back, then glanced up at Patrick and dissolved into giggles of released tension.
"Dewi!" Patrick said, leaning forward to catch his breath and laugh as well. "Oh my goodness!" he said, resting his hand on David's shoulder. "I can't believe you punched that guy! Did you see their faces!"
David straightened up, stretching his hand out as he realised his hand actually hurt a bit. "That's going to bruise. Oh well. It was worth it." He shook his hand out, going to glance around the corner again and coming back. "I can't believe I resorted to violence. But- his face! Do you think I drew blood?"
"I think you might have!" Patrick said with a grin. "Here, give me your hand," Patrick took David's hand into his own and he kissed it gently. He wished there was snow on the ground so he could make sure it didn't swell, but he had to make do with his very cold hands, which was probably pointless as David's hands would be cold anyway. But Patrick wanted to do something.
David had punched someone in the face for messing with him.
"I'm such a bad influence," Patrick smirked. "I love you. Come on, Warrior. We should get you home."
David laughed, and slung an arm around Patrick. "I will wear my bruised knuckles as a badge of pride," he said heartily, kissing Patrick's temple, and they headed off through the chilly streets to wear their menagerie awaited at home.