Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-02-10 12:02:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | saint george, saint patrick |
Who: Patrick and George
What: Cute awkwardness
When: Wednesday ...sometime.
Where: Sex shops! :D
Warnings: Probably very little, though they are IN sex shops and may discuss things. Maybe. And Patrick might plug his ears and hum Jesus Loves Me.
Patrick still hadn't explained why he needed rope that could tie someone up and not hurt them. He was fairly sure George could figure it out, but Patrick felt he should explain. He didn't want to. He wanted to forget this was happening and he sincerely hoped George never brought it up again, but George was Patrick's brother and he deserved to know what was going on in Patrick's head.
Patrick had already explained to George and Sebastian some of what his plans were for helping Irish immigrants, though he had remained purposefully vague. He wanted to see how many people he could get onside before he said exactly what it was he was doing. He had not, however, spoken about what he had written in his journal or how he had finally been remembering his captivity in full-colour, surround-sound clarity.
When George came to pick Patrick up, Patrick slid into the passenger seat and he sort of curled up into a Patrick back, his knees drawn to his chest. "Hi," Patrick said, seeming twitchy and nervous. Forgoing pleasantries, he reached into his bag and he pulled out his journal. He passed it to George, open to the page he had written on while speaking to Padraig. "I wrote this the other day." Then he chewed on the cuff of his sleeve while George read.
George had been considering the best angle to give Patrick a giant hug when his brother handed him the journal. He read through it, quickly at first, then much more slowly the second time. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the gearshift to pull Patrick into a hug, knees and all.
"It all just came back to you?"
"Yeah," Patrick said, glad for the hug. George probably saved his sleeve from being torn apart by frantic, nervous chewing. "That first few weeks...maybe months, mostly. There's other things I'm not remembering, but it's all sort of...showing up in my head." The hug was awkward because of the gearshift and the enclosed space, but Patrick clung a little anyway, desperate for the feeling of safety George always gave him.
"Uhm...anyway, I've been so busy trying to organise this helping people thing and I...I need to remember there's still things about myself I need to fix too." Patrick cleared his throat and he pulled away, taking his journal back from George as he did so.
George petted his brother's hair, giving him one final squeeze before he pulled away. Having bad memories was traumatizing enough. George couldn't imagine having them all just come back at once when they'd been gone.
"So, what's the plan, then?" George asked, shifting the car into gear and pulling out into traffic.
Patrick buckled in and as the car pulled out into traffic, he honestly felt like he might change his mind about this all. He swallowed roughly just as he was about to tell his brother to stop...wait...he wasn't ready.
After a moment of trying to control his breathing, rather unsuccessfully and loudly, Patrick groaned and he leaned his head against the window. "I'm so tired of being afraid of something that happened over 1,600 years ago, Georgie. Padraig isn't afraid any more. But I still wake up with nightmares." Patrick may have seemed a great deal better lately, and certainly in some ways he was. He wasn't drinking himself into a stupor regularly, and he hadn't ended up arrested or in hospital for several months, which was something of a miracle. But he was still full of fear and he wasn't nearly as strong as he wanted to be. And sometimes that fear which had sent him begging to Satan and Lucifer for an out, sometimes that fear showed through.
"Ah." George understood immediately. A thousand plus years of bad memories and PTSD (his own and his soldiers') had given him a good understanding of trying to face up to the seemingly irrational little things that were completely terrifying.
"So does being tied up trigger a panic attack for you? Or something close to a panic attack? Because you need to be careful if you're going to trigger something like that on purpose."
"No...Georgie," Patrick chewed on the inside of his cheek and he turned to look at his brother, even though George was driving and probably shouldn't look back. "It's not just being tied up. I mean, how often does that happen, really? The Morrigna did it and I managed to stay calm on the outside, but inside I was- I still dream about that too, but that's not the point.
"I flipped out last week because Dewi said the word 'chains'. I can hardly walk down the street because I'm terrified someone will jump out at me and tie me up and drag me away from all of you. I hide from policemen because they have handcuffs and that...that scares the shit out of me. I don't even like being around Michael when he's on duty. He came over last week and I had to make him go back out to the car to put his handcuffs away. I'm a little freaked out right now being beside you. This isn't just about being tied up, it's about being terrified about the possibility."
George's hands tightened on the steering wheel, horror and worry making his vision go a little blurry. Patrick was afraid of him, afraid of everyone.
That had to stop.
"Okay," George said, swallowing. "Well, we'll deal with it then. I'm assuming you want ropes that can be cut pretty easily? Silk's more comfortable to be tied with, or so Sebastian tells me, but it's a pain to cut through."
Even talking about it now actually brought on a slight whimper and Patrick hid his face behind shaking hands. "Yeah," he managed to squeak out, muffled into sweaty palms.
"It keeps getting worse. We were watching a show on TV and someone was taken as a hostage and I... I watched the whole thing and then pretended I was going to take a shower. But I went into the bathroom and ran the water and threw up." Patrick hugged himself then, leaning his head against the cold glass of the window. His breath fogged it up a little and he traced a star into the fog with a shaking finger. "Then I wet my hair so no one would know. But I was in there for a half an hour, panicking. And it was fake. They were actors, faking."
Carefully, George rested a hand on Patrick's shoulder, squeezing gently.
"It doesn't matter if you know it's not real. That doesn't keep your gut reaction from being panic. I used to freak out and freak out hard whenever I heard fireworks or a car backfiring or any loud noise that sounded a little like a gunshot. It was all I could do to go outside some days, you know? But it gets better, Patty. And you've decided to start trying to deal with it all on your own, which is a really good sign."
Patrick knew George would understand this. It was why he had asked George for help and why George was, as of now, the only person he had explained this to in it's entirety. The people around him knew he was afraid of being bound, but most of them didn't know how bad it had gotten. But George...he would understand exactly how Patrick felt.
"Thank you," Patrick whispered. "I just...I can't have this happen any more. I have to have someone who I trust just...tie me up and show me there's nothing to be afraid of. That's it. I know I have to be careful, I know that, and I know this might be a very stupid idea, but I have to do something."
The words 'I'll do it' were almost out of his mouth before George bit down on his tongue. No, he probably shouldn't be the one to do it. Patrick had already been hit with the memories of George torturing him all those centuries ago; combining those memories with his panic about being restrained was a recipe for Patrick to end up hyperventilating.
"Well, Sebastian's an old pro at the art of being tied up, so I'm sure he'd walk you through it," George said, forcing something close to a cheerful note into his voice. "And I bet John would be like a big teddy bear through the whole thing."
He parked the car, keeping a grip on the steering wheel until he was sure his hands weren't shaking. They were just a block away from Decadence, which George and Sebastian had mostly used as a quick stop if they needed more rope. And sometimes corset strings, but he didn't think Patrick wanted to know that. The shop was a tiny place, but George figured they could get in and out without Patrick panicking.
"I think..." Patrick swallowed and he looked over at his brother as they parked. "I don't know, it has to be someone I trust. Oh, not that I don't trust Sebastian! I-I'm getting out of the car."
Patrick climbed out of the car and he moved to the sidewalk, his arms wrapped around himself to shield from the cold. "I don't know who I want to do it yet," Patrick whispered. "I think just getting the...stuff...right now is pretty much what I can handle. Will you hold my hand, Georgie?"
George squeezed Patrick's hand, trying his best to look reassuring.
"Well, there's no rush," he said, smiling a little. "It's not like you're getting any older."
A small chime went off as they entered the shop, the woman behind the counter glancing up at them before calling out a greeting. George tugged Patrick forward gently, to keep his brother from digging in his heels at the threshold of the place. They had to navigate through racks of lingerie before they reached the back wall of the shop. That was where the ropes were, right next to the nipple clamps.
Being in here with Patrick was surreal.
"Sebastian gets carded sometimes when we come here," George said to Patrick. "It cracks me up."
Patrick might have giggled at that despite his situation, if he wasn't staring around him at...everything. He had honestly never been in a sex shop before in his long, long life.
It was so...colorful. Like a carnival. With dildos.
"George," Patrick whispered, standing on his tiptoes so he could be closer to George's ear. Somehow he felt like he should be silent in here, like a library or...church. "George, why is that big, plastic thingy green?" Patrick pointed at an obscenely green dildo and he made a face. "That's my national color. I think I should be offended." Then Patrick saw a cock ring in packaging with a lovely picture of what one should do with such a thing, and he went a funny shade of off-white. "Oh, gosh."
At least it was keeping him from looking at the restraints. He needed a moment before he could.
"I'm not sure," George said, tilting his head to study the giant dildo labelled 'KING DONG'. "I wonder if they hand out awards for the best puns when it comes to these things. Also, I think I've seen one with shamrocks on it. It was...unsettling."
"Shamrocks?" Patrick squeaked. "Nonono. No shamrock dildos. I officially feel like I'm in a nightmare right now." Patrick forced himself to look at the restraints instead of hiding behind dildo puns and cock ring horror.
"Uhm. So...what should I get?" Patrick swallowed roughly and his hand immediately raised to curl up in George's shirt. Clinging made him feel better.
George burst out laughing and had to bite his own fist to keep from making a scene. "I'm picturing you describing this nightmare to a shrink. 'And there were cocks! Cocks everywhere!'"
Once he'd gotten his laughter under control, he patted his brother on the shoulder and looked at the bondage supplies. Rope would probably be better for Patrick. If he needed to get out quickly, there wouldn't be any fumbling with keys or straining against chains.
"Hemp rope would probably be good," George said, reaching out to pick up a packaged coil of it. "The kind they sell for, y'know, bondage, is really soft, and it cuts easily if you want to get it off quickly. They probably have samples you can feel, if you want?"
Patrick hissed in a breath and he shook his head quickly. His expression looked as if George had just asked him if he wanted to try jumping into a big pile of glass for fun.
He cleared his throat and removed his grip from George's short, wrapping his arms around himself again. "No, it's...it's fine. Soft and easy to cut is fine. That's just fine. Can we go eat now? I mean...after we pay. We should...I should pay."
"All right," George said calmly, turning the package over in his hands. "But Patrick? It's...when you're doing something like this, it's important that you feel like you're in control, okay? That you can look back on everything and know that you can start or stop this anytime you want. So don't worry about speaking up if anything at all makes you uncomfortable, or you'd rather try anything else, or--"
George swallowed and tried not to blush. It felt weirdly like he was giving Patrick some version of the 'safe, sane, and consensual' talk.
Patrick didn't mind that this was a little embarrassing, because George was looking out for him. And the way he was acting probably wasn't helping George feel this was the right way to go. "I know," Patrick said quietly. "I don't feel in control here. I will be at home. I...I can be. And I'll have someone help me whom I trust, and I'll lay down ground rules...and I'll be in control. And believe me, I'll speak up. Probably very loudly so the neighbors will know something weird is going on. I'll be okay, George. I really will be okay, I just have to-"
Patrick took a deep breath and he willed himself to calm down. "I have to buy this stuff. That's the first step. That's all I should concentrate on now. Buying this...rope."
Patrick reached out and he took the package from George as if he was afraid it might bite him at first. Of course it didn't, and he held it in his hands, letting just that calm him. The rope wasn't going to hurt him of it's own free will. He was fine. "I am holding it and it hasn't leapt out at me. So far so good."
"It's very friendly rope," George said, squeezing Patrick's shoulder. "I can't do it either, you know. Being tied up. You're brave for doing this, Patty."
Patrick hadn't expected George to say he couldn't be tied up either. "Really? I didn't know," Patrick said as he moved to the counter to pay. He used his credit card and he punched in his PIN and when it was all over, he took the little bag back from her and he didn't try to leave it in the store. He had bought rope for the purpose of being tied up.
It kind of made him sick to his stomach.
Patrick left the shop quickly and he took a deep breath of winter air before turning to face George. "Do you just not like it or...do you have the same issues as I have?"
George slid his hands into his pockets, shivering a little in the cold breeze.
"The same issues, I guess," George said. He looked down, feeling a little ridiculous for bringing it up. Patrick was having trouble functioning because of his memories. George's hang-ups seemed pretty small in comparison. "I got captured a lot. It didn't tend to end well for me. I don't like the idea of being restrained around someone I don't trust completely."
For Patrick, no matter what his issues were, he would listen to his brother talk about anything. And it helped to know he wasn't the only one. Patrick slipped his hand into George's again and he smiled a brighter smile than he had all night. "Right there with you, Brother. Thank you for...I don't know...trusting me with information like that. Should we get something to eat? I can tell you more about what I want to do with Padraig. Or the fact that Dewi is back and in the happiest mood he's been in for months I think. Or anything."
George smiled at his brother and wrapped him in a bear hug. He wished there was a way he could fix things for Patrick, just snap his fingers and make his brother's life instantly easier.
"Food is always good," George said, once he'd released Patrick from the hug. "And a happy Dewi is the best kind of Dewi in the world! Tell me about you and Padraig?"
Patrick walked beside George, feeling much calmer now. "Do you want to drive or walk and find a place to eat and I can tell you about my plans over dinner. Either way I should put this rope in the car so I don't have to carry it around."
Patrick cleared his throat and he opened up about another issue he had which was no secret. "I think...food will be one of the things that keeps me calm. Uhm...during this whole tying up experiment. I panic about food too, though that's easier to control because it's everywhere. I think if I know I'm not going to starve...that'll help. Like if there's food in the room and it's not being taken from me. Does that even make sense?"
"Let's drive," George suggested. "Not awesome for the environment, but the environment is also trying to freeze us to death.
As they reached his car and he unlocked it, George said, "Oh, it makes tons of sense. It's actually one of the things they tell you to be aware of when you get people out of hostage situations, or anything where they've been deprived of food. People who've been starved will eat until they throw up and then eat some more for a while afterwards, just because the memory of not having food is so creepy."
"It is creepy." Patrick climbed into the car, tossing the rope into the backseat where he didn't have to think about it until he was being dropped off at home. He buckled himself in and leaned against the window again. "I keep reading everywhere that I was all about the fasting, but the idea of doing that now terrifies me. Though apparently back then, you know...while I was still alive and right after I had gone through this horrible ordeal, apparently then I was fine with it. Trauma is a funny thing, the way it ebbs and flows or blows all up in your face. I'm not laughing though. Can we have Italian or Greek food or something?"
"There's a good Greek place near here," George said, pulling out into traffic. "It's not surprising that it's harder for you now, y'know. You had your whole life when you were human to deal with everything. It was probably kind of comforting, knowing that you could start eating again whenever you wanted to, but being able to chose not to."
Patrick considered that and he honestly wished he could remember whether or not he had fasted just a few decades ago before he had become what he was now. He wondered if Padraig did. Which reminded him of his conversation with the man and the fact that he was supposed to explain it to George.
"It's comforting living with Dewi who puts food in front of me literally all the time. I should just be thankful most of it is exceedingly healthy and I burn calories just by being me." Patrick shook his head with a sigh. "Padraig said he knew where the farm was. Where I was a slave. I didn't know anyone knew, but he remembers and he wants to take me there."
"Do you want to go there?" George asked, glancing at Patrick out of the corner of his eye. "I'm assuming the answer is no?"
"No...I do. I mean, of course I don't, but Padraig said walking the fields as a free man helped him. Me. Us, in the past. And I've forgotten it. So I do want to go in that 'oh god no but I should' way. If that makes sense."
Patrick turned in his seatbelt so he was sitting in the seat sideways, and he leaned his head back against the head rest. "I just want to stop being afraid of everything. I hope this thing I'm doing with Padraig will help."
George reached over and petted Patrick's hair, patting his brother gently on the cheek.
"It will. Thing's will get better, Patty. It won't be tonight or tomorrow or next week, but they will. I promise."