Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2012-05-03 09:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint padraig, saint patrick |
WHO: Patrick and Padraig
WHAT: Patrick being insecure and ridiculous
WHEN: Wednesday Morning
WHERE: The farmhouse in Ireland
WARNINGS: Patrick is entirely made up of insecurity. Whee.
It wasn't just the smell of burning that woke Padraig from his slumber, but also the large amount of noise coming from his kitchen. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes before throwing off his so very comfortable blankets and making his way towards the sound.
The kitchen was a mess and Patrick was grumbling at a pair of slightly black eggs in a pan. Another pot on the stove was boiling over but from where Padraig stood it just looked like water. "What are you doing?"
"Oh- Burning eggs," was Patrick's frustrated reply. He dropped the pan in the sink and rushed to turn off the boiling water. "Dammit-"
"Do you have to do it at roughly the sound of apocalypse?" Padraig asked, seemingly unworried that Patrick may have nearly burned his farmhouse down.
A slight moan escaped Patrick's lips and he sat down at the table looking dejected. "I swear I am not a bad cook! I was hungry and then I got distracted!"
Padraig heaved a heavy sigh. "Well I'm up now," he said, passing Patrick and reaching for a clean pan. "I'll make some breakfast so we don't end up sleeping out in the cold tonight. And perhaps some decaf coffee."
"Pffft," Patrick replied. And then he added, "I do mean thank you."
"I thought you did."
Patrick sat in silence, his head filled with stormy thoughts as Padraig fried bacon and eggs and potatoes. Soon enough coffee was set in front of him and then a plate of food. When Padraig slid into a chair across from him with his own plate, dawn was just beginning to light the sky.
With a strip of bacon in his mouth, Patrick signed Padraig thank you. Padraig nodded and sipped at his coffee. "Do you want to tell me what had you burning eggs at five-thirty in the morning?"
Patrick swallowed the bacon and then he chewed his lip, which was somewhat less delicious. "I-" and then he shook his head.
"I won't judge you, Patrick. Is it more of what you spoke about yesterday? Because I think I very much proved you're ridiculous last night."
"And then I beat you at Scrabble."
"I am still pretty sure 'Scumpy' isn't a word," Padraig said, his voice dry. "Why don't I have a dictionary here?"
"Because if you did I would be looking up 'tit'." Padraig's reaction was a perfectly arched brow which conveyed much without saying a word. "No! I mean-! Argh, like idiot, not like...tits." Patrick's ears turned red and he was glad Padraig took a timely sip of his coffee to keep from laughing.
"It's not really the same stuff as last night, it's just-" Patrick let out a breath and started again. "I don't want to go home. I love them but everything that happened recently," Patrick shook his hands about. "Lucifer and Satan being assholes is one thing. But Sebastian yelled at us all for it. He apologised, which is good of him. But he went off at David when David was simply trying to say that we acted rashly out of fear and it became a personal attack. And it didn't just stop with Sebastian." He understood the politics behind the argument and he understood how frustrating it must have been for John to have certain knowledge that was largely ignored by Christianity as a whole. But that was hardly David's fault.
"Would you describe Dewi as a narcissist? My Dewi not...not Dewi Sant, who might be argued does have a certain amount of judgement for people who don't live like him. Not that I don't adore Dewi Sant!"
Padraig adored his Welsh brother as well, but he did have to admit Patrick had a point. "I don't know your Dewi, Patrick."
"Right!? I mean...neither do John or Sebastian, really! They have known him a year and the decided his defending himself against them meant he was a narcissist. I have known him for centuries and I can guarantee you at any given moment he is not thinking about himself. If any of us brothers spends lots of time thinking about no one but himself, hello," Patrick pointed at himself with a grim smile on his face. "And it made me uncomfortable to have them say things about my brother."
Not having nearly the entire story, Padraig was a bit at a loss. "Okay?"
"They were debating belief and while I agree with John's point of view about what Jesus really preached because John would know, but Dewi can't help his own point of view. He is made of belief like we all are. He believes what he believes because he was a monk and people remember him that way. He once disagreed with my relationship with John, not because it was a gay relationship but because he felt saints shouldn't be in them at all. And now he has a wife. That is amazing growth. His choice to remain a vegetarian and not drink alcohol...that's his own. And John just wanted him to open his mind up to other possibilities and I think to him David seems not to be, but having known him so long, I can see he is he's just going at his pace about it. I guess I just don't understand it all because I'm not smart enough."
"-Patrick."
Patrick hardly heard Padraig. "And I'm afraid to say anything. Afraid that if I do, John will hate me." His throat spasmed and he choked back a sob. "Do...do you think he'll hate me?"
"Patrick, John has loved us since the 16th century. Of course not."
"I just don't want him to think I don't agree! I do! I just- Look, if someone took John away from me and he was tortured and then not a week later someone came for me I wouldn't try to have a logical conversation with them like David did. I would tell them to go fuck themselves! I know where it came from. I know why. I agree. I just...I was so torn between them and it makes me feel-"
And then Padraig said something that shut Patrick right up. "I know, Patrick. When my George and I were patron saints of warring countries we didn't speak for a long time. We were torn between loyalty to each other and loyalty to our people."
"...yeah," Patrick acknowledged, realising his focusing on one argument was sort of ridiculous. "Right. And the argument is over now. And I did tell John it made me uncomfortable and he stopped."
"See? Of course he isn't going to hate you."
"I just...I saw what he was saying to David and if he said that kind of thing to me, I would...break."
"It sounds to me like John was defending his family, Patrick. And he's not going to speak to you harshly for loving yours. Is this why you've been a stormcloud of glee for days now?"
"This and the...anglerfish balls thing," Patrick admitted with a shrug.
"If you're worried, talk to him. John loves you. I am sure he could reassure you he would never speak to you like that better than I ever could."
"Even if now I am being a narcissist and taking words meant for someone else personally?"
"Patrick, if you say 'narcissist' one more time I am going to shove this bacon down your throat," Padraig said, holding his slice aloft. "No. You are ridiculous. No."
"I can't help it! I'm insecure and made up of fear and I want to be like I used to be! Not afraid of anything! But I've lived too long! I was young and stupid then. Now...now I'm just terrified of everything. And if I lose John..." Patrick couldn't finish the sentence. "And I don't want Dewi to hate me because I didn't stand between them or something. And I don't want Sebastian to hate me because his yelling at us hurt my feelings. If he hates me, George goes with him. And George is my-"
"I know," Padraig nodded. "I know that. But you're worrying about things that won't happen."
Patrick sniffed and turned back to his eggs. "I hope you're right."