Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-01-24 11:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | joseph van der berg, saint patrick |
Who: Patrick and Joey
What: Just talking
When: Sunday Afternoon
Where: Outside Saint Patrick's cathedral
Warnings: Light references to sexuality and a swear or three
The after-holiday blues had set in on Patrick the day after he returned from Puerto Rico with John and they hadn't really lifted in the days that followed.. Being back in New York City meant Patrick couldn't put his life off any more. As much as he wanted to spend every waking moment following John around like a love-sick puppy, he couldn't. Not every moment.
He still fell asleep beside John every night, but Puerto Rico had been something extra-special. It had just been them without any distractions, and while most of Patrick's distractions were in the form of people he loved, a part of him missed the quiet.
It was harder to avoid drinking in New York as well. Being away had soothed that need, but his life was loud and full again, and for some reason, the more he had to get on with, the more he was distracted by the desire to drink to find an alternate kind of peace than the kind he had found in Puerto Rico. And though John had said he trusted Patrick not to do anything that would disappoint the people who loved him, Patrick worried as he always did, that he would. Deep down, he knew John was aware Patrick wasn't perfect and fucking up would be forgiven; John would be by his side through anything. He knew that without a doubt. But Patrick so didn't want to have to go through it at all. He had spent so long disappointing his brothers, at least in his opinion, he didn't want to disappoint John too.
Patrick's own fear that he would mess up was, ironically, what drove Patrick into a liquor store. It was no one's fault but his own, though Patrick managed to keep himself from stumbling too badly by keeping a promise he had made to John.
When he found himself parked on a bench in front of Saint Patrick's Cathedral, drinking the whiskey he had purchased, concealed in a brown paper bag as if that really hid what he was doing, he texted Joey and requested the presence of the other man with a simple Meet me at my cathedral. Save me from drinking this entire bottle myself. The company would keep him from getting too out of control. That way he wasn't breaking his promise not to get drunk alone. With Joey there, he wouldn't get carried away and end up in a hospital.
Patrick had still managed to down a quarter of it by the time Joey arrived.
"Hey there, Saint Patrick," Joey said, leaning down to kiss Patrick's hat. It was cheerfully red, as were Joey's cheeks. "You miss the warmth of San Juan?"
Patrick snorted and he looked up at Joey with a grin on his face. He hadn't seen Joseph since getting home and he had missed him. "Hi! I still have the warmth of San Juan thank you very much. Though he prefers it when I call him John." Patrick's expression was impish.
"Cheeky," Joseph chuckled. He sat down on the bench next to Patrick and he took the whiskey bottle from the saint's hands.
"Nice to see you, Patty. Missed you. Nice church," he said, pointing at the cathedral.
"Thanks, I had nothing to do with it. And it's nice to see you too. Hey, congratulations on the job. Neil would have been glad it was you, Joey."
Joseph took a quiet drink of the whiskey and then he smiled sadly at Patrick. "Thank you. I don't really want to talk about it, so I'll just say the job is going well. Tell me about your trip while I try to drink most of this so you don't."
Patrick giggled, feeling slightly buzzy already anyway. He did appreciate Joey's efforts to keep him from losing himself. "You don't have to, I can take it home. If I was alone, I would have downed the entire thing myself, however. And last time I did that, I broke a window," Patrick gestured to the cathedral. "And I got arrested. Which was entirely idiotic of me."
Joey raised his eyebrows and then he took a deep swig of the liquid. "Here's to keeping you from being a idiot."
"Hear hear!" Patrick said, throwing his hands in the air because he was just a little tipsy. "What do you want to know about the vacation anyway?" Patrick asked, his cheeks turning red and not from the cold.
"Well, you don't seem to be tanned, so did you leave the room at all?" Joey grinned.
Patrick snorted and then he looked indignant. "I don't tan, I burn all up. Which I didn't do because John watched me like a hawk and reminded me to re-apply sunblock every two hours or so. So yes, we did leave the room. Occasionally. And it was wonderful."
"Did you do it?" Joey asked, an mischievous look on his face. And when Patrick blushed furiously, Joey's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, Patrick! You had sex! Do we need to talk about this?"
Patrick scowled at Joey. "You know I was born in 387. I am 1,623 years old. You don't need to give me the birds and bees discussion, Joseph."
Joey laughed and he held his arms in the air in surrender. "Just making sure! It's hard to tell with you, since you turn red and stammer about the weather any time anyone even says the word sex, so you know...you might have needed some deconstruction of the event."
"I need nothing of the sort," Patrick informed his friend. "It's cold out here, isn't it?"
Joey laughed loudly and he ignored the weather comment. "Were you a hellcat when you were alive?" Joey asked, eyes still shining in a mischievous manner.
Patrick just shook his head and grabbed his bottle back so he could take another drink. "Goodness me, Joey."
Joey suddenly looked very upset, the smile draining from his face, replaced with something far more apologetic. "Oh, Patrick. I'm sorry, I- I didn't think. I forgot about- I-"
Patrick arched an eyebrow and he slowly pulled the bottle away from his lips. He licked the liquid off them, enjoying the warmth it lent his tongue. "Joey, what is it?"
Joey groaned and he rubbed his eyes with his hands. "I forgot about...Ireland. Probably made it...hard to uhm...be a hellcat. God I'm stupid."
"Oh..." Patrick stared at the ground for a second and then he lifted his eyes back to meet Joey's. "No, Joey, you're not stupid. I hadn't even thought of that when you- I just assumed you meant before. And yes, there was...a bit of that. Before."
Joey sat quietly for a moment and when he began talking, his voice was soft and slightly sad. "When I was seventeen, I brought a boy home for the first time. My brothers called me names and my mother sent me to a psychiatrist. But, I just went to his house after that." Joey bit his lip. "You never really got those teenage years. It's just...horrible."
Patrick looked incensed. "Being sent to a psychiatrist for bringing a boy home is pretty fucking horrible too," Patrick hissed. And then, in contrast to his usual fear on the topic, Patrick responded calmly, and thanks to the drink, he rambled, "Captivity was not pleasant but it gave me the tools I needed to return to Ireland and spread God's word. It was a trial, like any other. I didn't see it that way at first. I was angry. Bitter. I was a nobleman who was meant to own slaves, not be one. God humbled me and showed me a different path. A better one.
"Once I escaped, I could have remained in Britain and continued my life of luxury, caring about no one but myself which I can tell you was the case when I was carted off at sixteen and not just because I was a teenager. I would have done nothing of note, and died probably fat and wealthy, enjoying the servitude of my fellow man my entire life. It...literally sickens me. If slavery was what it took to show such a prideful and selfish person like me to care for others before himself, then I am glad for it." Patrick wasn't proud of everything he had done, but reading some of the things he had accomplished, those made him glad he had followed the path God set before him.
Joey sat in silence while Patrick talked and when Patrick finished, Joey smiled lightly at him. "You know...it's really hard to think of you as a selfish person, Patty."
Patrick smiled and he took another deep drink of the whiskey before passing it to Joseph again. "When I first remembered parts of that time in my life, I was horrified at the things I was remembering. I wasn't a detestable person. I did one thing the books keep referring to as unforgivable, but for the life of me, I have no idea what it is. I wasn't actively atrocious to people, I just didn't care. My family had slaves, though all noble families did, and I saw nothing wrong with that. I mean, you can only fight an existing system so much, but I saw no reason to fight it. I saw them as lesser people. I had to be put in that position myself to truly understand. And once I did, I fought."
Joseph looked thoughtful and he reached out for the bottle again. "Give me that. You're right though. I...I had everything, growing up. Except love, but...I never wanted for anything material and so when I walked away from my family, I had no idea how hard it would be to just survive. I had to learn that too. It's not slavery, and I managed to get myself off the streets, but...it taught me lessons I never would have known otherwise."
Patrick was quiet and then, slightly drunkenly, he said, "Joey, I am going to hug you now."
Joey laughed and he hugged Patrick right back. For both of them, it was just nice to know there was someone who understood. "Thanks for the whiskey, by the way," Joey said over Patrick's shoulder. "I am taking the rest of it home."
Patrick was good and he didn't argue.