Who: George and Patrick What: Vinadloo and cuddles When: Thursday night Where: George and Sebastian's
Patrick liked feeding people. One of the results of being kept without enough food for six years, no matter how long ago it was, was that Patrick had a lot of food issues. And one of them was an absolute horror at anyone else being hungry. Even if it was just simple 'I haven't had dinner yet' hunger. Patrick always jumped in to feed people up. It reminded him he could, which made him feel better. So when George expressed his mad desire for vindaloo, Patrick was more than happy to oblige. He even had the necessary ingredients.
He arrived at George's, vindaloo in hand. He knocked and waited, and when his brother opened the door, Patrick grinned and shoved the large container of vindaloo towards George. "Don't eat me, I brought you this!"
George perked up immediately and practically dragged Patrick into the kitchen so that his brother could put the vindaloo down. Once it was safely on the table, George swept Patrick up in a bear hug.
"You're the best!" George said into Patrick's shoulder. "Seriously, I woke up thinking that if I didn't get vindaloo, I was going to die."
"Please none of that!" Patrick said into George's shoulder, hugging George tightly back. "I brought rice and enough vindaloo for you to eat it for days. Or...to eat a whole lot right now," Patrick said, amused. He kicked his legs a little, since George's hugs lifted him off the ground. "Georgie! Floor!"
"Who needs the floor when you're getting a giant hug?" George said, twirling Patrick a little. But he did put his brother down eventually, and showed great self-restraint by getting an actual bowl to eat some of the vindaloo out of, instead of just devouring the entire thing right there.
"I blame the Limey for this," George said around a mouthful of vindaloo, moaning as the taste hit his tongue. He really needed to have Indian food more often. "I was perfectly fine with my level of vindaloo until he came."
Patrick watched his brother eat, a fond expression on his face at the level of enjoyment George seemed to get out of it. "You're not going to send him another photo of Sebastian's ass in retaliation are you? Padraig told me. He asked me not to send him photos of John!"
"Photos of Sebastian's ass are not punishment," George laughed. "Not my fault he gets them when he's in meetings. I say it's the work of God."
George, his vindaloo craving under control now, reached up and got a bowl for Patrick too. "How've you and Padraig been, by the way?"
"I never said punishment!" Patrick said quickly. "I said 'retribution'! Poor guy. I thought he was going to bundle Sebastian away with him yesterday." Patrick took the bowl and he got himself a helping of vindaloo as well.
"Padraig and I are fine. We worked out a lot of things today and then we visited Clio. I'm not feeling as inadequate as I thought I would with him here. It helps that I know John loves me. He loves me and he said I was the right person for him even though Padraig is better looking and more suave and generally...everything-er."
"Sebastian-withdrawal is a dangerous thing for a Saint George," George said sagely, like he was narrating a nature documentary. "It causes confusion, sweaty palms, and public declarations of a millenia-old crush."
He popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and studied his brother. "I'm glad. Because John fell in love with you, not Padraig Bond. And you're America's Patrick; you belong here."
"I'm glad you have Sebastian," Patrick said honestly. He didn't want poor George to have sweaty palms and...the other things. "I really am. As for John, he..." Patrick shook his head. John had said he loved Patrick 500 years ago, but that was his information. "-he's wonderful. I uhm...I asked him to help me out with the thing. You know, that thing? And he's helping." Patrick turned red then. Bringing up bondage with George was awkward. He ate some chicken to distract himself.
George nudged Patrick with his foot. "John's been changed by America just as much as you, too. Keep that in mind. You're not the same, he's not the same, and you two are Not The Same together." He spooned out some more vindaloo. "So, how'd Operation Bondage go, then?"
Patrick had just taken a large bite of his own vindaloo, and when George called it Operation Bondage, he nearly choked on his chicken. He let out a squawk and when he managed to swallow, he coughed and gave George an incredulous look. "Operation-! Gracious. It went fine. I was scared out of my mind, but he kept me calm and he was so patient and loving. And I was right, the food helped. Not...that I enjoy being fed like a child. And don't you dare laugh!"
George grinned, but didn't laugh, instead slapping Patrick on the back to help with his choking fit.
"John seems like a good guy to have around to talk you through a bad situation," George said. "Do you think it helped?"
Patrick smiled and he turned to gently butt his head against George's arm. It was a sign of affection he used regularly. "I think it helped me a little, yes. So far, I am pretty sure I only trust him to do it, but I am not panicking about the rope being in the room when I sleep. He tied me up again since and read to me. It keeps me distracted, which is good. The first time he did it, I sang. And he rubbed my feet which relaxed me. I've been associating being tied up with pain. Horrible pain. You know, I don't have to talk about this over curry..."
"I've had so many more disturbing conversations over curry," George said with a shrug. "And I like being able to talk to you about this. It sounds like things are going really well so far, though. There's not much that foot rubs can't solve."
Patrick chuckled and he leaned against George for a moment before finished up his curry. "So true. He had me so relaxed and I didn't think that was possible. So now I think...now we just try to make it normal. Normal isn't scary. It's strange though. When I'm tied up I feel like..." Patrick sighed and he put his bowl aside. "I feel like I don't deserve anything. Like everything I get is something above and beyond what I deserve. Even just a drink of water. I guess it's hard to break out of the mindset that I'm someone else's property and not a single choice in my life is up to me."
George reached over and ruffled Patrick's hair, pulling his brother into a hug after he did. Hearing Patrick talk like that was upsetting, even more so because there was nothing George could do to just automatically fix it.
"Making it normal is good," George said. "Once it starts being normal, it stops being scary, and those feelings will go away."
Patrick snuggled against George's chest because it was warm, comfortable, familiar and safe. "We'll work up to it. And then I want you to teach me how to avoid getting caught and I want Sebastian to teach me how to slip ropes. I'll be okay. This is going to work. George. I'm not afraid to be here right now. That's already progress."
"You're totally going to to be a ninja by the end of this," George said, kissing the top of Patrick's hair. "And hey, I could teach you to pick locks, if you want? It's gotten me out of places without a fight before, and it helped calm me down if I ever did get captured."
"Ooh, please!" Patrick said, as if George was offering to buy him a pony. "That would be very good, yes. George, thank you for being so understanding. Did you like your vindaloo? You're not going to eat New York?"
George laughed. "I promise not to eat New York now that the vindaloo monster inside of me has been appeased. You saved the city!"
"I'm magical!" Patrick squealed. "Georgie, can we lie on the sofa and talk? Padraig and I visited Clio today like I told you, but he talked a lot about our family. And I don't remember them really."
"Sure!" George said, getting up and putting the remaining vindaloo in the fridge. Mmm, leftovers. He flopped onto the couch next to Patrick, noting with amusement that Basil had come over to sniff Patrick's hair.
"Basil's been giving us the silent treatement since we got the dogs," George said, reaching out to pet the cat. "Maybe you can make him understand how awesome to Corgis are."
Patrick chuckled and he reached out to attempt to pet Basil before curling up beside his brother with a demanding little, "hold me!"
George snorted and then practically tackled his brother to wrap him up in a hug.
"You're basically a cat, you know," George said. "It's why you can talk to Basil."
"I am okay with this comparison," Patrick said with a grin. He cuddled against George and he closed his eyes, momentarily feeling full and content. Much like a cat.
When he opened his eyes, he let out a deep breath. "Clio asked to know about my family and I'm glad she did and I'm glad I was there, but I guess...I'm sad I don't remember everything. Padraig remembers it all, and I have so little. Memory-wise, of course. In all other aspects, I have you and Dewi and Andrew and Bree, and you're all here and I'm the luckiest man on the planet. But I wish I remembered that stuff too. Joey said a while back that I'm a strong person because I fought my way from Ireland back to them, and Padraig today said we had loving parents because if we didn't we wouldn't have fought so hard. But I don't get to remember why I fought like I did. George? I...I remember at first all I wanted to do was throw myself off the cliffs I was watching those sheep by. I had to keep them away from the cliffs but I could have gone over. It would have been so easy. But I chose to stay. And I can't remember why."
George rubbed his brother's shoulder, resting his head against the top of Patrick's. He closed his eyes too, feeling remarkably happy in that moment even if what they were talking about was far from good.
"Maybe it's because he's been there since the start?" George suggested. "So he has an easier time remembering the stuff that didn't get written in the history books. I...I can't remember my father very much at all. My mother's a little better, but not by much." He hugged Patrick tightly. "But you fought for the same reason you'd fight now. Because you have people who love you to death."
"Do you know if English George remembers? I liked hearing, even if I wish I could remember myself." Patrick reached out for George's hand and he held it tightly. "Of course I would fight now. I just...I get the memory of how horrible that time was, and I get the memory of wanting to take the easy way out, but I don't get the nice memories as recompense."
"I'm not sure, I'll have to ask him," George said. He squeezed his brother's hand. "Maybe the better memories will come back if you talk to Padraig about them? It's the traumatizing stuff that tends to stick the easiest, unfortunately."
"Maybe that's a good idea," Patrick said with a sigh. He snuggled against George's side and he said softly, "I really mean it when I say I would fight my way back to you now, Georgie. Through anything. I know I almost gave up once and...I know that scared you. I won't do that again. Not for any reason."
George held Patrick a little tighter, closing his eyes at the memory. He didn't want to think about Patrick nearly selling his soul. He didn't even want to remember it, really.
"I'm glad," he murmured against Patrick's hair. "Don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you to feed me and be ridiculous with me."
"Well you won't have to find out. Gosh, could you imagine living in different places again like Padraig and English George do? I don't want to do that again. It must be so hard."