Who: Padraig and English!George (And maybe Irish!Darerca, depending on how mean I am) What: Uhm. Chelsea and I wanted to write. Where:Padraig's Dublin apartment When: Monday evening
They had arrived back in Ireland the previous day and already Padraig had spent nearly all his time on the phone. His small apartment in Dublin city was much different from George's palatial place in London. It was set over three levels, with his bedroom and his office with a sleepaway sofa on one floor. With George sleeping in his office, Padraig was making his phone calls from the living room on the second level, stalking back and forth while he listened to people panic.
The riots in Belfast had ended for now, but unrest was still rippling it's way through his countries. His people were beginning to despair, with more recent research showing that half a million people saw no future for their families in Ireland. And it was all Padraig could do not to despair right along with them. Especially when so many of those who would escape to the US were turned back.
When the frantic phone calls finally ended, Padraig sneaked back down the stairs and he knocked on George's door. "I'm sorry I abandoned you!" he called to his brother.
George was online, busily typing away at his laptop. He didn't blame Padraig for being busy; times were hard in Ireland. Times were hard everywhere, but Ireland had already been struggling. George sighed as he glanced out the window.
It was hard to fight the instinct to try and fix everything. To shut down the thoughts of "If they'd just let us help..." But the days of the British Empire swooping in to fix things were long over, if they'd ever existed at all.
He heard Padraig knocking and called out, "Come in, I'm awake! And don't worry about it at all, I'm pretty sure I spent 70 percent of your visit on the phone."
"If you did, I didn't notice," Padraig said off-handedly. Then he rubbed his eyes tiredly with his hands. "I think I just listened to every member of the Oireachtas panic to me."
George closed his laptop and gestured for Padraig to come sit down next to him. "Sit down before you fall down. Are they truly that worried? Do you want me to make you some tea?"
Padraig did as he was told, leaning his head against George's shoulder, something that was more in character for his American counterpart than it was for him. "They are truly that worried. I am...waiting," Padraig acknowledged. "Maybe tea would be a good idea. If I can be bothered going up two flights of stairs to fetch it."
George patted his brother's shoulder. He wasn't as naturally cuddly (overly cuddly, he would say) as the American version of himself, but with Padraig, it felt comfortable.
"Don't be silly, I can get you some tea," George said. "It's the only thing I don't burn."
"You're a wonder," Padraig said with a small grin. "I would love some tea. I think I could do with a bit of soothing."
"Yes, you really could," George said, smiling and ruffling Padraig's hair gently. He might not be able to fix things for his brother, but he could at least help.
He headed down the stairs to Padraig's kitchen, locating the supplies for tea easily enough. As the water was heating, there was a knock at the door. George called out, "I can get it!"
"Thank you!" Padraig called back, glad to not have to move. He wouldn't remain glad, however.
Darerca hadn't seen her brother in a very long time, and she had decided that now seemed like a very good time to at least try to patch some things up between them. She had left her island, which took a lot of doing these days, and she was now standing on the other side of his door, hoping he was home.
George opened the door, still holding a small jar of honey in his hand and mostly focused on listening for the tea kettle. It made his response when he opened the door considerably less than dignified.
"Wha?"
Darerca had nearly said the same thing, so she was glad George took away all need for that. She couldn't help her shock at seeing George there. The last time he had opened the door to her, she had killed him.
She arched her eyebrow at him and her lips curled into a frown. "George. I came to see my brother, so of course I should have expected you would be here."
George regained some sense of poise quickly enough and straightened up to glare down at Darerca.
"I'm visiting Padraig. I was under the impression that you don't do that."
Darerca glared right back. "I'm trying new things," she said with a slight snarl. "Is he home?"
For a long moment, George considered saying 'no' and slamming the door in her face. Then he sighed and stepped aside to let her in.
"Padraig!" he called out. "Darerca is here. It's all right, she's not armed this time."
Darerca raised her eyebrow and purred a, "or am I?" at him as she stepped in the door.
From the guest bedroom there was silence and then a crash followed by several hissed curses in Irish. And then Padraig appeared around the door, looking harried. "Dee? Wh-" He glanced back and forth between George and Darerca. "What's going on?"
"I'm interrupting your couple's weekend," Darerca said with a shrug. "Sorry."
"You'd better not come into my brother's house armed," George purred back, just barely stopping himself from squeezing the honey until it shattered.
Padraig's appearance reminded him to at least be civil. "I'll go and finish making the tea," he said to Padraig, bumping his brother's shoulder gently as he passed.
Darerca had been about to hiss that George had no right to tell her what to do when Padraig appeared and rambled awkwardly.
When George walked away from them, Darerca turned to look at her brother. "I've missed you."
Padraig bit his lip and he glanced back to where George had just vacated the room. "Just...come in, Dee. Close the door and come up to the kitchen. But if you can't be civil to George, you'll have to leave."
Darerca clamped her jaw shut on a childish 'why do I have to leave!?' because she knew what the answer was.
The two of them climbed the stairs together, joining George in the kitchen. "You know you could apologise to George for killing him," Padraig suggested."
Darerca looked like she would rather be shot herself. "Did he ever apologise for keeping you prisoner!?"
"Hush!" Padraig hissed at her. "Yes, he did."
George's immediate instinct was to find his mobile immediately and find a way to get Darerca arrested, because he was sure she was wanted for something. But he took a few calming breaths, the scent of tea helping him back towards some sense of equilibrium. By the time Padraig and Darerca came into the kitchen, he could look at her without gritting his teeth.
"At this rate, Dewi and Andrew will be dropping by as well."
Padraig hoped Dewi didn't stop by, as he would disapprove of most of Padraig's life. Andrew might be nice, but not at the moment. He had enough on his plate right now.
"Wouldn't that be a party," Padraig mumbled.
"I didn't know he would be here," Darerca said in her defense. "I just wanted to try to patch things up between us."
Padraig felt pulled between his siblings just like he felt pulled between his countries and he put his hands up to the sides of his head and groaned.
George went to his brother immediately, patting him on the shoulder and steering him out of the kitchen.
"Padraig, it'll be fine. You go and sit down, Darerca and I will bring you some tea and food. We can behave like adults."
Padraig didn't necessarily believe George, but he wanted to sit down, so he did as he was told.
When Padraig had left the room, Darerca turned to George. "We can, hmm?"
George crossed his arms. He'd have loved to start yelling at Darerca, he really would have. But the stressed, tired lines on Padraig's face were impossible to ignore.
"I love my brother so much more than I dislike you. I'd like to assume that the same is true for you. Padraig needs a family right now, not a political quarrel."
Darerca sniffed once and then she nodded. "Our brother," she corrected him. And it was a big thing for her not to simply claim Padraig as hers. "Show me where the food is, God knows you'll only burn the house down trying to make toast."
"It's above the microwave," George said loftily, not acknowledging that Darerca was completely right about his tendency to set food ablaze. "I'll bring Padraig his tea."
Darerca rooted around in the cupboard about the microwave until she found some crumpets, which she stuck into the toaster. George probably could have handled that, but she didn't want to chance it. When the popped up she buttered them and smeared them with jam before following George down to the living room to join their brother.
Padraig looked up at both of them, offering them weary smiles. "Thank you. Both of you."
Darerca gave George a sideways look. "He did the tea part."