(no subject)

[shamrocked-.insanejournal.com]

Who: Patrick, George
What: One hyper saint
When: March 15th, evening
Where: His own apartment
Warning: Saints being adorable



Patrick felt sorry for the men who were currently living with him. And the pets too. It was probably fortuitous that Callum had a lot of business in the city and he wasn't around all the time. Patrick had gone from having absolutely no energy at all, to having too much. He couldn't sit still. He couldn't concentrate on any one thing for longer than a few minutes, which meant he wasn't even able to distract himself with music or his writing or his work.

It was nearly his feast day. There was excitement in the air as people prepared for parades and parties and feasts and it affected him. He paced the apartment or played with Downpatrick on the roof to try to rid himself of some of the energy, but there always seemed to be more of it. When he sat down, he jiggled his feet or drummed his fingers almost constantly. When he spoke he babbled on and on and on.

He hadn't slept for nearly twenty-four hours, and he was too jiggly to eat much of anything, and yet the energy seemed boundless. In fact, it was starting to drive him more than a little insane.

"I can't stop wiggling!" Patrick wailed loudly to anyone listening. He had been trying to read, but that was turning out to be somehow a bad idea. It just made him more restless.

He couldn't wait until his feast day was over and done with and he could move past this!

George was a little bemused at how hyperactive Patrick had seemed in his texts alone, but he hoped that was a good thing. What Patrick had been going through the last few days seemed a whole lot like the typical symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. But Patrick's case was such a weird one that it was hard to be sure of anything.

Regardless, he knocked on the door to Patrick and John's place, bouncing on his toes a little. He'd gotten some bagels from the bakery near their house, since bagels were always a good idea.

Patrick nearly had himself a calamity when he jumped off of the sofa to answer the door. He stumbled and managed to right himself, however, finishing off with a little 'tada!' stance before he tossed his book back onto the couch and then pulled the door open.

"GEORGE!" Patrick yelled when he saw his brother. "Georgie! Come in come in!" He led his brother inside and then practically leapt on him in his excitement.

George ended up with an armful of Patrick. He grinned, carefully put the bagels down on the table, then twirled him. Downpatrick did some kind of happy dog dance around them.

"So, I think John should build you a giant hamster wheel," George suggested.

Patrick giggled merrily at the idea of John building a hamster wheel for him to occupy Patrick when he got like this.

"John has other ways of taking advantage of my energy," he said and then he made a cute little 'oopsie' face. "That was quite rude wasn't it? Bagels!? George! Bagels are so fun because they're round."

George couldn't help but start cracking up. His brother reminded him of a very, very exciteable puppy right then. Downpatrick's apparent glee at his human's energy just made the comparison better.

"Very rude," George agreed with a snort, flopping back on the couch. "But round is the superior shape for food. Oh hey, I brought you a present early!" He reached into the other bag he'd been carrying and pulled out a book. "It's a Saint Patrick coloring book. I had to get it, I had no choice. I colored you like a Na'vi on the first page."

Patrick took the book gleefully and he turned to the first page to see the masterpiece George had created for him there on the first page.

"HAR! Look at me! George, this is brilliant!" Patrick said, deciding then and there that he was getting it framed. He put it on the coffee table, open so everyone could see it. "Thank you! Oh god, I'm almost vibrating, I'm so energetic. If I attack you with tickles at any moment, I am very sorry..."

"Are you this way every feast day?" George asked. Patrick wasn't kidding about almost vibrating. He was moving constantly. "Because it's amazing."

"Pretty much!" Patrick said, jumping down to join George on the sofa in the most dramatic way possible. "It usually goes on for longer, but I think Alcohol made it so I didn't notice until now! Just wait. In two days I'll be terrible to be around and John will make me sleep on the roof, if I sleep at all. And then when all is said and done, I'll probably sleep for a week. Are you going to the parade? You could record it and I could watch it? I wonder how long it will be. Liam is going too. He is bringing his friend Will. Liam the leprechaun. He's not in it but he watches it. I was in it last year and the year before that in Chicago where they dye the river green, which always kind of worries me because it can't be good for the fish like."

When he finished that barrage of thoughts so he could take a breath, Patrick actually put a hand over his mouth and he whimpered at his brother.

George blinked at the end of the onslaught of information, laughing at the end of it all and practically tackling Patrick in a hug. It made him almost as happy as Patrick clearly was to see his brother so full of life, when he'd been in such a slump the last couple days.

"Okay," George said, once Patrick had been sufficiently hugged. "One at a time. I think they use non-toxic dies, but it probably confuses the fish. I'm going to stop by the parade wearing as much green as possible. And hey, maybe Alcohol will be all happy and stop being an evil bitch?"

"Yay! To you stopping by the parade. With a video camera. Not confused fish because that's not so yay, but it'll be fine. And yeah, I'll see about Alcohol after the 17th. Until then I'm just trying not to bounce apart!"

Patrick leaned against George's shoulder and he bounced the foot he still had on the floor so quickly it almost seemed impossible for someone to move that fast. "And soon Dewi will be home and he can see Callum! Dewi was going to come back for my parade, but he's probably making big with the God Love."

George snorted and planted a kiss on the top of Patrick's head. "Have you heard from Dewi, by the way? I've been texting him pictures of the Corgis and demanding that he tell me how to say 'Stop barking at the cat, it will kill you' in Welsh, but so far no response. He's taking his pilgrimage very seriously."

"He said he might not even use technology like Dewi Sant in Wales. He wanted to get back to his roots. Which, by the way, is a saying I don't like! Roots. Roots are dirty and in the ground, why would you want to go back to them. Why not go back to your...lovely things?! Do you know what I want? Coffee! Do you want some coffee? Do you have pictures of corgis to show me?!"

George had seen squirrels full of less vigor and pep. That hamster wheel was looking like it might actually be a good idea.

"I'm not sure you need coffee," George said. "Your heart might explode. Do you want a bagel? I stole one from the bag on the way over, they're tasty. And pfft, I always have pictures of the Corgis. I caught Basil napping next to them the other day, it was excellent."

"I want a hot beverage, don't take coffee away!" Patrick shrieked, but he did so playfully. He jumped up and ran into the kitchen, but once there he started to make tea instead. "No exploding hearts! Do you want tea? I can look at doggy photos over tea!"

Patrick got another mug out just in case. "And maybe a bagel is a good idea. I haven't been eating meat because it's Lent so bagels are allowed, but it takes too much time to eat so I haven't been. It's too much work. All that swallowing." Then he looked up at his brother from the kitchen. "If you make a swallowing joke, there is going to be a wrestling match in the middle of my floor. And you are going to win, but I am going to try very hard!"

"Wait, you haven't been eating?" George raised an eyebrow and got off the couch. "Okay, shove over. I'll make the tea and you go smother the bagels in cream cheese. I've got about a million swallowing jokes stored up, but just for you, I won't say them."

"I don't feel hungry!" Patrick said helpfully. If he had felt hungry, he would have eaten. His food issues tended to work like that. He did what George told him to do anyway, however, retrieving cream cheese from his fridge so he could smother them like a pro. "It's better because when I don't eat meat, I usually feel horrible eventually. But I don't feel hungry at all."

In the middle of his smearing, he wrapped his arms around George's waist and yelled, "random hug!"

George cackled and turned around to hug Patrick. After a few seconds of lulling him into a false sense of security, he struck. George had perfected his tickle attack over the years, and they ended up in a heap on the floor.

The second George hugged him, Patrick had put his smearing knife down in case George tried his tickle monster act on. He had just begun to think it was a simple hug when George tickled him. Patrick's knees buckled and he fell down with a squeal. "Aaauuugggghhhhh!" he yelled, trying in vain to tickle George back while he writhed in ticklish agony. "George, you fiiieeennnnd!"

"THERE IS NO ESCAPE!" George said, pinning Patrick to the floor and tickling his ribs. George dodged some of Patrick's flailing limbs and continued his attack for another minute before he finally relented. He sat back on his heels, giggling.

Patrick curled up into a ball on the floor, momentarily tired out from laughing, though that wouldn't last long. He giggled and batted at George's leg with his hand and then he squealed again when Downpatrick trotted over and licked his cheek. "Augh! Dogbreath! Go see Uncle George, Downpatrick!" Patrick said, pointing. It only made Downpatrick lick Patrick's finger.

"You are a menace," Patrick said, turning his head to look at George, his hair mussed up and splayed out all over the floor. Then he sat up and grinned. "George, isn't life wonderful!?"

George snorted and scooped up Downpatrick, cuddling the terrier.

"You aren't a menace, no," George cooed to him. He nudged Patrick with his foot and then put Downpatrick on his brother's chest. "Life is the best. And you're pretty adorable right now, you know."

Patrick laughed as George put the dog on him. Downpatrick jumped off of him, not pleased with the uneven ground that was Patrick. Then Patrick jumped up and he reached out to pull George up with him.

"I am full of rainbows and happiness right now," Patrick said with a grin. "And soon I will be full of rainbows and happiness and bagel because you made grumpy-face before. You know I'm surprised I didn't shoot confetti all over you while you were tickling me. Near the 17th, it tends to happen just...all the time. Last night I made tea and I confettied right into it!"

George put a hand over his mouth, trying to keep the double entendre in.

"Thanks for not spraying me." Clearly, he failed. He dissolved into laughter.

"Geeeooorrrggggeeee! This is serious!" Patrick whined, but he laughed as he did so. "This was tea!" Patrick washed off the dog drool from his cheek and his finger and then he went back to his bagels. "It's too bad the New York marathon isn't today. I would win that son of a gun, by George!"