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WHO: Wrath, George and Patrick
WHAT: Wrath wanting to hang out
WHEN: Tuesday night
WHERE: George and Patrick's
WARNINGS: Language!

Sure Wrath and Envy had gone and messed with the human George had been all worried about previously, but there was no reason for George to know that. Wrath wanted someone to pay attention to her and George was better company than Sloth, especially right now. She couldn't just stay and annoy Envy all the time. The other Sin would kill her.

So she knocked on George's door with a bag entirely full of chicken nuggets and fries. "George!" she called, because she wasn't known for being patient. It wasn't George who answered though.

Patrick opened the door and he said, "Hi ther-" before the grin slid from his face and he yelped.

"Oh calm your man-tits, Saint Drunky," Wrath glowered at him. "I come in peace."

"Buh?" Patrick asked, intelligently.

"Where's your brother, you're fucking boring."

Patrick just stared at the Sin, obviously frozen because he didn't know what to do. Wrath rolled his eyes. "George, I brought you dinner!" she called, hoping he would show up and she didn't have to hurt Saint Ginger out of annoyance. George would not be pleased with her.

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George was sorting through his laundry, trying to decide which Star Wars shirt he wanted to wear (small decisions were easiest right now) when he heard Wrath's voice. He poked his head out the door and called, "Just a minute!"

Shrugging the Darth Vader shirt over his shoulders, he headed out into the living room to see Patrick staring in alarm at Wrath. George glanced between them before offering a smile. "Hey, Wrath. Is that McDonalds?"

Wrath glanced at George, giving Patrick a withering look before moving past him. "Yeah," she said, holding the bag out. "I got shittons. I'm bored and if you don't entertain me I might fillet someone."

Patrick raised a hand then, like a school child. "Uhm...don't?"

"Is he always this dumb?" Wrath asked.

"You've got to be nice to my brother while you're hanging out here, okay?" George said in a very patient voice. He took the bag and started rummaging through it, pulling out several fries. He chewed them with delight as he headed to the kitchen to grab plates.

"Everything okay?"

Wrath made a face and then she turned and stuck her tongue out at Patrick who just stood there looking confused. Then Wrath followed George into the kitchen.

"Everyone is fucking boring or leaving. Satan is all going to Hell. Oops, probably wasn't supposed to tell you that. Don't say I told you or he'll torture me."

George froze midway through pouring out his chicken nuggets. The mention of Satan caused a surge of anger so intense that he wouldn't be surprised if Wrath felt it.

"What, is he having a fucking victory party down there or something?"

"Oi, watch it," Wrath hissed at him. She hardly needed to explode here in George's house. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Michael," George snapped, before he realized he needed to rephrase that slightly. "Michael's dead. Lucifer killed him, and I assume Satan had some hand in that because of Devil solidarity. And they've fucking done some kind of evil mojo bullshit to keep him from resurrecting and I am on the verge of having a meltdown, okay? Patrick, can you close the door, Downpatrick's going to get out."

"Oh-" Patrick closed the door and then sort of wandered into the living room where he sat, looking uncomfortable.

Wrath glanced at him and rolled her eyes before turning back to George. "They killed Michael?!" She was a Sin, sure. She liked violence. But there were rules, weren't there? There was something about this that seemed wrong, even to someone with a severely messed-up moral compass.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too," George said, scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly. Now that his anger had been forced back into the slow burn he could manage, he just felt tired.

He sat down next to Patrick and was halfway through a chicken nugget before he said, "You okay, Patty?"

"Uhm. Yep." Patrick said, not going anywhere near the food.

Wrath sat down opposite them and she raised her eyebrows at the ginger. "Look, dude, I'm not going to kill you so simmer down."

"You...kidnapped my sister-in-law when she was pregnant," Patrick said with an air of disbelief.

"Oh my fuck, that was like months ago! Way to hold a grudge. You should take an anger management class." It was supposed to be a joke but it was hard to tell with Wrath.

"It's been explained to Wrath," George said, again with infinite patience, "that if she ever does something like that again, there will probably be violence. And also we will not be able to be friends."

It was not, George knew, something poor Bridget would probably think was all right. But George also knew he couldn't just leave Wrath alone and angry. Angrier. It was a recipe for her hurting herself and other people.

Patrick was about to voice his opinion that it hardly mattered if Wrath had had it explained to her since she was bound to break the rules eventually anyway, but then he remembered he was palling around with Legion often and so he clamped his mouth shut and said nothing.

"We're not friends," Wrath said flippantly. "Pfft, gaayyyyy."

"Yes, Wrath," George said, gnawing his way through another handful of fries. "Friendship is very gay."

Turning his attention to his brother, he offered a fry as a peace offering. "They're delicious and salty?"

Wrath made a face at him but he was looking at Patrick. Patrick shook his head firmly and then said, "really no," just in case his refusal wasn't understood. He was not really ready to break bread with the woman who had caused such an uproar in his little family. It wasn't something Patrick usually did, making a statement like this. But he wasn't about to bend here.

For her part, Wrath just let it go. She didn't seem bothered int he slightest. "More nuggets for me. This is what happens with Sloth too. I keep bringing food home and he doesn't fucking move. Too much fucking heroin, stupid fucker."

George's shoulders slumped a little. He understood Patrick's reluctance to have anything to do with Wrath, though. She had nearly gotten them all killed.

Forcing a slightly happier expression onto his face, George said, "What does Sloth need with drugs, exactly? He's already the laziest person."

Wrath shrugged and shoved more fries into her mouth. "Think it's cause of me. Like...he calms me down but I piss him off so he shoots up. No big deal."

George rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried not to sigh. "Is he, like, all right with you living with him?"

Putting Wrath and Sloth in the same room had seemed like the best way to relax Wrath, but George didn't like to think it was slowly driving Sloth crazy.

"Yeah he's fine! What, he's not a pussy. He's just relaxing, fuck."

Patrick sort of shrank back into the pillows and finally it annoyed Wrath.

"You look like a scared chipmunk," she said to him, her eyebrow arched up. "Little helpless woodland creature."

Without moving, Patrick gritted his teeth together and then he said, "well I am not helpless and if you don't leave me alone, you're going to find that out." It wasn't normal for Patrick to be combative, not these days. But it appeared he wasn't going to react with fear in the face of Wrath.

"Ah, there I am!" she said with a grin. "All up inside you, just like your brother. You just hide it better. Or you self-medicate like Sloth. Alcohol, drugs? I do this," she said and she pulled her sleeve up to reveal her scarred arm, though there were no fresh wounds. Sloth really was helping.

Patrick, upon seeing Wrath scars, just frowned. He didn't look away, however.

George glanced between them, ready to intervene if it looked like a fight was about to start. No matter how much he liked Wrath, he wasn't going to let her attack Patrick in their own apartment.

"Patrick's not as angry as I am," George said calmly.

Wrath turned back to George, her expression shocked, and then she glanced at Patrick again. "Does he not know?" she asked quietly. She almost sounded like someone who cared.

"He knows," Patrick informed her, looking away.

"Just because he doesn't punch walls in doesn't mean he's not as angry as you are. He feels it as much as you do, but it's all turned inward. Wrath is anger and self-loathing and you two fuckers are like...two halves of me. Do you hurt yourself, Saint Ginger?"

Patrick looked back at her, eyes flashing. "Cut it out."

"You do!" Suddenly Wrath felt all-over insightful. She could be like that when she discovered that part of herself inside someone else. When she connected with it, it was easy enough to draw it out. "Does your brother dearest know that?"

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and he shook his head. "Will you just shut up!"

"Wrath," George said sharply. "Stop."

He put his plate down carefully and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Patrick, come on. Let's talk for a minute in the other room."

Wrath, who thought she had been helping, immediately looked hangdog. In fact she was so crushed she put the fries back she had been about to put in her mouth.

Patrick just rose from the sofa and he walked into his room, glad for the excuse to leave. "She makes my head so fuzzy, doesn't she make your head fuzzy?" Patrick asked quickly, once they were alone.

George gave Wrath's shoulder a careful squeeze before he followed Patrick into his room.

"You get used to it," George said, crossing his arms and leaning. "What is she talking about, Patty?"

Patrick groaned and he sat down slowly on his bed. "It's not what you are probably thinking it is and panicking about," he said first, in case George was freaking out internally. "You know I don't feel like I deserve anything good no matter how much you tell me I do. Drinking and sleeping around...it's all self-punishment." Patrick didn't like talking about this at all, but Wrath had brought it up so he didn't have a choice. He couldn't lie to George.

"And there's a guy I see sometimes. He's...a little rough," Patrick licked his lips. He hadn't told anyone about this. "Started back before we found each other again. Saw him a few times when I lived with David but I stopped...for obvious reasons. But when I got dumped I went back." Patrick chewed on his lip and avoided looking at his brother's face.

"I didn't realize it-" George bit his lip, trying to decide the best way to phrase things. "I didn't realize it was that bad. And I probably should have, and I'm sorry."

"George," Patrick stood again and he went to take hold of his brother's hand. They were so messed up right now, the pair of them. "I'm sorry. I've backslid so much in so little time-" Patrick sighed. "I didn't actually mean to go home with the guy again the first time I saw him after I got dumped. He was just at a bar I was at. And I guess...when he hurts me, I feel like everything is right. I don't have to hate myself because he's taking care of it for me. But you have nothing to be sorry about. It's my fault."

Patrick wished Michael were here. If the angel were around Patrick could confess and Michael would confine him to his apartment again and everything could be okay in a few weeks. Right?

George pulled Patrick into a hug suddenly, as much for his own comfort as for Patrick's.

"Well, you aren't going back to that guy," George muttered against Patrick's shoulder. "Okay? I'll...I don't know, I will put a little GPS tracker on you, I swear."

Patrick really hated being told what to do, even though he knew George was right. He leaned into the hug and he just nodded.

"There's no need to lojack me," he muttered, though even he wasn't so sure.

"Hello?" Wrath called from the other side of the door. "Look, blah, I'm sorry okay!" Wrath did not apologise unless she meant it. "I was trying to help, I just suck balls at it!"

"Hey, the English me had the government spying on his brothers, lojacking you would be polite compared to that," George said, holding Patrick at arm's length and offering him a smile.

George opened the door. "No, Wrath, I know. Here, you get a hug too. Don't punch me."

Patrick made a face that showed he did accept that lojacking was better than government spies.

Wrath stepped inside the bedroom gingerly and she even let George hug her. He smelled nice. ...really nice. And maybe if she helped his stupid, ginger brother, he would like her more.

"Yeah so...uhm- It sucks to feel all fucked up inside," she said to Patrick, who showed he was listening by not slamming the door in her face. Barely. "And I know hurting yourself makes it seem okay or whatever for a little while. But you know...it's not. Fuck I suck at this."

"No," Patrick admitted. "I know what you mean."

"I think I am supposed to encourage you to keep going and to feel worse and stuff. But I guess if I didn't break the rules sometimes I would be a fucking boring Sin, wouldn't I? And look I hate Patience, the fucker. But uhm. He might help so. Just a thought. Blah whatever."

"Patience might be able to help, you're right," George said, smiling at Wrath. He turned to Patrick and made pleading eyes. "We can go see if he has any advice?"

The look from George broke Patrick's heart and he was quick to say, "of course," so George could stop making those eyes at him.

Wrath shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "And you...you can talk to me if you want. Whatever. I get it. Just don't tell anyone." She liked when George got all heated because she could get heated too. It was nice letting off steam like that. This was a different part of herself. This was the part none of her siblings could ever understand because they were all about self-interest and she was the only sin who wasn't. It was truly as if she was the most human of them all. Only mortals could understand this part of her.

"I'll listen. I guess."

Patrick patted George on the shoulder and then he nodded to Wrath and gestured back out into the living room. When they had all sat down in their former seats again, Patrick looked uncomfortable so Wrath started. "I like pain. No- I mean when I hate myself. I go for pain. Doesn't help."

Patrick breathed out slowly. "Not necessarily the same for me. I- God. I let- When I was a slave I was whipped when I did something wrong. This guy I go to...he does that. And it reminds me I'm worthless." It was a different kind of whip of course, but it made him feel the same.

George curled his hands into fists on his knees to keep from twitching his fingers. He knew that, technically, there was nothing that he could do that would fix Wrath or Patrick's problems. There was no button he could push or monster he could slay. But he wanted there to be something so easy.

"You aren't worthless," George said, nudging Patrick with his knee. To Wrath, he said, "And you shouldn't hate yourself. And I know I tell you that all the time, but I'm repeating it now. For emphasis."

"Don't think there's anything for it, it's what I am," Wrath said flatly. "But it ain't who you are," and she pointed at Patrick.

Having a sin try to encourage him really was something else. It was a wake-up call of sorts. If he needed Wrath to point out that he had a problem, he needed to fix that. "I'll try to change. I already kind of did. Went to George instead of going to a bar."

"Whatever, I don't even care," Wrath hissed and then she waved her hands around. "Augh, habit."

Oh my God, George thought, feeling a slightly manic glee. Wrath and Patrick are talking and we are all talking about our feelings and no one is dead.

"Progress on both sides, then."

Wrath rolled her eyes at George, again out of habit, and then she went to stuff a chicken nugget in his mouth to make him stop talking.

The sight of it made Patrick burst into giggles.

George stuck his tongue out at Wrath around the chicken nugget. After chewing it, he said, "Filling me with chicken won't keep me from being happy for you."

Wrath made a face at the idea of anyone being happy about anything she was doing. "You can like...message me if you want. What the fuck ever. If you're feeling like...all fucked up inside."

Patrick raised his eyebrows, but he didn't look unconvinced. Texting Wrath when he felt like shit actually might be helpful.

"I might swear back. But sometimes that doesn't suck you know."

"Wrath is the best at swearing," George said, choosing that moment to pounce on Patrick and give him a hug. Hugs were his tried and true way of conveying love in stressful times.

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WELP. THIS ISN'T WHAT I EXPECTED AT ALL>

SUCH IS THE MAGIC

TOTES

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