(no subject)

[monster-slayer.insanejournal.com]

Who: George, Patrick
Where: Their apartment
When: Saturday
What: Talking about feelings
Warnings: Talk of rape and other bad things

George had arranged himself a small snack food feast and was stretched out on the couch, watching Animal Planet with some fascination.

"Penguins are so cool," he murmured to himself, watching as a horde of emperor penguins waddled across the ice. When Patrick entered, he called over his shoulder, "Patrick, let's run away and be penguins. We can balance eggs on our feet."

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[shamrocked-.insanejournal.com]

Patrick had been heading to his room but he immediately turned and headed back to look at the television with George. "Yeah, it looks cold, Georgie. I'm thinking no. But if it'll make you feel better we could wear tuxes and waddle?"

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"That might be an acceptable compromise," George said. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Patrick, squeezing him into a hug. "We have to balance eggs on our feet, though. That's key to it."

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Patrick laughed and he hugged George right back. "You're weird," he informed his brother brightly. "We're just going to end up cracking a bunch of eggs and making a mess, but why not."

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George laughed and tugged Patrick down on the couch for a noogie. "We could get a little cat tux for Kellan, so he can join in on the fun." George laughed. "I love you."

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"Aaauuuggghhhhh!" Patrick cried out as George noogied him. "I love you too, menace!" he said, trying to get his hair sorted out when George stopped. "You'll make it tangle more. Hey, George? Can I ask you about something you might not want to talk about? You might have to turn off the penguins."

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George reached over and thumbed the remote off, grabbing a bowl of chips to offer to Patrick as well. "Sure, Patty. What is it?"

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He sniffed and shook his head at the chips before leaning against the sofa. "When you were in Puerto Rico and I was talking about Joshua threatening me and what he had done to Wrath, you said you wished it had been you instead of her and that it wouldn't be the first time." Patrick busied himself inspecting his own palms. "What- What did you mean?"

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Oh, Patrick, George thought, feeling a surge of love for his brother so strong it nearly hurt. He reached out and ruffled his brother's hair again, but gently.

"I've been a prisoner of war a lot," George said. "And people, well, they don't always treat their prisoners honorably."

It wasn't something George talked about, because it wasn't something George liked to think about. Ever. But the Antichrist had threatened to rape Patrick, and he felt like his brother deserved to know.

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Patrick's face crumpled and he shook his head mutely a few times before swallowing roughly. "I didn't- I didn't know," he said before pulling George into a tight hug, clearly on the verge of tears.

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"Shh, shh, it's okay, Patty," George said, squeezing his brother tightly and petting his hair. "It all happened a long time ago. I don't tell people about it because...well, it's awful, but I'm all right." He kissed the top of Patrick's head.

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Patrick leaned back so he could put his hands on George's face. "You're my big brother," he said with a sniff. "And I feel all kinds of retroactive rage. Do- do you want to talk about it?" he asked, wondering if it was something best talked about or left alone.

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George shrugged, leaning against Patrick's shoulder. Most days, he tried to file it all away under the various horrors of war that he'd experienced. It was easier that way, packing it all up into a little bundle that he could ignore or deal with as he chose. He wasn't sure he wanted to poke at it, to tell Patrick that some of his attackers had known he'd been a Saint and it had served as more motivation.

Instead he said, "The first time it happened was when I was being martyred. Obviously not, like, right when I was being martyred, but before. In the cells. A lot of the soldiers were angry, they felt like I'd been lying to them the whole time."

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Without even meaning to, Patrick let out a little whimper and then he wrapped his arm around his brother. He couldn't imagine his own soldiers turning on him like that. It must have taken such courage to face them and remain faithful.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, nuzzling against George. "I'm sorry that happened to you. Were they...I dunno, trying to make you renounce your faith or were they just being-" Patrick almost said assholes, but he changed his mind at the last minute, "-dickheads?"

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"Thank you," George said, leaning his head against Patrick's. On the floor, Downpatrick came up to investigate his owners' distress. George reached down and pulled him up onto the couch to include him in the hug.

"Some of them were trying to make me renounce. They thought they were helping, in their own way, since the Emperor had offered me a very nice life if I would just stop with all this Christ nonsense. I think they hoped that when I 'came to my senses' or something, I'd understand why they'd done it. Others were just angry, or hadn't liked me anyway." George sighed. "It was hard to forgive them, when I came back as a saint. It took a long time. And they had been dead for centuries by then, so it wasn't as though I could confront them."

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"Of course it was difficult," Patrick said, still keeping his arm wrapped around his brother. His other hand was ruffling Downpatrick's fur. Downpatrick was very good for sad moments. He was a good dog.

"I don't know if I could have forgiven someone for-" He shook his head and then turned to kiss George's. "And that wasn't the only time? Was it always when you were a prisoner?"

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"I wasn't exactly falling all over myself to forgive them at first," George said with a shrug. "But I wanted to stop feeling so angry, and that helped."

He closed his eyes at Patrick's next question. "Yeah. I'm pretty good at kicking and biting and breaking ropes, but they usually had other prisoners in there with me, and once they threatened them...well, what was I going to do? Say no?"

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Patrick gave George and utterly mournful look and then he turned to pull George into a tight hug. "I love you so much, Georgie. I don't know what else to say." He was quite glad when he had been held as a prisoner in the Tower of London, nothing like that had gone on.

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"Thank you," George said, curling up closer to his brother. For a moment, he was content to just listen to the sound of Patrick breathing and Downpatrick squirming. "You know what helps me deal with it all? You, and all the other people I love. I don't know what I'd do if I was alone."

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Patrick smiled and he kissed George's hair. "Yeah, I know what you mean there. I know what I did when I was alone. And the answer is 'nothing good'."

He was silent for a moment and then he said, "sometimes I worry that there might have been something like that in my past and I just can't remember it. Like when I was a slave. But my master had lots of female slaves for that, which is one of the reasons I am still so against marriage. The owners could marry their slaves and then-" Patrick shook his head, content to stop talking about that. "I know there was something with another slave but to be honest I was a teenager and I was trapped in a land surrounded by strangers. I was just glad to be touched in a way that didn't involve whips."

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"I hope that nothing ever happened to you," George said, squeezing Patrick tightly. "I hope you never remember it, if it did."

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"Do you think it's better to not remember?" he asked George quietly. "I guess I'm not so sure." He nuzzled George's shoulder softly. "If you want to talk about it more, I'm here. I mean any time, of course. Not just now."

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"I honestly don't know," George said. "Sometimes I think that it's important to remember the bad things. Especially when they were things that I did. But other times I wish I could make it all go away. It's a trade-off, I guess. I get to be immortal, but that's a long time for a lot of terrible things to happen. And I know, Patty. I always know I can talk to you."

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"You...you do know you didn't deserve it though, right?" Patrick asked worriedly. He pulled George closer and rubbed his brother's arm. Being immortal was certainly a mixed blessing.

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George closed his eyes. "Most of the time, yeah. There's always those bad times where I felt like it was karma catching up to me."

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"Well it's not," Patrick said firmly. "You're wonderful and you deserve niceness and puppies. Hmm?" He planted a big kiss on George's cheek.

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George smiled, unable to help himself. "Like this puppy." He scooped up Downpatrick for a more thorough cuddle. The terrier wiggled a bit before admitting defeat and letting his belly be rubbed.

"You deserve niceness and puppies too, all right? Don't ever think otherwise."

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"Yep, exactly like that one," Patrick said, reaching out to pat the dog's belly as well. "So I hear," he said with a smile. He just hoped George was okay.

"Do you want food? Takeaway? I could cook? Or pie, I could make pie!"

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George perked up despite himself. "I am always gonna say yes to pie."

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Pie it was. "I just...if you are feeling bad because of this will you tell me? I can make you pie!"

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"I will," George said, smiling for real this time. "I actually feel pretty okay right now. I've never really talked about it before."

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"Well I'm glad to listen." He felt heart-broken for his brother, but it was probably a relief for him to not have it all kempt up inside.

"I love you okay. And Downpatrick loves you," Patrick held the dog's head up for George to look into his eyes. "I'll go get you some noms."