JOHAN LIEDERMANN, OH WOW! (Peter, Patrick)
Peter was sitting behind his monstrous desk, growling at his computer while he edited his thesis. He was in the final stretch and the entire thing was giving him a headache. It didn't help that dear little Astrid, someone who had visions like himself, now had the same kind of tumour he had had twice. At least he was immortal. Poor Astrid was not, and she was only twenty. It broke his heart to think about.
He was so wrapped up in his misery that when the door flew open, he jumped off of his seat and yelped in quite a girly way. Patrick Finnegan stood in the doorway, his red hair was crazily framing his head and backlit from the light in the hallway. Peter hadn't thought he would ever meet someone with odder hair than he had. He had been proven wrong. "Patrick?"
Patrick didn't even pause. "Why didn't you tell me your cousin was Johan Liedermann!?" Patrick squealed and he ran forward, depositing himself into Peter's chair. Patrick had been at Peter's hospital for nearly a month now, recovering from torture at the hands of the Templar. He had started out afraid of everything which wasn't surprising at all, and now he visited Peter nearly every day and he seemed better and better. Peter was pleased, Patrick was quite the character and Peter liked him.
"I...didn't think it was important information," Peter said with a shrug. "I don't usually introduce myself and add that my cousin is a concert pianist."
"A famous concert pianist," Patrick hissed. "He plays with the Vienna Philharmoniker."
"Yes, he does, doesn't he," Peter said distractedly.
"And the LSO! You know I am a pianist! And he was here visiting his brother and I ran into him and then tried to speak German to him to be all cool and I and acted like an idiot! Peter, will he think I'm an idiot?!" Patrick looked like he might spontaneously combust if Peter said yes.
Peter blinked and then he chuckled. The idea of Johan finding anyone that he wasn't related to even slightly objectionable was silly. "Johan is probably one of the nicest people I know," Peter said with a shake of his head. "If you ask him to, he'd play with you." Peter made a face at that. "Uh...on the piano."
Patrick snorted and then he picked up one of Peter's pencils and threw it at him. "I figured. Do you think so? Oh god, I couldn't-"
"I assure you, you could," Peter said, throwing the pencil back. "In fact, I'll text him now." Peter pulled out his mobile.
"NO!" Patrick jumped out of his seat and across Peter's desk, making a frantic grab for the mobile, which Peter simply held up into the air, so Patrick missed by quite a ways. "Patrick, you are being ridiculous."
"Peter, he's Johan Liedermann and I'm...Irish. I was a house pianist in a pub."
"Hah! Patrick...believe me when I tell you he won't care." Peter and Johan's family was filled with people who would care that Patrick was not rich or successful or German, but Peter and Johan were the exceptions there.
"You think so?" Patrick asked, still on Peter's desk. He put his head in his hands and he made a dreamy face. "I can't even tell you how many times I imagined playing a duet with him because you'll tease me about it."
"I assure you I will be doing that anyway," Peter said, shooing Patrick off his desk. "The way you propelled yourself up there was nothing less than amazing."
"Shut up," Patrick mumbled.
Peter didn't listen, he was too busy trying to type a text message. God, he hated technology. "I'm setting you up a man-date with my cousin now. Please don't rip his clothes off when you first meet him. That might send the wrong message, and he does really like his clothes. They're fancy."
Patrick gave Peter a Look and he flailed a little with his hands. "I can't believe this is happening to me right now, Peter."
"Karma," Peter said, finally sending the message off.
"Fuck karma, for that Templar bullshit, I deserve a castle. We all do," Patrick grumbled. "But playing piano with Johan Liedermann is going to be...incredible!"
"You can probably just call him Johan..."
Patrick grinned and he gripped the chair he was sort of excitedly perching on. "You do bring me the most exciting things. A room in this weird hospital. That cake with the blue icing. And Johan. Thanks, Peter."
"It's alright! You're disracting me from my thesis, which I appreciate."
"The one about the Templar? You mentioned they're world class A-holes, right?"
"As many times as possible," Peter nodded. "Now go brush your hair, you can't meet Johan looking like that."
"You brush your hair!" Patrick shot back, throwing another one of Peter's pencils before he jumped up and ran away to do just that.
"I should brush my hair," Peter muttered, running a hand through it. Then he shrugged and did what he always did and left it alone.
He was so wrapped up in his misery that when the door flew open, he jumped off of his seat and yelped in quite a girly way. Patrick Finnegan stood in the doorway, his red hair was crazily framing his head and backlit from the light in the hallway. Peter hadn't thought he would ever meet someone with odder hair than he had. He had been proven wrong. "Patrick?"
Patrick didn't even pause. "Why didn't you tell me your cousin was Johan Liedermann!?" Patrick squealed and he ran forward, depositing himself into Peter's chair. Patrick had been at Peter's hospital for nearly a month now, recovering from torture at the hands of the Templar. He had started out afraid of everything which wasn't surprising at all, and now he visited Peter nearly every day and he seemed better and better. Peter was pleased, Patrick was quite the character and Peter liked him.
"I...didn't think it was important information," Peter said with a shrug. "I don't usually introduce myself and add that my cousin is a concert pianist."
"A famous concert pianist," Patrick hissed. "He plays with the Vienna Philharmoniker."
"Yes, he does, doesn't he," Peter said distractedly.
"And the LSO! You know I am a pianist! And he was here visiting his brother and I ran into him and then tried to speak German to him to be all cool and I and acted like an idiot! Peter, will he think I'm an idiot?!" Patrick looked like he might spontaneously combust if Peter said yes.
Peter blinked and then he chuckled. The idea of Johan finding anyone that he wasn't related to even slightly objectionable was silly. "Johan is probably one of the nicest people I know," Peter said with a shake of his head. "If you ask him to, he'd play with you." Peter made a face at that. "Uh...on the piano."
Patrick snorted and then he picked up one of Peter's pencils and threw it at him. "I figured. Do you think so? Oh god, I couldn't-"
"I assure you, you could," Peter said, throwing the pencil back. "In fact, I'll text him now." Peter pulled out his mobile.
"NO!" Patrick jumped out of his seat and across Peter's desk, making a frantic grab for the mobile, which Peter simply held up into the air, so Patrick missed by quite a ways. "Patrick, you are being ridiculous."
"Peter, he's Johan Liedermann and I'm...Irish. I was a house pianist in a pub."
"Hah! Patrick...believe me when I tell you he won't care." Peter and Johan's family was filled with people who would care that Patrick was not rich or successful or German, but Peter and Johan were the exceptions there.
"You think so?" Patrick asked, still on Peter's desk. He put his head in his hands and he made a dreamy face. "I can't even tell you how many times I imagined playing a duet with him because you'll tease me about it."
"I assure you I will be doing that anyway," Peter said, shooing Patrick off his desk. "The way you propelled yourself up there was nothing less than amazing."
"Shut up," Patrick mumbled.
Peter didn't listen, he was too busy trying to type a text message. God, he hated technology. "I'm setting you up a man-date with my cousin now. Please don't rip his clothes off when you first meet him. That might send the wrong message, and he does really like his clothes. They're fancy."
Patrick gave Peter a Look and he flailed a little with his hands. "I can't believe this is happening to me right now, Peter."
"Karma," Peter said, finally sending the message off.
"Fuck karma, for that Templar bullshit, I deserve a castle. We all do," Patrick grumbled. "But playing piano with Johan Liedermann is going to be...incredible!"
"You can probably just call him Johan..."
Patrick grinned and he gripped the chair he was sort of excitedly perching on. "You do bring me the most exciting things. A room in this weird hospital. That cake with the blue icing. And Johan. Thanks, Peter."
"It's alright! You're disracting me from my thesis, which I appreciate."
"The one about the Templar? You mentioned they're world class A-holes, right?"
"As many times as possible," Peter nodded. "Now go brush your hair, you can't meet Johan looking like that."
"You brush your hair!" Patrick shot back, throwing another one of Peter's pencils before he jumped up and ran away to do just that.
"I should brush my hair," Peter muttered, running a hand through it. Then he shrugged and did what he always did and left it alone.