Alastair entered the Kemp Manor, whistling a jaunty tune as he did so. "Gay fathers?!" He called through the house and he stuck his head into the living room to find Liz and Emma laughing on the sofa. "Whoops, wrong gay couple. Hey, guys!"

( Happiness )

Peter saw a lot of things in his life that other people didn't see. He saw demons and angels and werewolves. He saw illusions and evil priests and things even he wasn't sure if he believed. But one thing he thought he would never see, was his cousin Johan, speaking to his Uncle Wolfgang. He hadn't even known Wolfgang was in London. But as he ( Read more... )

Alastair tried to spend time with his father every day. If he couldn't make it every day, he definitely made it every other day. He had learned from the death of his mother that if you didn't make the time to see people and then they were gone, you missed them and you felt more guilty than you would ever admit. With Werner, he had prior warning ( Read more... )

Peter was aware of a dull aching in his head. It was there, pouding away, even when he was asleep. And when he woke up, the pain rose quite acutely, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He groaned and blinked his eyes against the light in the room and then he said, rather blankly, "buh? 'm I dead?" The light did kinda look like the 'Heaven' ( Read more... )

The breakfast table at the Kemp Manor was generally a happy place to be, even if not everyone was always in a bright and shiny mood, as often Zoe wasn't. Johan always tried to do his best to make up for it, even through all he was dealing with with watching the man he loved slowly deteriorate. He believed that life was for living while you were ( Read more... )

"You're a bastard." Peter informed the opened bottle of scotch that was resting on his desk. The bottle ignored his rather impassioned insult, and refused to admit what it had done. Or possibly, Peter was transferring his feelings about himself on to an inanimate object. Yes, it was most likely that. "You don't even taste nice." Peter said as ( Read more... )

Johan was sitting on his balcony, staring up at the moon while drinking his third glass of wine. His bruise had long since faded, and he was quietly coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn't have his Werner with him for all that much longer. Now that terrible things had happened in London, namely the murder of Jax Panic by her lover, not to ( Read more... )

The train ride to Vienna had been long and uneventful. Once they had arrived in Vienna, however, it was a different story. They had to clean out Werner's old house on the outskirts of the Vienna woods, and that was incredibly depressing. Johan was sitting on the floor of Werner's study, packing books into boxes as Werner darted around, trying to ( Read more... )

Johan was placing some things in a bag so they would have a few changes of clothes on the trip to Vienna. Of course, once they got there, they had everything else they owned that they hadn't brought to London with them. The bag wasn't very large, but it gave him something to do. Something to focus on.

( Reconciled )

"You wanted to see me, Dad?" Alastair asked, entering Werner's hospital room with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't even known his father was being taken here last night. They hadn't contacted him until this morning, something he wasn't all too pleased about. But his father was ill, and Alastair wasn't about to make it ( Read more... )