"I know it wasn't a dream," he explains further, resting his arms on top of the stack of books on his lap. "I was looking down at my own body, and at Herbert. It was...eerie, but...."
Hm.
"I wasn't...afraid. Not at all. I felt...sad. I didn't want to go." A little sigh. "I don't know, I don't know what it meant. They must have been frustrated."
"And so you didn't. You stayed. You fought Death and returned to us. To Herbert." He sounds amazed. The amount of willpower it must have taken, the strength it took to bring himself back from the brink of death like that.
And all for the love of his son. George finds himself wiping away a tear without quite realizing it.
"I...did." Honestly, he sounds just as amazed at himself - looking up at Georg, he catches the little drop of blood being thoughtlessly wicked away on a long, gaunt finger, and he smiles. It's...it's nice, to feel like people are proud of him.
Especially people he loves.
"But I can't take all the credit, anyway. I'm...I'm not very brave. You must have noticed by now. And...and there was that...that string, between Herbert and I. Because he let me drink his blood, when I...." He trails off. Everyone knows the story by now.
"I think you are. I think you have so much more in you than you realize. You are brave, Alfred. You are stronger than you know. You look Death in the face and told them not today. And yes, your love for Herbert, your connection to him inspired that. But it still came from you."
"...Thank you, Georg." Now it's his turn to wipe away a tear, a little overwhelmed by the older vampire's confidence in him.
In another idle motion, Alfred opens up the top book on the pile again, fidgeting with the pages. He steals a glance downward, not thinking about it - and then does a double take, looking at the drawing he had unearthed. A man, all...tied up?
Georg leans over to take a look at what has Alfred blushing, and laughs softly, tracing a finger over the illustration.
"Ah, well. Some people enjoy giving up control. Allowing themselves to be restrained, so that their lover has complete control over them. It's a show of trust."
In spite of himself, Alfred catches himself staring at the thin, graceful finger tracing across the page, and that perhaps doesn't help with how red he has become. The description makes him squirm, just a little, and he doesn't quite look up yet.
Georg can't help but notice how flustered Alfred is, and is quietly amused by it.
"Truly. It's quite exhilarating, being able to put yourself completely in your partner's hands like that. To let them know you love them, and you trust them with your safety and your pleasure."
The question tumbles out before he can think about it, but not fast enough for him to finish it before biting his lip, very near the color of his favorite jacket at this point.
"I have, yes. I recommend it highly. I think Herbert would enjoy it, as well. You ought to ask him what he thinks about it, I'm certain he'd be delighted to tell you." He can't quite keep the smile off his face, though he's doing his best not to laugh, not wanting Alfred to feel ashamed or embarrassed at all.
Georg doesn't have to make him feel embarrassed or ashamed - he's doing fine with that all on his own. He sighs, a little hopelessly. "There's...a lot that I don't know about this, isn't there?"
"There is so much you can learn. So much that you can be taught."
He taps his finger against the stack of books with a small, knowing smile. "Try reading some of these. If you have questions I know Herbert will be happy to help you try out think that sounds interesting, or that you think you might like. Or if you have something you want to surprise Herbert with, I'm also happy to answer any questions you may have."
"You're a young man with longings and desires. Some of them you may not realize you have yet. I'm merely trying to open you up to new possibilities that you may have not been aware were options."
He leans forward in his chair, watching Alfred intensely. With a quiet curiosity. "I meant what I said, the first night we met. I want to teach you what it means to live, I want to show you a world you may have never imagined. Perhaps only dreamed of. You can turn to me with anything you want answers to. No matter what the subject."
Alfred takes a moment before he even tries to reply, meeting Georg’s stare with an equally curious stare right back. It’s true that he’s still getting used to the Count and his particular brand of intensity…but slowly, he feels he’s coming to understand him.
He hesitates, turning the words over in his head, then -
That earns one of his eyebrow arches, and he rests his hand against his chin, leaning a little closer. "No, not at any sort of length. But if you wish to discuss him, please do."
At this, Alfred smiles - but it's strained...sad, in a way that is different from his normal expressions. Hurt. Old, deep hurt.
"...My family name is Schreiber. Scholars, on my Father's side. He's an archivist. Very old fashioned, god fearing, but very smart. I could ask him anything about science, or history...and he would tell me where to find a book."
His gaze wanders down to the stack on his lap, a hand resting on the top cover.
"...But if I asked about anything like this? If he found anything that he thought was...was inappropriate, or vapid, or...or feminine, it was always the same. He would tell me that wasn't what a good man would want to do."
Bright blue eyes travel back up to Georg.
"...But... you're a good man. And you don't treat me like I'm any less, for wanting to know anything."
Oh, his heart aches for poor Alfred. To have such a closed minded man as a father, to have someone turn away questions simply because he didn't approve of them seems awful. Unfair.
"Books are a fine place to start, but there are some things a book cannot teach. Some things come from experience. Some from asking questions."
It's his turn to smile sadly, and he brushes his fingers over Alfred's cheek lightly. "Thank you for saying so, Alfred. I am not so good as all that. But thank you for thinking so."
That unfairness has definitely taken a toll - he's really only just starting to loosen up enough to really come out of his shell. This conversation simply would not have happened months ago.
"You're right about that. That's something...I have learned here, especially."
At the protestation, Alfred frowns a little - acting on impulse, he reaches up to rest his hand over Georg's, holding it against his jaw firmly.
"If you weren't a good man, I don't think you would argue with me telling you you are. I have...I have worked under a terrible man for a long time. I would know."
The touch surprises him, his eyes going wide for a moment. "I -- "
He clears his throat. Touched, but there are some wounds too deep to heal quite so quickly. "Thank you, Alfred. But I know what I am. I can only hope to teach you better, so that you may learn from mistakes that I have made."
It's a long moment before he responds - staring straight at the much older vampire, near unblinking, still holding his hand in place.
"...Well, then...maybe good and bad don't matter so much, anyway."
And then all at once, he seems to realize what he's doing - and he goes very red, finally breaking the eye contact and gently releasing the pressure on Georg's hand.
Alfred flushes deeper as his eyes wander back up to the older vampire, shuddering lightly under the caress. He sucks in a breath he doesn't need, letting it out in a small, shuddering sigh.
There is a rising terror in the back of his head at what he is feeling - something he feels that he should, perhaps, NOT be feeling right now about his boyfriend's father. In spite of himself, he swallows hard, mouth dry.
'Collect yourself, Alfred....'
"I think...I like that about you, though. I don't...feel that I have to be...good enough for you. To talk to you."
"But you are, Alfred. Good enough. Not just to talk to me, but you are good enough for anything you wish. Anything you desire." He reaches out to take Alfred's hand, stroking his thumb over his knuckles.
"I know Herbert has spoken to you about this. How you never see yourself as enough but you are. Trust me, you are."
Alfred's eyeline dips down to where his hand is being held, stroked...and when it raises again, his gaze is full of tears.
He's good enough.
"Thank you," he mumbles, hoarse. He very much wants to climb into the Count's arms, be held there until everything he's feeling makes some kind of sense...but he has a lap full of books.
So all Georg gets for now is the sense of longing, a want for closeness that is (at least mostly) sweet, innocent.
"...It's...hard to get used to, thinking of myself that way."
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Hm.
"I wasn't...afraid. Not at all. I felt...sad. I didn't want to go." A little sigh. "I don't know, I don't know what it meant. They must have been frustrated."
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And all for the love of his son. George finds himself wiping away a tear without quite realizing it.
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Especially people he loves.
"But I can't take all the credit, anyway. I'm...I'm not very brave. You must have noticed by now. And...and there was that...that string, between Herbert and I. Because he let me drink his blood, when I...." He trails off. Everyone knows the story by now.
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In another idle motion, Alfred opens up the top book on the pile again, fidgeting with the pages. He steals a glance downward, not thinking about it - and then does a double take, looking at the drawing he had unearthed. A man, all...tied up?
"What is...?"
His face goes...very, very red.
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"Ah, well. Some people enjoy giving up control. Allowing themselves to be restrained, so that their lover has complete control over them. It's a show of trust."
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Flustered. So flustered.
"...O-oh...r-r-really...?"
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"Truly. It's quite exhilarating, being able to put yourself completely in your partner's hands like that. To let them know you love them, and you trust them with your safety and your pleasure."
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The question tumbles out before he can think about it, but not fast enough for him to finish it before biting his lip, very near the color of his favorite jacket at this point.
And not at all thinking about Georg tied up.
Nope.
Not at all.
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A beat.
"Talk to him! I mean!"
Georg doesn't have to make him feel embarrassed or ashamed - he's doing fine with that all on his own. He sighs, a little hopelessly. "There's...a lot that I don't know about this, isn't there?"
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He taps his finger against the stack of books with a small, knowing smile. "Try reading some of these. If you have questions I know Herbert will be happy to help you try out think that sounds interesting, or that you think you might like. Or if you have something you want to surprise Herbert with, I'm also happy to answer any questions you may have."
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Alfred reddens further, the memory of That Dream dancing through his head again.
"Th-thank you, Georg. I...I really appreciate you being so...so patient."
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He leans forward in his chair, watching Alfred intensely. With a quiet curiosity. "I meant what I said, the first night we met. I want to teach you what it means to live, I want to show you a world you may have never imagined. Perhaps only dreamed of. You can turn to me with anything you want answers to. No matter what the subject."
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He hesitates, turning the words over in his head, then -
“…Have I…ever told you about my Father?”
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"...My family name is Schreiber. Scholars, on my Father's side. He's an archivist. Very old fashioned, god fearing, but very smart. I could ask him anything about science, or history...and he would tell me where to find a book."
His gaze wanders down to the stack on his lap, a hand resting on the top cover.
"...But if I asked about anything like this? If he found anything that he thought was...was inappropriate, or vapid, or...or feminine, it was always the same. He would tell me that wasn't what a good man would want to do."
Bright blue eyes travel back up to Georg.
"...But... you're a good man. And you don't treat me like I'm any less, for wanting to know anything."
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"Books are a fine place to start, but there are some things a book cannot teach. Some things come from experience. Some from asking questions."
It's his turn to smile sadly, and he brushes his fingers over Alfred's cheek lightly. "Thank you for saying so, Alfred. I am not so good as all that. But thank you for thinking so."
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"You're right about that. That's something...I have learned here, especially."
At the protestation, Alfred frowns a little - acting on impulse, he reaches up to rest his hand over Georg's, holding it against his jaw firmly.
"If you weren't a good man, I don't think you would argue with me telling you you are. I have...I have worked under a terrible man for a long time. I would know."
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He clears his throat. Touched, but there are some wounds too deep to heal quite so quickly. "Thank you, Alfred. But I know what I am. I can only hope to teach you better, so that you may learn from mistakes that I have made."
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"...Well, then...maybe good and bad don't matter so much, anyway."
And then all at once, he seems to realize what he's doing - and he goes very red, finally breaking the eye contact and gently releasing the pressure on Georg's hand.
"I - s-sorry, that was...ah..."
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"As for good and bad, I think I blurred that line a long time ago. I'm neither and both at the same time. Somewhere in between."
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Alfred flushes deeper as his eyes wander back up to the older vampire, shuddering lightly under the caress. He sucks in a breath he doesn't need, letting it out in a small, shuddering sigh.
There is a rising terror in the back of his head at what he is feeling - something he feels that he should, perhaps, NOT be feeling right now about his boyfriend's father. In spite of himself, he swallows hard, mouth dry.
'Collect yourself, Alfred....'
"I think...I like that about you, though. I don't...feel that I have to be...good enough for you. To talk to you."
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"I know Herbert has spoken to you about this. How you never see yourself as enough but you are. Trust me, you are."
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Alfred's eyeline dips down to where his hand is being held, stroked...and when it raises again, his gaze is full of tears.
He's good enough.
"Thank you," he mumbles, hoarse. He very much wants to climb into the Count's arms, be held there until everything he's feeling makes some kind of sense...but he has a lap full of books.
So all Georg gets for now is the sense of longing, a want for closeness that is (at least mostly) sweet, innocent.
"...It's...hard to get used to, thinking of myself that way."
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