"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."
Georg remembers the first time he and Alfred had a real talk. How Alfred had pulled him close and held him tight, and how that action felt like it melted away, at least temporarily, all his woes.
And so he takes the stack of books from Alfred's lap to set aside and pulls him close, to rest in his lap, held against his chest while Georg gently strokes his back.
"It will take some time, I'm sure. But Herbert and I will be here to remind you, every day."
It's a surprise, being pulled onto Georg's lap, being wrapped in his arms this way...but a welcome one. He rests his cheek against the older vampire's chest, purring softly in the back of his throat as his back is stroked.
Gently, he snakes his arms around the Count's torso, softly holding him back.
"...That means...more than I can say."
A little sniffle, a beat of hesitation, and then:
"I - I have come to love the both of you, you know. Very much."
The gesture, the confession touches Georg's cold, dead heart in a way he hadn't expected. He and Sarah desire each other, certainly. And perhaps will one day grow to love each other. But what he feels for Alfred is so different from what he feels for Sarah, and it startles and confuses him.
Softly, gently, he presses a kiss to Alfred's hair. "And I you, my dear boy."
Alfred makes a soft little purring sound at the kiss - perhaps just as confused as Georg about the turn this has taken. He meant what he said, about loving them both.
But he's..a little confused about it, too. His love for Herbert is something impossibly deep, something that echoes back through his whole soul. But what he feels for Georg is...not entirely platonic, either, is it?
And yet, here he is, whatever kind of love it is reciprocated.
Part of him wants to ask, but...the other part just wants to sit with it for a while.
"Yes of course," he murmurs against Alfred's hair, nuzzling there gently. Enjoying the simple feeling of Alfred's body against his. It feels comfortable, and comfort is something he sorely lacks in.
George chuckles softly and noses at Alfred's temple. "I am, yes. And before you worry too much, both Herbert and Sarah know about my feelings towards you. Herbert suspected already." Sarah didn't quite understand, but she made it clear that so long as Georg kept coming back to her, she didn't much care.
"I saw you in the window of the inn the night you arrived, lit by candlelight. I found you strikingly beautiful."
That is...more of an answer than he even expected. He reddens yet again, jaw dropping for a moment as he lifts his head enough to look at Georg, to read his expression.
He's being sincere. Alfred's chest feels warm and a shiver runs down his spine at the same time.
"...You...think I...am beautiful?" He's gotten used to hearing that from Herbert, but - Georg?
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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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And so he takes the stack of books from Alfred's lap to set aside and pulls him close, to rest in his lap, held against his chest while Georg gently strokes his back.
"It will take some time, I'm sure. But Herbert and I will be here to remind you, every day."
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Gently, he snakes his arms around the Count's torso, softly holding him back.
"...That means...more than I can say."
A little sniffle, a beat of hesitation, and then:
"I - I have come to love the both of you, you know. Very much."
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Softly, gently, he presses a kiss to Alfred's hair. "And I you, my dear boy."
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But he's..a little confused about it, too. His love for Herbert is something impossibly deep, something that echoes back through his whole soul. But what he feels for Georg is...not entirely platonic, either, is it?
And yet, here he is, whatever kind of love it is reciprocated.
Part of him wants to ask, but...the other part just wants to sit with it for a while.
But...there is...something nagging at him.
"I...I do have...a little...question."
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"You may ask me anything you like. Always."
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Wait, hold on, ask the question! He swallows hard. Just ask. Just say the words.
"...Are you...ah...attracted...to me?"
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"I saw you in the window of the inn the night you arrived, lit by candlelight. I found you strikingly beautiful."
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He's being sincere. Alfred's chest feels warm and a shiver runs down his spine at the same time.
"...You...think I...am beautiful?" He's gotten used to hearing that from Herbert, but - Georg?
His brows knit together in clear confusion.
"...Wait, they both...know?"