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greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

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The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means.

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place.

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking?

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his.

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today.

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way.

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan.

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!”

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.”

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.”

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile.

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried.

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life.

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism.

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want!

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart.

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time.

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

“But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much.

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line.

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one.

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!”

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour.

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made.

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them.

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good.

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into.

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog.

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie?

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun.

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking.

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable.

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up.

Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this?

It didn’t matter.

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed.

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good.

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?”

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully.

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

#intrulogical #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #Far too many OCs gross #Rumor Mill Au #rumors #well fake marriage #sympathetic remus #Logan is bad at feelings #so bad #now with more logan angst #Patton is a good friend #This au is so old that I called Janus Dante and I decided to fix that #alcohol #drunk logan

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nsfsprince · 3 years

Text

An a/b/o idea thats taken over the brain that I wish to write:

Intruxietlogical A/B/O au that's set in a manor or smth?

Theres Alpha!Logan(cismale), head of the manor and a very rich yet young and respectable individual of the city. Hes like 6'4 and handsome as hell, and secretly knows it(due to Remus's persistent courting) but sees no point in personally flaunting it, letting Remus take the lead in that.

Then theres his eccentric Omega spouse, Remus(nonbinary leaning with he/him pronouns), the (in)famous artist of the city. Hes unusually tall for an Omega at 5'10, crude and unworried about fitting the 'normal' societal omega expectation despite also being born to a rich family. He courted Logan, persistantly, as he loved the fact that Logan treated him with the same respect as he would anyone else and never judged Remus for who he was, and the more Logan accepted the courting the more they fell in love before marrying and bonding at like. 23-25?

Well, Virgil is a 5'1 omega(transman with he/him pronouns), age 24. Hes a feisty little thing thats been surviving the streets for too long, he's parentless and, his high anxiety keeps him safer than most omegas on their own but no ones perfect- he ends up almost getting abducted by a sketchy Alpha when a Beta named Patton storms in and saves him.

That's how Patton, Logan's brother, takes him in to treat the sprained wrist he got from the encounter, and for Remus to set eyes on Virgil and immediately decide he wants to keep and court him, too.

I could ramble alot about the months it takes for remus to flirt and fluster and break Virgil out of his shy terrified shell(because hes gone from interacting with fellow street raccoons to very weathy and very Pretty nobility and its. A Lot.

I could ramble about the way both Remus and Logan coax Virgil into staying in their home for more and more ludicrously simple reasons, just to keep courting him, and how Virgil catches on, and flusteredly does nothing to stop it bc he's slowly falling in love too

But what I Really wanna ramble about, is their bedroom dynamics.

Content warning for under the cut: a/b/o dynamics, talk/descriptions of knotting, polyamourus relationships, kinks. Lots of kinks: oralfixation, dom/sub/switch dynamics, praise kink, overstim(lots of overstim), talk of double penatration, p in v sex, ect. Let me know if i missed anything!

MINORS DNI or you will be fully blocked from this blog and my main one.

Logan is a soft but firm dom, always in control and ready to take control. He has a bit of an oral fixation and loves sucking off his loves as often as he can, happy to sate his loves while getting them to soak themselves in fresh slick. He's easily comanding when needed but also enjoys that Remus is more than willing to take control on occasion(see: regularly). He just really really likes taking care of his loves however he can, and aftercare is super important especially after some of their more intense scenes

Remus is a bossy switch, who Loves riding Logan's cock till hes stuck on his knot, or getting fucked up against a wall till his mind turns to jelly. Really likes a bit of primal play, loves riling Logan up with praising how good Logan could breed him(even tho theyre all on birth control so it really is just for the scenes) if he just pins him down and takes. On the flip side, Re also loves pinning Virgil down and driving him crazy, too.

Virgil is a near complete submissive, he's eagar to give and take as ordered and melts at any praise given. Starting out he'd been touch straved beyond belief(which has since been remedied thoroughly) and thus ended up developing a habit of dropping into subspace the moment Logan and/or Remus cradle his neck with both hands. Hes a very affectionate sub who puts so much of his trust and control into Logan and Remus's hands, and both cherish it as Virgil literally never lets his guard down around anyone else.

So, my favorite thing about their dynamic is that Remus still has a decent sized cock despite being an omega, like is actually rather big for Virgil to take, the draw back is just that Remus cant, at least naturally, Knot Virgil like Logan can. (However, its like one of Remus's biggest fantasies to Knot Virgil, and Virgil is totally in the same boat and would be Very on board with it)

This lack of natural knot doesnt stop Remus of course, infact its encouraging because he has a nearly non-existant refractory period so, literally imagine:

Virgil on his back, Virgil's head and shoulders are cradled lovingly in Logan's lap as the alpha occassionally trades kisses with both of his gorgeous omegas. Virgil's legs spread and cunt gently held nice and open by Logan's gentle but firm hands as Remus repeatedly sinks his cock nice and deep into Virgil. Slick soaks Virge and Remus's thighs, his cunt, and Remus's cock.

Every thrust has Virgil whimpering and his legs twitching with the relentless feeling of the head of Remus's cock just barley rutting against his cervix on every other pass. Just the hot way Remus has Virgil pinned into a mating press and obviously working hard to make that position live up to its name, babbling at how good Virgil feels taking his cock like a good little omega, at how easy it is to breed Virgil over and over and over again.

Then Logan enacts this little idea hes been holding onto the moment Remus starts to get close(hes trained Remus well, having helped him train to stall his orgasms for longer and longer because Remus LOVES overstimmulation). He has Remus slow down for just a moment, causing both omegas to whine, before coating two fingers in plenty of slick and slowly pressing them in alongside Remus's cock.

Virgil is slowly losing his mind(as they find out in later sessions that he absolutely has a size kink, and would happily take both their cocks at once any time hes given the chance) at the width, his eyes rolling. Then Remus is told to start thrusting again until he comes, and to ignore Logan's two fingers outside of being careful.

Virgil and Remus are so keyed up that it only takes another minute or so for Remus to start cumming, following Logan's order of pressing all the way inside as deep as he can get, at which point is Logan's cue to start curling his fingers firmly deep inside of Virgils walls.

Immediately, Virgil starts whimpering loudly as he cums, his body reacting the way it would if he were being knotted by an alpha, cunt clenching tight and sucking Remus's cock deeper as his eyes squeeze closed and his jaw fall lax, overwhelmed as his body draws out his orgasm for as long as hes knotted.

Remus is put in a mind-melting world of pleasurable overstimmulation as hes just climaxed and Virgils cunt is milking it for all hes got and he cant even move or pull out now because hes 'locked' inside. His hips and legs are trembling and he's moaning loudly because it's so hot that hes basically getting to Knot Virgil and it feels so good.

Virgil's cunt won't let him go and wont stop pulsing around the head his oversensitive cock and he really cant be faulted for the way he loses control and just keeps orgasming, his lack of refractory period as a keyed up omega just letting him squirt more and more cum and slick deep into the omega under him.

Logan's gentle and soothing, cooing reassurances to his two loves as he helps them lose their minds & fulfil their fantasies. He even uses his free hand to stroke Virgils little cock slowly, drawing out shaking whines from both of them as it makes Virgil clench harder in intervals. Remus ends up hunched over Virgil, his face tucked into his fellow omega's neck to muffle his overstimulated whimpers.

Logan draws it out for a minute or two, just until pleasured and overwhelmed tears picks at their eyes and their soft begging whimpers and mewls fill the room before slowly releasing the hold, letting the string of tension snap and watching them unravel and relax, finishing their peaks.

Remus cant help the way he struggles to pull out, so oversensitive that his hips keep hitching back in place with the way Virgils body tries to keep him there, needing Logan to pull their hips apart to fully end the scene.

Logan strokes and comforts both exhausted omegas, now fully in his element, cooing soft reassurances to both, getting up to start a bath and carefully guiding them both in and cleaning them up. The sheets are changed and both are put in soft clothing and given juice and cuddles.

Remus would probably make a comment on asking drowsily just how Logan deals with being knotted to him for in upwards of 30 minutes if it feels like /That/ the whole time. Logan would probably just smile sweetly and press a sweet kiss to his lips and say "with experience of course, perhaps we can work on that too, if the both of you would be so inclined?"

Virgil shutters and whines, too tired to get worked up again, Remus in a similar boat but nodding drowsily anyway. Remus probably wakes up sore and gets worked up all over again at the memory of why his cock of all things is sore and sensetive.

Perhaps they do work on it, perhaps Remus is trained to a take it little longer each time, no where near half an hour for the longest time, but he gets pretty close and much better at holding from losing his mind.

Maybe then they explore what it feels like for Remus to be stuck on Logan's knot, while Virgil is stuck on Remus's 'knot' with the help of a toy. Maybe then they also explore working Virgil up to take both of their cocks, and see what happens what Logan's fingers curl just right to trigger that knotted feeling to have Virgil lose his goddamn mind impaled on both their cocks as they slowly thrust in and out despite his body thinking he's already been knotted and reacting as such.

Maybe they even explore working Virgil's other hole open, just enough to take Logan's knot, and give Remus free reign to fuck Virgil's soaking trembling cunt until they can coax Virgil's cunt into taking Remus's 'knot' as well

Idk man. Just. This whole dynamic has so many hot possibilities. 💕💕💕

#not safe for sanders #nsfs virgil #nsfs logan #nsfs remus #nsfs analomus #lodukexiety #whats their ship name??#prince writes #abo au #ask to tag #edit to add the content warning bc i hadnt had time earlier to remember it let alone put it in

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

So Give Me Hope In The Darkness

Dukeceit Week Day 4: Free Day

Janus comes to him scared and broken. And there is nothing Remus wouldn’t do to help him.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 8855

Warnings: violence, dehumanization/people as test subjects, implied past abuse.

@dukeceitweek <3

“Remus, the transport’s here. You ready?”

Remus looked up from where he had been meticulously finishing the last fold on the absolute best paper airplane he had ever made in his life. “The what?”

Roman, leaning against the doorframe of Remus’ office, sighed deeply. “For the love of all things Disney and musical theatre, Remus, check your e-mail on a regular basis.”

Remus glanced at his desk. His laptop sat half-buried in crumpled up reject airplanes, the screen dark, so he slipped his phone from his pocket to check his e-mail with instead and… oops. One official work order, sent over 40 minutes ago, and three more messages from Virgil that all read somewhere along the lines of “Jesus Christ Remus respond to this so we know you read it.” Which, of course, he hadn’t.

“Uh…” Remus said helplessly. Roman scrubbed a hand down his face, then motioned for Remus to follow as he stepped back out into the hallway. Remus scrambled after him.

“I’ll fill you in, but we need to hurry,” Roman said.

“The hell do they need me for? Wasn’t it just another one of those underground lab bullshit raids? Those always turn up fucking zilch.”

“Not this one,” Roman replied and, well, shit. Now Remus was interested enough to shut up and let his brother talk. “They actually found, like, the real headquarters. Evil scientists and all.”

“Fuck yeah, good for them. Logan and Virgil have been working themselves to the bone...r. But why do they need me?”

Roman gave him a look. It was his it’s time to be serious now, Remus look. “They found a, uh…” he hesitated, looking for the right word. “A test subject.”

“Oh.”

Well that answered that.

By this point, Roman had reached the door that led out to the parking garage. He stopped at the door and gave Remus a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remus muttered. Quickly, he emptied out his pockets and shoved his phone, wallet, keys, a small notebook, a miniature lockpick set, and a pocket knife all into Roman’s waiting hands. The last time he’d tangled with an aggressive gifted, he’d gotten the entire contents of his pockets- as well as the pants themselves- reduced to a pile of molten plastic and ash. “Right. Here I go.”

“Logan will brief you. Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine, bro, chill out.” Remus patted Roman’s cheek- which his brother couldn’t do a damn thing about with his hands full of Remus’ stuff- then pushed the door open and made his way out to the intake dock.

There was already a small crowd gathered around, a safe distance from where the armored transport van had been backed into the receiving bay. Logan, Patton, and Virgil were there, of course. But the presence of a handful of armed officers was a surprise. Logan usually refused to allow the police department to send their thugs into situations like this. This sort of thing was what Remus was on the payroll for.

“Wasn’t expecting a party,” Remus said as he approached his team. Logan turned away from his conversation with Virgil.

“Ah, Remus. There you are,” he said. “I take it you have read the work order?”

“I… skimmed it,” Remus lied. Logan looked unimpressed.

“Well, just in case you missed anything important, let us recap. Virgil?”

“Uh, yeah.” Virgil stepped closer, looking troubled. “We found a gifted in there, probably a test subject knowing these bastards. He’s aggressive, borderline feral, and those jokers-” He jerked his head in the general direction of the uniformed police. “Didn’t fucking help the situation. I couldn’t reach him, but I don’t know if that’s cause he’s in a state of mind where logic and reason are completely out the window, or if he’s… like us.”

Remus nodded. His own powers would work where Virgil’s had failed, but only if this one wasn’t completely immune to the effects of other gifteds like he and Virgil were. He turned to Patton. “You got anything for me, pops?”

“Of course!” From the pocket of his white doctor’s coat, Patton produced a small capped syringe filled with bright blue liquid. “I had to guess at the dosage, though.”

Remus accepted the tranquilizer and shoved it in his pocket. It would be a last resort. Looking to Logan, he asked, “Any ideas on powers? What to watch out for?” He was not pleased to see Logan grimace.

“We don’t know yet. The base is still being swept, so it will likely be some time before we will know what, if any, information was found on this subject.”

There was a heavy thunk from inside the armored van that made Patton jump.

“Sounds like we don’t have that kind of time,” Remus mused. “Somebody wants out.”

“He was restrained when we found him. Blindfolded, too,” Virgil offered. “So he needs either visual, touch, or both.”

“Really narrows it down there, Virge,” Remus said with a huff. There was another thunk. “I’m going in. Standard operating procedure?”

Logan nodded. Remus nodded back, then looked to Virgil.

Virgil led him through the crowd of uniforms, snapping at a few of them to move back, and up to the back doors of the van. He met Remus’ gaze. There was another thunk.

“Ok, now!” Remus said. Virgil tore open the door. Remus threw himself at the gifted on the other side, and Virgil slammed the door shut behind him.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, so when he collided with a much smaller body, his momentum sent them both sprawling across the back of the van. Remus was bigger and stronger though, and didn’t have the disadvantage of being blindfolded, so he flipped the smaller body easily beneath him, wincing slightly at the hiss of pain he heard, and pressed a palm firmly against the bare skin of his neck.

“Why don’t you take a nap,” he growled. His power reached into the body, weaving its way into the circulatory system to slow the heart. Or, well. It tried to. He couldn't get a hold anywhere.

“Fuck. You are like us,” Remus muttered; more to himself than to the other, who was becoming increasingly difficult to hold down as he writhed and struggled against Remus’ weight. With his free hand, Remus reached around to try and fish the syringe out of his pocket. But the movement put him off balance. The gifted threw him off with a sharp jerk and scrambled away.

They both staggered to their feet on opposite ends of the cramped space, and Remus got his first good look at the gifted. His long blonde hair was a tangled mess, and he was still blindfolded- though he tracked Remus’ location enough to bare his teeth at him. Some sort of restraint seemed to be keeping his arms behind his back. Remus kind of wanted to murder whoever had done this to him.

“Hey, look, I’m not trying to hurt you,” he offered, even though he knew Virgil had already tried using his literal powers of persuasion on him. “I swear, I’m just trying to help you. But you need to calm the hell down.”

The gifted had pressed his back up against the wall of the van. Talking wasn’t going to do shit. The sooner Remus ended this the better. He rushed the gifted again; the gifted spun out of his grasp, and his hand closed on… feathers? The fuck? Whatever. The gifted had cornered himself against the back wall of the van. Remus spun sharply and slammed his weight into him. Winded, and with his back pinned into the corner, there was a precious few seconds where the gifted made no move. That was enough time for Remus to slip the cap off the syringe and jam it into the gifted’s thigh.

His muscles immediately went slack, and Remus carefully lowered him to the floor, mindful of the goddamn wings he could now see were strapped down tightly against the gifted’s back.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” he asked sadly. He leaned over to bang three times on the van wall to signal the all clear to Virgil. A sudden, sharp pain raced up his other arm, and he jerked back with a yelp. The gifted had apparently gathered enough strength for one last act of defiance and had lashed out to fucking bite him, what the hell? Remus pushed him back down to the floor, and this time he stayed down.

One of the back doors to the van eased open, and Virgil peeked in. Remus turned to him, and the whole world spun.

“Ah, fuck,” he managed. “Venomous. Cute.”

And then he promptly blacked out.

Remus woke up in one of the dimly lit rooms of Patton’s infirmary. Patton had a vendetta against fluorescent lights, instead opting for soft, warm lights that didn’t give everyone headaches. Remus was thankful for this every time he woke up here- which was often- but especially now. His head was throbbing, and he kind of felt like he’d been hit by Virgil’s big armored transport van. Which he had before (his own damn fault) so he knew exactly how it felt.

His phone buzzed. Wincing at the movement, Remus glanced over to the small table beside the bed where his phone sat amid the pile of his other belongings. Which meant he had been out long enough for Roman to stop by and leave again. His phone buzzed again, so despite his body screaming at him for doing so, he reached over and grabbed it.

His team’s groupchat was filled with missed messages from the past hour. He scrolled through the most recent ones with a slight frown.

Nerdy Wolverine

Patton, please give us an update on Remus’ condition.

Daddy

He’s gonna be just fine, kiddos, he’s just sleeping it off.

Daddy’s Favorite

👏👏👏

Surly Temple

Oh joy.

Daddy’s Favorite

You were just as worried as the rest of us, Dr. Gloom.

Surly Temple

You can’t prove that.

Daddy

Calm down, kiddos.

Nerdy Wolverine

Patton, I would also like an update on the subject.

Daddy

Are you sure? There’s kinda a lot to talk about.

Nerdy Wolverine

Something brief, then. I will come by the infirmary when this meeting is over.

Remus

Logan, texting during a meeting??? 😱😱😱

Surly Temple

Remus!

Daddy’s Favorite

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!

Remus

I lived, bitch.

Daddy

I’ll be right there! Don’t you dare sit up!

Remus was already in the process of sitting up when Patton burst through the door. He winced slightly at the pain, but moreso at the disappointed look Patton gave him.

“Uh-uh, you lay back down, mister,” he said. Remus sighed.

“I’m perfectly fine, pops,” he whined, but laid back down anyway, because even Remus knew better than to argue with Patton.

“Maybe, but you know the drill,” Patton replied. Remus made a noise of protest, but let Patton take his vitals and check him over. Then after an eternity- or more accurately, about five minutes- Patton stepped back and said, “Alright kiddo, you’re all good. Take it easy though. Maybe go home after the debrief, ok?”

Remus sat up now that he was allowed to. “I can’t believe that little fucker bit me,” he scoffed. He glanced down at his arm, where it had been bandaged up. “What happened to him? Where is he?”

Patton looked a little uncomfortable, which more or less answered Remus’ question. The agency would be forced to hold the gifted here until the illegal lab had been fully cleared out and all the paperwork filed; and, well, there was a good chance Logan’s bosses would send in government officials to “assess the mental stability of the liberated test subject,” which was really just shitty politician speak for “see if this could become a huge scandal and decide if it was better to just make it all disappear.”

“Fuck,” was all he said. Then he got unsteadily to his feet. “Where’s Logan?”

Patton put a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. “He’s in a meeting with the chief of police. They’re trying to take the case.”

“Teach won’t let ‘em,” Remus said proudly. “I’m gonna, like. Go sit in my office. Cool?"

Patton eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. Remus gathered up all of his stuff from the table beside the bed, and darted out the door before Patton could change his mind.

When Janus woke up, he immediately became aware of three things, in consecutive order.

First, he was somewhere he had never been before. That realization did not come as a surprise. He, of course, distinctly remembered the whole… “getting dragged out of his cell by people he didn’t know” incident. Usually he knew better than to lash out, but… there had been so much noise, so much unfamiliar chaos, and in his fear, he hadn’t known what else to do. And of course, it hadn’t done him any good; it never did. And now he was here. Wherever “here” was.

The second realization did come as a surprise, as he sat up on the cot where he’d been laid, and looked around the sparse, softly-lit room: he was completely unbound. His wings were still instinctively pressed against his back, but they twitched at the realization and slowly unfurled to their full span. He winced slightly as tendons snapped into their proper places for the first time in a very long time but then he sighed in relief as the fragile bones settled.

He had only just begun to catalogue the state of the rest of his body when a voice startled him into the third realization: he was not alone in the room.

“Damn, look at you!”

Janus flinched so hard he almost hit the wall the cot was pushed up against. He brought his wings around him protectively, and turned his eyes on the man sitting on a plastic chair near the opposite corner of the room. He narrowed his eyes as he recognized the voice of the man from the truck.

“Hey, hey, don’t ruffle your feathers at me like that,” the man laughed. “Sorry about before, man. It was the only way to get you off the truck.”

Janus didn’t say anything. But he shifted so he was crouched on the cot rather than seated, in case he needed to dart away quickly. That seemed to amuse the man further.

“Relax, I ain’t here for a rematch. You kicked my ass fair and square. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Janus glared.

“I’m Remus, by the way. You got a name, snake-bird?”

He stood up as he said it, and Janus instinctively flinched back. The man-Remus?- didn’t look like the bad people, dressed in baggy jeans and an alluringly soft-looking green flannel. The bad people always wore white coats or body armor, depending on what they were planning to do to him that day. But… maybe they were just trying something new.

The man hadn’t moved closer. He was watching Janus with a look that fell somewhere between sadness and anger, and it kind of made Janus want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“I, uh… I guess they treated you real bad down there, huh?” Remus said slowly. “Look, I know you’re scared, and you’re probably super confused, but you’re safe now. I can at least promise you that.”

He didn’t wait for any sort of response from Janus this time, instead turning to riffle through the bag that had been leaning up against his chair. He withdrew a fluffy, pale yellow blanket. He looked between it and Janus, and while Janus wasn’t the best at reading facial cues, he thought for a moment that Remus looked… embarrassed. Then, he moved forward a few paces and set the blanket down and backed up again.

“Here, uh… that’s for you. If you want it. Anyway, yeah. I’m gonna just.” He edged toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Janus.” His name leapt from his tongue before he could stop it. His voice was raspy, and his throat was sore, and he was still afraid- terrified- but still he ground out the words that made Remus pause in the doorway to look back at him. “I’m… Janus.”

The file Logan put down in front of them was almost the size of the textbooks Remus used as doorsteps in college (rather than their intended use) and for a moment, they all just stared at it. Then, Remus said what they were all thinking: “Well, fuck.”

“I hate to agree,” Roman sighed. “But yes. That.”

“Of course there will be much more to go over after I have had the time to fully analyze these files, but I thought it imperative I explain the current situation to you all as soon as possible,” Logan said. He was seated at the head of the conference table. The rest of the team was seated around the table except for Virgil, who paced restlessly nearby. Everyone- even Remus- stayed quiet, because when Logan talked, everyone listened.

“With this file, and similar documents recovered both from the most recent site and from previous sites, as well as the recovery of a live test subject, our case is more than sufficient to ensure those responsible will not walk away from this.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. Virgil, who had been working on this case alongside Logan for years, looked especially relieved. He collapsed into the chair next to Remus, and Remus leaned over to ruffle his hair with a grin.

“You guys should be proud,” Patton exclaimed. “You worked so hard to see this through!”

“Well it’s not finished yet,” Roman pointed out. He nodded to the file in the middle of the table, that none of them had dared to open yet.

“Roman is correct,” Logan said. For a moment, he looked very tired; then, he adjusted his tie, and continued. “We must first ensure we have indeed apprehended all parties responsible. There are more names in these files than persons in our custody. Additionally, there is the matter of the test subject-”

“Janus,” Remus interrupted. Everyone gave him an odd look, so he clarified, “His name is Janus. He told me.”

“...Janus, then,” Logan amended. “Janus is to remain in our care until he can be evaluated. If he is deemed capable, he will be free to go once the investigation is closed.”

Logan did not, nor did he need to, state what would happen to Janus if he didn’t pass the evaluation. The agency’s evaluation essentially just looked to see if a gifted could still be considered a “person,” or if they had gone “feral”- and not in the fun way. Feral gifteds got locked up somewhere and were never seen again.

Remus, like all gifteds, hated it; but the government viewed them as dangerous. And a gifted that wasn’t in complete control of their mind, and thus, their powers, was considered too dangerous to let go free. Regardless of what trauma had made them that way in the first place, and if, with proper care, they could heal from it. It made Remus sick.

“They’re not taking Janus,” Remus spat out, interrupting whatever Logan was going to say next. “I won’t let them.”

“Ree,” Roman said gently. “We may not have a choice.”

“No. You guys haven’t seen him- he isn’t aggressive, he’s just scared.”

“Do you know how many people it took to get him into the damn truck?” Virgil snapped. “Oh and also, he bit you? You’re immune to gifted powers and he still knocked you out?”

“Think about it from his perspective. You’ve been trapped in literal hell for who knows how long, and then suddenly you’re getting dragged out by people you don’t know, blindfolded and tied up, to go who knows where? I’d bite too.”

Patton looked heartbroken at Remus’ words. Virgil didn’t look convinced. But it was Logan who spoke.

“We have time,” Logan said. “Until the investigation closes, he remains in our custody. We make the decisions regarding his care.” He cast Remus a meaningful look, and repeated, “We have time.”

Remus understood.

He left Janus alone for the rest of the day, because he figured the guy probably could use some time to calm down. He even managed to persuade Patton to put off any sort of medical examination for the time being- partly for the same reason, and partly because Remus would need to be there in case Janus reacted badly, and Remus still sort of felt like shit and he just wanted to go home and sleep.

So Remus had gone home, passed out for like 15 hours, and woke up feeling a little less like death and decay.

The benefit of going to sleep at like 2pm was that, even after his stupidly long “I got bit by something venomous” nap, he still made it back to the agency at the crack of dawn. It was quiet, none of the police department’s goons hanging around, and Remus, with his years of practice, could sneak easily past Logan’s office.

He peeked in through the little window in the holding cell door. Janus himself was nowhere to be seen- instead, there was a Janus-sized blanket mound curled up on the floor in the corner of the room. The sight made Remus smile fondly.

“Damnit, you’re actually kinda cute,” he muttered. And then promptly decided he was not going to overthink that.

Remus camped out outside the holding cell until the headquarters came to life. The mornings were always a flurry of activity, even moreso today what with yesterday’s events. He saw the moment the noise from the hallway woke Janus up- the gifted poked his head out from under the blanket, mismatched eyes blinking sleepily, and then quickly vanished into the blanket mound once more. It was stupidly adorable.

An intern came by with a tray of food for Janus, and Remus stopped him from approaching the door.

“I got this, kid,” he said with an amused grin. “This is way above your paygrade.”

The intern handed over the tray with a look of relief and scampered off. Poor kid.

The blanket mound stirred when Remus stepped into the room, but there was no further indication that Janus intended to come out. He shut the door behind him, and walked over to crouch down near- but not too near- the blanket mound.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. I take it you like the blanket?”

The blanket shuffled backward a few inches. Remus set the tray down on the floor in front of him.

“I don’t really know what kind of food you like, so hopefully there’s something here you'll eat,” he said, eyeing the assorted fruits, toast, and eggs that had been sent up. “But like, if you want something else, you can tell me.” There was no response, so Remus stood up slowly and backed away. “I’ll just… be over here, then.”

He dragged the plastic chair to the opposite end of the room to give Janus as much space as possible, and plopped down in it with every intention of waiting him out.

It took about forty minutes of idly scrolling through his phone before Janus emerged, slowly and warily, mismatched eyes darting between Remus and the plate of food. Remus glanced toward him.

“Go ahead. It’s yours. Cold by now, I’ll bet.”

It took a further ten minutes for Janus to make up his mind and emerge fully from under the blanket and approach the plate- but when he finally did, he downed the food so fast, Remus was surprised he didn’t choke.

“Guess you like everything,” he mused. “Fuck, did they even feed you down there?”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, because Janus was moving back toward his blanket. But rather than vanishing again, Janus sat down facing Remus, with his back to the wall, wings draped around his body like a blanket, and the actual blanket across his lap.

“They did, sometimes,” he replied. His voice sounded a bit rough still, like it had been a while since he’d used it, and quiet enough that Remus had to strain to hear him from across the room.

“Shit, man, these people fucking suck. How long'd they have you?”

Janus seemed to consider the question, but ended up just shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He avoided Remus’ eye for a few minutes, but he looked like he had more to say; Remus just waited in silence until finally, Janus asked, slowly, “Why am I here? Who are you?”

“I’m glad you ask, bud,” Remus answered. He stood up, and Janus flinched back slightly, feathers puffing up a bit. Remus moved a few feet closer, and then sat down on the ground so he was level with Janus. “It’s kinda a long story, but the short version is that it’s our job to go after the kinds of people who do this sort of shit. And the people who took you are gonna go to jail for the rest of their fucking lives for what they did.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “They ain’t gonna lay a finger on you ever again. I promise.”

Janus eyed him carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe what he was hearing. Remus couldn’t blame him. And then he was gone, vanishing back under the yellow blanket. Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, and stood up.

“I, uh. Yeah. I guess I’ll leave you alone then.” He paused at the door, and glanced over his shoulder. “You want more blankets? Some pillows, maybe?”

A muffled “Yes,” was the reply. Remus, again, could not help but smile fondly to himself.

Sleeping on the floor meant that Janus could stay alert to anyone approaching his cell, by sensing the vibrations in the ground. By his third visit, Janus could easily discern Remus’ gait from that of the others that passed down the hall.

He brought pillows and more blankets, just like he said he would. And then he asked if he could bring a friend in.

“He couldn’t give you more than a quick once-over when you first got here,” Remus explained while Janus sat on the floor and inspected his new blankets, marveling at how soft they were. “But he wants to make sure you’re not hurt anywhere.”

“I’m not hurt anywhere,” Janus said quickly. It wasn’t totally a lie; he wasn’t hurt anywhere specific, he just sort of hurt in general. That was normal though.

“Ok, I’m gonna pretend I believe that,” Remus huffed. “But even so. He’s gotta do it sometime soon.”

Janus cast Remus a sideways glance. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, and he still wasn’t sure how much he could trust these people. The ones before had never shown him kindness- he’d been grabbed off the street in his early teens and treated like an animal ever since. This new place… it felt different from anything he’d experienced before, and that made him wary.

Being shown kindness and then having it taken away was worse than having never been shown it at all.

“Okay,” Janus said finally, because he didn’t think he was actually being given a choice in this.

“Okay,” Remus echoed. He seemed unconvinced, which sent a small spike of anxiety into Janus’ chest, because the last thing he wanted to do was upset Remus. The man had brought him blankets, for goodness’ sake. “I’ll text him.”

Janus decided to busy himself with nervously running his hands through his oily feathers. His wings badly needed grooming, but he didn’t know how to ask for brushes. Would they let him have brushes here? He wasn’t allowed them at the old place. He was so lost in that thought, that he didn’t sense someone approaching the door until it was being opened.

“Hey, pops, come on in,” Remus said. Janus glanced over, and was immediately gripped by panic.

He didn’t recognize the man, and his expression of “cheer fading into concern” was an unfamiliar one, but it was the white coat he wore that Janus recognized. He knew what the white coat meant.

He got caught in his pile of blankets as he tried to scramble to his feet. He tripped and crashed to the ground; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus make a grab for him. But he was too quick, kicking off the blanket that had tangled up his legs and springing to his feet. He used his wings to balance himself and buffeted Remus over the head in the process.

“Janus- fuck-” Remus staggered back to avoid a second blow from Janus’ thrashing wings. The man at the doorway looked torn between rushing in to help and backing away. Janus bared his fangs at him, but he was shaking so badly, he felt like a small breeze could topple him.

The man took a step closer, hand held out, but Janus barely heard his words- “Oh gosh, kiddo, I’m not gonna hurt you!”- over the blood pulsing in his ears. His back hit the wall behind him, and abruptly his legs gave out. He slid down to the ground and curled his wings over his head.

“Janus?” Remus’ voice sounded far away beyond the curtain of feathers. “Hey, you gotta talk to me here.”

“I’ve been good,” Janus managed to choke out. “I- Please don’t, I’ve… I’ve been good.” He curled further in on himself, fully expecting to be struck.

But nothing happened. The door opened and closed. Then silence. Janus risked a quick peek through his feathers and found that the other man was gone. Remus sat a few feet away.

“It’s ok, he’s gone,” Remus said quickly. Janus did not lower his wings, but the shaking abated slightly.

“I’ve been good,” he said again, a little more firmly this time. “You promised.”

Remus looked unnerved. He scooted a few inches closer and asked, “What did I promise?”

“That they… they wouldn’t hurt me again,” Janus hissed. Then, softer this time, “I’ve been good.”

“You have been good, but that doesn’t have anything to do with… wait, did you think…” Remus looked confused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Patton isn’t one of them. Is that what you thought?”

Janus just glared.

“Oh, snake-bird.” Remus’ eyes softened. “Patton’s one of us. He’s ok.”

“He looks like them,” Janus growled. “White-coat.”

“White coat… oh, shit, man, I didn’t even think.” The sudden volume of Remus’ voice made Janus shrink back into the safety of his own wings. “Oh, shit, sorry. Hey, come back. I’m sorry.”

Janus folded his wings back with a huff, and gave Remus an unamused look. Remus gave him a soft smile in return.

“I mean it. Patton is one of us. I can tell him to take off his coat. He won’t touch you unless you tell him he can. And you can tell him to leave, at any point, and I’ll throw him out myself. Deal?”

Janus searched his face for a long time. Remus seemed… so distressed. What would be the point, of faking that? There would be no reason to fake any of this, would there?

(Or maybe there was, and he was just too blinded by the hope that his nightmare had finally come to an end to see it.)

But slowly, reluctantly, but unable to shake the small seed of trust in Remus that had just started to take root, Janus said, “Deal.”

After the small fiasco that was Janus and Patton’s first meeting, things actually went rather smoothly. Patton wasn’t able to give as thorough of an exam as he was hoping. Janus was too skittish for that. And he had flat out refused a blood draw, which Remus had kind of expected.

But at the very least, Patton was able to sign off that there were no signs of physical trauma that demanded immediate medical care, which was really all Logan’s bosses wanted.

Despite his initial reaction, it seemed like the experience with Patton actually helped Janus feel more confident in his new situation. He grew more comfortable exercising his new control over his body and his space, even going so far as to tell Remus to go away when he wanted to be alone. And when he asked for brushes for his wings one day, Remus left work then and there to go get them. When he came back, Janus was waiting at the door for him.

“Well then, eager beaver, I hope I got the right stuff,” Remus said. He handed over the bag. It was way more than the two brushes Janus had asked for, but Logan had given him the company card and, well, Logan should know better than to do that.

“Anything is better than a rag and my own hands, which is what I usually use,” Janus said. Remus very politely did not make the joke he so desperately wanted to make. “Is that… a bottle of dish soap?”

“Sure,” Remus answered as Janus pulled the little blue bottle of Dawn dish soap out of the bag. “They use it to clean crude oil spills off penguins and shit and, like, a penguin's a bird, right?”

Janus sighed deeply, but he was smiling, and Remus would steal him the sun if it meant Janus would keep smiling.

“Anyway, uh…” Remus shifted awkwardly. “I can, like. Leave you alone, I guess. If you want. Unless you want… uh, never mind, I’ll go-”

“Would you help?” Janus asked. He glanced down at the bag in his hands, and added, with much less confidence, “Um. There are parts I can’t reach.”

“Yeah, of course,” Remus said immediately. “Just tell me what to do?”

Janus guided him to sit down on the ground, and then plopped down next to him. He carefully spread one of his wings out and, after a moment of hesitation, let it drape across Remus’ lap. Remus tried not to feel too overwhelmed by the incredible amount of trust Janus was putting in him right now.

“Here,” Janus passed one of the bristle brushes to Remus- one of many that Remus had bought- and then chose one for himself. “Just go with the growth, please. But if you find any loose feathers go ahead and work them out. Gently, though.”

Remus obeyed. He brushed carefully through the feathers, marveling at their soft golden-brown color. Even covered in oil and grime, they were beautiful. But after a few minutes, Janus frowned.

“Everything ok?” Remus asked. He was suddenly afraid he was brushing too hard, or hurting Janus somehow, even though Janus had given no indication that he was in pain.

“It’s just…” Janus sighed helplessly. “They’re so dirty.”

He looked almost on the edge of tears when he said it, which was enough to put Remus immediately into I will do anything for you mode. “Do you want to try the Dawn? One time Patton used it to wash a cat he found that was all grimed up and shit, and it worked real well.”

Janus seemed to consider it. He glanced over toward the door that led to the little private bathroom attached to the holding cell, then shook his head.

“There’s not enough space in there,” he said. “We’ll make a mess.”

“We can go downstairs,” Remus suggested. “There’s showers in the employee locker rooms. Plenty of space.”

Janus looked skeptical. “Is that allowed?”

It was, technically, not allowed. Janus had not been evaluated yet, and he wasn’t really allowed out of holding until he was. But… well, if they were quick, no one would notice. What was life without a little risk?

“Sure!” he said. “It’s fine.”

“...Okay. Sure.”

Grinning, Remus got to his feet and gathered all their supplies back into the bag. Then he beckoned for Janus to follow.

“Logan’s in meetings for most of the day, and Roman’s off on assignment,” he said. He eased open the cell door and peered out into the empty hall. “And Patton’s usually swamped with paperwork in the afternoons. Everyone else who works here is too scared of me to say anything.”

Janus didn’t question it. Remus led him down the hall and paused to make sure the stairwell was also empty before leading him down the two flights to the ground floor. Janus seemed nervous in the unfamiliar surroundings. He clung close to Remus, close enough that he almost ran into him at several points. Remus tried to give him reassuring smiles and the occasional word of encouragement.

There were voices in the break room, so they had to go around to get to the locker room. It was usually empty at this time, and today was no exception. Remus held the door open and ushered Janus inside.

“The showers are over here.” Remus pulled back the curtain and leaned in to turn on the water. “You a warm water person or a cold water person?”

“Warm,” Janus said quickly. “Please.”

As the water warmed up, Remus helped him to pull off his soft flannel shirt (one of many Remus had bought because the agency-provided shirts were those horrible starchy t-shirts and Janus had hated them.) Remus was amazed at how much healthier the scaled half of his face and body looked after just a week of proper meals and consistent rest.

“Are you sure this isn’t going to turn everything blue?” Janus asked when Remus passed him the bottle of Dawn. He still looked vaguely unconvinced about this whole thing.

“Nah, it won’t, don’t worry!”

Janus sighed. “Ok, but if it does, I shall never forgive you.”

“If I turn your wings blue, I’ll buy you so many blankets, they’ll fill up your whole room. Ready?”

“Well that makes me want my wings to turn blue,” Janus said. He followed Remus into the shower stall.

It took longer than Remus was expecting to wash out all the years of grime from Janus’ wings. It was especially difficult closer to the point where the wings met his back, because Janus couldn’t reach there on his own. Remus worked through those spots carefully, and it wasn’t until he was almost done that he realized Janus had gone silent.

“Hey, you good?”

“Mhmm.”

Remus leaned over to catch Janus’ eye, only to find his eyes were closed. There was a content look on his face.

“...did you fall asleep?”

“No.”

“You totally did!” Remus grinned. “You fell asleep standing up!”

Janus opened his eyes to glare at him, but the glare was tempered by the obvious half-dazed look of someone who had, in fact, just woken up.

“...Ok, maybe I did for a moment there,” Janus huffed. The glare became a pout. “It just feels nice.”

Remus let his grin soften into a smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

The sound of the locker room door opening and closing startled them both. Remus pulled back the curtain just enough to look out into the locker room- and he immediately came face-to-face with Virgil.

“Oh. ‘Sup, Virge.”

Virgil was eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Uh… a smoothie?”

“That’s not… Remus, that’s not how that meme works. And you’re not even holding a smoothie.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Are you showering with your clothes on?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked toward the ground, then back up to Remus. “You realize I can see there’s someone in there with you, right?”

Remus also glanced downward. The curtain stopped about six inches off the ground. “Uh…”

“And I can also see the pile of feathers on the floor that you sure as fuck better not try and wash down the drain.”

“I’m not that dumb.”

Virgil sighed. “Hello, Janus.”

Janus hesitantly poked his head out from the other side of the curtain. “Hello.”

“The fuck are you guys doing?”

“We’re not having sex if that’s what you’re thinking,” Remus said. Janus made a choked sound and vanished back into the showers.

“There is no universe in which I was thinking that,” Virgil growled.

“No universe? Not even one?”

“What the fuck are you doing down here?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “If you must know, snake-bird here looked like a penguin in an oil spill. We’re washing his wings.” A pause. “Hey, since you’re here, wanna hand me a couple of towels? The big fluffy ones Patton hides.”

Virgil walked away grumbling, but by the time Remus had finished rinsing the soap out of Janus’ wings and shut off the water, Virgil was waiting outside with a stack of Patton’s fluffy light blue towels. Remus took one and wrapped Janus up in it.

“What’re you up to, Emo?” he asked as he took a second towel and started toweling off Janus’ dripping wings.

“Logan sent me to find you,” Virgil answered. He was watching the scene unfold in front of him with a look that Remus didn’t bother trying to decipher. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Probably ‘cause it’s sitting on my desk. What’s Teach need me for?”

“He wants to talk. Work stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus looked at Janus. “We should, uh. Probably get you back upstairs before he comes looking for me himself.”

Janus nodded. He gathered up the brushes and, after a moment of eyeing Virgil cautiously, reached over and snatched up one more of Patton’s fluffy towels and shoved it in the bag as well. At Virgil’s look of incredulity, there was nothing else for Remus to do but burst out laughing.

As it turned out, Logan would probably not have been upset over Janus’ field trip downstairs, because when Remus finally made it to his office, the first thing Logan said to him was, “Would you be opposed to letting Janus stay in your home?”

Because apparently, Logan had pulled some strings with his bosses to get Janus out of holding; he had argued that spending his time in a home environment- instead of a type of confinement similar to what he’d endured for a large portion of his life- would vastly improve his chances of passing the assessment. The higher-ups had agreed, with the stipulation that Janus be released into the care of one of Logan’s team.

“Of course he can come home with me,” Remus had said, almost automatically. It was a chance to get Janus out of the box he’d been stuck in all this time. There was nothing that could make him say no.

Janus had seemed hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to it. So the next day, they had packed up the mountain of pillows and blankets, the bag of brushes and stolen towels, the couple of books Logan had sent up to keep Janus occupied when Remus couldn’t, the snake plushie Virgil had apparently dropped off the night before, and the multicolored cake Patton and Roman had brought by for him that morning that was now half-eaten, and hauled it all over to Remus’ apartment. For a guy who’d been dragged out of hell with only the clothes on his back, Janus sure had a lot of shit to move.

Janus had balked at getting into a car, so Remus talked Patton and Roman into driving his stuff over for him, and then walked with Janus to the apartment. It wasn’t that far, and, Remus realized with a stab of guilt, it was probably the first time Janus had seen the sun in a long time. He kept pausing to close his eyes and tilt his head up toward the sunlight for a few moments at a time, before darting after Remus. Remus didn't stop him.

It slowed them down to the point that when they finally got to the apartment, Roman had let himself and Patton in, brought all of Janus’ stuff up, and then left. Which was just as well- Janus had met Roman only once, and had seemed oddly jumpy around him.

“So, yeah,” Remus said, after showing Janus around. “You can just grab anything you need. I don’t really keep anything fragile in here ‘cause I tend to break stuff, so don’t worry.”

It was odd, seeing Janus standing in the middle of his living room, with his wings- which after their scrubdown, actually had a soft golden sheen to them- folded carefully against his back. But he seemed relaxed in a way Remus hadn’t seen before. Logan was right.

That evening, Remus got Janus settled into the bedroom.

“Where will you sleep?” Janus asked tentatively as Remus dumped all of Janus’ blankets onto the bed.

“Huh? Oh, I’ll just be in the other room,” Remus replied. “I sleep on the couch half the time anyway, no big deal.”

“Oh.” was all Janus said. Remus made sure he was comfortable, and then went to pass out on the couch.

When he woke up sometime late in the night, he wasn’t quite sure what had woken him. Remus was, historically, a heavy sleeper. He’d once slept through a monsoon in a cheap tent. If he was tired enough, he could probably sleep through an earthquake.

He turned his head to squint out into the dark apartment, and could just make out that the bedroom door was ajar. Remus stood up to go check on Janus- and then promptly tripped over Janus.

Remus yelped, and collapsed into the blanket nest that had appeared on the ground next to the couch; Janus yelped, on account of being tripped over, and scrambled out from under his pile of blankets. They both stared at each other through the darkness for a moment, and then both spoke at once.

“Are you ok-”

“I’m sorry-”

They both paused, and then Remus laughed.

“Shit, J, almost gave me a heart attack there. You ok?”

Janus looked a little sheepish. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s ok. What’re you doing sleeping there, though?”

“Um…” Janus looked down at his hands where he was clutching the snake plushie. It was stupidly cute. “I couldn’t sleep, alone. I thought I’d sleep better… out here.”

Remus blinked at him, still half-asleep. And it was probably because he was still half-asleep that he said, “Do you want me to sleep in there with you?”

Janus, after a moment, nodded.

“Ok. I can do that, snake-bird. It’s ok.”

Remus helped Janus stand up, and they moved the blanket mound back into the bedroom. The rest of Janus’ blankets and pillows had been made into a nest wedged into the space between the bed and the wall. Remus smiled fondly.

“Didn’t like the bed, huh?”

“I feel safer on the floor,” Janus said, looking embarrassed. “I can… sense vibrations in the ground. I know if someone’s coming up to me.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Remus glanced between the nest and the bed, and shrugged. “I got the bed, then.”

He laid down, while Remus clamored over the bed to get to his nest and then promptly burrowed under the mountain of blankets. And as he was drifting off, Remus could have sworn he heard a soft sigh from Janus, of something that could, perhaps, be contentment.

Janus had never slept so well before. Tucked into the space between the bed and the wall, in a room so unlike the cement-walled cell he’d spent years calling home- and with the soft snoring of Remus, the man he had tentatively come to trust, nearby, Janus slept through the night. And the night after that, and the night after that.

So when he woke with a start the fourth night, it took him a few groggy minutes to piece together why he was awake. He was still curled up comfortably under his blankets. Remus was snoring away in the bed above him. And then the people in the kitchen took another step toward the bedroom, and the vibrations in the floor raced up to Janus’ body. He sat up in a panic.

“Remus,” he hissed. No response. He reached up and grabbed at Remus’ shoulder to try and shake him awake. “Remus!”

Remus grumbled something incomprehensible, and did not wake. Starting to feel frantic, Janus crawled up onto the bed and shook Remus harder. At the same moment that Remus’ eyes fluttered open, the doorknob turned.

“Janus?” Remus asked, voice rough with sleep. Then the door was flung open. Flashlight beams fell across them both as men poured into the small room. Janus turned, baring his teeth, and spread his wings to shield Remus behind him.

“Take him, alive,” one of the men ordered. Janus squinted through the harsh glare of their flashlights to pick out who was speaking. “Kill the other.”

No. Absolutely not.

Janus caught the leader’s eye and summoned his powers to him. The man tried to look away, but even in the gloom, Janus’ powers held him rooted to the spot.

“Sleep,” he snarled, forcing all of his power and will into the command. The man dropped to the floor.

In the seconds it took for him to wrest the leader’s consciousness away, the other men had fanned out around him. Janus whipped around to his left, but froze when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun touch the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice behind him sneered. A man to his right reached to grab him. There was a crack and a grunt of pain behind him, and the gun fell away- Remus appeared on his right and swung what looked like a crowbar. There was another sickening crack, and the man grabbing for Janus immediately collapsed in a heap.

The momentum of the swing propelled Remus up off the bed and into the next armed goon. They both fell backwards- Remus knocked his gun away, and as they hit the ground, a whack from the crowbar meant only Remus stood back up.

“Janus, get down!” he shouted suddenly. Janus turned- there was one man still standing, and he had his gun leveled at Janus’ chest. Janus froze. A gunshot rang out.

Janus felt himself hit his mound of blankets. Remus had shoved him off the bed. Hesitantly, he peered up over the edge.

Remus had bowled the man over onto his back amid the sheets and now sat on top of him, a hand grasping at the exposed skin of his neck. The man, rather than struggling against Remus’ grip, was clutching at his own chest. He convulsed, then fell still.

Janus put a hand on the ground. There were no more in the apartment. He climbed up onto the bed.

“Remus?”

No response. Janus hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder. At the same time, Remus slumped forward and slid to the ground.

“Remus!” Janus cried out in alarm. He vaulted over the bed and crouched down next to Remus. There was blood soaking his shirt.

“Remus, fuck. Why’d you do that?” Janus hissed. He gathered Remus up into his arms and tried to put pressure on the wound. Remus gazed up at him with glassy eyes.

“I promised,” he said weakly. Janus looked down at him.

“What did you promise?” he asked, probably sounding a little hysterical. Remus gave him a gentle smile.

“I promised they’d never touch you again.”

A neighbor had heard the gunshot and called the police, which was just as well, because Janus had no idea how to work Remus’ phone. The police had come and whisked Remus off to the hospital in an ambulance. Virgil came to take Janus back to the agency so that he wouldn’t be left alone in what had now become a crime scene. Janus made sure to bring his pale yellow blanket, the first one Remus had given him.

The investigation that followed revealed the intruders to be the extra names Logan had been searching for, and had returned to try and reclaim Janus before leaving town. With this, Logan could finally put the case to rest.

Remus was fine. When Janus was finally allowed to see him a few days later, he had just grinned and said, “Still not as bad as that time Virgil hit me with his truck.” Janus was not amused.

With the investigation closed, the agency could release Janus to be evaluated. Everyone gathered in Logan’s office to wait anxiously.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Roman said in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring tone. It did nothing to soothe Remus’ frayed nerves.

“Yeah, but what if something goes wrong, like they spook him or something-”

“If he can tolerate Princey randomly belting out Disney songs, he can tolerate anything,” Virgil scoffed. Roman glared. Patton stifled a giggle. Remus opened his mouth to reply, but in that moment, the door opened. Logan stepped into the office- behind him came Janus.

“...Well?” Remus asked impatiently. His eyes were fixed on Janus.

Janus glanced toward Logan. Logan gave a slight nod, and a smile spread across Janus’ face.

“I’m free to go.”

Remus sprang up and engulfed Janus in a hug. Janus clung to him tightly, and his tears of joy soaked Remus’ chest.

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bonniebelleklyde · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe

Word Count: 2871

Pairing: Loceit (romantic)

Warnings: Mild cursing, kissing

Summary: Janus finds himself the victim of a cruel prank involving Logan and a baffling amount of mistletoe. Janus is completely unbothered. No, really, he is.

When you’re done here, check out sequel Things Unsaid and Prequels A Storm to Weather and The Small Hours.

The first time it had happened had been an unfortunate accident. Logan had been leaning casually against the doorframe that opened the living room up into the hallway, engaged in a conversation with Roman that must have been exasperating judging by the long-suffering huff of his breath and the roll of his eyes. Upon closer inspection, however, it was clear that the exasperation was mostly feigned—the lopsided curve of the logical side’s lips betrayed his fond amusement at whatever asinine argument Roman must have been making. All of this was readily apparent to Janus at a mere glance in Logan’s direction. Janus was, after all, keenly observant and had his gaze landed on Roman instead of Logan, he would have gleaned just as much information about the prince. Obviously.

None of that, however, was what stopped Janus dead in his tracks as he made his way down the hallway. No, what ground his mind and body both to a full stop was the small sprig of green and red hanging from the top of the doorway, just to the left of Logan’s head. Later, Janus would wrack his brain for some good reason that the sight of mistletoe arrested him so thoroughly, but for now he did the only thing he seemed capable of doing—he just…stared. His eyes locked onto the tiny plant as if it were the most fascinating thing that Janus had ever seen…or maybe as if it were something horrific that he couldn’t peel his eyes from. His feet moved without direction of any kind from his mind, as if the damn mistletoe had some sort of magnetic pull on him. He took one step toward the doorway and then another, knowing full well he’d had no intention of going to into the living room when he’d started down this hallway. In fact, he’d never be able to recall where he wanted to go in the first place.

He had no idea how much time had elapsed before Roman noticed his presence or his staring, but Janus’s eyes were finally torn from the mistletoe at the sound of a low chuckle, and he looked in the creative side’s direction to see a slow grin spreading over the other’s face. Roman’s eyes flicked from Janus to the mistletoe hanging over Logan’s head—Janus didn’t dare let his gaze fall to Logan for fear of what expression he might have been sporting—and took a step closer to the doorway.

Oh god, Janus’s useless, horrified mind provided. Suddenly, the deceitful side was absolutely certain of two things: first, that he was about to watch Roman step into the offending doorway and kiss Logan under that godforsaken mistletoe, and second, that he would rather tear off a limb than bear witness to that for one second. Upon reflection after the incident had passed, Janus would become certain of a third fact—that he’d never in his life looked more ridiculous than he did then, sprinting down the hallway to avoid two idiots and a stupid plant.

The second time it happened was all Roman’s doing. In hindsight, Janus really should have known that Roman was up to something when the other had called him into his room from down the hall, asking him to assist with some vaguely mysterious “problem.” Janus was deceit for crying out loud. He should have known.

“Wait, don’t come in yet—just stand right there by the door,” Roman said in a rush, his voice all giddy excitement.

Janus stopped short, confused, and looked passed Roman to see an equally perplexed Logan sitting on the creative side’s bed. Since when were these two attached at the hip? If there was some sort of happy announcement forthcoming, Janus suspected he might literally be sick. Because Janus simply had neither time nor the patience to hear about the romantic exploits of the other sides. And for no other reason. Clearly.

“Roman, whatever this is, I really don’t—” Janus started to drawl, affecting a bored, disinterested tone, when he cut himself off in his own surprise and confusion as Logan was shoved unceremoniously to stand directly in front of him.

Janus blinked hard, attempting to discern exactly what was happening here and coming to no conclusions whatsoever because he was struck by the much more important realization that he’d never been close enough to Logan to get a good look at the logical side’s eyes behind his glasses. They were rich and dark and surprisingly soft, and Janus was vaguely aware that his own lips had parted slightly of their own accord, his mouth gone completely dry in a matter of seconds. He was…ill. There could be no other explanation for his dry mouth and his complete inability to think straight.

He was torn from his reverie by the sound of Roman clearing his throat. Janus glared daggers at the prince standing behind Logan. The prince who was now jerking his head upward in an obnoxiously exaggerated motion, his eyes moving pointedly from Janus’s face to a spot above his head. Reluctantly, Janus followed Roman’s gaze upward and cursed under his breath when the sight above him finally shed clarity on this ridiculous situation. Mistletoe. Of course.

Like a child, Janus closed his eyes to avoid reality. Logan was anything but stupid, and he must have noticed that thrice damned mistletoe by now. Janus was totally unwilling to look Logan in the (deep, liquid, lovely) eye and see any of the myriad unpleasant emotions that must be there. Discomfort. Disgust. Horror. Pity. No, Janus refused to see any of it, refused to acknowledge that this cruel joke was being played on him. For a second time, he turned tail and ran without a word. Roman was yelling something from behind him, but Janus was too busy wiping at his face to pay attention to what it was. His eyes were watering because he must have some sort of allergy to mistletoe—it was the only plausible explanation.

The third time, Patton had somehow become involved. The moral side had cajoled Janus into helping him in the kitchen, and as Janus focused on his attempt to avoid burning the contents of the pan he’d been placed in charge of, Patton waved at something—or as it turned out, someone—behind them.

“Oh hi, Logan! Lucky you’re here; we need a third man over here. Could you grab the salt for me? It’s in that cabinet next to Janus.”

“Luck was in no way involved in my presence here, Patton,” Logan replied as he approached the relevant cabinet. His tone was equal parts exasperated and confused, and Janus hadn’t the slightest clue why it made him smile to himself, why such a mundane statement from Logan seemed to cause something to constrict in his chest. “You did, after all, provide an exact time at which my help would be urgently required in the kitchen.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Patton said, his voice overly chipper even for him. “Well, now that you’re here, why don’t you just add that salt to Janus’s pan there?”

“I hardly see why you needed a third person for this,” Logan remarked, but he didn’t sound particularly bothered despite his words.

Janus watched out of the corner of his eye as Logan moved to do what he was told, reaching over Janus’s arm to sprinkle salt into the pan. And Janus was imagining things when it looked as if Logan paused for no reason when he’d finished, and imagining again when he felt the brush of an arm gently over his. He was certainly imagining things when he snuck a peek at Logan’s face and saw a slight flush in the other’s cheeks. Janus…simply had a vivid imagination.

As Logan’s arm finally moved away, Patton’s hand suddenly shot out, causing Janus to jump violently backward. And sure enough, there was that fucking mistletoe again, dangling over Logan’s head from Patton’s hand. Subtle.

At this point, the mere sight of mistletoe must have triggered Janus’s flight response, as he had sunk out before he could so much as blink. He spent the rest of the day locked in his room. Because he was tired. What did he have to avoid anyway? No, he’d just had a trying day of…sautéing vegetables.

The fourth time, Janus had woken far earlier than he normally did and decided to fix himself a proper breakfast. In the kitchen, he found Logan looking absolutely nothing like himself.

The logical side was, for lack of a better term, a mess. He was on his feet but slouched over the counter as if without its support he would sink to the floor. He dawned a royal blue pajama set that looked like silk and was certainly something Janus had never seen the other wear before. Several buttons of his top were undone, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. He was looking down at what was likely his fourth cup of coffee, so Janus couldn’t quite see his eyes, but they must have been tired because Janus could make out the bags under Logan’s eyes that, today, rivaled even Virgil’s. When Logan finally registered that someone had entered the room and met Janus’s expression with tired and inexplicably sad eyes, Janus had to make a concerted effort to restrain himself from the sudden impulse to round the counter that stood between them and wrap this man in his arms. To stroke Logan’s bedraggled hair and hum soft melodies in his ear until the stubborn man could be coaxed back to bed.

The deceitful side cleared his throat violently to dispel that dangerous train of thought, a sound that caused Logan to wince as if Janus had shouted at him.

“Are you going to run away from me again?” Logan asked in a tone that sounded like loss, like tragic defeat.

Janus blanched. Was Logan’s current state somehow Janus’s fault?

“No,” he answered in a tentative voice, just above a whisper. “And I don’t…I haven’t been running away from you,” he added weakly.

Logan chucked at that, the sound carrying no humor in it.

“I am many things, Janus, but I think we can both agree that an idiot is not one of them,” he said, and Janus would pay any price if someone would tell him why in the world Logan sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Roman and Patton have conspired to play a cruel trick on you, it seems. I did attempt to talk them out of it, once I realized what it was they were trying to do.”

Janus wanted very badly to lie. To pretend he didn’t know exactly what Logan was talking about. Like he was blissfully unaware of the goddamned mistletoe and just how unfair this prank was to both of them. Somehow, his normally silver tongue had turned to lead, and he struggled to find any words at all, let alone a lie.

“I’m sorry,” was all he managed to choke out, distressed as he was by the redness of Logan’s dark eyes.

“Don’t,” Logan returned, and it sounded like plea. “Apparently, it is I who should be making apologies.”

There was a bitterness to Logan’s last statement that Janus couldn’t understand.

“What do you have to apologize for?”

Logan blinked and a single tear escaped its duct to roll slowly down the logical side’s face. Janus watched it in horror. He opened his mouth to speak again, to say something, anything to fix this, but Logan cut him off.

“I don’t know,” he exclaimed. “I’ve recounted every moment of the past week in painstaking detail and I cannot come up with what it is I could have done.”

“You haven’t—” Janus rushed to interject, but Logan soldiered on.

“I understand that the nonsense with the mistletoe has distressed you. I understand that you find the act that Roman and Patton have attempted to set in motion with it is unpleasant to you. I understand that my feelings for you have always been unrequited—”

“Your feelings for—?”

“But what I cannot understand is what I have done to convince you so thoroughly that I would ever force you. That you had to physically run away from me to prevent…how exactly did you arrive at the conclusion that I would ever kiss you without your consent?”

In that moment, the slightest push would have knocked Janus to the ground. Since none came, he simply stared, frozen, mouth hanging open and he struggled to process all that Logan had just said. Logan stared right back at him with wet but determined eyes, evidently awaiting Janus’s answer. Regrettably, Janus’s bewildered mind had none to offer.

“Your feelings for me?” he tried again, a slight quiver in his voice betraying his fear.

Logan tucked his head downward at that, and Janus’s heart clenched painfully at the realization that he probably did so to conceal more tears. It was several moments before the logical side had composed himself enough to look up once more, his face confirming Janus’s suspicions.

“Must we talk about that part of it?”

Logan asked the question as if these feelings Logan apparently had were obvious, that there had been some sort of unspoken understanding between the two of them. But Janus continued to stare dumbly back at Logan. Perhaps it was cruel, to push further now. But Janus was selfish, and Janus was afraid—he was not going to subject himself to rejection. He couldn’t; it would defy the very fabric of who he was. He had to be sure.

“Yes,” came his answer on a disbelieving breath.

Logan nodded as though in defeat. He took a long, shaking breath before delivering his answer.

“Though I have been aware of the…unusual affect you have on me for quite some time now, it was only recently that Roman assisted me in coming to terms with the fact that the feelings I have for you have a name. That name being, as I am sure has been obvious to the rest of you, love.”

Love. Janus’s brain halted on the word and he was sure that Logan was still speaking, but the deceitful side’s mind had short circuited. His feet moved of their own accord, and before Janus could register what was happening, he had rounded the edge of the counter and was now standing directly in front of Logan, his hand resting on Logan’s hip.

Logan stopped speaking abruptly—may have even stopped breathing from the sound of it—and blinked heavily, eyes fixed on the spot where Janus’s hand had fallen. He opened his mouth several times and closed it again without speaking. He furrowed his brows as if recalculating a difficult equation to see where he’d gone wrong with it the first time. His brows were still furrowed when he met Janus’s eyes once more.

“Roman…told me it was obvious, that I loved you. You…you knew how I felt.” Logan’s last statement came out like a question.

Janus shook his head in slow motion, still struggling to believe the turn this conversation had taken. Logan’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t…you didn’t know…”

“It would appear,” Janus said softly, bringing a reverent hand to rest against Logan’s cheek and reveling in how easily the logical side leaned into his touch, “that you vastly overestimated my intelligence, dearheart.”

Logan’s breath hitched at the term of endearment, and the logical side moved closer to Janus as if pulled by magnetism, his shaking hand rising to rest against Janus’s chest.

“Why did you run away?” Logan asked as Janus’s thumb moved to brush a stray tear from the other’s face.

“Because I was afraid,” Janus answered, for once completely honest.

“You’re…afraid of me?”

Janus chuckled, the sound soft and fond and full of affection.

“Dearheart, you are terrifying. Now kiss me.”

Logan needed no further prompting. In an instant the logical side had closed the short distance between them, placing his free hand at the back of Janus’s head, and suddenly nothing registered in Janus’s mind apart from the feeling of Logan’s lips on his. They tasted like black coffee, and Janus had always hated coffee but all at once nothing had ever tasted so sweet. Janus moved the hand he’d placed on Logan’s hip to wrap it tightly around the logical side’s waist and pull him closer. The kiss was sweet and soft and gentle, and Janus couldn’t help but smile against Logan’s lips. There was a breathy sound of contentment that could have come from either of them—Janus hadn’t the slightest clue. Janus kissed Logan a second, third, fourth time, unwilling to come up for air as if the moment they parted, Logan would vanish.

The sound of Logan’s quiet laughter gave him pause. He pulled back just far enough to look the other in the eye, and saw that, at some point, Logan’s eyes must have turned skyward, as he was now chuckling at the ceiling. Janus followed Logan’s gaze upward and nearly doubled over in laughter at the small sprig of green and red taped to the ceiling above them.

“Goddamned mistletoe,” he muttered before leaning in for yet another kiss.

The stupid plant had its merits after all.

#fanfic #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #holiday #mistletoe

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anxiousgaypanicking · 4 months

Note

Janus will also sometimes just give sides to other sides, removing their autonomy casually, whether literally or metaphorically, for fun

He'll plop a mindless Patton on Remus' lap, lock Logan in Virgil's room, or gift tiny shrunken sides to Roman as he's playing with himself. Whatever is the most fun to watch in the moment and causes the most chaos later

its not his fault theyre so easy to control! or that he likes helping them all out, but he only has so many hands!

hypnotizing patton to be drooly and obedient, a perfect doll for remus to use until hes satisfied (and he wont be satisfied until pattons brain is melting out his cock)

dragging logan to virgils room while virgil is especially frustrated, and despite logans insistence he has work hes just locked in anyway, allowing virgil to shove him against the door and kiss and touch him until his sexual frustration is subdued and logan is a whining, whimpering mess

and of course roman loves having the others serve and service him, and while janus is typically too proud to get on his knees for some dumb beefcake, he deserves to be worshipped! so roman is walked in on while touching himself, and given a tiny patton, logan, and virgil who look varying degrees of embarrassed or excited and is kissed on the head and told to have fun, letting janus sit back and watch as roman makes them touch him with their tiny bodies, sucks them into his mouth or stuffs them down his cock, and makes a mess of both them and himself by the end

#ask #hypnosis #g/t #micro/macro #janus really is like #the ringmaster of a circus #he likes helping his boys have fun!

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wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 3 years

Text

Light again

a/n: I was sick earlier this week so of course it’s a sick-fic. I’m v proud of this :D @intrulogicalweek2021

Day 5: experiments

Warnings: sickness disruption, crying, lots of cursing, self deprecating thoughts, meditations, and depression mention, angst w/ a happy ending

Word count: 2,256

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Heavy. That was how Remus would use to describe this feeling.

He wasn't used to heavy. He was dark creativity, intrusive thoughts, all things spontaneous and chaotic. But today he was just heavy.

It was his fault. Remus should have told Logan right away that he felt kinda weird after their experiment, but he didn't.

So here he was. 3 days later, unable to leave his bed.

The other sides wouldn’t be checking on him for at least a week. They were used to Remus disappearing randomly to do fun stuff. This wasn’t fun.

Remus usually liked sickness and pain, and all that shit. But he couldn’t control this. He couldn't snap his fingers and jump back up.

He was far too heavy for that.

Remus let his head loll to the side. A black substance oozed out of his dresser, the rhythmic dripping was soothing. His heavy eyes fluttered close.

Sleep, sleep sounded nice right now. Even nicer than watching ozze.

A sharp knock ripped through Remus’ drowsiness. His eyes snapped open only to slam shut again when the light from the hallway hit his face.

He heard the click of a light switch and then, “Remus?” Remus ground. Another click, “Light’s off, understood. Are you alright” Oh, it was Logan.

No Remus was not alright but he was Remus. A cold couldn't hold him back forever!

“Yeaahh” Remus slurred, he shook his head to clear it, “Yeah, ‘m good” Logan sat down across from the bed.

“You don’t look good” Remus pouted but smiled again as Logan’s cool hand pressed against his forehead. “Holy shit! Remus, you’re burning up” Remus giggled, “awwww you think I’m hot”

Logan inhaled sharply, “I need to get Janus.” Remus grabbed his sleeve.

“No!”

“Remus” Logan sighed, holding Remus’ unnaturally warm hand, “you need help”

Remus shook his head again, “I’m fine” he said firmly, “absolutely peachy, I’ve endured much worse” Logan looked thoughtful. “You have, haven’t you. So why don’t you stop it?”

The hand holding onto Logan slaked and fell back down on the bed. Remus glared at it, he hadn’t meant to let go.

“Don’t wanna” he said looking back up at Logan who blinked down at him. “So why can’t I get Janus”

Remus’ fever-addled brain couldn’t keep up. So he closed his eyes and hoped that when he opened them he’d be alone again.

But he wasn’t. Fuck.

Logan was still sitting next to the bed, looking uncharacteristically worried. Why was he worried? Logan wasn’t supposed to worry, that was Virgil’s job. Logan was the sexy teacher that indulged in Remus’ experiments. He was one of the few sides who tolerated Remus at all. Remus didn’t like it when he worried.

The more Remus thought about it the more entertaining it became. Logan’s experiment made him sick, so Logan worried about him, making him feel even worse, which only worried Logan even more!

He giggled quietly. Why couldn’t it just stop? He didn’t want to feel bad anymore, why did he always feel bad?

“Remus?” Logan asked in his soft voice, the one he saved for Virgil during panic attacks, for Patton when he was upset, for Janus on his shedding days, or for Roman when he was hurt from the imagination.

Remus had heard it a million times. But not for him.

Something damp dripped onto his cheek. Logan reached towards his face, gently brushing it off. Another took its place.

Oh, he was crying.

Logan looked so sad. He held his arms open, Remus practically dove into them. “I- I don't wanna….. I feel bad- why do I feel bad” Remus choked. Logan hugged him tightly. “I don’t know Remus. But I’m going to find out, I’m going to fix this”

Remus nodded, Logan would fix it. Logan fixed everything. He felt his eyes grow heavy again, why was everything still so fucking heavy.

“Remus, I know you want to sleep and you should. Sleep is probably our best cure for now. But you need to tell me what hurts” Remus winced, “everything” Logan nodded, “thank you. One more question and then you can sleep. When did it begin to be this bad?”

“2 days after the experiment” Remus sighed. Logan blinked at him, “the experiment… Murie Curie and her Fucking notebook, Remus!!! The one 5 days ago!” Remus just nodded too exhausted to say anything.

“Why didn't you- “ Logan cut himself off, Remus had stilled in his arms. The side was dead to the world. Figuratively, thank god.

Logan placed Remus gently onto his mattress. He pulled the blankets from the waterproof box under the bed and wrapped Remus in a dark blue one.

He stood, hesitating over Remus.

In a moment of bravery, he pressed a kiss to Remus’ forehead, as if that might fix the hurting. “I will fix this'' he said mostly to himself, “I will''

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

It took Logan exactly 4.5 minutes to locate the correct experiment, 2.73 minutes to set it all out, and… it had been a little more than an hour and he was still working on finding what could have hurt Remus.

He felt, well, Logan didn’t do feelings but he felt bad. Like this was his fault.

And it was his fault, at least a little, after all, he had assisted in the conduction of the experiment. The experiment that Remus was hurting because of right now, and he couldn’t fix it in a timely manner.

Fucking feelings.

Logan turned back towards his notes. They had been trying to deduce the effects of different medications on sides. Logan had brought up anti-depressants for Patton and Remus had mentioned anxiety meds for Virgils. An experiment was the next rational step.

There was a spectrum of different antidepressants and anxiety medications throughout the experiment. They had first been tested on a summoned villager from the imagination. They had tracked the effects on an imaginary person.

Some worked as intended, some did nothing, and others killed the subject. The ones that functioned correctly were moved to the second stage of the experiment where they tried it on a side, Remus.

Logan was fairly sure one of the medications was the cause of Remus’ ailment, but which one. And how would Logan fix it?

He was meticulous in his process. Scouring each and every ingredient in an attempt to find outline factors in the 5 medications Remus ingested over the 5 days of the experiment.

It had begun 2 days after he ingested the last medication, nothing had happened out of the ordinary for any of them, they all reacted perfectly.

He glanced back down at the anxiety medications ‘used for lessening distressing feelings and sensations akin to overactive anxiety’

Logan let his head fall into his hands. Painful thoughts and feelings were running throughout his body. This was terrible.

His head fell onto the table, he stared at his notes, ‘distressing feelings’.

Holy shit.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Remus floated back into the mindscape a few hours after Logan left. His room was still dark and gross, his head still screamed and his bones still creaked.

But something was different. “Hey rat-man, you Gucci”

Oh, his brother was here now. God damn it. He loved Roman but he could be… loud. Remus was also loud when he was ‘Gucci’ but today he was most certainly not.

“Oh sorry that was loud, are you ok though?” Remus blinked at him. What the hell was happening. Why did people suddenly care what was up with him?

Roman waited patiently while his brother stared at him, and then Remus burst into tears.

“Oh,” Roman said eloquently.

“Oh, Remus! Oh, don’t cry. Wait no you can cry, you can cry! Did I do something! I’m sorry” Remus summoned what little strength he had left and wrapped his brother in a weak hug. Roman hugged him back fiercely, “I’m sorry” Remus shook his head.

“s’ not your fault,” Roman nodded numbly and hugged his brother tighter. They sat there for a long time, long enough for Logan to get back.

The door slammed open, Remus winced sharply and Roman nearly jumped out of his skin. “Shaking Shakespearean Snakes! Logan doesn’t do that” Roman cried. Remus scrunched up his face more.

It was too loud, too bright, too much all at once. Logan was saying something excitedly, Remus couldn’t hear it, he couldn’t hear anything. Or see anything, only pain.

Only heaviness.

And then there was something else. Like a shovel had taken a chunk of the dirt pressing him down making him heavy. And then another shovel. And another.

The shovels were suggestions. His kind of suggestions. Roman and Logan were telling him to kill his grandmother.

“Kick the cat”

“Burn someone alive”

“Vomit in the coffee pot”

“Murder your brother”

“Logan!!”

“What!”

“Never mind, uhh kick a cat”

“You already said that”

“Ya did” Remus croaked. Roman and Logan's heads snapped towards him, not literally, though that would be funny. “Remus'' Logan breathed and scooped Remus into a tight hug.

“I am so sorry. We shouldn’t have rushed into testing like that. I should have seen possible side effects on you I- I’m so sorry” Logan sobbed. Remus rubbed Logan's back awkwardly, “It’s uh- shit I’ve never done this before, it’s ok Lo. we know now”

Roman smiled, he ruffled his brother's hair. ‘I’ll give you two some space’ he mouthed, Remus shot a panicked look back ‘wait no’ but Roman was gone.

Logan sniffed and shook his head. “Apologies, I am experiencing a lot- a lot of emotions right now” Remus smiled thinly. “Me too teach”

A moment of silence.

“I wanted to-” “I need to-” Logan flushed, “you first” Remus laughed, “come on now Mr. Sexy your gonna make me think you actually like me”

Logan blinked, “I do”

“I do like you. That's what I was going to say. I really enjoy your companionship and would really prefer it if you were… not hurting? I seem to be developing more than um- well, more than platonic feelings for you and I’m not super good at feeling but...”

Remus didn’t know what to say. This was absolut bullshit, Logan wasn’t supposed to like him at all. Remus wasn’t supposed to have anybody.

But then he was hugging Logan again and the shoulds and shouldn'ts of the world never mattered to him anyway. “Me to Lo''

Logan smiled, thank god, Remus might have died if Logan wasn’t happy agin. He felt himself smiling too. “Now are you gonna kiss me or what!”

Remus was light again.

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

Text

snakes & silliness

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Remus, Patton Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Intrualiceit, with a focus on Dukeceit Warnings: Language, some innuendo, both mostly courtesy of Remus. Word count: 2297

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

Dukeceit Week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: The selecting of a first family pet is a very important matter. Almost as important as making Janus grin and blush in the middle of the reptile section. Luckily, Remus and Patton take both of these tasks as seriously as they should.

Notes: Day 3 of Dukeceit Week 2021! @dukeceitweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, where each piece can be read without any context. Takes place 4 or 5 years post-college. Remus, Janus, and Patton all use he/they pronouns.

–

Remus locked the car doors behind them as he, Janus, and Patton began to make their way across the parking lot towards the pet store. “What shall we name it?” he inquired, offering one hand to each of his partners.

Patton lit up. “I don’t know… Snakey!”

Remus pursed his lips. “Sure, but I was thinking, like, something cool. Like… Mouse Killer.”

“No, that’s sad!” Patton shook his head. “What about Scaley?”

Remus grinned. “Janus Jr.”

“Danger Noodle!”

“Janice, but spelled the other way.”

“Snoot Boopsie!”

“Janus, but pronounced like anus.”

“You are both terrible at naming snakes,” Janus cut in, breaking the amused silence they had maintained until now as their eyebrows rose higher and higher with each of Remus and Patton’s suggestions.

“Oh, really?” Remus rounded on them with a grin. “And what would you name it, then, if you’re so much cleverer than us?”

Janus froze, mouth open, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “…Jake,” they said weakly after a pause.

Remus snickered. “Oh, really?” He let go of Patton’s hand and moved closer to Janus, leaning into their personal space. “Is that your genius idea for Best Snake Name of All Time? You’re sure?”

Janus, being Janus, stood their ground. “Yes,” they mumbled, sounding only a little sheepish.

Remus traded a mischievous glance with Patton. “And you didn’t make it up on the spot because you were making fun of our ideas when you had none of your own?”

“Of… of course not,” Janus said, tone almost perfectly even and cheeks very red.

“Well,” Patton chirped, the picture of innocence standing there at his full height of 5’2” and dressed all in pastels, speaking in that particular syrupy sweet tone that was the surest sign that his partners were in an excellent kind of danger, “I think that’s a great name, honey!” He raised his eyebrows at Remus in a meaningful way.

Janus blinked. “…What?”

“Oh, definitely,” Remus agreed with a wide grin, catching Patton’s drift at once. Teaming up with Patton to tease Janus was, pretty much universally, an excellent idea. Remus hooked their chin over Janus’s shoulder from behind, wrapping his arm around their waist. “I mean, it really sums up the essence of what we desire in a pet snake, you know?” He held up a hand in front of them both, palm out and fingers spread, drawing a line as if to illuminate the word in the air. “Jake. Now there’s a name that really says dangerous. Intimidating. Cool.”

“I hate you,” Janus mumbled, tilting their head to press their temple against his in a fond little gesture that belied their words.

“Nah, you don’t.” Remus kissed his cheek. “Besides, sugar, if you don’t like it, all you gotta do is say so.” He drew Janus closer by the waist until they were pressed together, his tone turning to a teasing sing-song. “Just let us know you don’t like it. That you were pulling it out of your ass and that you think it’s silly. That you were wrong and you changed your mind.” He leaned closer so his breath fanned against their ear and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “Just say it. That’s all you gotta do.” He pulled away, putting on his best bright, innocent air. “Up to you, though! Pat and I clearly love it, so if you don’t say anything, we do have a unanimous winner.” He grinned at Janus.

“You are so mean,” Janus whined.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Remus asked innocently. “Don’t wanna admit you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” Janus protested at once, “I just….”

“Yes?” Patton said sweetly. “You just what, honey?”

Janus let out a sigh. “You two are going to be the death of me, you know?”

“Why?” Remus inquired. “Because you like it when we make you squirm?”

Janus made a small strangled sound. “Oh, my god.”

“That definitely wasn’t a no, baby,” Remus purred.

Janus flushed pink once again. “I—you—let’s go look at the snakes.” They pulled free of Remus’s grasp and moved towards the door of the pet store.

“Damn. We really are those, like, super obnoxious people who just stand in the parking lot flirting for ten minutes,” Remus commented, putting his hands in the pockets of his green-blue-yellow colorblock jacket, as Janus disappeared into the store.

“Have we ever been anything else?” Patton pointed out in a practical tone. “Come on, now, sweetie, we’d better catch up before Jan buys out half the reptile section.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Remus retorted easily, but allowed Patton to tug him into the store by the hand in search of their other partner.

They found Janus in the reptile section, staring with wide eyes and a soft, open expression into one of the glass tanks. They had a tiny grin on their face as they watched the snake flick its tongue out, and after a second, the tip of their own tongue appeared in an answering blep to mirror the snake. Their expression was far less guarded—and far more happy—than they normally allowed it to be in public, and Remus was hit in the gut with an overpowering wave of remembering-just-how-gooshy-Jan-made-him emotions.

Patton cooed softly, phone at the ready in a flash; Remus leaned over, resting their chin on Patton’s shoulder, and adjusted the angle of the camera just slightly to one he knew Janus would like better. Patton clicked the shutter.

“I can see you, you know,” Janus commented quietly, eyes not leaving the snake.

“It’s not our fault you’re so pretty,” Remus responded, backed up by an emphatic nod from Patton. He moved over to stand at Janus’s side, sliding his hand possessively around their waist. “Is this Jake?” he inquired innocently.

“Oh my god,” Janus mumbled, rolling their eyes.

“What? I thought you liked that name,” Remus teased with his best evil grin. “You know, it being your idea, and you being so much better at coming up with names than us, and all.”

“You really aren’t going to let that one go, are you?” Janus sighed.

Remus put one finger under Janus’s chin and tilted their face towards himself. “Not unless you tell us exactly what you want, baby,” he breathed, letting his tone go dark.

Janus visibly swallowed, cheeks staining red. “I—” Their eyes flitted away from him, glancing around. “Remus, we’re in public.”

“Why, what did I do?” Remus asked sweetly, grinning.

“You know perfectly well what you did.”

Remus grinned wider. “Hell yeah I do,” they acknowledged. “C’mon, there’s no kids over here, I can be a little naughty.” However, having made their point, he did ease off the teasing, just for the moment. “Now, introduce me to our snakey pal here. Are we liking this one?”

Janus looked over Remus’s shoulder, and Patton was by their side at once. “I—I do like this one, I think,” Janus said, indicating the snake that had been engrossing them when Remus and Patton arrived. “But we can look around first, and talk about it.”

Patton dug in their pocket and produced the scrap of paper with the list of species they’d agreed upon as options, after several nights’ worth of internet research and heated discussion. They’d needed to find a pet that would do well in the apartment the three of them had just moved into—their first home together. It was one that would allow pets, which had been important to them, and choosing a snake as the inaugural pet of the family had been an easy decision for Remus and Patton after the way Janus lit up talking about it.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Patton said, unfolding the list.

While there were, frankly, a surprising number of snakes available for purchase—Remus counted at least ten—only two or three met the criteria that the three of them had put together.

“So?” Remus asked, looking at Janus expectantly when they had whittled down the options before them thus far. “What’s it gonna be, babe?”

Janus hesitated. “It’s going to be our snake. Not mine. We should all choose.”

“Yeah, but Pat and I have only been waiting for it for a few months. You’ve been waiting since you were eight. It’s important to all of us, but it’s most important to you.” Remus glanced at Patton. “Isn’t that right?”

Patton nodded. “I like all of the options, honey,” they told Janus. “I wanna know which one makes you most happy.”

Janus was silent, looking back and forth between two glass tanks and quietly stimming with their hands—rubbing their thumbs back and forth along all their other fingertips, a stim Remus recognized as one of their go-tos when thinking hard or overwhelmed. “I….” They bit their lip, looking beseechingly over at their partners, voice trailing off in what seemed like mild distress.

Remus put his arm around their waist again, drumming his fingers against their side. “Problem?” he asked, gently pushing Janus’s hair out of their face.

Janus hesitated. “I’m… stuck,” they said by way of explanation. They gestured vaguely towards their forehead. “Up here.”

Remus nodded and placed his free hand delicately on Janus’s chest, right over their heart, his fingertips barely pressing against the soft, clingy lace fabric of their long black dress. “How about here?” he asked.

Janus chewed on the inside of their mouth for a beat and shook his head. “Not stuck there.”

“Do you want to go home and come back later?” Patton asked.

Janus shook their head again, head bent and hair falling about their face as they stared into one of the snake tanks. “I know which one. I’m only second guessing myself.”

Remus wrapped both his hands around their slim waist. “Do you know what you need?” he said, the words coming easily to his tongue. He’d struck on that particular phrasing back in college; it helped when Janus was feeling stuck, usually due to either sensory overload or a disconnect between their feelings and rational thoughts. It was simple and, more importantly, it cut past the issue of explaining what the problem was, which could be hard for Janus to articulate.

Janus hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“Any ideas?” Remus prompted when they did not go on.

Janus rested one hand over Remus’s, still clasped about their side, and drummed their slim fingers on the back of his hand. “I… don’t know how I feel about the name ideas anymore,” they said slowly, as if trying to shape the thoughts in their head into words.

“Oh, that’s no problem, I was mostly just being silly,” Remus assured them at once, absently signing the word “silly” in ASL as he spoke—one of a handful of words he’d retained in his vocabulary since he spent a stint learning the language in middle school. He glanced over at Patton. “Right?”

Patton nodded. “Of course not, honey. We don’t need to pick a name right now. We can always work that out some other time.”

Janus let out a long breath. “Okay. That—that’s good. Yes.”

“Better?” Remus asked, feeling the way they had untensed against him.

Janus inclined their head once. “Less things in my head now.”

“That’s good,” Remus said. “Also,” he added, in a less serious tone, “can I just point out that I am being really good about how many times we are saying the word snake and how many dirty jokes I am not making, and you should both give me lots of attention about it?”

Janus let out a huff of laughter. “What exactly am I doing right now, pray tell?” he inquired, gesturing to where he and Remus were pressed together all down their side, and to Remus’s hand about their waist.

“Breathing, in that very sexy way you do,” Remus retorted at once with a grin.

Janus half smiled. “I’m flattered, darling.” They pressed their temple to Remus’s. “However, I was referring to the way we are practically cuddling in broad daylight. Is that not giving you attention?”

“True,” Remus agreed, giving Janus’s side an appreciative squeeze, “but you’re also giving some of your attention to these reptiles.” He gestured at the wall of tanks before them. “Let it be known that I am terribly jealous. And Pat is all the way over there, which is too far.” They pouted at Patton, standing all of twelve inches away from the pair of them.

“Yes, you’re being very good, sweetie,” Patton said, patting Remus on the cheek. “You get lots of kisses later.”

Remus beamed, catching Patton’s hand in their free hand. “Much better,” they said with a pleased chuckle, and looked back to Janus. “Are you ready to tell us which snake is coming home with us, baby?” He hooked his finger in one of Janus’s belt loops and ran his thumb back and forth along their side just above it.

Janus pursed their lips, clearly considering this. “Yes,” they said. “I really like this one.” He indicated a tank with a golden-brown, spotted snake inside; a corn snake, the same one they had been so interested in when Remus and Patton arrived.

Patton made an excited noise, and Janus’s face melted into a soft little grin at once. “I love that one!” Patton said. “That one is the best one.”

“Good.” Janus looked at Remus, the barest hint of nerves almost perfectly hidden in their face.

Remus leaned up and pecked their lips. “’S perfect, baby,” he said easily.

Janus relaxed the rest of the way, leaning into Remus’s touch and raising one hand to their mouth to cover the smile on their face. “Of course it is,” they said primly, reaching around Remus’s back to rest a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “It’s ours, after all.”

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

the shapes in the silence (12)

warnings: dissociation, fighting, mild blood & injury, panic, another hopefully less bad cliffhanger

Puff woke up to a gentle hand down his back ridges, his hoard chattering above him, and an odd, high pitched note on the edge of his hearing.

His ears twitched in agitation at the noise, but his hoard took priority, so he took a moment to stretch before finally tuning into the conversation.

The three of them were arguing about another one of their screen viewings, trying to decide which one of their little stories to play. Each of them seemed to treasure very specific titles with passionate reverence, but for Puff couldn’t tell the difference between most of them. The screen was always too bright for his eyes to focus on for long, and the sounds often too loud.

As such, when the decision was left up to him, he simply stared at them blankly for a moment before settling back into a curled up shape to continue dozing.

There was a pause in the chatter (making the strange noise seem all the louder) and then they continued speaking in much more muted tones, indicating discomfort and uncertainty. Puff felt a twinge of discontent run through him and sighed grumpily.

This was the problem with a human-shaped hoard. They were so difficult to maintain.

Not that Puff would trade his hoard for all the shining things in the world. Each of them on their own were more valuable than any number of treasures combined. Every dragon probably felt that way about their hoard, but in his case it was true.

He let his eyes slit open, peering at the nearest of his collection.

Roman, who carried the smell of pigments and an appreciation for the finer things himself, was like a golden gauntlet. Ornate but handcrafted, painstaking care in every detail, and dripping with rubies.

Logan, who needed his hands occupied just as well as his mind, was like an illuminated manuscript. Pages draped in silver leaf edging, needing such a delicate touch to keep the ink from wearing away.

Patton, who watched them all with keen eyes and a warm gaze, was like a polished wooden music box. Inside, rose-colored clockwork met precisely placed metal prongs, together producing the notes to a nostalgic tune.

They were so precious, all of them, but never more than when they were shining their brightest with joy and contentment.

Puff was having a hard time making them happy, lately. Without Not-Puff, it was much harder to figure out which actions would keep his hoard from becoming dull with misery. His tail thrashed irritably as he once again felt the absence in himself.

Despite his constant presence as a part of their shared being, Not-Puff was assuredly not part of the hoard. He was like a rusty, chipped butterfly knife. All double edges and caked dirt from lack of care. Barely even worth looking at.

Still, Not-Puff was better at understanding which choices would make the hoard happy, which meant he was useful to have around. Puff mentally prodded at the barrier aiding in keeping the other half of him tucked quietly away, but there was no response. As the days passed, he’d only stirred when one of the hoard did something dangerous-stupid that went against all of their shared protective instincts, and even then, only barely.

It made Puff think that he didn’t plan on coming back.

It wasn’t like Not-Puff was a dragon, so maybe he simply didn’t care as much about the hoard. And even if he was gone for good, what did Puff care? That just meant more room for him in the empty, echoing space of their mind.

… Whatever.

Puff rolled over and got to his feet, stretching his wings out until they threatened to cramp. How irritating, thoughts like this keeping him up when all he wanted to do was take a nap.

If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well investigate the source of the noise.

He leapt easily to the floor, his hoard having already picked a glow story to watch in subdued silence. Patton called out a parting caution, and then Puff was off, trotting over to the stairs.

He passed Not-Puff’s room with barely a glance down the darkened hall. It was empty, obviously, though most of his hoard didn’t seem to realize. Logan and Patton often stood at the threshold, knocking and trying to coax Not-Puff out with sweet foods or concerned words, and while Roman generally avoided it, Puff had caught him staring more than once.

No matter what they tried or didn’t try, it remained locked up, silent and dark inside. Just like its former resident.

Puff could still get in, though he refrained from using the small flap-like door when others were watching. It wouldn’t do to make his hoard feel excluded, after all.

His dagger, the obsidian one with the gilded edges and honeyed words, could get inside, too.

His dagger-- Puff couldn’t quite recall the false name he used-- spent a lot of his time locked in that room, which was a bit foolish of him. It couldn’t be pleasant. Even Puff could feel the stagnant, fearful aura that lingered there, and dragons weren’t known for being affected by such things.

Not-Puff had complex, many-edged feelings towards their dagger, but it didn’t really matter, because Not-Puff had complex feelings about all of the hoard. He was a strange one like that.

In any case, it didn’t stop Puff from occasionally tromping off to go curl up in his dagger’s lap, letting the silly creature talk at him. He always talked when Puff came to bask with him, trying to coax Not-Puff out with lies and threats and even apologies that made his voice crack.

None of it ever worked.

He wasn’t in Not-Puff’s room now, though. Puff felt around curiously, and found his dagger was out in the real world, playing pretend.

He did that more and more often these days, dressing up to masquerade as Not-Puff for their Thomas. It was a strange practice. Puff much preferred his dagger as himself, all shining scales and black velvet.

Thomas was the crown of their little hoard, of course. It only made sense.

The odd tone grew in intensity, and Puff shook off his distractions, ears flattening against his skull. He could curl up with his hoard later, once this irritating buzzing was-- as Roman would say-- vanquished.

He passed the doors in the hall one after another, listening carefully at each one. After such a thorough inspection, the answer became clear.

Puff studied the portal-like entrance to the imagination, head tilting back and forth as he listened carefully to the noise. Not-Puff’s fear of this realm had kept Puff from wandering into it alone up until now, but the painful buzzing was definitely coming from it.

It was Not-Puff’s own fault for not being around to stop him, he decided, and stepped through.

As Puff trotted down cobblestone paths and dirt roads after the sound, it only seemed to grow more and more intense, enough so that he had to stop a few times to shake his head agitatedly, trying to get rid of the ringing headache.

At least those irritating shadow projections Not-Puff spawned weren’t present. The woven thread around his neck seemed to do well enough preventing them, which was good, because Puff wasn’t in the mood to go scampering around avoiding the trifling things. Not when there were noises to attend to.

“So it worked, after all.”

The strange, lilting voice made him spin around, wings flaring defensively.

Up in the twisting boughs of an old oak, the stranger cocked their head, bird-like. “I wasn’t sure it would,” they continued. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”

They tossed a hollow stone in their hand, the strange noise emanating from it. The scales along their cloak rattled with every movement, and Puff’s hackles rose in response. He remembered them. The Witch that tried to turn him against his own hoard.

“Now, don’t be rude. I’ve skinned beasts much larger than you with barely a snap of the fingers, you know.” They slid down to the ground, and Puff skittered back a few steps. “Halt.”

The compulsion took root firmly in him, keeping his feet glued to the ground. He hissed viciously, furious that their magic had such a hold on him. They sauntered closer and dropped to a squat.

“So my thrall does affect you… perhaps before was a one-off? I suppose it’s still interesting enough that you somehow keep your mind.” The eyes of their mask were dark and hollow, sending a chill down Puff’s spine even as he continued to growl viciously. “Quiet, now. Keep your mouth shut.”

His teeth clacked together painfully as his mouth snapped shut, leaving an impotent glare as his only form of defense.

“Perfect,” they said, and plucked him up from the ground, calming his struggles with another pulse of magic and a hand down his spine. “His Royal Irritation has been rearing for fight after fight lately, so it’ll be nice to finally have some leverage on my side.”

A chill spread through him.

“How long do you think it will take for him to find you?” they mused, tone light and mocking as they continued to run their hand along his spine possessively. “Days? Weeks? I certainly hope I’ll have enough time to prepare for company.”

Puff felt as though the metal cuff around his leg had grown suddenly heavy. He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't take them nearly as long as he might hope, not when his hoard had grown so used to having him constantly nearby. Not when there was a tracker to lead them right into the Witch’s trap.

“Don’t fret, little dragon,” they crooned, tapping a finger between his eyes. “Sleep. I’ll wake you for the fun.”

Unable to do anything else, he obeyed.

When he woke, it was on the floor of an ornate birdcage, with magic thick in the air.

He uncurled, limbs weak, and pushed himself up to see that not one, but three of his hoard were before him, standing there in the grand hall of an ancient castle, facing off with the Witch.

The sight sent a thrum of alarm through him. The three of them didn’t enter the Imagination together often, and the effects of their combined presence made the place feel more real, more lasting.

Seeing the way they were back to back, surrounded by vicious constructed monsters, that wasn’t a good thing. That was a very, very bad thing indeed.

Even from his position next to the Witch’s throne, he could make out the cut on Roman’s forehead that continued to drip blood into his eyes, the way Logan leaned his weight heavily on one foot as though injured, the exhausted shaking of Patton’s frame as he tossed away a monster at Roman’s back.

More than that, he could feel the strain of his mental connection to his hoard, the urge to keep them from harm nearly all-consuming. They were his, and he would not stand idly by while they suffered.

For the first time in weeks, there was a stirring inside of Puff, like a billowing of air on banked coals. A white-hot glow, expanding with nowhere to go.

A gloved hand flicked the bars of the cage, bringing all his furious attention to the Witch. Their invisible gaze rested intently on him, making his scales prickle.

“Enjoying the show, small one?”

If looks could kill, this battle would be long over. The Witch laughed lowly at him.

“You look at me so fiercely, but this wouldn’t have been possible without you, you know?” They turned their gaze back to the battle with a darkly satisfied tint to their voice. “All three of them, right here in the palm of my hand for the sake of such a tiny, helpless creature. I’d almost think there’s something genuinely special about you. Too bad you probably won’t survive the heartbreak when I kill them.”

The snarl Puff let out seemed too small, too weak to even begin to express the amount of vitriol inside of him. The Witch didn’t even glance at him before rising to their feet to join the battle themself. His body trembled oddly.

He was afraid, he realized with a startle. He was more afraid than he’d ever been before.

That internal stir rose up again at the emotion, but it still felt as though a wall of thick mental fog separated Puff from it, like reaching through a haze. Bracing himself, he pushed past it anyways, dizzy with the effort.

For the first time since they’d been separated, Not-Puff was reaching back. Puff hesitated for the barest of moments.

If they did this. There would be consequences.

If they didn’t do this…

Nothing could be worse than losing them, one of them answered, and the other agreed. Which one was which didn’t really matter, in the end.

He took the anger and the fear that bubbled up inside of him and let them grow, welling up into one singular drive to protect. And, as the empty space around him seemed to vanish, he realized that he was growing, too.

The bracelet was the first thing to go, the connecting thread snapping at the pressure of his changing form. The tracer cuff followed easily, metal crumpling, and then the bars of the birdcage bent until they snapped, and then he was free of every restraint at last.

Virgil half-expected to come back to a human shape at that very moment, but Puff was still more than present in their mind, and as much as he loved their humans, there was clearly a superior option to better keep them all safe.

He flickered up like the flame tongues of a rising bonfire, or a bolt of energy connecting the earth and heavens, until he was big enough that his wings spread and met the adjacent walls of the throne chamber.

Every eye in the room was upon him, and when he growled, it was like the rolling crashes of a thunderstorm. Some of the monsters cowered away from that alone, turning tail and fleeing.

The Witch looked up at him and cackled, exuberant where they should be terrified.

“I knew there was something there, something different! You may have changed shape, little dragon, but my thrall isn’t so weak as to be influenced by size. You’ve only made your hoard’s end that much easier for me!”

Virgil could see the three of them behind the Witch, crowded together and staring up at him with equal parts apprehension and hope. His hoard wouldn’t be hurt a single moment longer. Not by the Dragon Witch, and certainly not by him.

The Witch lifted their arm and snapped their finger at him.

“Stop all that noise, little dragon,” they commanded, and the compulsive magic washed over him and rolled right off.

Slowly, deliberately, he took a step forward, and his growl rose in volume, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

There was a heady feeling of satisfaction at the way the Witch stumbled back, the mask barely hiding their shock. “I said stop, right now.”

The magic passed, easier and easier to ignore. The Witch would never control this body again, no matter what form it took.

With a howl of wordless anger, they vanished from sight, and all the monsters that remained turned to him with aggression writ in every line of their bodies. An unfamiliar sensation welled up in his chest, waiting to be released.

Might as well see what this familiar-unfamiliar form could manage.

Working off Puff’s instincts, Virgil opened his mouth and let something click in the back of his throat before exhaling what looked like thick, rolling smoke. It filled the air, clumping together dense and heavy, and Virgil blinked, recognizing the form of it.

Huh. Storm clouds.

In the next moment, lightning sparked, shooting down and lancing straight through every attacking creature. Virgil darted a few steps closer, somewhat alarmed that friendly fire might hit the others, but even as they hunched down in surprise, any electricity that neared them seemed to simply veer away.

Of course it did, the more draconic part of him crowed smugly. No magic of his would hurt his hoard.

He went to his humans anyhow, moving slow so as to not startle them. He was the oversized one, now.

He needn’t have worried. As soon as he lowered his head into range, Patton lunged forward, wrapping his snout in the best hug he could manage. He was clearly sniffing back tears. “Oh, kiddo, we were so worried!”

Roman was attempting to casually lean on his sword, but there was clear relief in his gaze, too. “We should have known better than to believe the Dragon Witch would get the better of you, huh, Puff?”

Virgil huffed a cloud of colorless vapor into Roman’s face. Affectionately.

“We should celebrate our reunion later, once we’re safely out of here,” Logan pointed out over Roman’s faux-indignant complaints.

Despite his own words, Logan took a moment to reach out, gently placing a hand on the side of Virgil’s head as though to reassure himself that he was real. Virgil leaned into the touch slightly, an odd pleased chur bubbling up from his chest.

As his eyes slitted nearly shut in happiness, he caught movement from the corner of his vision.

The Witch, holding one hand aloft and casting something that made his skin prickle, aiming not at him, but at the other Sides.

Quicker than he could think, his body was moving, curling around his precious people with only a second to brace himself before the attack struck him solidly in the back.

It seemed a simple strike at first, barely breaking skin, and he regained his footing as the others rose to his defense with a ferocity that made his chest feel strangely pressurized. Between the three of them, the Witch was more than outmatched, and they were finally forced to flee.

It was only then that Virgil noticed the feeling of rot and fever spreading along his skin.

He stumbled, and then lay down heavily as his energy dipped well below what was sustainable. The others fluttered around him like moths, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Virgil let out a sigh, almost too exhausted to be panicked. He’d really thought for a moment that he’d pull it off, that he could deal with the backlash of the huge, energy-draining form on his own in private and maintain this fragile balance. So much for that.

On his next exhale, there was a flash-crack as the transformation came crashing back down on him, leaving him snapped back into the form he’d abandoned. Anxiety.

Around him, there was a stunned silence to replace the earlier clamor. He forced himself to blink his eyes open, resisting the urge to squint and see them more clearly. He didn’t really want to see what kinds of expressions they were wearing.

Whatever the Witch had cursed him with was still active, burning him up from the inside-out like the awful fever Thomas had gotten when he was ten. If the others weren’t going to take the opportunity to discorporate him, the poisoned injury would manage just fine on its own. And he’d just gotten back, too.

At least the others weren’t in danger anymore. Hopefully, Thomas would be okay until he reformed.

… Who was he kidding? Thomas had managed fine all these days with him gone. He would probably be better off without Anxiety, just like everyone had always said.

Still, he was leaving the others without being punished for the deception he’d been subjecting them all to for so long. He was leaving them without any real answers at all.

“Sorry,” he managed to grit out, barely able to think past the blood rushing in his ears. It seemed to break the fragile silence, because the others all began speaking at once, creating an indecipherable tangle of noise.

Soundlessly, Virgil passed out.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #tsits #tiny dragon virgil #the shapes in the silence #writing #my writing #i have been informed that this is not a better cliffhanger #oops.#:)#g/t

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Little Red Lies - Chapter 1

Or, AUgust 2021 Day 10 - Fake Dating

{Next}

Words: 5,439

[Booked tckts yet? virge wants 2 check u still need 2 places 4 reception dinner]

Trash Rat 22:57

[cant w8 2 meet ur new ~date~]

Trash Rat 22:58

Roman stared at the messages for several long seconds, then groaned.

[Of course I booked tickets. Yes I still need the +1 seat.]

Roman 23:04

[cant believe u havent even sent a pic or yk a name]

Trash Rat 23:06

[no shame if ur still </3 ovr remy]

Trash Rat 23:06

[even tho its been 2 yrs now]

Trash Rat 23:07

[Of course I’m over remy. You’ll meet my boyfriend when we get there. He’s shy.]

Roman 23:07

Roman seriously considered throwing his phone across the room and booking a plane ticket to Alaska rather than Manhattan. That way, he wouldn’t have to go to his brother’s wedding and admit that he was most definitely single and most definitely not over his ex boyfriend (of seventeen months - two years was an unfair exaggeration).

[u kno virge h8s not knowing whos coming to his wedding right]

Trash Rat 23:10

[I know, I know, I’ll apologise as soon as we get there. He’ll be first to meet my bf, promise.]

Roman 23:11

[book ur fuckin plane tckts ro, I know u didnt do it yet]

Trash Rat 23:11

Roman threw his phone across the room.

It bounced off of his Heathers poster and landed on his desk, which was covered in scripts, textbooks, empty takeout containers, balled up bits of paper, crumpled drinks cans, and pens, and Roman buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

Ten months ago, Roman’s sister had flown down to Los Angeles, dragged Roman out of bed and announced that he was actually Roman’s brother. Almost sooner than Roman had been able to take this in stride, Virgil had added that he was marrying his boyfriend in December and would Roman mind being one of his groomsmen? While Roman was still reeling from the bombshell that was the fact that their gremlin of an elder brother Remus was Virgil’s best man, Virgil had leaned forward and asked if Roman was doing alright because he couldn’t help but notice that his dorm room resembled ‘the result of an explosive going off in a pigsty’.

Roman had blinked dumbly at him, nodded, and then started pressing for details about Virgil’s wedding. Eventually, his brother had promised that he’d get Patton, his fiance, to call Roman to discuss every detail, from location to napkin frills, and Roman felt that he had managed to avoid the topic of how he was doing.

When he and Remy had first broken up, midway through last July, Roman had gone to pieces. He had spent the end of the summer holiday between his first and second years locked in his room and listening to the same few songs on loop until Virgil, who was three years older and had been packing his things to move into his new apartment, had put his fist through the wall between their rooms. Then Roman had put his headphones on. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he was too uncivilised to appreciate the wonders of ‘Michael In The Bathroom’, ‘Someone You Loved’, or ‘Impossible’, after all.

Then Roman had gone back to university, where he had tried to drown himself in reading for his degree, and instead ended up sleeping through lectures after all-night crying sessions. He had tried to submerge himself in his essays and instead ended up daydreaming about his ex-boyfriend in study sessions. He had tried to get involved in theatre productions, but every audition had gone sour, and he often ended up thinking about the few times he and Remy had met up over the previous year rather than learning his lines.

Everyone had said that long distance relationships would be hard, but Roman, the romantic fool that he was, had insisted that they could do it.

They couldn’t.

Eight months ago, nine months after the two of them had broken up, two months after Virgil had announced his wedding plans, Remus and his partner had flown into Los Angeles and tried to stage an intervention. This had involved Remus trying to seduce the campus security guard and almost getting reported to the police (Roman had always insisted that his mustache only made him look sketchy), followed by Janus sneaking past the pair of them and into the building. Remus had somehow managed to join him moments later, and the two of them had somehow made their way up to Roman’s floor without alerting anyone else of their presence.

Roman had been woken by a furious hammering at his bedroom door at a little after four in the morning, and had to wade through a mess of papers and laundry to find that the two of them had knocked on every single door on his corridor, unable to remember which was his. He had not been popular with his dormmates the next day.

Their intervention had involved sitting on Roman’s bed and sharing the leftover pizza that had been on Roman’s desk for the last three days, and telling him to wash the dirty clothes all over his floor. Then they had tried to persuade him to accompany them to a bar to hook him up with somebody, and Roman had quickly concluded that the pair was somewhat drunk.

He had vehemently refused, and when Janus had eventually rolled onto his back, dark hair dangling off the edge of the bed and onto the sticky patch of carpet that Roman had spilled soda on three weeks ago, he practically whined that Roman was being very difficult when all they were doing was trying to help him.

“Trying to help me? You’ve disturbed the people I live with at fuck-o’clock in the morning! I have class tomorrow!” Roman was sat at his desk chair, trying very hard to ignore the stack of textbooks he was supposed to have read and hadn’t.

Remus rested a hand on Janus’ hip to stop him from rolling off the bed, and raised a lazy eyebrow at him. “Cut the bullshit, little bro. We all know you haven’t been to class in… How long, Jan?”

“Two months, three weeks, and four days,” Janus sing-songed.

“How the fuck do you know that?” It sounded about right, anyway, and Roman had a feeling that if he denied it this would just take even longer. He spun around in his chair and picked up a pen from his desk. “It’s my business if I don’t go to class.”

“Called my sister. Jannie takes all your classes, you know…” There was the sound of shifting fabric, and when Roman glanced back, Janus was sitting up and tucked under Remus’ arm again, looking very much as though Remus had just placed him there.

“You’re right, Ro. It’s not my business if you’re not going to class.” One of Remus’ hands trailed slowly up and down Janus’ arm, so casually Roman could almost believe that his brother didn’t realise he was doing it. “But it is my business that my little brother isn’t taking care of himself anymore. You haven’t answered my calls since before winter break. You obviously haven’t been eating healthily - this pizza tastes like you fished it out of the garbage, by the way, and I would know - and you look as though you haven’t seen the sunlight since last July.”

The assessment wasn’t quite fair. Roman might have been skipping classes, but it wasn’t as though he had just been lying in his room and wasting away! “I went to the gym last week. And I auditioned for the musical in March. I’m fine, Remus! Can I go to bed now?”

“No! We’re going to a club!”

Janus had nodded enthusiastically at Remus’ words, then rested his head on his partner’s shoulder as Roman shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to go to a club. I want to go to bed. I have class tomorrow.”

“Nope.” Remus’ hand rose to tangle absently in Janus’ hair. “We’re going to a club, and you’re gonna find some hottie to fuck all the yearning for Remy right out of you. Then you’ll feel much better!”

“You’re pulling my ha-”

“Fuck no. We’re not doing that.” Roman pressed his palms into his eyes, then stood up and jerked his door open. “Can you go now?”

“Give me one good reason why you getting laid is a bad thing right now, Ro, and we’ll leave.” Roman had gotten as far as opening his mouth before Remus interrupted. “See? You can’t. You need to move on, man. Clinging to Remy is clearly unh-”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“-ealthy, and- What?”

Maybe it was because it was four in the morning. Maybe it was because Roman hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, and Remus had managed to step on the last of his fraying nerves. Maybe it was just because he wished it was true.

“I have a boyfriend,” Roman repeated, and felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the obvious shock on Janus’ usually impassive face. “Three months. Met just after term started. It’s pretty serious, actually.”

“Bullshit.” Remus looked half impressed.

Now it was irritation that flickered through Roman. Was it really so unbelievable that he could have found somebody else? “It’s not.”

“You fucked yet?”

“Remus…” There was a warning note in Janus’ voice, and Remus sighed.

“None of my business. Got it. Do we get to meet him?”

“He’s shy.”

“Which is another way of saying he doesn’t exist.”

“Asshole. It’s another way of saying that it’s four in the fucking morning and he’s asleep. You’ll meet him at the wedding, anyway - I’m going to ask him to be my plus one when Patton sends out the RSVP date.” The words had been out of his mouth before he had had time to regret them, and Roman had spent the last eight months trying to sidestep questions about his non-existent boyfriend.

He had later found out that Remus and Janus hadn’t really come down to see him. They had gone to Los Angeles to celebrate their two year wedding anniversary and decided they might drop in while in the area. (Just because they had eloped rather than holding a big party, Janus had commented idly, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate it).

But now it was December, and Roman was partner-less and running out of excuses. His lie had gotten out of control, and he had ended up asking Patton and Virgil to include his partner in the guest numbers. He had invented dates they had been on for his mother when she had asked, and he insisted that his boyfriend was shy and had practically no internet presence anyway, so knowing his name wouldn’t help anybody.

He could just say that the two of them had broken up and go home alone, of course.

But that would mean disrupting the meticulous wedding seating plan Virgil and Patton had been making for months.

Besides, Roman was fairly certain that nobody in his family really believed in his mystery boyfriend, and failure to produce one after months of insisting that they would meet… Well, he didn’t want to open himself to that sort of ridicule.

Of course, it didn’t look as though he had much choice.

He hadn’t managed to make many friends at college.

In his first year, Roman had spent a lot of time trying to keep on top of his schoolwork and working toward the various theatre productions the school had put on; all of his free time he had spent planning dates for when he and Remy finally visited one another, or else video calling his boyfriend. There simply hadn’t been time to make many friends during that.

His second year… Well, Remus had been right. He had spent most of his time in his room, eating junk food, watching sappy romance films, and missing Remy.

So far, he had spent his third year trying to bring his grades back up to something more respectable… And missing Remy.

He knew it was pathetic. It had been almost a year and a half since they had broken up, and he still missed being able to call someone to talk about nothing at all at two in the morning, missed planning extravagant dates, missed the feel of hands in his hair and lips on his.

At least his floor was cleaner than it had been last year. And he had eaten slightly less fast food this semester than the previous one.

Roman’s phone chimed again. With a frustrated groan, he made his way over to his desk.

[Looking forward to seeing you on Monday!!! <3 <3 <3 !!!]

Pops 23:25

Patton.

[Me too, Padre! I’ll bring some of that fudge from the shop you love!]

Roman 23:26

[eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <33333333 Can you get some of the currents+salt? Vee loved it last time + I want to surprise him]

Pops 23:26

[Will do. Looking forward to seeing you too!]

Roman 23:27

Patton would probably be the most understanding if Roman decided to come clean about his lying - but Patton was the worst secret keeper Roman had ever met. He and Virgil had been dating for almost three years, and in that time the thin voice actor had managed to spill every single plot twist in every single show he had watched or acted in. Roman had no doubt that Virgil would know that he was bringing home fudge within the next hour. If he admitted to Patton that he had been lying about having a date for the wedding, Roman would get Patton’s kind - if confused - reassurances, and half an hour later he would get the mixture of mockery and horrible pity that would come with the rest of his family finding out that he still wasn’t over Remy.

Roman let his phone slip through his fingers and land on his desk once more. Three days, and then he’d have to come clean - until then, he could just avoid thinking about it. Collecting the overflowing basket from the corner of the room (he had been putting off doing laundry for a while now), Roman left his room and headed toward the building’s basement laundry room. Term had finished last week and it was almost midnight - he doubted anybody would be down there now. Most people had probably already gone home, or were making the most of the free time to go out rather than spend it doing chores.

The light was off in the basement when he got there, so Roman left it that way as he loaded his clothing into one of the machines.

Moving around in the dark was far more of a Virgil move than a Roman one, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something comforting about the-

“Sweet fucking Shakespeare!” Roman’s hand flew up to cover his eyes as light burst through the small room, quickly followed by the strong smell of coffee.

“Sorry! I was unaware that there would be anybody in here.” As Roman dropped his hand, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, the newcomer made his way over to the machine on the far side of the room from him. “Most people prefer not to fumble around in the dark.”

Remus or Remy would have made some comment about how fumbling around in the dark could be quite fun really. Roman just shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”

He had expected the other man to say something; instead, silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the powder tray being opened, filled, and closed again.

Roman didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He had seen the person in the room next to him only twice so far this term, and only knew his name because the mailroom was organised by room number rather than alphabetically, and the name Roman Prince was right next to Logan Ursa.

Logan looked more tired than he had on either of the other times Roman had seen him. There were deep bags under his eyes, the shadows almost deeper than Virgil’s had been at the height of his eyeliner experiments, and the black ponytail that hung halfway to his waist was missing, replaced with what could only be described as a thicket of tangled hair. It looked as though he had been outside even less than Roman had in the past few months: his skin was so pale it seemed to glow under the fluorescent laundry-room lights. There was a steaming mug and a thick book on the lid of the machine beside him, and Roman had the strong feeling that it wasn’t the first coffee Logan had had that evening.

The washing machine Logan had been loading began to rumble, and as the other student straightened up and picked up his book, Roman made himself duck back down to finish his own task.

He’d have to come back to collect his clothing later - Roman suddenly regretted deciding to get this done now, when it meant he would have to return at almost two in the morning, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

“Do you want me to leave the light on?” He was more trying to make conversation than anything else: Logan was perched on one of the machines in the corner, nose already buried in what Roman could now see was a heavy medical textbook.

“Obviously.”

Yeah, he probably should have guessed that.

Logan was still in the laundry room when Roman returned to collect his clothing two hours later. He was still sat on the same machine, although now he was speaking into his phone in what sounded like rapid Italian. (It definitely wasn’t Spanish: Roman was almost fluent in Spanish). (The languages were similar, but although he could guess at a few words, he had no idea what was going on). (Not that he was eavesdropping, of course). Logan’s hair was even messier than it had been before, and out of the corner of his eye Roman caught him jerking his free hand through it once or twice.

Roman pulled his now-warm and dry clothing from the machine and dumped it into his laundry basket, doing his best to ignore the way Logan was practically shouting behind him, but couldn’t stop himself from startling at the wordless, frustrated yell that came from the taller man a few minutes later. He was halfway to the door, but paused and glanced at Logan, who was stuffing his phone angrily into the oversized hoodie he was wearing.

“Everything okay over there?”

“Family stuff,” came the snappish response. Roman watched for a few seconds as Logan knelt in front of his own machine and began jerking clothing from it, folding pants as though he wished he were ripping them to pieces instead, then throwing several dark shirts over his shoulder and stalking over to one of the ironing stations.

“Pretty loud family stuff,” Roman commented, then wondered why he was bothering. It had been clear from his first meeting with Logan that the other student wasn’t there to make friends: Roman had been carrying a large cardboard box into his room the day he had moved in, and bumped into him in the hallway. Logan had looked him up and down, said something like, “Keep the volume down. I’m here to work,” and marched past him as though Roman were no more interesting than a hat stand.

Sure enough, Logan didn’t turn to face him, instead ironing a shirt in a manner that strongly hinted that he wanted to make it beg for mercy. “None of your business family stuff.”

“Are you-”

“None. Of your. Business.” This time, Logan actually did glance over his shoulder, and fixed Roman with a scowl that suggested that if he didn’t drop it, his face was going to be the next thing under the iron.

Roman left quickly. He had done his best to be friendly, and if Logan wasn’t interested, that was his problem. He didn’t seem like the sort of person Roman would really want to be friends with anyway.

Logan’s haggard expression lingered in his mind as he made his way back up to his dorm room and began stuffing his now-clean clothes into his wardrobe. He should probably start packing - his suitcase was sitting open and empty against one wall - but he had plenty of time.

Besides, he was exhausted.

Roman had changed into a pair of sweatpants and gotten into bed by the time he heard the door to the room next to his slam shut. Clearly, Logan was still annoyed by whatever ‘family stuff’ had had him first yelling into his phone and then taking his frustration out on his laundry and somebody trying to be friendly.

How long could Logan hold a grudge? Was he the kind of person who would calm down after a couple of hours of sleep, or would whatever he had been arguing about be hanging over him for the next week or so? That would make the winter break uncomfortable…

Or maybe he wasn’t going home. He had looked pretty invested in the textbook he had been studying earlier, despite it being almost midnight and no longer termtime. Maybe Logan was going to stay in the dorms over the winter break and use the hours without lectures for private study.

That sounded like a lonely way to spend the next three weeks.

The idea struck Roman suddenly, and he sat bolt upright in bed, the kind of elation that only comes with golden inspiration coursing through him. He would persuade Logan to come back home with him for the holidays! If Janus took it to mind to ask Janine about him, she’d be able to verify that Logan didn’t socialise much; all he would have to do would be show up briefly for the wedding, and he could spend the remainder of the holiday studying all he wanted, away from ‘family stuff’!

He would ask Logan the following morning, and when he agreed, Roman would book the plane tickets home - he’d pay, of course. Or rather, he’d use the money his mother had sent him so that he could bring his fictional boyfriend home. Either way, Logan wouldn’t have to spend any money himself!

Laying back down, Roman pulled his thin blanket back up to his neck and rolled onto his side, satisfaction warming him more thoroughly than any hot drink could.

This was the best idea he’d ever had.

“That is the worst idea I have ever heard.” Logan glanced into the hallway over Roman’s shoulder as though expecting an audience for a practical joke. “I cannot believe you have wasted my time listening to you.”

“Is… That a maybe?” Roman tilted his head and gave Logan his best puppy eyes.

Alas, Logan’s heart must have been made of stone. “No.” He made to slam the door.

Well, Roman couldn’t have that. It had been difficult enough to get Logan to even open the door in the first place, and harder still to get him to listen beyond the initial “I need you to do me a huge favour, okay, but it works out for you too.” In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have led with that. But then he had explained, and for some reason Logan was still trying to close the door on him.

“Ow!”

“That was entirely your fault.”

“You just slammed the door on my foot!”

“You did put your foot there after I had begun closing the door. My point stands.”

Technically, Logan was correct, but Roman wasn’t there to quibble over technicalities. “You got the part where I’d pay for your flights, right? All you have to do is show up for one day in something resembling formalwear, and in return you get rent free accommodation and food all holiday! Plus company!”

“I have too much to do to pretend to be your boyfriend for three weeks for no reason. Find somebody else.” Logan made to close the door again, and this time Roman caught it with his hand.

“There is nobody else!” Roman was aware that he was beginning to sound desperate. “You’re like, the only person I know!”

“That sounds like your personal problem, not mine.” Several strands of hair had fallen from the impressive tangle around Logan’s ears and into his face, and he blew them out of the way. His breath smelled like coffee - bitter coffee. Roman wrinkled his nose. “Let go of my door.”

“Come on, Logan! What else are you going to be doing this holiday?”

“Studying! I have exams to pass!”

“You can study at my place. You won’t have to pay holiday rent there!”

“I won’t have to pay holiday rent if I go to my mom’s place, either! Let go of my door!”

Roman finally pulled his aching foot out of the way, but didn’t remove his hand from the wood. “You don’t want to go back to your mom’s place, though, do you? The phonecall -”

The glare that Logan sent him could have frozen the insides of a volcano, and his voice was suddenly cold enough to make Roman shiver. “Good day, Roman.” This time, Roman jerked his hand out of the way, and the door snapped shut in his face.

Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to use Logan’s ‘family stuff’ against him. He made a note of that for future reference, then hammered against the door again.

“Please, Logan!”

Silence.

“I’ll be forever in your debt!”

More silence. Maybe Logan would prefer something a little more extravagant?

“I’ll sing of your virtues from the rooftop every night for the rest of the year!”

Nothing.

Okay, maybe that had been a little much. Logan had made it clear that he was there to work and didn’t want to be disturbed in his caffeine fueled study crusades, so something excessive was possibly the wrong way to persuade him to do this.

Oh-

“I’ll pay for your coffee for the rest of the year?”

Roman held his breath and waited.

And waited.

Just when he thought that he had been wrong and that Logan really wasn’t going to be persuaded, the door opened the tiniest of amounts. Logan was still frowning at him, but some of the ice was gone from his expression.

“That’s your dealbreaker? Coffee?”

“I drink a lot of coffee.” A slight deepening in the crease between Logan’s eyes told Roman not to push the subject. “You need a date to a wedding. In return, you pay for my flight there and back, provide accommodation for the duration of the winter vacation, and keep me supplied with coffee for the rest of the year.”

“Well, a wedding, the reception, any pre-wedding parties, and keeping up the act while we’re around other people,” Roman corrected, counting on his fingers. From the irritated twitch of Logan’s left eye, he got the feeling that he hadn’t mentioned the reception or the potential stag night in his initial pitch.

“Blue Moon or Red Planet.”

“What?”

“The coffee. I like Blue Moon or Red Planet coffee. They’re more expensive, so I don’t expect them every time - maybe a ratio of three regular jars to one nice jar.”

Roman blinked. “Uh… Okay.”

Logan nodded once. More hair fell over his eyes. “I’ll draw up a schedule and provide you with estimated projections of my coffee habits for the rest of the year so you can budget accordingly. When do we leave?”

“Um… Monday.” Still reeling from Logan’s sudden and complete 180, Roman cast around for something to say, but the long haired man got there first.

“Monday. That gives us approximately two and a half days to draw boundaries and fabricate enough pictures and stories to give our deceit credibility.” Logan closed his eyes, and Roman realised that he was staring again. He hadn’t expected the other to take this in stride so quickly. “Given that I have work to finish today and you will likely need several hours on Sunday evening to pack… Have you told your family how long we have been romantically involved?”

“Uh, since January. But I told them you were shy, so we don’t have to have any pictures or anything - we can say that all our dates were just pizza and Netflix, and…” He tailed off at the incredulous look on Logan’s face. “What?”

“You expect them to believe that we have been dating for eleven months and you haven’t taken a single photo? Roman, I have listened to you belting the lyrics of more break-up songs than I care to count.” Roman shrugged, and Logan rolled his eyes. “You are quite clearly a romantic. Had we really been dating, the number of pictures you would have taken on whatever extravagance you planned for our six-month anniversary alone would be infinitesimal.”

He had a point.

Roman had already stretched his family’s belief in him to breaking point (and probably well past it) by refusing to share even the smallest thing about his ‘boyfriend’ over the past eleven months; if he didn’t get home on Monday with at least a couple of dozen photos to share, their charade would be over before it could ever really begin. “Right. You’re right. We’ll need to spend the weekend planning, doing a photoshoot - it’ll be fun!”

“You,” Logan started, already retreating, “obviously have a different definition of that word than I do. Eight thirty tomorrow morning, The Roost. Bring a notepad, your phone, and a couple of changes of clothing suitable for various weather conditions.”

“Eight thirty? A prince needs his beauty-”

“Eight thirty. We are going to do this properly.”

Roman’s phone was in his hand barely seconds after Logan’s door had closed (albeit more gently than before).

Groupchat: Princes and Co.

[Can’t wait for you to meet logan!]

Roman 09:58

[a name!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[we have a name!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[such a nice name! can’t wait either, ro!]

Pops 10:01

[About time! I’ve been stalling on the place settings for weeks waiting for this name]

Emo Nightmare 10:02

[Was about to fly out to LA to strangle it out of you]

Emo Nightmare 10:04

[he was. i had to physically restrain him from doing so yesterday]

Padre 10:04

[bet u both enjoyed that ;);););););)]

Trash Rat 10:04

Several people are typing…

[Suck a dick, Remus]

Emo Nightmare 10:05

[we did, actually]

Pops 10:05

[would but janjans at work :((]

Trash Rat 10:06

[Didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know.]

Roman 10:06

[Pat!]

Emo Nightmare 10:06

[Logan Ursa??? 4th yr medic??? Coffee addict???]

Snake Eyes 10:06

Roman stared at his phone for a second. That was faster than he had expected.

[u knew????? jan u held out on me??? the luv of ur greyspec life???]

Trash Rat 10:07

[You told Janus?! I’m your brother! He’s not even related to you!]

Emo Nightmare 10:07

[No I didn’t tell Janus!]

Roman 10:07

[I’m omniscient.]

Snake Eyes 10:08

[Plus I just asked Jannie for a list of all the Logans you could have associated with.]

Snake Eyes 10:09

[You and your sister scare me]

Roman 10:11

[He has surprisingly little internet presence.]

Snake Eyes 10:11

[Told you. He’s shy]

Roman 10:12

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Roman returned to his room and picked up his laptop, this time to actually book the tickets he was supposed to have booked weeks ago. He had no doubt that they would arrive on Monday to discover that his family had already unearthed everything there was to know about his fake boyfriend - should he break that news to Logan before or after they were on the plane? Making the man paranoid might make their weekend photoshoot a lot more difficult.

Their photoshoot! If Logan was really on board, Roman would have to make this as easy as possible for him - and the performance of a lifetime for himself. Given that he was expected to bring a notebook to their meeting tomorrow, they were going to have to do a lot of brainstorming, so he might as well start coming up with ideas now. He already had a few as he grabbed a notepad from the mess on the floor and started hunting for a pencil.

No matter what his fake date said, this weekend was going to be a lot of fun.

#AUgust 2021 #fake dating au #logince #moxiety #dukeceit

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Remember, Don't You Miss Us?

Prompt: hey, if you're taking requests for Sanders sides, can I request some angsty human au! familial sides? patton/janus as parents that get/have gotten divorced and (some of) the others move between houses or smth?? idk do what you want as long as its angsty with a happy ending

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: divorced moceit at the start, they fix it, other than that you good

Pairings: parental moceit, errybody else is the kids

Word Count: 3738

The void never used to be as obvious.

Patton and Janus got divorced, their children split between the two houses. They manage to keep up appearances, but the emptiness never really goes away.

The kids decide to do something about it.

The void never used to be as obvious.

There were times when Patton would come downstairs, expecting to see at least someone else awake, perhaps Logan in the corner chair, curled around a mug of coffee and staring out the window, perhaps Roman at the table with his notebook out and his pen flying, or perhaps Virgil, just rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to figure out what to do next. Remus wasn’t an early riser, but perhaps—on very rare occasions—there he would be, sprawled across the floor, playing with his toys.

But now there’s no one to make the coffee for Logan, no one to encourage Roman to write down his ideas, no one to chuckle softly at bleary little Virgil. No one to halfheartedly scold Remus for leaving his toys all over the floor.

Patton still goes to the coffee pot and turns it on, even if there are buttons on the top he doesn’t dare to touch. Logan asked him once why he refuses to change the settings, even if he doesn’t like the kind of coffee it makes. His hands had shaken too much to answer.

He still goes through all the motions of making breakfast, even if the sudden tug in his chest at the worry they won’t have enough eggs goes limp as he realizes there are only three of them in the house now. Roman asked him once why he was staring at the carton of eggs lying there on the counter. He’d shaken his head and said he was counting.

He still hesitates at the door too long when it’s time to take his kiddos to school, expecting a green blur to tug a blob of purple down the stairs so fast he worries they’re going to hurt themselves. Both Roman and Logan look at him confused when he wants to wait a little longer before taking them out to the car.

But mostly…

Mostly he misses the flash of yellow in the corner of his eye. He could never quite pull off the color, something about the way his undertones refused to cooperate or…something like that. His own wardrobe looks…smaller now, simpler. He never used to blend into the walls this much.

Mostly he misses the low voice coming from the other room, up the stairs, just over his shoulder. His own voice is too high, too bubbly to be properly sarcastic and the absence of that voice twisting words around and around and around. Or when it would soften, and oh how much he could drown in the softness.

Mostly he misses the gloved hands on his shoulder, the small of his back, around his waist, on his hips, cupping the nape of his neck. Patton hugs his kiddos all the time, but there was something about the drag of gloves against his clothes that made him tighten his hugs.

Mostly he misses waking up to someone else warm on cold nights.

The bed feels so much bigger.

No.

No, don’t go down that road, it only leads to crying and Roman and Logan trying frantically to fix it.

They couldn’t.

It wasn’t their fault, they’re kids. They didn’t deserve to have to fix these things, these were an adult’s responsibility, these were problems they wouldn’t know how to solve. It wasn’t their fault that Patton never learned when to stop pushing. It wasn’t their fault that Patton could never figure out where the lines were drawn. It wasn’t their fault that Patton could never stop crying, making it all about himself, never wanting to listen.

Patton scrubs a hand under his nose before it can start to drip.

No. No, it wasn’t their fault, it was—it is his.

It’s his fault they can’t see their brothers anymore, not like they used to.

It’s his fault their Papa went away.

It’s his fault that he couldn’t figure out how to love Janus.

But goodness, does he miss him.

———————————————

The room’s never felt this small before.

There were times when Janus would open the door and expect someone, anyone, to barrel into him before he could step over the threshold and words would tumble out, perhaps a new idea Remus had, perhaps something Virgil was worried about, perhaps Logan with a slew of new questions for him, or perhaps—if he was coming home on a night that Roman didn’t have an after-school club—it would be Roman, wrapping his arms tightly around Janus and refusing to let him go.

But now there’s no one to keep Remus supplied with new sketchbook paper, no one to sit quietly and talk through Virgil’s fears with him, no one to go on Wikipedia odysseys with Logan, and no one to beam at Roman.

Janus still walks to the bookshelf and runs his hand along the spine of the books, searching, searching for something to read that he hasn’t read in a while, and unbidden his mind will go directly to what puns he could make from the titles. Remus had looked up at him once as a chuckle forced its way out through his lips and asked him what was so funny. Janus had shaken his head and said something had just crossed his mind.

He still walks into a room and instinctively picks up a pen to toss into the corner, expecting a soft ‘thank you’ or an ‘ow!’ from the chair or the couch or the desk. Virgil had stared at him one time when he’d walked into the room and without thinking, grabbed a pen from the pen pot and chucked it across the room, eyes wide, wondering what was happening. Janus had dropped to the ground and done his very best to comfort the poor dear, saying that no, he wasn’t angry, he did that from a habit, it’s alright, it’s alright…

He still has the urge to buy another beanbag chair, even though the one they have right now fits the three of them perfectly, unable to get the worry of making the twins share for longer than absolutely necessary out of his head. Virgil and Remus had shrugged and said they’d be fine with having their own beanbag chairs, but they look too small all alone in the sea of fabric and small plastic balls. He’d shaken his head and said he prefers seeing them all together.

But mostly…

Mostly he misses the bright, bubbly laughter that would fill the house to bursting, drawing a smile to his lips at how unabashedly happy it was. The siren song would lure him from every corner of the house, even if he were knee-deep in work, just to see what made its owner so deliriously happy.

Mostly he misses the easy words, the sweet nothings, the effortless comfort. He’s a little too rough, too guarded, too intimidating to sound as gentle and kind and reassuring, he can’t be the softer kind of support that his sweeties need sometimes. That loss, the fumbling of his tongue, always makes those sobs sound so much louder.

Mostly he misses the shameless questions. How is he doing today, what can we do to help, you know we love you, right? Such selfless care, emanating from everywhere, unconditional support, that promise, he doesn’t know how anyone could do that. For someone for whom love still fit clumsily on his tongue, he was in danger of dying of thirst after years of feeling like he could drown in it.

Mostly he misses turning around and not seeing an empty space next to him.

Don’t start.

Not again.

You don’t deserve to miss something when you threw it away without caring.

This road only leads to silences, silences Remus tries to fill by being too big, too loud, too much, silences Virgil detests and hides away, waits out, curling around his security stuffie until feels it’s safe to come out again.

It won’t be.

It’s not their fault, they’re kids. They shouldn’t be trained to read every single emotional cue to make sure their worlds won’t be upended again, they shouldn’t have to try and take of their parent, they shouldn’t be worrying about what’s going on with a problem they can’t fix. It isn’t their fault that Janus never learned how to let himself be vulnerable. It isn’t their fault that he never learned how to bite back some of his harsher remarks. It isn’t their fault that Janus could never stop trying to defend himself from someone who would never hurt him, never wanting to listen.

Janus takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

It’s his fault. Of course, it’s his fault.

It’s his fault Remus still looks around for his twin in the mornings.

It’s his fault that the brothers will grow up divided.

It’s his fault that Dad lives separately from them now.

But damn, he misses Patton so much.

———————————————

Logan: So we’re in agreement, this happens this Friday.

emo-nightmare: no need for all the grammar there L

Princey: Yes! This Friday™! It will be glorious and victorious!

living nightmare: we all will shout uproarious?

emo-nightmare: cause life is so euphorious

Logan: That’s not a word, Virgil.

emo-nightmare: if you wanna write to disney and tell em theyre using made up words i can think of better places for u to start

Princey: no virge don’t he’ll actually do it

Logan: Putting that aside, we agree that we’re doing this this Friday, yes?

Princey: Yep. Dad thinks we’re gonna go to the park to hang out after school and he’s meeting us there.

emo-nightmare: papa’s got a photoshoot with that new brand and rem and i suggested the park at 530

living nightmare: I got the fake blood and mannequin heads

Princey: REMSU WHAT THE FUKC

emo-nightmare: wow how is L letting yo make that many typos

Princey: fuck off V

living nightmare: how is Dad letting you get away with swearing that much

Princey: I am disowning you

living nightmare: on what grounds?

Princey: on the grounds that your a douchebag and you swear every two words

emo-nightmare: *you’re are u proud of me L

Logan: Had you not used the ‘u’, I would be

emo-nightmare: smh when will I be enough

Princey: you don’t need to be enough for us to love u now NO MORE SAD TALK IT IS OPERATION GET OUR DADS TO PULL THEIR HEADS OUTTA THEIR ASSES TIME

Logan: Everything is a go?

Princey: Sure is!

emo-nightmare: Roger

living nightmare: so I shouldn’t bring the mannequin heads?

Logan: No.

Princey: NO

emo-nightmare: guess not

living nightmare: :(

———————————————

In the end, it’s surprisingly easy for their kids to do things without them noticing.

Patton doesn’t Roman sneaking a camera into his backpack on the way to school, or the way he nods at Logan as they spilt up upon reaching the gates. He’s too preoccupied with scanning the parking lot, seeing if maybe, just maybe, there’s another familiar car here that he shouldn’t be caught looking at.

He doesn’t notice the way Logan texts him to remind him that they’ll be meeting at the park, across the street from the library, at 5:30 pm sharp, next to the fountain, and says that Patton will be there, not him. He’s too busy remember the last time he was at that fountain.

Janus doesn’t notice the way Remus pouts one more time at Virgil as they get ready to go, sighing and rolling his eyes about how boring the others are getting. He’s too focused on how he still expects to see a different person in the passenger seat as he drops them off a block away from the school.

He doesn’t notice the way Virgil doesn’t ask him to remember that they’re meeting after school in the park so he can help with taking the photos, but tells him, in no uncertain terms, that Janus better be in the park by the fountain at 5:30. He’s…busy remembering why he agreed to have the photoshoot by the fountain in the first place.

“Wait, why don’t you want to do the partner photoshoot?”

Janus sighs, leaning back against the fountain. “Because it has me fake being a couple.”

Patton’s mouth opens and closes and Janus sighs. Patton looks at the ground.

“I don’t believe that kind of bond can be just an arrangement,” he says after a moment, “as if it were a…contract or something. For something that they want but not—not like that.”

The fountain burbles quietly. Janus tips his head back to look at the stars.

“And what do you want?”

Patton turns, straightening as the frustration in his voice drifts away. “What do I want?”

Janus nods.

“What a good question,” he murmurs, looking at him, “what I want…is for you to come closer.”

Janus blinks in shock, his brow furrows just the slightest bit. Patton smiles and beckons.

“Yes,” he encourages when he takes a tentative step, “come closer.”

He stands to his full height as he stops in front of him, still searching his face for a clue as to what is going on. He doesn’t hold his gaze, instead looking at him with such awe that the sweet thing flushes. His hands come up slowly, hovering above his shoulders before carefully, carefully taking hold of his arms.

“This,” he breathes, “is what I want,” he says as his fingers toy with the roughness of his jacket, “this is what I want, what I have always wanted.”

Oh.

Janus’s breath catches in his throat but Patton doesn’t stop.

“To have you here in my arms and to know—“ his gaze flashes up to catch Janus’s— “that you feel at home here.”

As his eyes go wide, Patton takes them a step away from the fountain. His gaze searches his face desperately.

“Tell me,” he asks, “do you still feel comfortable here? With me? Is it still home for you?”

It’s too much. The way his gaze threatens to tear his heart from his chest, his words pluck his walls apart, brick by brick, it’s too much. He can be the friend, he can’t—he can’t see Patton like this.

“Please…please…don't turn away from me—look at me.” A hand catches his chin, guiding him back. “Look in my eyes.”

I can’t, he wants to say, it’ll hurt when I have to look away.

“Are you scared?” His face falls. “By what? I won’t hurt you, I’d never hurt you, unless…”

He swallows, and something flickers behind his eyes.

“…you want to go?”

“It’s not that,” he manages, closing his eyes as he shakes his head, “I promise it’s not that.”

“If not, then what?”

“The others—I can’t—“

He doesn’t let him finish, swiftly cutting him off with a shake of his head. “No. No one can tell you that you can’t be here with me. I want you here, as long as you want to be here.”

I can stay? he asks with the furrow between his brows.

You can stay, he replies with the appearance of a smile.

“I know what I want, Janus.” Patton takes the smallest step closer. “Always have. And there was a time when…when you wanted that too.”

Janus chuckles. “You sound ridiculous.”

Patton laughs too. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m happy to be ridiculous if it lets me…”

He trails off and Janus frowns.

“…lets you what?”

“Be yours,” he murmurs as Janus’s heart pounds, “and to hear you be called mine.”

His face contorts as he traces the curve of his cheek again. He follows the trail of warmth, pushing into it with the hesitant desperation of a single trickle of water, halted by a dam in the river.

“You’re still here,” comes the quiet observation, “so clearly you're not afraid…are you?”

“…I don’t know anymore.”

“Then if you didn't trust me…” He swallows. “Then I’d ask you to—to go. Because I don’t want you to be here if you don’t want to be.”

The thought of leaving sends a spike through his ribs, punching a breath out of his lungs. He presses into his hand as much as he dares.

“…but if you do trust me,” he whispers, the fountain still humming behind them, “if you are truly not afraid of my touch as you've shown…close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them,” he repeats, “…please.”

He does as bid, all but thrumming in his hands. The hand on his cheek trembles for barely a moment, as if its owner is suddenly overcome by the realization that they’re here, before he feels a warmth next to his face and a puff of breath that isn’t his own.

“W-wait!”

The air freezes.

His eyes fly open as he struggles to process what just happened.

Patton. Patton. His Patton. He—he loves him. He invited him here tonight because he loves him. He wants to spend time with him because he loves him.

Gods above, he loves him.

He—gods, he just tried to kiss him because he loves him.

He just tried to kiss him.

And he—

—oh, gods, he told him to wait.

“Patton—“ he tries to find him but it’s too late.

The second he meets his eyes, he’s met with a tidal wave of anguish, slammed quickly behind iron doors that fail to banish the hurt from his expression. It breaks his heart.

“I understand,” he says lowly, going to move away, “I understand—“

“No—please, listen to me, I—“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says smoothly, his hand already leaving his face, “I understand. That was an abuse of power, it was not my intention to—“

“I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t want you to think that I—“

“The last thing I want is to pressure you into something you don’t want.”

“You don’t know I don’t want it!”

“I do!” His gaze flares sharply with anger, with hurt, seas of pain buried behind smiles and guarded expressions. He takes a deep breath and tries to force it away. “You told me to wait. And, forgive me, but I won’t wait to have my heart be broken all over again.”

“I’m not trying to break your heart—“ he scrabbles frantically for him— “please, just listen—“

“You don’t need to explain yourself, you never have, I understand that you don’t want me like that.” He lets him grab onto him but does not stop turning away. “But if you could give me a moment to collect myself, I—“

“I don’t know how to kiss!”

He freezes. “…what?”

His cheeks burn with the weight of his embarrassment and his unshed tears. “I don’t know how to kiss,” he repeats at a much more reasonable volume. He twists his hands in front of him. “I…you…I’m sorry, fuck, I’m making a mess of this.”

He buries his head in his hands, willing the tears to stay behind his eyes. As he looks up, he knows he’s going to fail as he spots the red-rimmed eyes staring back at him.

“Don’t ever,” he starts, voice wobbling a little, “don’t you ever believe that I don’t love you.”

His breath leaves him in a rush.

“Of course I love you,” he continues, growing stronger when he lets out a whimper and reaches for him, “of course I love you.”

“Then why—“ he grasps his shoulders, tighter than before, “why did you ask me to wait?”

The fountain bubbles and burbles, the soft smell of their drinks mixing with the sweet smell of the water. It’s warm here, in each other’s arms. It feels like home.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he confesses softly, “not like…not like that. It scares me.”

Patton shifts, not enough to hurt, just enough to hold Janus closer.

“I don’t know how to speak it.” His eyes fall closed, breathing in the warm smell of safe. “I don’t know what to do with it. And I—“

Patton gives his sides a gentle squeeze.

“…I am terrified of what normally comes after.”

“You don’t have to be,” comes the immediate reassurance, “not here, not with me. I won’t force you to do anything you’re not ready for. I will never ask anything of you that you wouldn’t give. Not until you want to.”

“…and what if I never want to?”

Janus feels his soft smile as he rests his chin on top of his head. “Then we won’t.”

“No?”

“No.” His forehead comes to rest against Janus’s once more. “But kissing doesn’t have to lead to that. It can just be a kiss.”

“It can?”

“Of course.” There’s a pause. “As that is the case…”

His eyes open. Is he…

“…are you asking?”

Patton pulls back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“May I teach you how to kiss, my love?”

Janus’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Yes.”

They would say that it took a lot of work. And it did; getting back to a place where they could trust each other again, to live together again, was a slow progression. Over a year, at least, but there they were, working together against the problem, not each other.

But really, really it…

Well, Janus turned around, expecting to see Virgil, and saw Patton instead, blinking in confusion.

Patton mumbled something about Roman and Logan saying he should be here, a small smile growing when Janus says that Virgil and Remus did the same.

“…our kids, huh?”

“Our kids.”

Patton cautiously broached the topic of whether he remembered the fountain. Janus had smiled and said that how could he forget?

“…anything else you remember?”

And, well, maybe there was something to be said about the movies that Roman loved so much and everyone else pretended they didn’t.

Because as Janus wraps his hand around Patton’s hoodie and pulls him in, they could swear they could hear cheering and whooping all around them.

In fairness to the kids, they had an excellent reason for why they shouldn’t be grounded for lying about their after-school plans.

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