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ruined-my-dramatic-entrance · 1 year

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Part of Me

Ello! I wanted to slip this fic idea in, or maybe even headcanon, but C!Thomas taking care of his sides - a metaphor for taking care and being gentle with himself, because the sides are parts of him in a way - and bonding more with them. Thomas is very soft for these personified parts of himself. (The way his voice softens and he frowns, "Oh bud." and "I'm not gonna make fun of you, buddy.") In turn, the sides are more playful and interactive with their "host", sneak in a few cuddles and cat piles and movie nights because I vote Thomas should be able to hug his sides - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 1662

It takes work to learn to love all the different parts of you.

Thomas walks through the front door and sighs, taking off his coat and going to the couch. Patton's already there, his cat onesie pulled up over his head as he sips a hot mug of something.

"Hey, Patton," he says, sitting down too, "what're you drinking?"

"Oh, Roman showed me. It's warm milk with a little bit of vanilla syrup in it. Terrific stuff."

"Smells good."

"Mhm." Patton takes another sip. "Tastes delicious!"

Thomas watches him for a few more moments before sighing. "Are we gonna talk about what just happened?"

"Hm? What was that, kiddo?"

"What just happened," Thomas says patiently, "are we going to talk about it?"

"Oh, we don't have to! I think we're all clear on everything, no need to trouble yourself with it, Thomas."

"Patton," he says patiently, waiting for some of the forced glee to dissipate, "we should talk about it."

Patton's fingers twitch on the mug but he doesn't put it down yet. "I-if you want to, kiddo."

"I do." Thomas shifts, turning to face him a little more. "You know it's okay if they don't forgive him, right?"

"Of course I do! Forgiveness is earned, not bestowed, we don't need to go over that."

"But Patton, even if they never forgive him, that's okay too."

Patton turns to look at him. "It's—what're you talking about, kiddo? It's important to make amends. Especially if you do something wrong."

"Yes," he says patiently, "but that doesn't mean they have to forgive him. That's for them, not for him."

Patton takes a deep breath and sets down the mug. "I know that, Thomas, it's just...hard to remember sometimes."

Thomas chuckles. "Yeah, I know, buddy. You and me both."

They sit on the couch together for a second. The clock ticks. A car drives by outside.

"I don't like seeing them fight," comes Patton's voice, "I don't like it one bit."

"Me neither." Thomas looks over. "You want a hug?"

"…yeah."

***

"Okay, buddy," Thomas announces, striding into the empty classroom, "I'm ready."

Logan looks up from the front of the room and smiles, turning on the projector and standing. "Thomas. Right on time."

"Almost like I planned it."

"We…did plan this, Thomas, about two weeks ago."

"Turn of phrase, Logan." He sits and props his head on his hands. "Okay, so, the difference between classical mechanics and quantum mechanics?"

"Yes. Let's begin." He clicks a button and a grid appears on the screen. The vertical axis reads 'size,' the horizontal axis is labeled 'speed.' "Now, there are roughly four group of physics. The ones that we use most often are for large objects moving at relatively slow speeds."

"Slow relative to what?"

"The speed of light, denoted by variable 'c'."

"I see."

"Second—" Logan pauses and gives him a look for the pun— "is large things moving at fast speeds. Or, rather, speeds comparable to the speed of light. These are relativistic mechanics. Special relativity, general relativity, Einstein's more well-known contributions."

"Are these the ones they use in Interstellar?"

"Yes, actually. That movie is remarkably accurate when it comes to certain aspects of spacetime." Logan shakes his head. "Other things, however…"

"So what I'm gathering is that we shouldn't watch it next movie night?"

"No. No, we should not. You and I can watch it separately when you have eight hours of allotted time."

"Wait, hold on, there's no way it's that long."

"With how much I will want to explain it will be."

Thomas laughs and Logan cracks a smile, pointing to the next square.

"Now, quantum mechanics is the set of rules that applies to small things moving at relatively low speeds. These are what we would consider the majority of things in the universe, so quarks, leptons, et cetera."

"Wait, what's a quark?"

"Tiny pieces of matter, the ones that make up protons and neutrons and such."

"Wait, wait, there are things smaller than atoms? Smaller than those?"

"…perhaps we will need to extend this lesson."

Thomas just smiles as Logan begins to explain that yes, there are in fact very, very tiny things in the known universe. It's worth playing a little dumb if Logan can be this happy about explaining things.

***

"C'mon, buddy," he mumbles in Virgil's ear as he guides him to the couch, "you got one weighted blanket coming right up."

Virgil just clings stubbornly to his sleeve as Thomas drapes the blanket over him. He's pulled unceremoniously under it and between Virgil and the couch, struggling a little bit to breathe before resigning himself to his fate and hooking his chin over Virgil's shoulder.

"Can you see the door?"

"Yes. It's locked. Wait—did we lock it?"

"We always put the key in the bowl after we lock it. Can you see the key in the bowl?"

"Yes."

"Good. Can you see the window?"

"Yeah. We didn't draw the blinds. Anyone could see into the house. We should close them."

"Okay, let's go close them."

They get up—well, Thomas gets up and Virgil clings to him—and draw the blinds. Thomas shepherds them back to the couch and pulls Virgil almost into his lap.

"Where's the phone?"

"Your phone is in your pocket. Mine is upstairs."

"Good. You wanna try breathing with me?"

Virgil shifts and leans back against Thomas like an overgrown house cat. "Nah. 'M all good now. Just…needed to do that."

"No problem, bud. I'm right here."

"Mm."

"Uh…are you gonna get off my lap?"

"Nope."

"…at least put on something."

"There's a new blooper reel out."

"Sounds good."

***

"Shut the goddamn door."

Thomas quickly shuts the door and turns to the pile of blankets-and-snake on the bed. He sighs and walks over. "You cold, bud?"

The part of the blankets that is probably Janus's head glares at him. "No. I am doing this because I want to do this and not because I am being forced to by the elements."

"So you don't wanna cuddle?"

He doesn't even get time to process what's happening before he's being pulled under the blankets and very cold things are being pressed against his very warm and unsuspecting stomach.

"Yikes!"

"Shh," Janus hisses, "be quiet, space heater."

"You are freezing, bud, oh my god."

"I hadn't noticed. Now shush."

"Okay, can I just—" he moves one of the icicles Janus is calling hands to a different part of him— "okay. There."

"How are you so warm," comes the grumble, "'s not fair."

"You're cold-blooded."

"And we live in Florida. It should not be this cold."

"Shh, bud, it's okay." Thomas flails around a bit to find Janus's head and runs his fingers through his hair. "Just go ahead and steal all my body heat."

The snake hisses in contentment and a very cold nose presses itself to Thomas's neck. He hisses too and pulls him closer.

"Getting clingy, are we?"

"The sooner you warm up, the sooner there's not an ice cube on my neck."

"You're just lucky I've decided only two of my hands need to be warmed up right now."

That is a very good thing and Thomas is going to be quiet now.

***

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Remus, we can't just make everything in the living room green."

"But it would be fun!"

"For who?"

"Me, and that's all I care about right now because I'm bored!" Remus flops onto the couch and looks pleadingly up at Thomas. "Can we just paint it green? We can paint it back afterwards!"

"We don't have paint for all the colors of the things we'd need to paint, Remus."

"But we have lots of green paint!"

"But we don't have spare furniture."

"Sure we do!"

Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't have spare furniture."

"Oh."

"But hey, why don't you let us into the rage room and we can paint everything in there green?"

Thomas barely has a moment to breathe before he's in the rage room, in the white coveralls suit, and a can of green pray paint in his hands. Remus is already cackling and painting—okay, he's not gonna ask what that object is, he's not sure he wants the answer.

"C'mon, Thomathy!"

"Bet I can cover the wall faster than you can."

"Bet you can't!"

***

Roman sometimes comes to him in the evenings. He'll knock on the door and wait politely for Thomas to open it.

"Hey, bud," Thomas says softly, "you want a hug?"

"If you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all. Come in."

Somewhere along the line, when Thomas figured out what it meant that Roman was his Ego, he found out that Roman just likes to be held. Not necessarily for anything, just to have someone put their arms around him and stay there. He'd asked if it was the pressure or the warmth or something specific, but Roman had just shrugged.

"It's nice. That's all."

"Okay. I can do that."

Roman, for all his size and stature when they're filming, actually feels smaller when he comes to Thomas for things like this. He fits snugly into a hug, tucking his head under Thomas's chin, breaths puffing over his shoulder.

And it is nice. Just to have this moment of quiet.

Just him and his Ego, trying to figure out how to be.

Together.

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#sanders sides #fic

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