#(patton and logan make sure to tell her shes a good girl

[areweevercameraready]

more than beliefs (11: a girl worth fighting for)

A/N: happy thursday!

WARNINGS: a bit of a scuffle and a black eye — i don't think there's much else but, as usual, if you spot something and think it should be flagged, please let me know!

Words: 5,884

here it is on AO3!

here are the MtB masterpost and the full Chivalry series masterpost!

enjoy!!

As much as Roman had mentioned her, none of them really thought the Dragon Witch would be a real person. Or, rather, real character. Someone this real. A house. A role. 

She was draped in very regal, medieval clothing. A scarf was wrapped around her hair, so long that the ends billowed and glittered above her cape. When she walked, it was hard to tell if her legs were moving down there or if she was just hovering in a line. Logan watched to see. He was impressed by the accuracy of her clothing. Sure, her dress was much closer to the fourteenth century than the fifth, when King Arthur allegedly ruled, but Roman must have put in a lot of thought to make her as accurate as he did to a time period, at least. And Logan was pretty sure that was an accurate way of pinning a headscarf. Roman must have done his research. Or Remus, because he seemed familiar with her.

Remus was chatting away in answer of her questions. Given that her home was on his side, it was probably safe to assume he knew her. Maybe they were friendly, even. That made her seem a little less of a stranger, like he were following the connected threads between them, though it still made her seem hostile. Someone that was friendly toward Roman and Remus both. Everyone was still trying to wrap their heads around the idea that the twins were friendly toward each other. Remus had seemed so concerned about his brother. 

Out of all of them, Janus just wanted to talk with Roman. That’s all. 

There hasn’t exactly been opportunity for it given Romans hatred of him now. But it was warranted somewhat. But if only Roman could understand that it was for Thomas’ good, that it was for the best.

If only he’d allow Janus to make his case. This was just so frustrating. 

And none of these advisors WERE Roman. Yes, it was good to talk with them, to hear bits and pieces of what Roman thought of him. The Damsel’s assertion (or, rather, laughter) over how little Roman liked him was enough to fully convince him that he needed to talk with Roman specifically. Not any part of him. No fragmented communication was as useful or as thorough as a direct conversation. But, well. Thomas nor Roman were known for their abilities of confrontation.

As they walked deeper into the cave, the sides began straightening and smoothing out, jagged red surfaces turning into carved walls. At some point, the torches and lanterns shifted into chandelier lights, and the scorched rock beneath their feet turned into a thick gray rug. 

The Damsel and the Thief were following closely after her as well. Janus brought up the rear, continuing to hide from view, but he wanted to get a better view. Virgil was next up at the front, eyeing everything with an air of distrust. This was technically Remus’ side, that’s where she lived. But this newcomer, the Witch, seemed to be influenced by both Creativities. Virgil was trying to size her up. 

“Should we introduce ourselves?” Patton whispered to Logan while they walked. 

It must not have been quiet enough because she turned to look over her shoulder at them. Patton let out a small “meep,” but she chuckled warmly. 

“You don’t have to, but you can if you would like. I know who you are, Morality,” the Witch had a cackle in her voice, just a little foreboding. 

“Makes sense. Did Roman tell you about us?” Virgil asked. 

She nodded. “A lot more than you would think. And Remus. I’ve heard a lot about you all over the years.”

Logan tilted his head at the phrasing. “Over the years?” he repeated. “How long have you existed?”

To that, the Dragon Witch just grinned. It was hard to tell if she meant it to be intimidating or if that happened accidentally, because she had rows of jagged dragon teeth. “Longer than you would expect, Logic.”

He glanced to the side, swallowing the excess water in his mouth. The motion made her laugh, at least, and she waved her hand.

“I was among the first forms that the Imagination made. Back when…Before Roman and Remus,” she sighed, looking back down the hall. “Come. The others are waiting for us.”

The Witch continued walking down the hall and, now, Remus was quiet. He was skipping, but he looked back at all of them with some kind of smugness. 

Happy that they understood. Or, rather, were going to understand. Maybe they understood nothing. These fuckers were SO confident in their everythings that when things like this, people like Vi and things like the Tree, evidence of their depth, whenever that was displayed, they all seemed to lose it. And Remus kind of reveled in it? He loved throwing them off, surprising them. It wasn’t that hard. But it felt fulfilling. 

Roman needed their help, though. Remus scowled at the thought, but that didn’t change how true it was. That’s half what he was, he was the truth-teller, he was the one without secrets. Without things to hide. He was an open book and the writing on the pages. Roman was the actor, the one who wanted no one to know anything about the reality of him. Remus was only ever a secret because no one, not Janus, not Thomas, no one ever wanted to ask.

Oh, he was going to beat the ever loving shit out of Roman for making him be responsible like this. Oh! The fucking nerve! 

At the end of the hall was an ornate door and a very normal looking shoe rack, almost homely, almost intimidating. Vi didn’t take off any shoes but Remus immediately dropped to the floor, one leg kicking out in a death drop, and then began trying to pull his knee-length boots off. 

Virgil, out of everyone, snorted at the motion. He’d been digging his nails into his palms for the whole walk, trying to size the Dragon Witch up. Unlike the Dragon or even the Damsel, it was hard. She was nothing like how she looked. Like, right now she just looked really pristine. But when she was a dragon, she was bigger than THE Dragon. Virgil had felt her nails. And she had Remus batting for her. 

It was enough of a threat that she was friends with Remus. But she was also with Roman. 

That was important, all of them were thinking. 

What did it mean, she’d known Remus and Roman before they were two separates? They could barely remember Creativity, when he was around. The split had happened when they were so young, when they first started daydreaming, really. Patton remembered him the most, but…only the wonder and the horror. 

They all had slowly taken off their shoes, dropping them near the shoe rack. Once everyone’s shoes were off, the Dragon Witch waved a hand toward the door, and its lock clicked unceremoniously. Inside was a homely foyer, like the inside of a Victorian house. Not much like a cave. 

Patton was the first in, as usual, looking around with less apprehension and more curiosity. He was followed almost immediately by Remus, who barged in and shouted, “HEY FUCKOS, GUESS WHO’S HOME!”

Logan took a moment to organize the shoes in a row out of the way of the hall, the last one into the house. Once he was in, the door snapped shut, with the Dragon Witch still standing by it. 

“Thank you,” she hummed. “You’re very organized.”

Logan didn’t know how to feel about that. He tried not to. “I do appreciate order,” he agreed. 

At that, she chuckled.

“AYOOOOOO REMUS,” they heard the Dragon shout from around an opening forward. It looked like it led to a kitchen of sorts. 

“You’re very afraid of disorder. I don’t know why. It doesn’t bite,” the Dragon Witch continued with Logan, and then she gestured toward the opening, saying louder for everyone, “Everyone’s in the dining room.”

The Sides didn’t seem very ready to move on. The foyer was huge, photos lining the walls, a coatrack with some cloaks and jackets that could belong to either of the twins. Patton was looking over the photos, many of which looked like paintings. Virgil was to one of his sides, eyeing Janus, who was at the other. 

The twins had managed to hide all of this. Janus’ eyes were glued to a photo, an old one, a polaroid that was framed. It was of Roman and Remus, both maybe ten years old. They were holding foam swords and standing on top of a dragon, looking proud — the very same Dragon Witch who was ushering them into the dining area.

“Everyone’s here. They bring updates, so I’ve heard,” the Dragon Witch explained as she drifted into the dining area.

The Thief and the Damsel were first to lead the pack in, but their departure drew Logan. The room was an interesting look into a past that none of them were privy to. Remus followed close behind, familiar with these things.

Around the room were mementos of the past. Family photos of Remus and Roman as children. As teenagers. The Dragon Witch in the background and holding hands with both, her hands curling over both of their shoulders like a proud mother. There were a few paintings and decor on the walls, too. One of Remus and Roman standing over her dragon form, as if having won a fight, and even she looked happy about it.

Patton stayed by the wall, eyes turned upward at everything. There was so much history here, so much he hadn’t known. They hadn’t even known Roman and Remus were friends, really. They seemed to not like each other quite a bit. So this was interesting. Even hearing the Damsel was calling Remus in to help was unexpected. But…well. He shouldn’t assume to know everything about Roman, right, after all of this. 

It was settling in, how much they’d all assumed. How much he’d assumed, Patton specifically. He thought he knew enough about Roman to be able to guess what he might be thinking or what he might want…but if he didn’t even know what Roman’s relationship to Remus looked like…

How much was Roman hiding? How much of his own feelings was he hiding? 

Had he been hiding them at all? Had Patton just not been looking, not been paying attention? Had none of them been paying enough attention? 

Had none of them asked? Even Virgil seemed surprised by everything, and Virgil had been on Roman’s side.

The Bard was helping bandage something on the Artist’s shoulder, his paint-covered hoodie sitting on the ground by his feet. It looks like they’d gotten into a scuffle with one of Remus’ creations, to which Remus acknowledged with a loud snort. The Artist shot him a glare. 

“Don’t hate the player,” Remus put his hands up in mock surrender. 

At least the playful sentiment got the Artist to roll his eyes. It must be a familiar argument. 

The Thief shuffled besides the Bard, who looked up to him with a wan grin. 

“Hey, hey,” he greeted, voice soft, but the smile dropped as he saw the Thief’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

The Thief, jaw firmly set, looked away. 

The Damsel, too, grimaced. Neither of them seemed to want to say anything about it. 

Janus would have been fine breaking the news had he not been wary of the other advisors being upset with him. Logan opened his mouth to explain, but the Dragon interrupted. 

“Wait,” the Dragon asked, wings falling to his sides with a scowl. “Where’s Gavin?” 

The Artist perked up, brow furrowing, and the Bard blinked in surprise. His eyes scanned through the crowd again — Virgil shoved his hands further into his pockets, dreading the upcoming confrontation — before he turned around to the Thief again. 

“....Eric, I’m so sorry,” the Bard whispered, tucking the final bit of bandage around the Artist’s arm quickly. “Eric, baby.”

The Artist stood, stepping away from the Bard and the Thief as he put his clothing back on. When he moved away, the Thief all but collapsed into his vacant seat, and the Bard quickly wrapped his arms around the Thief’s cloaked figure.

They pressed into each other, the Bard biting his lip worriedly, and the Thief just…curled up. His arms pressed into his chest and he fought against the safety of the Bard’s embrace, trying to keep himself from crying, because if he thought too hard about how he’d failed the Child…

“The Child has gone missing,” Logan explained, voice more gentle, now. 

No one interrupted. The Dragon nodded, mouth pressed into a firm line. The Damsel had shuffled to sit at the table beside him and he knocked his crowned head against the Dragon’s hip. 

“Do you have any-any theories, Logan? I have one, but I would-I am interested in-in your analysis,” the Damsel invited. 

Oh. Logan tried to keep his surprise to a minimum, but it was difficult. He hadn’t anticipated being called on like that. 

Patton wrapped his arm around Logan’s, though kept quiet, as if he understood how big this moment was. As if it were anything at all. Virgil sat down; Janus elected to stand closer to the Dragon Witch. The animosity was lowest here. 

“Well,” Logan began, clearing his throat. “Evidence tells us that something happened to the Playwright. And regardless of if he’d gone willingly to his assailant, it would stand to reason that, should they attack again, they would expect your guards to be up. Two is unlikely to be a coincidence, in this situation. I would hazard…that it could be three. That perhaps the Playwright and the Child are in the same place as Roman.”

The Damsel nodded in agreement, lips pursed. Janus, too, hummed softly. They were all on the same wavelength. They didn’t know where Roman went, but with advisors being kidnapped, it was all the more reason to believe either Roman too was kidnapped, or Roman…might be doing the kidnapping. To what ends, though? And is he alone?

“Hey, Eric,” the Artist asked. 

He’d put his jacket back on and was rotating the shoulder that the Bard had just bandaged. He wasn’t as much of a tactical fighter as he was a no-holds-barred-anything-goes fighter. He was struck and he’d live with that injury, since the Bard was trying to conserve energy. And his arms were full of the Thief. If only the Playwright were here, though….

The Thief turned ever so slightly toward the Artist, and Virgil got the sinking suspicion that no matter what the Artist asked, it wouldn’t end well. The Artist must have had a similar understanding, because he put his hands up in as nonthreatening a way as he could.

“I don’t mean this in like, a judgemental way, but…what happened?” 

Oh, god. No. 

Janus winced at the question, and Virgil hunched more in on himself. He was sitting by the Damsel, almost hidden behind him, with Patton to his other side. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too explosive. 

Whatever contrarian energy the Thief may have had earlier dissipated, though, as his shoulders slumped. Maybe it was the precursor that the Artist wasn’t trying to accuse, and maybe it was because they were searching for the same thing.

“Gav and I had an argument. He…He wanted to go out, help find Playwright with you all. I said we had to stay safe, stay home, keep everyone else out of trouble,” the Thief’s voice was heavy with grief as he explained. “I…when I was washing the dishes, I lost track of him. Or maybe even before that. I didn’t even hear the door open.”

He shook his head. The Artist winced at the explanation, as did the Dragon. And the Bard gave the Thief a squeeze. 

It seemed that everyone knew how harsh this blow was to him. Logan wondered, what did this mean for everyone, that they were so intertwined. What was the impact on Roman. You’d hope that it meant Roman was at ease with himself. 

After all, everyone was working together here. But Roman was the only outlier, he seemed to be in disagreement with all of them. 

There were rarely moments where Thomas was in disagreement with all of the Sides. Considering how these advisors were like Sides to Roman…Logan rubbed his jaw a little in thought. 

Thomas would turn on most of them if he was listening to one specifically. Similar to the play years ago, the one Deceit disguised as Patton had them put on, Thomas was only paying attention to one Side. 

Perhaps Roman was listening to only one of them. 

But all seven were here, in agreement, and Roman was nowhere to be found.

Were there seven?

“We didn’t find much over here,” the Artist confessed. “Just got here, actually, a few minutes before y’all.”

It felt like an effort to change to a more productive topic. The Artist blew out a long exhale before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man. We’re going to find them.”

“I don’t know who…” the Thief’s voice trailed off. 

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything with anyone, and no one I’ve made’d really do that. Everyone with a brain knows not to meddle with you meddlesome kids!” Remus squeaked in dismay, and then he cocked his head to the side in thought. Then, he shook his head again. “Nope, none’ve them’d.”

“Them’d?” the Damsel asked, and Remus snorted at him. 

“I haven’t noticed anyone traversing too oddly, other than the border dweller. And even he’s been more reclusive lately,” the Dragon Witch agreed with a hum. 

“Oh, a new border dweller? You’ve got a neighbor?” Remus asked. 

Logan looked up immediately. That would make sense.

“We should stay on—” the Damsel tried to interrupt, but the Dragon Witch let out a small chuckle in continuation. His authority meant less here, anyway. And meant less to the Dragon Witch.

For good reason, too. “No, no, Roman’s border. The advisor,” the Dragon Witch waved a clawed hand. “He’s been lovely the few times we’ve spoken, but he’s a bit paranoid. He might know something.”

The word advisor sat with everyone for a long while. It took some understanding at the insinuation. 

An advisor, who lived near the border between Roman and Remus’ edges of the Imagination. The Damsel frowned in confusion at the Dragon Witch, mouthing “border?” to himself. The Dragon must not have caught the insinuation at all, because he seemed even more confused by everyone else’s silence. 

Slowly, the Thief peeled off the Bard with a squinted, teary-eyed face to stare at the Dragon Witch. Even the Artist was watching her, brow pinched but mouth hanging open. 

“Excuse me?” the Bard asked, teeth gritted. He seemed to have made the connection first. “Sorry, advisor like. Like us, advisor?”

“That’s who Roman has been listening to,” Logan said. 

Patton frowned, nudging his side gently. “What do you mean?”

“If the advisors are Roman’s Sides….well, we’ve seen what happens when Thomas only considers the opinions of one of us. He acts drastically and without much forethought. Roman seems to be acting the same way,” Logan explained, though he kept his gaze on the agitated advisors watching him. “It means he could be solely listening to another advisor.”

The Dragon Witch must not have known this border dweller was new, because she looked worried. She put a hand over her mouth and turned aside, breaking eye contact with the Bard.

He winced, waving his hand and approaching. “Hey. Hey, Vi. Do you mean advisor like us?”

“....Yes. No wonder he’s not here,” she responded. “I thought you knew of him. He mentioned he’s met some of you.”

The other advisors were missing something. Some sort of crucial information, some epiphany, some kind of connection, because it looked like something was happening in the brains of all of Roman’s advisors. The Dragon’s confused frown turned angry, the Damsel’s hardened into a scowl. The Bard was helpless, frown tight and nostrils flared as he glanced at the Artist, whose eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open still, but now from breathing. 

Virgil reached over and held his hand. At the very least, the Artist gripped back tight. All this tension was going to make the search later a lot harder, no one’d be able to focus.

The only person who seemed to not be angry was the Thief, who had been staring idly at the Dragon Witch’s feet, eyebrows raising. He must have been making some kind of realization, though, because his hand shot up to his mouth. 

“Oh my god,” the Thief mumbled, voice muffled. “Oh my god, I think I’ve met him.”

The Artist turned so hard his back cracked, and he winced in pain, though he was undeterred from shouting, “YOU HAVE?”

The Thief nodded, eyes closing tight. He hadn’t thought it was real, but if this was someone new, someone who lived by the edge, and was going to start kidnapping them all….well. He always thought he was just good at escaping things. “I…I thought he was…I’ve-I probably have. Maybe I’m going insane. I don’t know. But I think I’ve been-I’ve had dreams where I wake up at the edge. And if there’s one of us that lives there, that’s on the border into the Subconscious normally, then it’s him. It has to be. It can’t not be.”

A dream. It sounded less plausible the more they turned it over in their minds. Janus scoffed — a dream — and Logan bit his tongue to not say anything, but the reality of their situation was damning. 

It didn’t sound likely that a dream was where this mysterious eighth would introduce themselves, though dreams were as real as reality here. More than just the other Sides must have drawn this conclusion, because the Damsel pointedly put his hands behind his back, shoulders stiff and hiked. Guarding his own thoughts, as always. Or maybe guarding himself from the riling Artist, whose hands were pulling through his hair hard enough to pull his bun out of order.

“I’d’ve thought the one of us who knew him was Playwright,” the Artist shouted finally. “That fucker was always knowing more than he ever fucking said. He fucking-God DAMNIT.”

The Dragon leaned over, putting his hands on the Artist’s back in as comforting a way as he could, but the Artist just let go of Virgil’s hand and shrugged the Dragon’s hands off of himself. He jumped to his feet, pacing with his fists curled. Anger dripped off him. 

The colors on his sweater, swirling and abstract, tinged orange. “He fucking-He promised Roman he’d find all of us. He probably fucking found this other guy—Vi, what’s his name?” 

Everyone’s eyes returned to the Dragon Witch, who’d backed up a step. Her hands smoothed down the front of her shirt and she cleared her throat softly. It was something more painful than fear that danced in her expression as she played with the hem of her cape.

“He called himself the Director,” she confessed. “I’m so sorry, I…when I met him, he seemed level-headed. I didn’t expect this of him.”

The Director. As ominous a name as the Damsel, or the Dragon, or the Thief. Their titles were telling. 

The Damsel turned the name over in his head. Director. Someone who sees themselves as a leader. But not in the same way as a Prince, no. They see it as fake. As a facade that they run and, well, more than lead. Direct. They have opinions. Strong ones. 

Immediately, he likens the Director to himself. And…when he was formed, he had some pretty objectionable goals. With the disappearance of the Playwright and the Child gone…with Roman gone…could this Director be a catalyst of some sort? Some other conflict-resolution member? Why would he be hiding in the woods? Why would he have waited all this time?

Had he been alone, holed up by himself, when the likeness to Roman faded away? Had the brown hair and brown eyes, charming voice and sturdy posture, faded away into something else without him understanding why? It had ostensibly been years since then, though the Sides only experienced it in mere months. Did Roman know about him? Or had Roman happened upon him? 

Did he get Roman to do this? 

Logan met his eyes in a quick glance. They must be thinking similar questions. 

They should get going. With a new player, there’s no telling what this Director would have Roman do. Even a name like that…gave implications.

“It sounds like a fair assumption, that Marlowe would know and wouldn’t say anything. He does seem the type to keep things close to his chest,” Janus quipped, shaking his head. “In any case, we should—”

The Artist’s fist collided with his snake eye before he could finish the sentence.

Janus was so surprised and there was so much energy rolled into the attack that he was knocked off his feet, stumbling backward and scooting away. Everyone was surprised; the Thief jumped to his feet, sword drawn immediately, while the Dragon’s tail wrapped around the Artist’s arm without warning. The Bard shouted, “DAVID!” in a scandalized way, just behind the Dragon while he pulled the Artist back. 

In a quick move, Janus was blocked by Virgil, whose arms were spread out in front of him. He leveled a glare at the Artist, panic and anger matched in tandem. Immediately, too, Patton hurried to Janus’ side, holding his arm and pulling him back even more into his own grip. 

The Artist’s eyes were wide, teeth grit in an angry, glaring grimace.

Virgil’s eyes were wider. His hands dropped in front of himself, preparing for the worst. If there were a fight, Virgil knew he could win. He wasn’t a fighter. Thomas wasn’t a fighter. But to protect one of them, he’d do fucking anything. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Virgil hissed, voice dipping lower in panic. 

Logan stood by the Damsel, who was watching the scene play out. He glanced at the stoic prince, shoulders and back straight as he surveyed the turmoil, and stood solidly besides him. There wasn’t much they needed to do. 

Even while he got yanked away, the Artist’s fists were shaking, and when the Dragon wrapped him in his arms, the Artist tried pulling himself out. 

“Let me go, you stupid fucking—fuck,” he snarled. The Artist pointed rough at Janus, who was doing his best to not look over. “Keep Marlowe’s name out of your manipulative fuckin’ mouth, snake!”

The Dragon just sighed, holding him a little tighter. He cast Virgil a look that was bordering on apologetic, and Virgil didn’t move a bit. 

Behind him, Patton held Janus’ shoulders gently. Janus hadn’t expected to be attacked, no sir. He knew Roman was pissed at him, so the advisors must be mad with him, but this was out of left field. This was unexpected. He’d messed up, sure, but this was uncalled for. 

Roman was insane. He wasn’t in his right mind. Janus was fine to just say sorry and move on. Roman just had to stop being a dramatic baby, pushing him away, LITERALLY PUNCHING HIM. 

“Oh,” Patton tutted, and his thumb brushed over Janus’ cheekbone as he cupped his face. 

It was a soft hold, and Janus couldn’t help but lean into it ever so slightly. His eye was puffing up already, he could feel it. 

“That’s gonna be a black eye,” Patton assessed. “Hey, Logie, can you take a look?” 

God fucking damnit. Patton was always so gentle, so caring. 

They weren’t dating anymore. That was behind them all now. 

Patton leaned into a squat, looking back at Logan for advice, and Logan blinked as if he were surprised. An opportunity to be helpful and dispense some information wasn’t going underutilized, however, so Logan knelt down beside them and inspected Janus’ face as well. While he moved — while the Artist’s struggling in the Dragon’s arms grew weaker — while the Damsel and the Dragon Witch watched — the Bard pulled out his ukulele. 

“We’re getting a little too riled up here, eh?” he asked the Thief, who was now hiding his face in his hands, head leant against the Bard’s shoulder. 

“There’s a lot to get riled up over, Denny,” the Thief’s voice was muffled in his hands. 

The Bard tutted and began to play his ukulele. The sound that escaped was smooth, resonating around the room, soothing like calm waves over everyone in the area. It pushed and pulled attention. He didn’t sing, but the ukulele’s tune did its own work, though a soft pink light danced between the strings and the Bard’s fingers. Maybe it was just his painted nails. Maybe it was something else altogether. He hummed along to the tune. 

It was easy to forget the Bard’s healing magic when you weren’t paying attention to him. He swayed side to side as the song loosened the Thief’s shoulders and alleviated the tension behind Janus’ cheek, lifting some of the pain. He waved his hand at Logan and Patton, trying to dissuade worry, but Patton held his hand. 

Patton just held his hand. 

Janus held back. 

Logan stood, reaching down to help pull Janus up as well. Once he was standing, Janus fixed his hat and rubbed the scales by his eye gently. It was going to swell and bruise, but whatever.

In the Dragon’s arms, the Artist’s pushing turned to shaking, body pressed against the Dragon’s broad chest. He rubbed the Artist’s back tenderly before just stranding there, swaying to the Bard’s music as well. He smiled weakly at Janus when they made eye contact. 

Maybe the music wasn’t even magic. Maybe it was just the power of a pause in the action, a break in the narrative, giving everyone a moment to collect their thoughts and feelings. The Artist had even begun to cry. 

The song began to slow, until the Bard plucked the final string. His humming lasted a little longer, but not by much, and he finally gave the Damsel a smile and a wink. 

The Damsel returned the smile warmly. “Thank you, Bard. Your-Your calming nature is always welcomed.”

The Bard attempted a curtsy in his seat, and the Thief snorted at his attempt. “My pleasure, Princey. I hope your eye feels alright, Janey, wouldn’t want that pretty face getting too hurt.”

So forward. But maybe he should expect that from the Bard. He’s not exactly the most subtle one, and he’s often one of the more forgiving, understanding, and kind ones. Janus was still a bit afraid to make eye contact as he stood behind Virgil. 

“I do,” he said, staring at the back of Virgil’s hoodie. “Thank you.”

“This is…fine.”

What?

Janus frowned, turning around. Patton and Logan to his either side, flanking him while Virgil still stood in front. While the threat of the Artist was gone, Virgil still seemed hesitant to let Janus and the other advisors talk face to face. 

“I’m glad,” the Damsel responded. 

His fingers drummed against his cane briefly before he pointed toward the Dragon Witch. “Guinevere. Are you able to take-to take us where you saw the other advisor?” 

“It’s going to work. I trust him. If he thinks it’s going to work, then it’s gonna fucking work.”

Janus turned around again. Someone was talking, almost begging something to be real. It wasn’t. It was a lie. 

He could hear someone lying to themselves, but everyone else was in front of him. It was so loud. They were lying about something very, very big, so big it was echoing. 

“I should be able to, but I don’t know where he lives,” the Dragon Witch explained, still planning with the others. “I can take you to the part of the edge where I saw him.”

Sometimes, he could hear it, when the other Sides told a lie. They were basically incapable of lying to him, he could hear that all the time, but when they were telling huge lies, he could hear it through walls. It was like a beacon drawing him closer. It was something to protect, for him. Something to hide.

He could hear someone lying to themselves. It wasn’t Roman, but it felt like Roman. He didn’t think he could hear the advisors like this, but it had been a long time since he’d been in the Imagination. And if the advisors had a part of Roman’s essence within them, then it stood to reason…

“Roman knows what he’s doing.”

Janus didn’t want to interrupt. He’d caused a lot of problems, and maybe he couldn’t identify them, but he knew they were problems. 

“That’s all we need,” the Damsel murmured. “If we poke around enough, we’re sure to find an-to find an entrance.”

“I hear someone,” Janus whispered, soft enough that only the other Sides around him could hear.

“It’s going to be perfect. This’ll….it’ll fix everything.” 

“What?” Virgil asked. 

“Oh, fuck off,” the Artist scoffed, and the Dragon shushed him harshly.

Janus’ brow furrowed. This plan. The person was trusting Roman and talking about a plan. This had been planned?

“Someone,” his voice was drawn out as he tried to focus on the voice. “Is lying.”

A brief pause floated over the group while they traded looks. Patton was the first to gesture around the room and ask, “Here?” 

Janus shook his head. “No,” he frowned at the ground.

“The kid’ll go away and-and Roman’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. It’ll be better than fine, Roman’ll be that much better. Without. The kid.”

Janus’ eyebrows raised. 

The implications were staggering, and the weight of the lie was getting stronger. Janus might be able to….

“I think the Director is lying to themself,” Janus stated, eyes wide enough to make his bruised one throb. 

“Can you hear it?” Logan asked. After Janus’ ability to hear and appear during heightened deceit was revealed during Roman’s previous breakdown, Logan had wondered how far reaching the ability went, and if it followed into the Imagination. It seemed as though it did. 

Janus nodded, then closed his eyes. He had to focus. 

“We don’t fucking need the kid. We don’t. We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t fucking need him.”

“I’m going,” Janus muttered. 

Then, he disappeared with a soft popping sound. Virgil flinched, turning around all the way, as if to confirm there was no one behind him now. “JANIE?!” Remus shouted in similar surprise, looking around. 

He hadn’t been very privy to the conversation, it seemed. Patton reached over, the lack of a hand in his making him search for Logan's. Luckily, Logan seemed aware, or at least he didn't seem to mind when Patton latched onto him. Virgil let out a long exhale and when he looked up at the other two, his determined gaze found two of the same.

The Damsel stood. With one hand, he patted Remus’ shoulder, and the other he used to lean on his cane. “We have to-We have to go, too, then,” he said, glancing at the Dragon Witch. “Please take us, Vi.”

“Of course, Prince.”

#more than beliefs #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #tss roman #sanders sides roman #roman sanders #lets fucking gooooooooooo #im finally on chapter 14 and bro its gettin crazy LMAO #GET HIS ASS DAVID GET HIM !!!!

[askintothevoids]

EJ is such a good girl I hope she knows that

EJ knows she’s a good girl.

#intothevoids #alternate universe #(patton and logan make sure to tell her shes a good girl #) #what could’ve been au #EJ the dog

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Five

Bad Memories Don’t Erase

Chapter Summary: Roman tags along with Logan and Virgil to hang out at their friend’s house.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, stealing, and one inappropriate joke

Word Count: 4,008

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: This chapter’s a little short, but the next one is gonna be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it

On Sunday the next day, Patton finally took Roman to buy his gym clothes. Roman was trying to hide a goofy smile while sitting in the back seat, desperate to not get his hopes up while also ecstatic his plan was working so far. He was going to have Patton stay in the car while Roman shopped for clothes! This had never worked on his dad before!

By the time Patton finally parked the car in the parking lot of the store, Roman’s chest felt weighted from his anxiety, waiting to see Patton’s final verdict. So long as he didn’t change his mind now, then Roman was in the clear. He hoped to be in the clear.

“Alright, kiddo,” Roman’s heart stopped as Patton pulled out his wallet and gave him some money. “Forty dollars should be more than enough for some pairs of gym pants and shirts. Give me back all the change when you come back, okay?”

“I will! Promise!” Roman wanted to jump for joy. It was working!

“Text me when you’re checking out so you don’t surprise me, and if you see something else you might want, just text me before you buy it so I know. Tell me if you have any issues, okay?”

“Okay!”

Patton smiled. “Go on then, kiddo.”

Roman practically leaped out the door to skip his way to the front entrance of the clothing store, two twenty dollar bills crumbled in his pocket. He got away with it! No parents staring him down while he changed outfits!

Roman walked into the store and tried to hide the skip in his step. With no parents to watch him, he could buy what he actually wanted to wear, no tight pants and scoop neck shirts. No, Roman wanted to look like his real goal. His goal of being a blob of cloth that vaguely resembled a human.

Granted, he’d mostly gotten there. His aunt replaced all of his wardrobe, so his current clothes were a lot more comfortable to wear even if they weren’t very fashionable. Mostly bright colored t-shirts and pants, maybe some shorts if they were able to reach down far enough. Maybe once he was more comfortable with himself he could actually test out more styles, but for now, oversized clothes were all he could handle.

Roman’s walk sped up slightly when his eyes landed on the men’s athletic section. He had to be quick with this, he didn’t want Patton getting impatient and coming in to check on him. Roman looked through the shorts and shirt sizes, easily finding a size up for a couple shirts while heavily struggling on the shorts. Roman groaned. It was always the shorts that caused the issue, they were always too high up. What if he was sitting down and the pant leg rode up too far? No, Roman refused to get something like that willingly.

Roman took all the athletic shorts that could fit him and held them up in front of his legs. Most of them only made it to his lower thigh, but he managed to find two shorts that made it to right below his knee. Roman smiled and bounced on his toes, grabbed his items and rushed to find a dressing room. Once he did, he rushed into the first empty area he saw and locked the door. The mirrors on the walls and gaps in the door made it hard for him to change comfortably, so instead Roman tried to press himself against the very corner of the room when he was changing.

Between the six shirts and two pants Roman found, he was pretty happy with most of his choices. Thankfully, the long shorts looked fine, so Roman hung them up on a hook with a sign over it saying I’m buying this! and considered it a success. However, when it got time to look at the shirts, only three of them were good enough for purchase. The white one he grabbed was practically see-through, and the other two had a scratchy inside material that Roman couldn’t stand, so they got put on the reject hook while the other three passed the test. 

For a rushed shopping visit, Roman was pretty pleased with his choices. Two shorts might not be enough for five days worth of classes, but maybe Roman could keep one pair in his locker until it started to stink. Which might be a little gross, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Roman exited the dressing room and put his rejected shirts on a rack outside, carrying his other items to the checkout area. Before he got in line, he looked at all the price tags and added them up in his head best he could. The shirts were about six dollars each, and the shorts were a little over five after tax. Which means, adding up the extra cents, he’d have to pay twenty nine dollars for the clothes in total. Considering Patton gave him forty dollars, this was plenty.

Roman hesitated for a second. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to feel the money in the palm of his hand while he thought about his options. If he told Patton the truth, Roman would give him eleven dollars and there would be no issues. Patton might let him do this again next time they go shopping, too. But also…Roman had no backup plan. He was stuck with Patton with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

His aunt told him that Roman could always go back to her house if a guardian was abusing him, and he had every intention to take her up on that offer the second the opportunity arose. But even if Roman walked to her house on foot, he had no money for food during that trip. She lived so far away from him now, there was no way to get to safety without a dollar to his name. But if he stole some from Patton, then Roman could have a serious issue on his hands.

Roman slowly walked up to the check out area and handed the teenage worker the clothes. As she scanned all the items with a satisfying beep, Roman felt himself getting antsy. There’s no guarantee Patton will let me do this again. I’ve already gotten away with so much, and the more time I spend around him, the more danger I’m in. But if Patton notices I stole from him, he could be furious. Is there even a right answer here?

“Twenty nine dollars and thirty two cents.” The cashier said cheerfully. Roman handed her the money and she put it in the register, then handed Roman a bunch of coins, two five dollar bills, and a one dollar. She smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Uh, no thank you.”

When the receipt printed, the cashier tore it out and threw it in the trash behind her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Roman squeaked, rushing away from the register to stare at the money. Apparently they ran out of ten dollar bills, because the money was split perfectly for taking without it being obvious. Roman considered this a sign to take his chance. He put a five dollar bill and a quarter in his left pocket and shoved the rest in his right. It wasn’t much, but he could build it up. This was only the beginning.

Roman walked out of the store and tried to act normal instead of anxious. Worst case scenario, he’d say he forgot to bring out the rest and give Patton the other bills. Giving away the quarter also would be too obvious, but he could get away with stealing that at least. When he made it to Patton's car, Roman opened the back seat and tossed his clothes next to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, “Got any extra cash to give me?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” Roman dug into his right pocket to grab half the money and handed it to him. Patton put the coins in his pocket and put the two bills in his wallet. He didn’t seem to consider how much Roman gave him, instead he started backing out of the driveway and got distracted while reversing. Roman let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He felt the five dollars still stored in his pocket. He got away with it. For now.

***

“We’re home!” Patton announced as he and Roman stepped inside. Logan and Virgil were both lying on the couch, and Logan perked up from his spot.

“Wonderful. We wanted to ask both of you a question.” Logan said.

Patton seemed intrigued. “What question?”

“Can we go to Janus’ house, Pat?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, of course, kiddos! Do you know when you might be back?”

Virgil thought about it. “Probably at six before dinner.”

“Perfect! Just text me if that changes so I don’t worry, okay?”

“We will.” Logan reassured, “And Roman, would you like to come with us?”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Me? I don’t even know who Janice is.”

Virgil sunk into the couch more. “Friend of ours. Has a snake, talks a lot about philosophy and books. Acts like a tired underaged wine aunt.”

“Right, well, still. Isn’t it a little strange for me to tag along to a stranger's house?” Roman pointed out.

“Janus wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” Logan said. “Of course, you don’t have to, we simply figured you would like the invitation so you’re not the only one left out.”

Roman’s eyes widened when Logan said that. Wait, shit, if Logan and Virgil are going to this girl’s house, then Roman will be here. Alone. With Patton. Until six in the afternoon.

Roman’s mood change was almost instant. “Well then, perhaps I should go! Make new friends and establish bonds, or whatever!”

Virgil smirked. “Sweet. It’s a short walk, just a block away. Just let us grab our shoes and we can head out.”

“I’ll tell Janus we’ll be bringing a third party.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. As Virgil and Logan grabbed whatever they needed, Roman set his new bag of clothes in his room next to his backpack. He’d have to remember to put some boxers in there before tomorrow morning, too.

Roman felt the five dollars in his pocket again. He took the money and hid it deep in his backpack in a hidden pocket he hoped wasn’t too easy to find. Satisfied with that for now, Roman stepped back outside of his room and waited for the others.

Once everyone was situated, Virgil called out to let Patton know they were leaving the house and then closed the door. Logan and Virgil did most of the talking as they walked while Roman just listened, following behind them and letting the two lead the way.

“Oh, and Roman,” Logan suddenly said during a point of silence, “Another one of our friends may also show up later at Janus’ house. He said he might be coming, so we’ll see.”

Roman shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Alright.”

No one said anything else after that on the walk. After a while, Virgil and Logan stopped in front of a house and started walking up the driveway to the front door. As Virgil knocked on the door, Roman stood awkwardly off to the side until someone answered.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, showing a teenage kid with a large birthmark under his left eye. He rested his elbow on the top of the black and yellow cane next to him and smirked. Was he the brother, perhaps?

“I’ve been expecting you.” He said menacingly.

“‘Sup, fucker.” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, Janus.”

Wait, what? Against his better judgment, Roman forced himself to stand in front of Logan to face Janus. “Wait, your name is Janice?” He asked.

Janus put his hand on his face. “Janus. It’s Janus. J-a-n-u-s, not the old lady name Janice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot. “…Oh. Well, uh…”

Janus rolled his eyes and held the door open wider. “Just come inside.”

Virgil was the first to step in, with Logan following after while Roman hesitated. He made an awful first impression, maybe he should just walk around the block for a while instead-

“Come on, my arm is tired.” Janus coaxed. Roman felt too awkward to walk away, so he instead sucked it up and stepped inside the house with everyone else.

The house was quite nice. The walls were painted dark and the carpet was red, but it looked nice in a Victorian era kind of way. On the living room coffee table were piles of fabric and a sewing machine, seemingly making something that looked like a suit. Janus took the cane he was holding and threw it onto the couch. Well, apparently it was just a part of the outfit.

Virgil motioned to all the fabric on the table. “Fuck are you making now, dude?”

“I’m making the refined villain look of my dreams.”

“Nice. When do you think you’ll finish it?”

“Possibly tomorrow. I’ll start on it again after school.”

“Do you make your own clothes?” Roman asked, hoping to distract himself from his previous embarrassment.

Janus smiled slightly. “Less clothes, more costumes. Mostly for myself, but sometimes I make them for the high school’s theater when I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Wanna see Janus’ costume closet?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “If he wants me to.”

“Oh yeah, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus rolled his eyes and motioned for everyone to follow him. He had a downstairs family room with a closet off to the side. Once everyone was downstairs, Janus opened it and let Roman look inside.

“…Woah.” Roman looked at all the costumes, astonished and full of wonder. A lot of them were very extravagant, like they were specifically designed for a dramatic person, so Roman felt a calling toward them. He took a few of them off their hangers to look at; roaring twenties inspired suits and a black dresses with fancy gold finishes. Roman ran his hand on the fabric like they were fancy relics.

“They are quite high-quality.” Logan said, “Costume design is certainly one of Janus’ greatest skills.”

“I can see that.” Roman whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t make his ego bigger than it already is.”

“Oh no, please do continue, I’m designed to be the center of attention.” Janus smirked.

Roman laughed and put the costumes back on the rack. It seemed like him and Janus were pretty similar in personality, just on opposite ends of the spectrum. Both dramatic artists, except one likes to add that with tons of sarcasm. He could see them getting along quite easily.

“Also, Janus,” Virgil said while looking at his phone, “Rat bastard says he’s coming over. He’ll be here in ten.”

“Ugh, fine. I was getting used to the silence.” Janus sighed.

“…Who’s rat bastard?” Roman asked.

“Friend of ours.” Virgil replied, “You’ll meet him in a bit. He’s a rat bastard. Smells vaguely of cheese.”

“…Attractive.”

“You get used to it.” Janus shrugged. He then smirked at Roman like he got an idea. “Would you like to see my snake?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Janus led them all upstairs to his bedroom, Roman following last in the line so he could keep Janus’ door cracked open. As he stepped inside, he noticed a very large cage on the wall to his right. It was very long with lots of wood decorations spread across the container, with a fluorescent lightbulb above it. Roman looked around in the enclosure to try and spot the snake.

Before he could find it, Janus opened the top and stuck his hand in the cage. The snake climbed up his hand onto his arm, and as Janus stuck him out for Roman to see, Roman jumped back.

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s a corn snake, he’s not known for hurting people.”

Roman still looked at it from a distance. The snake was large enough that Janus had to hold him with both hands, as well as being a mesmerizing yellow color. Roman never had a friend with a pet snake before. “…What’s his name?”

“Lawrence.”

“Nerd.” Virgil called out.

Logan smiled. “I think it is a wonderful name. Lawrence Kohlberg developed the theory on moral development, the very basis for ethical behavior.”

“Nerds.”

“You’re very mature, Virgil.”

Roman ignored them. “I think he’s cool. How old is he?”

“About five. I’ve had him for a while now.”

A buzz came from Virgil’s phone, making him check it and read the message. “Rat bastard says he’s outside your door.” He announced.

Janus didn’t seem rushed. “He can get in on his own.”

Roman laughed, and Janus set Lawrence back in his enclosure so he could bask underneath the heat lamp. Roman still watched his movements from inside the cage. “I wish I had a pet.”

“Patton would get you a dog in seconds if you asked.” Logan suggested.

Roman shook his head. “It’s fine, I won’t ask.” He didn’t really know what kind of pet he even wanted, and besides, it’s not like he’d be able to keep it once he leaves Patton’s house. There was no point.

Suddenly, a loud stomping came from the stairs outside Janus’ bedroom. Roman yelped and ran to hide behind Janus in the corner of the room, but the others didn’t react. 

Roman sputtered. “What the-”

Before Roman could finish, a large bang came as someone kicked open the door and let it smack into the wall.

“I’m back by unpopular demand!”

“Hello, Remus.”

Roman completely froze up at the sound of that name. He turned around to look at the person that just busted down Janus’ bedroom door, a kid with messy hair and peach fuzz for a mustache, ripped jeans in the summer with a cast boot on his right foot.

Roman felt himself choke on air as he processed what was in front of him.

“Slugs are goopy like jello! So jello is made of slugs, duh!”

“Remus, that’s gross! No one would make food out of slugs!”

“What’s up, fuckers!” Remus announced. “I’m back from the pits of hell! Also known as the emergency room.”

Roman didn’t say anything, only stared at him in disbelief. Remus’ voice was a lot different now. He’d hit puberty, so the pitch had dropped a lot from what Roman was used to. A tuft of his hair was white, also. Roman couldn’t tell if it was dye or a condition.

That piece of hair and Remus’ mustache were the only things that made them both look apart now.

“What actually happened?” Logan asked. “You never told us specifics.”

“I broke my foot sucking too much-”

“Remus.” Janus warned.

“Fine, fine. I tripped trying to run up some steps and my fall didn’t look badass at all. Don’t tell people that though. If anyone asks, I broke it running from the cops.”

Janus nodded and smirked. “Noted.”

“We brought a third foster brother, also.” Virgil noted. Roman stopped breathing.

“Oh, really? Shit, I fuckin missed everything!” Roman looked in the corner trying to avoid Remus noticing him, but it was never that easy. “Why hello, welcome to our humble- …Oh, fuck.”

Remus tilted his head to make eye contact with Roman, and the surprise on Remus’ face was something Roman would never forget. He seemed genuinely baffled, like nothing in the world would have prepared him for what he saw. Roman wanted to cry.

I wanted to leave behind these people.

“…Roman?” Remus finally said, “Dude, holy fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Virgil staggered, “You know each other already?”

“He’s my fucking cousin!” Remus exclaimed. “Come on, look at us, we’re only a little related but we look like twins!”

Logan turned to Roman. “Is this true?”

Roman could feel the tears ready to burst. His throat was scratchy, but he tried to talk anyway. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Princey, don’t be shy!” Remus teased. “We used to be best friends, let everyone believe we were twins until our moms called our shit out. Absolute bastard children- …wait. Wait a fucking second.”

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus turned to Virgil and Logan with a shocked and confused face. “…You said he’s your foster brother?”

Logan nodded. “That is correct.”

Remus turned to Roman, seemingly at a loss for words. “…Dude, the fuck? What happened?”

Roman looked at the floor, gripping onto his arm so hard it’d be a miracle if there weren’t marks later. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I know I haven’t seen you since your mom fucked off to Neverland, but what happened to your dad? He’s still alive and shit isn’t he? The hell happened?”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” Roman seethed, grinding his teeth together as he practically growled out that sentence.

Virgil flinched violently. “Roman-”

“Whatever!” Roman pushed Remus off to the side and kicked the door fully open, storming his way down the stairs despite the sounds of people yelling for him to come back. Roman stomped out the front door and took a sprint for it down the block, not caring if he had to be alone with Patton, so long as he wasn’t here.

“I bet you would eat a slug!”

“No I wouldn’t! Liar!”

“Boys, boys!” Roman’s mother laughed, crouching down to meet their eye level from their place sitting in the grass. “No eating slugs. Be nice to the bugs or we’ll go back inside.”

“Yeah, Remus!”

Remus huffed. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Not yet!”

Roman’s mother laughed again. “I’m going to help Uncle André with dinner. But I better not hear a fight, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman promised, watching as his mom went back inside his uncle’s house into the kitchen. Roman and Remus continued to play in the grass by looking at bugs and telling stories to each other, making Roman smile more than he has in a long time. He always loved going to Remus’ house. His dad never came with them, so he and his mom were always happier.

“How come we never go to your house?” Remus eventually asked after a few minutes of playing. Roman stuck his tongue out.

“‘Cause our house is tiny and the backyard isn’t as cool.”

“Still! When you come over, you never bring Uncle Theo!”

“Good!” Roman defended, “Dad’s boring so he doesn't getta come!”

“I like him! He’s fun and nice and always brings chocolate!”

“He’s awful!” Roman covered his mouth after he blurted that out. Remus gave him a look.

“He’s not awful!”

Roman looked over to the glass sliding door. His mom was in there, he could see her, but she couldn’t hear him. Maybe he could get away with it. He could tell Remus a secret and his mom would never find out.

Roman hesitantly took his hands away from his mouth. His tone grew to be a lot softer. “…He is, though.”

Remus tilted his head to the side like a dog. “What makes him awful?”

“…Promise not to tell anyone?”

Remus leaned in closer. “Uh huh!”

“No one at all, ever?”

“Triple quadruple promise!”

Roman looked back at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention to him, seemingly talking to his uncle and pouring juice into cups. Roman hesitated for a moment. “…My dad-”

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Roman’s mom called out, making Roman jump almost a foot in the air. Both of them got off of the grass to walk inside, but before they did, Remus turned to Roman again.

“Your dad what?”

“…Nevermind.” He missed his chance. Remus would never find out, and Roman never told anyone for another five years.

Roman ran faster down the street at the memory, fighting back the tears in his eyes. It was fine. Roman was fine.

He never wanted to talk to Remus again.

#roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ts remus #ts janus #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #foster au #implied past abuse #past abuse #stealing

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

What is Ro thinking right now? -𓆙

      Virgil had just gotten done brushing his hair when they heard the commotion outside the Manor.

      Ainsliee squeaks in surprise. She turns to Virgil, boiling over with excitement, gleefully translating the message he had already guessed;

      “Daddy’s back! He’s calling for us!!”

      She grins and rushes over to Virgil, pulling his wrist and dragging him up from his seat. Virgil huffs in annoyance — not at her, of course, but at the bear’s continued barking — and waves his hand,

      “Go on to him, then. But be careful, he’s still dangerous!”

      Without a word of response, Annie dashes away. He doesn’t even think she was listening.

      Virgil sighs, shaking his head. He trusts the Beast spirit not to hurt her, even with it’s unreasonable strength; After how careful the bear had been with him about an hour before, there’s no way he won’t show the same gentleness with his own cub…

      The more cautious parts of Virgil can still imagine her rushing him too quickly and getting crushed on accident, though, so he knows he can’t linger long.

      Virgil stands up to get dressed, still not excited to see his friends again. His stomach churns at the possibilities as he meanders towards a closet, silently hoping Lolth would just strike him down right now so he wouldn’t have to talk to them.

      He just knows they’ll be angry, he feels it in his bones — and even if they aren’t, it will certainly be awkward, and that’s just as bad! 

      (Better to be the first to anger, so you might lead the conversation, Virgil reminds himself as he wallows in dread. He won’t even have to fake his ire if any of them come back injured, which he already knows is unavoidable. Aside from his desire to keep them all unharmed, he really doesn’t want to be owing any more favors…)

      (And even more besides, if he could be petty, Virgil doesn’t want to go back outside. It’s cold and windy tonight, his hair is still damp, his limbs are still sore, his mom has his armor, and he doesn't want to put clothes back on, damnit.)

      Another resounding roar thunders through the night air, and then Virgil feels the entire tree-tower tremble with vibrations.

      Fully realizing that this dire bear is willing to climb the place and rip it open to find him, Virgil grabs the nearest warm-looking robe. He hastily slips it on over his bandages (and quiver belt, which he had already been wearing) as he makes his way out of the Manor.

      ~~~

      Logan watches Roman pace back and forth around the trees, in front of the spiraling stairway that leads up into the complex. He’s been incessantly huffing and stomping around like a petulant child, and Logan has no idea what to say to make him stop; He's been trying ever since the city was in sight.

      Janus and Remus are very pointedly not helping, with Janus giving Logan a meaner side-eye the longer the wailing continues, and Remus yelling back at Roman for no other reason than to join in being loud.

      Patton has less fear of the gigantic, angry animal, approaching the groaning beast and patting a hand on his paw,

      “Aww, c’mon now, Roman. We just got here! Give them a minute to come down,” Patton soothes in a soft voice, “Not everyone is as fast as a giant bear!”

      Roman looks down at him, acknowledging his presence, but he either didn’t understand Patton’s words or wholeheartedly doesn’t care. He softly shakes his paw to scoot Patton away, then rears up on his back legs, raises his arms, then lurches all of his body weight forward and slams into the trunk of the massive tree.

      It doesn’t visibly shudder at his attack — even at his size, these great home-trees of the Faewild are many times wider around than a direbear, and won’t be knocked down so easily — but the intent is clear, and Logan worries someone as sensitive to vibrations as Virgil would be quite frightened. So, Logan quickly steps in, using a more stern tone this time (and his Universal Speech,)

      “That’s enough! You are being impatient,” Logan scolds, “They will come down soon enough. One of them is injured. They can take their time if they wish to.”

      An angry whine interrupts his last few words, but still, Roman backs away from the complex. He keeps growling and barking, but at least he’s not trying to break the damn thing down.

      Right on queue, a little blue girl comes flying down the stairs like a missile, grinning wildly. 

      Logan sighs in relief, happy to see her in good spirits after how they had left off. Roman seems to feel the same, finally quieting down his complaints. He drops his head down to meet her when she approaches, sniffing her as she reaches up to hug his muzzle. She squeezes him as best she can from there, giggling when he pushes down a little to nuzzle her.

      Practically tripping over herself with energy, Annie quickly pops up to bowl Patton over in a hug as well, giving Logan a wide grin over his shoulder as Patton squishes her close to his chest. Logan couldn’t suppress a smile in return, even if he wanted to.

      Virgil appears at the staircase then, looking comically ethereal. His long, re-dyed hair and wide-sleeved elven robe blow in the wind, his expression soft and quietly observant; He looks much more like the picture of a dark-elven noble you would find in a storybook than the grizzled soldier they’ve been travelling with. Even his eyes have changed color, with his sclera turned black and his pupils reflecting pale moonlight. 

      Virgil spots Patton and Annie embracing, and relaxes at the sight of them. Then he turns his gaze on the rest of the team, and his usual scowl returns, eyes glowing red to match. Logan is almost comforted by the familiarity. 

      “Olath ilhar, You’re hurt!” Virgil growls, rushing down to meet them. 

      Logan grumbles to himself over the hypocrisy of that statement, looking over the bandages absolutely covering Virgil’s arms, legs and abdomen.

      Roman shuffles his weight on his paws when he sees Virgil approach, but Virgil holds a hand out to him, scolding,

      “Oh don’t you even start! You will sit and wait your turn!”

      To Logan’s amazement, Roman whines and sits down on the grass, looking thoroughly reprimanded. 

      (Well that is just not fair.)

      Virgil looks over each of them in turn, searching for wounds. He circles Patton first, alarmed by the bandages across his middle. The careful prodding of his hands remains in stark contrast to the snarl in his voice,

      “I wouldn’t have let you go if I knew you were going to be so reckless!”

      “You hardly let us go at all. And, only two of us are injured.” Logan corrects as if he can’t help it, not taking Virgil’s returning glare so seriously.

      “Three of you! Roman is barely standing. And that’s more than half of your party, yutrit'zarreth!” Virgil hisses back. He moves over to Logan and stalks around him, searching him as well.

      “I’m fine, Virgil, I didn’t even get near the battle.” Logan protests, shrugging off Virgil’s patchwork cloak in order to return it.

      Virgil bares his teeth, still unconvinced. Logan sighs and sits through his examination, though he can’t help but complain to himself about how unfair Virgil is being. 

      Reminding himself of Virgil’s wounds, Logan uses their proximity to examine his bandages. They seem fairly well-wrapped, but it’s clear he hasn’t had any magical healing since they saw him last, and the bags under his eyes are dark even for Virgil. Every day it seems Virgil is stretching the limits of what levels of pain a person can ignore — by all accounts, he shouldn’t be conscious right now, much less standing.

      The last few battles, Logan had tried not to think too much about why Virgil does this, and even less about how he became able to. But, at this point, it’s become obvious that he has a very serious problem. Logan’s going to have to do something if he doesn’t want Virgil to drive himself into the grave...

      While he lets himself worry, Logan also notices the belt of Virgil’s quiver is strapped right over his bandages. 

      “Are you wearing that against your bare skin?” Logan scolds before he can stop himself, “What about the wound on your back?”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Virgil grumbles, though bringing it up seems to have scared him off. He snatches his cloak from Logan’s hands, pulling it in under his robe and fastening it so it lies between the robe and his skin, then slinks away, glowering. Logan can’t help but think he’s misstepped, somehow.

      Virgil has already moved on to look over Janus, who also tries to shoos the archer away, insisting he’s unharmed. Virgil hisses at him, too, but quickly moves on to Remus anyway.

      “Get inside and rest, all of you!” Virgil orders as he prowls around him, examining the bruises on his sides and back with gentle touches, “We’ve already lost too much travel time as it is, at this rate we’ll never make it to the Capital.”

      “What about Roman? I doubt he can fit inside, are we just going to leave him out here??” Patton whines. Virgil snaps a short, sharp laugh and glares at the bear,

      “Yeah, for all I care.”

      Roman groans at him, and Virgil snaps something back in Drowic. Logan doesn’t know if he can actually understand Virgil’s words or just the tone in which he’s saying them, but Roman is certainly respecting his orders more than he did Logan’s.

      (Logan quickly reminds himself that Virgil had once claimed to be a Ranger, and answers his own questions on the matter.)

      “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Logan advises carefully, taking note of Virgil’s mood. He keeps his tone as soothing as possible as he explains,

      “This is his first time shifting, we should stay to make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless. Besides, specifically as a bear, he will grow distressed if we leave his sight.”

      “You’re just saying that because you want to study him.” Janus supplies unhelpfully, apparently living to annoy him. Virgil doesn’t respond, though, and Logan can tell that his reasoning got through to him.

      Remus rolls his eyes, quickly growing bored of their debate,

      “Well, I’m certainly staying with Brother Bear over here, and the three of us have a long overdue heart-to-heart scheduled for, ehhh, right about now~!”

      Virgil pretends not to hear him while he studies the bruise on Remus’s back. Remus frowns at being ignored, turning on his heel and grabbing Virgil’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks,

      “Let’s have a little chat~! You aren’t getting out of this, slick.”

      Virgil glares holes into Remus’s chest, then turns away from him, hissing his discomfort the entire way. Janus looks similarly displeased, leveling an unfriendly look at Remus before taking his hand and following along.

      Logan and Patton follow the three of them, Annie holding Patton’s hand and instructing Roman to follow behind.

      Virgil leads them to a vacated barn, instructing Roman to lie down and wait. Annie nestles in next to his side, and Logan and Patton join her, watching Virgil lead Remus and Janus back out. Virgil keeps himself several paces ahead of them, looking like he might lose his nerve and bolt at any minute.

      Logan and Patton share an uneasy look, only able to speculate about what happened between Virgil and the odd duo…

      Janus doesn’t say a word, worried about getting himself in trouble before they even start the conversation. Virgil already seems tense, and Janus doesn’t ignore the way he positions himself closer to the Manor complex than to the barn.

      Once he’s satisfied they’re far enough away that Logan can’t eavesdrop, he very rigidly turns to face his two old friends, waiting for someone else to start.

      Janus and Virgil just glare in each other’s directions, both refusing to be the first to get vulnerable. (At least Virgil’s eyes are glowing faintly red, so Janus knows where they’re pointed, and where the hell Virgil is.)

      Remus stands with his hands on his hips and glances between them impassively, knowing it’s only a matter of time until one of them cracks.

      Despising the awkward silence more than anything else, Janus finally smirks,

      “Well, you look terrible.”

      “What are you doing here?” Virgil growls, shifting his gaze between the two. He still hasn’t looked either of them in the eye, just glaring at the grass by their feet like it’s done something to offend him; something it took many years to get Virgil to stop doing.

      “Oh, you know I just love the Faewild,” Janus grumbles, folding his arms defensively, “But, this time, I must confess we were mainly looking for you.”

      “Why?” Virgil growls even lower, his eyes turning even brighter red. Janus rolls his eyes at the aggressive display, 80% certain Virgil is simulating it this time.

      “What do you mean ‘why?’” Janus scoffs, quickly growing annoyed, “It’s been so long, I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost!” 

      Janus expected the cold reception, of course, but he’s never exactly been lauded for his temper. Remus steps in, knowing a spat is imminent if he doesn’t. He chuckles,

      “You fucked off in quite a rush, but you did say you were coming home eventually.”

      Virgil’s jaw drops.

      He quickly shakes himself out of it and resumes his defensive posture, but the damage was done; The same shocked look spreads to the other two. The three just stare each other down, all of them growing more confused by the minute. 

      Virgil breaks first, looking away at a suddenly very interesting rock as he mumbles,

      “…You expected me to come back?”

      Janus can immediately read the implication under the words; the question Virgil is afraid to ask. He feels his chest constrict a little at the thought, too winded to keep up his usual snark. In all of the visions he had seen to prepare for this moment, Virgil had never reacted like this. Usually he ran, and often he was angry at them or scared of them, but never…dejected.

      “Darling, of course! How could you assume anything else?”

      “I don’t know,” Virgil huffs, shoulders raising up to his ears, “Maybe it was the huge fucking fight we had seconds before I ran off for two fucking years— Aren’t you mad?!”

      “No!” Janus and Remus shout at the same time, with varying levels of surprise and distress. Virgil’s still on the offensive, glaring at them.

      “Fuck off! I almost took your whole arm off, and then you leased that dweomer, and Remus lost it—”

      “That’s not the first time we each went a little crazy, Virgil.” Janus shakes his head, subtly motioning down to his ankle,

      “That’s part of the reason we’ve stuck together for so long, remember?” 

      Virgil smiles a little at the reference, an inside joke between the three of them he thankfully hasn’t forgotten. Still, he seems reluctant.

      He turns a bit towards them now, though he’s started picking at his nails, like he does when he’s really nervous. His eyes are wide and startled, but he still won’t look up,

      “That time was… different. Something happened. I think I…” He shakes his head, steadying his voice before he continues, 

      “No, I know it this time. I’m not going crazy, something cursed me in that cave! All I remember is us knocking over some altar with a crystal on it, and now I can do magic on the surface?! And I got all paranoid about every little move, and I tried to run off for good!”

      “It wasn’t a curse. At least, I don’t think so.” Janus sighs, looking down at his hand, which is now covered in dragon-like scales under his glove. “And it wasn’t just you, either.”

      Remus grins, focusing on drawing forward that strange energy he now houses. He holds out his hand, letting Virgil watch as he conjures the usual smoke effects he’s always been able to summon, now along with some unusual yellow lightning flashing within.

     “Me and Deedee also got some cool new powers~! And some other weird stuff, too!”

      Virgil slowly creeps forward to get a better look, still apparently deciding whether he should be afraid or angry. Very slowly, he reaches up and lays one of his hands on Remus’s, then raises the other. Janus and Remus watch as Virgil’s eyes glow blue, and a cluster of lightning grows out of his skin, dancing around his fingers. A moment later, both magic effects fizzle out with a sharp crackling sound.

      “Where did you learn that?” Janus hums, mildly impressed, though he already knows the answer. Virgil shrugs, looking back towards the barn,

      “Logan’s been teaching me how to control it. I’m still not great at it yet, but I haven’t accidentally killed anyone in several days.” Virgil sighs. He looks around at his friends, finally looking them in the eyes, though he still looks a bit like a frightened animal. Slowly, he adds,

      “I still don’t know how I feel about this,” He admits, then sends a short glance at Remus, “But, you and your brother have to do something together in town, right? So… We’re all going in the same direction, anyway.” 

      “And you’re set on these new guys?” Janus sighs, trying not to sound disappointed. Virgil shrugs.

      “I don’t think I can leave them yet. I’m making progress, but I still need Logan’s help…” Virgil looks back at the barn, an annoyed grumble returning to his tone, 

      “And, these three are kind of pathetic. I really don’t think they’ll make it in one piece without us, anyway.”

      Janus chuckles in agreement, not at all surprised. Remus flips his hair with a smile,

      “Oh, so there’s an ‘us’ now~?”

      Before Virgil can even blush at the slip, Remus is laughing again,

      “Well then, it can’t be helped~ Looks like the three of us are coming with them!”

      “Of course.” Janus nods, “As much as it pains me to waste my time with such irksome people, it would be convenient for us to travel together. And, according to Logan, you need a sorcerer’s help with the whole ‘training’ thing.”

     (Janus avoids adding a snarky remark about how “that also proves that you never should have left to begin with,” though it is difficult.)

      “I’d rather it be you then some other high class know-it-all I haven’t met. One is enough.” Virgil admits, though he can’t resist rolling his eyes at Janus’s snark.

      Now, a bit of a smirk has returned to Virgil’s face. He looks between the two again, blushing slightly and fiddling with his hands again to distract from his brain. Virgil himself is unsure whether he’s more afraid or hopeful. Not that he would ever admit to the latter.

      “So… you really aren’t mad?”

      “No, dear. If any of us have a right to be, it’s you.” Janus sighs. Virgil whines in complaint,

      “But— Two years is a long time for you, you can’t just let me get away with that!”

      “I was busy with something, anyway, so it’s no big deal~” Janus sighs, not quite willing to admit to himself whether or not it’s a lie. To silence Virgil’s arguing he holds one hand out to Virgil, and focuses on melting away just that little section of his glamour.

      Green and yellow scales are revealed all along his hand and wrist, and Virgil gasps for a moment, reaching over to touch them. The look he gives Janus then is devastating, the last of the fear easing out of his shoulders as the memory of that night washes over him.

      “This is what I was scared of?” Virgil frowns, sounding more than a little disappointed in himself, “Your scales are spreading?”

      “There’s much more to it than that,” Janus quickly corrects him, letting the phrase carry a lot of weight for him, “But we can get into that when you’re awake enough to process a more detailed conversation.”

      “I thought you were just born with them. Are you supposed to grow more?”

      “No, I’m not. Like Remus said, you aren’t the only one who was affected.” Janus shrugs, “We both have physical mutations, though not quite like your scars. Remus already mentioned what happened to his wings, didn’t he?”

      Virgil turns to him expectantly. Remus holds his hands behind his back and grins,

      “Ooooh no, I’m saving that surprise for something special. After all, now Roman’s here to see ‘em too, and you know I can’t resist dramatic timing~”

      “Before you keep insisting you’re too dangerous to congregate around,” Janus muses lightly before Virgil can say another word, “You’re not the only one with new temporal magic.”

      Janus takes a tiny amount of pleasure in the momentary horror on Virgil’s face. As a treat.

      “Oh, don’t get all worked up, my love~” Janus teases, patting Virgil’s arm, “I’m not able to affect time in any real sense, I can only predict the future. That’s how we were able to track you somewhat reliably.”

      “That’s terrifying.” Virgil grumbles, “Are you guys having bursts like mine??”

      “Nope. Aside from the visions, which can sneak up on me at times, I’m perfectly in control of my magic.” Janus smirks, “Remus has been having a similar problem to yours, when he gets excited. Not nearly as large-scale, though it can occasionally be dangerous.”

      “And I revel in the chaos of it, so no skin off my back~!” Remus grins. 

      They fall into silence again, though it’s a bit more comfortable now. Virgil shuffles from foot to foot, not quite sure how to end the conversation, or disperse the lingering doubts and awkwardness hanging between them.

      (As much as Virgil can try and dismiss his old feelings as “part of the Madness Roman cured,” there’s still a lot about that night that still doesn’t feel right in Virgil’s gut, and he doesn’t know how long he wants to wait for a longer explanation.)

      (And, though their parting altercation has been mostly dismissed, it’s still been two years since he saw them last. Virgil knows how much non-elves can change in that time. What if even now, with everything said and done, they still can’t go back to the way they were before? What if they’re different now, and they don’t get along as well as they used to? Should he really want to, anyway??)

      Sensing his worries and eager to put them to rest, Janus peels his other glove off as well and steps forward, very gently taking Virgil’s hands.

      “Are you angry?” He asks, softly and genuinely. 

      “You can be upset, Virgil. A lot has happened, it’s okay if you need time.” Janus sends a glance in Remus’s direction, prodding him to help. Remus gives Virgil one of his ‘dazzling’ grins, trying to reassure him that they don’t hold any grudges.

      Virgil relishes the familiar feeling of Janus’s hand, shoving aside his remaining worries. He’ll deal with his lingering doubts later.

      (Their arrival has added an incredible number of new problems to his plate, but he’s frazzled and exhausted. His best friends are back, and they don’t hate him. At least for tonight, that will be enough; God knows he has enough to worry about right now, anyway.)

      Virgil shakes his head, voice still sore from earlier that day, and nearly boneless with exhaustion. Janus and Remus share a knowing look, well aware Virgil is hiding something but too overwhelmed to get into it now. 

      “Let’s just head back in and rest for tonight.” Virgil sighs, brushing his hair behind his ear. He turns to Janus, frowning,

      “In the morning, you’re going to have to tell them about the sorcery thing. And, probably also about being a snake. Logan never leaves it be at one question.”

      “Ugh! You people won’t let me keep any of my secrets!” Janus complains, folding his arms. He already knew he would need to come clean, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it. He tilts his chin up in an expression of faux-contempt, tone mocking,

      “Fine, but only if you promise to actually sleep tonight. I wasn’t kidding earlier, you look like shit.”

      “That’s not fair, someone has to keep watch!”

      “We have a twenty-foot bear in there, who is going to sneak up on that? You’re being ridiculous.”

      “But what about when Roman changes back in the morning? Someone has to be awake to help him!”

      “I will, then!” Remus scoffs, “I’m his brother, he’s not gonna want anyone else to see him naked. Besides, we all know damn well you’re going to wake up the second anyone moves, hypersensitive ass.” 

      “Oh, shit.” Virgil hums, “We should pick him up some clothes before we head back in…”

      “Ooooh, can I pick them out~?” Remus grins evilly. Virgil slaps his arm, trying not to laugh,

      “No, leave him alone! He’s probably gonna be scared at first. You can bully him later.”

      “You’re such a buzzkill! I don’t remember you being this lame.”

      “Say that again when I have the energy to kick your ass.”

      They playfully shove and bat at each other the whole way up the stairs, being careful of each other’s wounds while threatening to throw the other off the balcony. At the same time, they move slowly, considerate of Janus’s leg and eyesight. 

      Janus watches them and suppresses a fond smile, his cold heart warming at how quickly they’ve started to ease back into their usual dynamic...

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Ask 119     (( @zozomind​​ , @renee-niles​​ ))

Previous

Next

Game Start

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Rules

Most Recent Recap, in case you feel like you missed something!

Available for questions: Logan, Patton, Remus, Janus, Annie, Virgil, and…Roman?

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You have reached the end of Level 2!

Begin Level 3: The Past is Never Dead 

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You can now save your first File in Level 3 with the Game Menu!

Save Files:

File A.1: Communication      ?

File B.2: The Heart of the Matter      ?

File B.3: Angel’s Epithet      ?

File B.4: Pack Tactics      ?

File B.5: Lay Bear the Breast      ?

File B.6: Lay Bare the Beast      ?  

File B.7: Moonlight Dancers      ?

[ !!! WARNING: Save File Limit Breached! ]

[ Which file will you DELETE? ]

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…What a curious title. I wonder what it could mean…

...And it looks like you’ve unlocked something new in the Game Menu!

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(( UPDATED: If you missed the Patreon/Kofi announcement! ))

#please tell me if i need to tag anything else! #lets roll #save point #ttrpgau art #ask rpg sanders sides #asks open #sanders sides rpg au #Roman the Werebear #long post #long answer #game menu #renee-niles #zozomind

[lovelylogans]

puppy love

roger: do you want another cup of marriage? anita: excuse me? roger: tea? another cup of tea? anita: you said marriage. roger: uh, marriage? anita: yes, that’s what you said. i—i mean, you meant to say tea... but it—it came out marriage. roger: oh, i’m sorry. uh—do you want another cup of... tea?

—101 dalmatians

warnings: misbehaving dog, misunderstanding that might cause secondhand embarrassment, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, offscreen patton/janus

word count: 2,732

notes: this is for day four of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “alternate universe” and i have decided to write a "i think my dog likes your dog” au, based off the introduction of anita and roger in 101 dalmatians! please enjoy!

⁂

Logan would have named his dog Tesla if the name had not already become popular due to the brand and if he did not have a deep-seated dislike of Elon Musk, but as it has, and as he does, his dog’s name is Nikola instead. He had finally given in and adopted her after his brother, Patton, had been wheedling him to adopt or foster one of the animals for years from the shelter he serves as veterinarian.

Nikola is a very intelligent dog. In the two-and-a-half years he has had her since she was a puppy, he has taught her a variety of tricks—the usual things, like sit, shake, stay, but also more unusual tricks like fetching him water bottles or tissues or any number of things that she knows the name of and is within her reach. She is a mix of two intelligent breeds—rottweiler and German shepherd—and as such learning and practicing tricks helps keep her from being bored. 

She has a surplus of enrichment toys. She never rips up shoes or furniture. She keeps an obedient trot at his side on hikes and runs ahead if he tells her to. She waits after he throws something for her to fetch until he says to run, and she has learned to sit before they cross the street. She is a very well-trained dog. 

Which is why it is so surprising when, as soon as he crouches to unleash her at the dog park they go to on Sundays, weather permitting, she snatches his baseball cap meant to keep the spring sun out of his eyes, and goes running off as if he has told her to fetch a tennis ball.

“Nikola!” He calls, out of being startled more than anything, before he starts to jog after her.

Nikola runs, just a black-and-brown streak of fur with the navy blue of his cap clamped between her teeth, and Logan is really quite fortunate that he spends most Saturdays, weather permitting, hiking, and weekday mornings on jogs besides. This habit has kept him in shape, however, it has also contributed to keeping Nikola in shape, and as such she is a very fast and athletic dog. He wonders briefly if he’ll catch her before he makes too much a fool of himself.

But just as suddenly as she’d started running, she stops at one of the benches installed around the dog park, dropping his cap on the bench and then immediately moving to the dog sitting beside her owner, Nikola wagging her tail and panting and looking quite pleased with herself, with eyes only for the other dog. The other dog, all black excepting the white splotch on her chest, looks at Nikola curiously, but does not crouch in a playful posture or otherwise react.

“Nikola, really,” he scolds, picking up his cap and jamming it back on his head. Then he looks to the man sitting on the bench with the dog that Nikola now seems enamored with, intent on apologizing for disturbing him or his dog, but his mouth goes dry almost immediately.

The man with the dog sitting calmly at his side is very handsome. 

He’s brown-skinned and black-haired—he’s Latino, Logan thinks—and in the middle of reading a book. Logan isn’t sure what book, based on the way his hands are placed, his long, elegant fingers covering the title. He’s also listening to music, as evidenced by the white wireless earbuds placed in his ears.

It’s likely that Nikola’s tomfoolery hasn’t disturbed him at all. The man only gives Logan a look—his eyes, which are a stunning shade of brown so dark they’re practically black—and returns his attention to his novel.

Logan clears his throat awkwardly, jams his cap back on his head, and turns to Nikola, who is still trotting around them, seeming very pleased with herself, wagging her tail, looking every inch a pompous showdog.

Sometime in the middle of watching Nikola, the exceptionally handsome man has closed his book and stood up, and Logan tries his best not to pay him any mind as he walks away.

“Helena, come,” he says, with a deep, lovely voice that hits Logan somewhere in the sternum. He has an accent—Spanish, maybe? Portuguese? Logan isn’t very familiar with romantic languages outside of English, other than the Latin he took throughout high school and college. Nikola is still looking very excited, but the black dog—Helena—stands and follows after the man.

“Nikola, really,” he repeats weakly, and crouches before her, gathering her leash in hand and preparing to let her loose so they can, perhaps, play a game of fetch, or something that does not involve Logan running after her like a madman.

But of course not. Whatever mood Nikola’s in persists, as she suddenly pulls forward, forcing Logan to get up off the ground lest he be dragged in her wake, and he really does not want to be dragged along the ground at the dog park, so he does, scrambling after her and trying to regain his balance.

He doesn’t notice she’s looping her leash around the man’s knees until it’s too late.

Which brings him to notice that she is also backtracking to loop around his knees.

He cannot help but notice when Nikola pulls tight and it brings Logan and the man colliding forcefully, chest-to-chest.

“Oh!” The man grunts. His chest is warm and broad. Logan would quite like to curl up under a nearby rock and never come out and also, if Nikola understood human terms, she would be so grounded. As it is he is absolutely revoking treats for her behavior today, even if the man is now putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder and it radiates warmth through his shirt.

“I beg your pardon,” Logan splutters, “I’m so sorry, please excuse me, I’ve no idea what’s gotten into her—”

At the same time, the man is saying “What the hell, oh my God, what—” and trying to push them apart, Logan stumbling with it.

Which makes the man stumble, which makes Logan stumble a little more, and very suddenly, they’re overbalancing, and Logan lands on top of him, the man wheezing as his back meets the ground, surely knocking the wind out of him. Even with that, he puts a hand at Logan’s waist to keep him from falling off of him into the dirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan gasps, and looks over—Nikola and Helena are side by side, Helena still haughty, Nikola still seeming very self-congratulatory.

“Nikola, bad girl,” he scolds. She doesn’t even have the decency to look chastened. “I swear she’s never like this, I really am so sorry—”

Logan manages to loosen the leash from around their knees and rolls off the man, apologizing all the while.

The man manages to sit up, eyes wide, and promptly Helena comes trotting over to him, leaning heavily into his side. 

“Uh, that’s,” the man coughs, “that’s okay. It—it wasn’t your fault. Um.”

He threads his fingers throughout Helena’s long fur, and Logan whistles sharply. Nikola at least has the good sense to return to his side.

“I am very sorry,” he repeats and stands, offering a hand to the man. The man hesitates before he releases Helena and takes it, allowing Logan to pull him to his feet.

Logan picks up the book—oh, he’s handsome and he has good taste, too, he’s reading On Beauty by Zaydie Smith, of course he had to go and look like an absolute buffoon in front of him—and holding it out for him.

The man takes his book back, eyes wide, before he looks to the dogs.

And then, of all the things to do, he starts to laugh.

Logan looks, too, and he feels his face crack into a grin.

Nikola is wagging her tail eagerly, staring at Helena, and Helena, at last, seems to look back at her. Her tail, almost grudgingly, starts to wag, too.

“I think your dog has a crush on my dog,” the man says, amused.

“I can’t deny that observation,” Logan admits. Sure, Nikola will play with other dogs, but she’s never been so sweet to another dog before. Even if he is irritated with her for running off, he can’t quite hold onto his sense of annoyance as Nikola makes doe-eyes at Helena.

“Like a regular Romeo,” the man says, then makes a face. “No, scratch that. Um—”

“She’d be a Juliet, regardless,” Logan interrupts.

He relaxes his shoulders. “Good. Romeo’s overused.”

He catches Logan’s confused eye, and explains, “My brother’s name is Roman. He crushes on people a lot. It was an easy joke growing up.”

“Ah,” Logan says, waits a beat, before he says, “It’s odd I know your dog’s name and your brother’s name before I know yours?”

“I have another brother named Remus,” he offers. “And, now that you know my family tree except me, I’m Virgil.”

“Well, I have a brother named Patton, and a brother-in-law named Janus,” Logan says. “I’m Logan.”

Virgil’s brow crinkles up. “Not Janus Ophidian?”

“The same,” Logan says.

“Small world,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “He’s a pain in my ass.”

He immediately blushes, as if he did not mean to say that, but Logan laughs before he can stop himself. Virgil blushes deeper.

“Uh, sorry,” Virgil says. “Sorry, he’s your—”

“No, you’re quite right,” Logan says affably. “He is a pain in the ass, he’d be proud to hear you say it. How do you know him?”

“Coworkers, of a sort,” Virgil says.

“So you’re a lawyer?” Logan says curiously.

“No,” Virgil says. “He’s in immigration law, right?”

“Correct.”

“I’m a translator,” Virgil says. “They hire me on retainer, sometimes, for clients who speak Spanish or Portuguese and not as much English. Or Catalan, or Aromanian, or Asturian, but those are way less common.”

“Interesting,” Logan says. “You’re a polyglot?”

“Six languages fluently, and three enough to make conversation,” Virgil says, then, “Aw, look at that.”

Nikola is nosing at Helena, and, after waiting a moment, Helena noses her back, their muzzles pressing together in a facsimile of a kiss.

“Well,” Logan says, unsure of what to really say to that, because it really is quite adorable. Then, “I suppose they’d like to spend time together. Would you like to sit back down on the bench to talk?”

Virgil smiles at him, more a quirk of his mouth than anything, and Logan’s heart flutters in his chest.

Please be single, please be single, he prays to no one in particular as they sit down together.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Virgil asks, ensuring that he has marked the page (his bookmark advertises for a small, local independent bookshop) and closing it, setting it aside.

“Oh,” Logan says, then, because his actual job title is quite long and unwieldy, he says, “I’m an astrochemist.”

“An astrochemist,” Virgil repeats, sounding intrigued. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that. What do you do all day?”

Logan brightens. “Well,” he begins, and off he goes.

He knows he can be something of a rambler, especially when it comes to topics he’s passionate about, and especially when it comes to astrochemistry, a combination of his two most favorite scientific disciplines of study. It only takes someone five minutes of listening to him ramble to discover he’s passionate about his work and the discoveries they make.

But he can’t help it. It’s the best thing in the universe, what he gets to do—use radio telescopes to detect the electromagnetic radiation that’s given off by objects in space, establishing what substances are in space and in what quantities, which can potentially come to tell the story of how the universe was made. 

He gestures frequently with his hands, his voice rising in volume as he talks about the significance of his work, the knowledge he’s helped discover, the theories they have. He sweeps a wide, expansive gesture to the sky, and points in the approximate direction of the various planets and stars of study. All the while, Helena and Nikola move to chase each other in circles, and all the while, Virgil alternates between watching the dogs with a soft look, and then looking back to Logan with genuine interest shining in his eyes, along with something Logan can’t quite name—well, he did just meet this man, he supposes that isn’t unreasonable.

Whatever the look is, though, it increases the excitement of lecturing about something he loves to someone who wants to learn, something in his stomach fluttering, his heart beating loud in his ears.

He’s about to start explaining the use use theoretical models as well as computer visualizations to help them explain their observations in terms of known physical and chemical principles, and how it helps them study the origins of extraterrestrial bodies and the chemical processes that have shaped their present forms when he stops, abruptly aware of how long he has been talking.

“Goodness,” Logan says, suddenly shy, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m so sorry, I’ve just talked away a good portion of your afternoon. Um. That’s the—that’s the sum of what I do on a daily basis. Which is what you asked.”

Virgil has that same quirk to his mouth as before, and that look in his eyes that had made Logan so eager in the first place.

“I don’t mind,” he says, and scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, I don’t drink coffee, ‘cause I have anxiety—Helena’s my emotional support dog, actually—”

Her stillness and calmness at the start of the whole debacle makes sense, then.

“—but, um. There’s a café nearby with outdoor seating, would you wanna maybe go... get a cup of marriage?”

Logan blinks at him, mouth agape.

“Excuse me?” He manages to squeak out.

Virgil blinks right back.

“Tea?” He clarifies, as if he was unsure if Logan heard him over the sound of other dogs and humans in the park. Goodness, there’s other dogs and people in the park, when did that happen? When did it get so crowded? “Would you want to maybe go get a cup of tea?”

“You,” Logan says, certain that his face is flaming red. “You said marriage.”

Virgil blushes then. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, and at last he says, “Marriage?”

“Yes,” Logan says. “You—you said marriage. I mean, you meant to say tea, but it—it came out marriage.”

Virgil’s brow furrows. He thinks for a few moments. Then it seems to click, and he buries his face into his hands.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Virgil groans. “It was nice to meet you and you’re very attractive and also you were so excited about your work so I have started liking you in a friendly way but also in a I’d like to date you way but I just proposed marriage barely an hour after we met, so I’m going to go fling myself into the creek so I never have to see you again, I can’t believe I said that.”

Helena has untangled herself from Nikola and is currently butting up against Virgil’s shins, seemingly in an attempt to get him to calm down.

“No! No,” Logan says hastily. “No. Oh, please don’t do that, um. Tea sounds great. Tea sounds lovely. I also think you’re very attractive and like you in both a friendly and romantic sense!”

Virgil peeks out from between his fingers. “Really?”

“Really,” Logan promises. “In fact, would you like to go get a cup of tea with me? Right now? As a date?”

Virgil grins at him weakly. “I guess a date sounds more reasonable than marriage right off the bat, doesn’t it?”

Logan smiles back at him, as encouragingly as he can. “It does. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Virgil’s grin strengthens. “Great! Okay. Okay. Um—follow me, then?”

They both pause to leash their dogs, sharing a bashful smile with each other, and Logan follows Virgil and Helena to the gate of the dog park.

Nikola’s strange sense of mischief has worn off; she’s trotting obediently at his side again. To think, he’d thought Nikola had just caused all this trouble for nothing, and now he’s going on a date with a handsome, intelligent man. 

He sneaks her a treat as they exit the park, on the way to the café just down the street.

⁂

logan’s dog, nikola virgil’s dog, helena

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Don’t be a coward

a/n: So, I’m super proud of this story but the first one did not do as well as I hoped. If you could, please like and re-blog it would make me so happy. Thank you all so much :)

Part 1, Part 2

Parings: Logince, Moxiety, and Demus 

Warnings: cursing, vague sex mentions, food, a ridiculous amount of pining, kissing, minor intoxication, alcohol mention (everyone is 18) 

Word count: 2,044

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Roman ran his fingers through his tousled hair, “Why is it so difficult to ask people out? '' he wined, dropping his head into his hands. Logan smirked from across the table, “asking someone to the ball is no more difficult than any of the abundance of sentences you have said in your short life” he sassed over his text-book. Roman just groaned and flipped the pages of his herbology book absentmindedly. 

Their study session was interrupted as Patton plopped down next to the frustrated boy. “Awww Roman, what’s wrong?” he asked and pulled out his homework. “He doesn’t have a date to the yule ball and is complaining about it, unsurprisingly” Logan responded for the grumpy Gryffindor. 

“Come on kiddo, you got this! Anyone would be lucky to have you as a date” the bubbly boy said, wrapping his arm around Roman, who was still sulking. “Tell that to Logan, he’s being mean” Roman grumbled. “mm-hmm” The Ravenclaw hummed, not looking up from his book. 

Patton laughed, “come on, there’s got to be someone you like!” Roman shook his head, “Yeah, like I’ve got a chance with them” Patton frowned, “that sounded a bit self-deprecating kiddo, don’t make me get violent” he chastised hugging Roman tighter. 

Roman looked incredulously at Patton, “I’m not being self-deprecating Pat, I’m just being honest. I’m a Triwizard champion and not one person wants to be with me” Logan looked over his book, “in a romantic sense” Roman corrected. 

“While that is statistically very improbable I do understand your distress, a Triwizard champion that does not have a date would most certainly be ridiculed during the first dance” Logan said, finally putting down his book. “I’ll be leaving you now, I will see you both at the feast,” Logan said, brushing off his skirt and sauntering away. 

“Hey, pat?” Patton hummed, “do you have a date?” The Hufflepuff froze, “why do ya ask kiddo?” Roman shrugged, “I was wondering if we could go platonically, if you don’t have a date of course” Patton smiled awkwardly, “Awwww, that’s sweet, but I already have a date. I’m sorry!” 

Roman eyes widened, “You- You have a date?” Patton nodded, “they asked me not to tell anyone but I figured you should know” the Gryffindor nodded, impressed. “I can not believe you got a date before me” 

Pattan grinned, “well you could always ask out Logan” Roman glared at him, “you know I want to ask out Logan. But he’s either gonna think it’s platonic or he’s gonna turn me down, and then I’ll be too heartbroken to dance” the frustrated boy dropped his head into his hands, “I’m screwed either way”. 

Patton just laughed and smiled knowingly. 

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The weeks leading up to the ball went far too fast. Of course Roman was as petrified as you could get. He had decided, dragons had nothing on this. 

He did end up with a date, some younger girl had asked and he figured there was no reason to say no. Logan did not receive a date but said he couldn’t care less. He planned to show up to support his friends, and then go back to the library. 

Roman could hear his brother shuffling around the back of the common room, probably trying to destroy his dress robes even more. He wasn’t sure if Remus had a date but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Remus did his own thing, he would be fine. The boy straightened his deep red dress robes the best he could, took a deep breath, and went down to meet his date. 

The date in question wore a long orange dress, similar to Romans red. The two walked to the great hall arm in arm, she wasn’t very talkative and mostly seemed to be going out with him for clout. Roman was well aware that this was as good as he was going to get. 

But it was pretty good, the hall was covered in glistening decorations, and snow fell gently on their heads. Romans date squealed in excitement, but Roman really couldn’t care less about the hall.

Logan was there.

The Ravenclaw wore a simple blue button-down shirt tucked into a long black skirt that was embroidered with silver constellations. His mid-length hair was pulled up into a bun that had been impaled by his wand. The light of the decorations seemed to bounce off of him like he was glowing.

“Oh my, he looks beautiful” Roman nodded but his date wasn’t facing Logan. After a moment of confusion, he followed her gaze. 

Patton, yes Patton, floated down the staircase. His light blue floor-length gown flowed around him like water as he walked. A sparkly headband was nestled in his curly hair and light makeup adorned his face along with a wide grin. He looked like a goddess, or at the very least a princess. Of course, Logan looked better in Roman’s eyes but Patton was a close second. 

Virgil walked up to Patton, bowing deeply and holding out his arm. Patton giggled and took it, allowing himself to be lead away. Roman’s jaw must have hit the floor. Not only did Patton look amazing but Virgil had asked him out, and he had said yes!

Roman’s date clung to his arm a little painfully as they followed the pair to the Professor leading the champions to the dance floor. 

The first dance was clumsy, and the second not much better. Roman was a decent dancer but he kept getting distracted by Logan, who kept popping up in his peripheral vision while conversing with the guests. His date was not happy with him. As soon as the dance floor was full she stalked away angrily, her orange dress flying behind her.

Roman hoped she got a better dance partner. 

Patton and Virgil still flew above the others, Janus had found himself a date as well. It looked like a Hogwarts student, but Roman couldn’t place them. They both wore yellow and green dress robes and floated almost as much as Patton and Virgil. Perhaps slightly less elegantly but floating nonetheless. A stark contrast to Roman’s dancing moments before. 

The champion slinked off of the dance floor. Roman was so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost slammed into a familiar figure carrying drinks, “oh my gosh, I’m so sorry- Oh Logan! How are you” Roman said, smiling at the boy. 

“I’m doing quite well, thank you Roman,” Logan said happily, “would you like to find a seat? I wouldn’t mind talking for a while” Roman nodded vigorously and the two made their way over to an empty table. 

“Is it safe to assume you did not know of Patton’s date?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, “I knew he had one but I didn’t know who it was” Logan bit his lip thoughtfully, “Me as well, and your brother?” 

Roman furrowed his eyebrows, “my brother?” he questioned. “Yes your brother, is that not him dancing with the Baubax champion?” Roman looked back onto the dance floor catching a glimpse of the yellow and green dancers, 

“HOLY SHIT!!! That is my brother! I didn’t know he had a date, he’s going out with Janus! Why is he so clean!!!” Roman said, freaking out. 

Logan laughed, “yes I figured it would be a surprise. I was there when Remus asked, it was quite amusing. I was surprised Janus said yes” Roman grinned, interested, “tell me about it!” he said and shimmied closer to Logan excitedly. 

The two sat and talked for quite a while. By the time the dance floor had cleared a bit, they were both drowsy and perhaps a bit tipsy. “Dance with me?” Roman offered his hand, mustering what little courage he had left. Logan nodded happily, taking Roman’s hand and allowing himself to be led onto the floor. 

‘This is more like floating’ Roman thought he wrapped his hands around Logan’s waist. Logan was an excellent dancer, much better than his last partner (no shade to her but Logan is perfect in every way). 

As they danced they passed Patton who squealed excitedly and whispered something to his partner. Virgil smiled at Roman in a congratulatory way, Roman smiled right back. They also passed Roman’s brother who stuck out his tongue at Roman and flipped him off. Roman retaliated instantly, causing both Logan and Janus to laugh. 

Logan leaned his forehead against Roman’s shoulder, “I like dancing with you” he mumbled into the red fabric, “I like dancing with you too” Roman said his face now matching his robes. 

In a bout of bravery, he pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. Logan pulled Roman even closer and breathed deeply. 

They stayed like this for hours. Patton and Virgil disappeared and Remus was unabashedly making out with Janus in the corner of the ballroom. Roman tugged on Logan’s sleeve after the Ravenclaw yawned one too many times. “Bed?” Logan nodded sleepily. 

Roman walked Logan to the Ravenclaw common room. Logan stopped in front of the door letting go of Roman’s hand for the first time since the ballroom. “Well, I’ll see you later,” Logan said, “uh, yah! Tomorrow” Roman waved. Logan turned to go. 

‘Come on, don’t be a coward’ Roman could hear his brother scolding him. “Logan?” 

The Ravenclaw wiped around, “yes?” Roman took a step, “can I, um” he glanced down at Logan's lips, Logan nodded, “you may”. 

Neither were sure who closed the gap. 

Romans head filled with styrofoam as Logan’s lips connected with his. The Ravenclaw moved his hands to cup Romans face as Romans arms wrapped around his waist on instinct. Fireworks exploded around them, skin was cleared, crops were watered, all was well with the world. 

Then Logan pulled away. “Good night Roman,” he said grinning. Roman stood shell-shocked and Logan disappeared up the stairs. The Gryffindor ran his fingers across his lips and smiled. 

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Weeks had flown by and the second task hung above the champion’s heads like swords. Logan and Patton helped Roman crack the egg puzzle in every way they could, but It just kept screaming. 

Virgil and Janus had started hanging out with the group of misfits. Janus was snarky and quick with a joke, they all grew to like him. Patton asked Virgil on another date and a few days later the two officially started dating.

Logan and Roman danced around each other both unsure how to ask the other out. Especially with the second task approaching alarmingly fast. 

“Roman!” a voice called from down the hallway, Roman turned towards it and smiled seeing it was Virgil, “Roman, I need to tell you something” Virgil painted, “yeah?”. “I know we agreed not to talk about the tournament because we’re both competing”

Roman tried to cut them off, “wait, listen. I never returned the tip about the dragons and you need to know” Roman looked hesitant, “I’m not sure…” Virgil sighed, “just…. you know the prefect’s bathroom,” he said. “Umm yeah,” Roman blinked, “it’s not a bad place for a bath” Roman blinked, “What? The hell does that mean???” but Virgil was already gone. 

That night Roman snuck down to the prefect’s bathroom, carrying the egg gingerly. He stripped down to his underwear and slipped into the huge bathtub. He turned back towards the egg sitting on the side. “This is crazy” he whispered to himself and screwed open the top. Screams filled the bathroom and Roman clamped it shut. 

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice called from the doorway.

Logan walked in, turning away red-faced when he saw Roman in the bathtub. “My question stands, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked embarrassed. “Umm, I got a tip that I should take a bath with the egg. Figured we didn’t have many other ideas, so...” Roman trailed off, equally red. 

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning back towards Roman, “did you try putting it in the water?” he asked exasperatedly. “no” Roman admitted quietly, picking up the egg and dunking it in the water. 

He took a breath and screwed it open. There were no screams, Logan gestured at the tub, “go listen”. Roman plunged into the water. 

Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground, An hour-long you'll have to look, To recover what we took

Roman came up gasping for air. “what did it say!” Logan asked excitedly sitting next to the tub. Once Roman had caught his breath he repeated what the egg had said. 

Logan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a see-dwelling creature… one that sings” he murmured. “Roman, do you know of any mermaid populations in the black lake” 

Roman nodded excitedly, “Logan you’re a genius” he exclaimed pulling himself out of the water and hugging Logan tightly. 

Logan flushed and pressed a kiss to Roman’s wet hair. “Thank you, but the work isn’t over yet,” he said, pulling away now soaking wet, “what does the second half mean and how are you going to be underwater for an hour?” he exclaimed thinking rapidly. Roman nodded, drying himself off and pulling back on his clothes. 

“Right, that may be a problem” he contemplated. “But a problem for future you and me. It’s late, we should go to bed” Logan shrugged, “you’re right, we should. May I walk you back?” 

And if Roman wasn’t there when Remus woke up, well, that’s none of your business. 

#sander sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logince #ts logince #moxiety #ts moxiety #demus #ts demus #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts remus #remus sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #tw food #tw curseing #tw alchohol mention #tw sex mention #hogwarts!au #sanders sides hogwarts!au #thomas sanders #ts dukeceit #dukeceit

[fangirlwriting-stories]

A Kind Of Understanding

Summary: Remus' decision to babysit a kid for a couple nights to earn some extra cash ends up getting him in over his head when the kid tells him something the parents didn't mention.

In all fairness, Roman had told him he was probably getting in over his head.  Remus was the idiot who didn’t believe him.

He just needed money.  If he was actually going to be able to afford all the spray paints he wanted for his new art project by the roller rink, he was going to need a lot more money than he had.  Curse him and his ambitious ideas.

Remus considered himself lucky when he quickly found a family willing to pay 60 bucks a night to watch their eight year old kid.  Roman took one look at the offer and said he was definitely going to be dealing with a brat.

“Why else would they pay so much?” he asked, giving the flyer a suspicious look.

“So?  I need, like, two hundred bucks to get the kind and amount of spray paint I need.  I’d only have to watch the bratty kid for four nights and I’d be good.  I can set her up in front of a movie she really likes, make her some mac and cheese for dinner, and it’ll be all good.”

“I think you’re underestimating kids, Re.  You have met Patton and Logan, right?”

Patton and Logan were Virgil’s little brothers, and Remus honestly wasn’t sure why he was bringing them up, because they were both absolute sweethearts.  Sure, Logan could sometimes get a chip on his shoulder about being too old for a babysitter, and Patton could be a bit of a crybaby sometimes, but otherwise Remus never minded when Virgil brought his friends along for a hangout.  Especially when Patton teased Roman about liking Virgil, and Remus got to watch him go bright red with embarrassment.

Well okay, granted, Logan had been much more insufferable when he was Patton’s age.  But Patton was still a sweetheart.

“I’m telling you, I’ve got this,” he said, waving Roman’s concerns off.  “It’s just one little girl, anyway.  How hard could it be?”

This was the attitude Remus took with him when going to the Ekans house the following night.  The parents sent him the address, and the mom was waiting outside.

“Hi, Mrs. Ekans,” Remus said, putting on his ‘I am talking to an adult that I respect’ voice.  “I’m Remus.”

“Yes, hello dear,” she said.  “I was so happy to get your call.  It can be rather hard to find a babysitter to deal with Janice, what with how she can get with all her silly fantasies.”

Remus tipped his head in confusion.  “Silly fantasies?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.  You don’t need to indulge her, dear, we’ve told her many times that no one who watches her will be doing so.  But anyway, here’s ten dollars for a tip, we ordered a pizza, the delivery man should be here any minute, so you won’t have to worry about dinner.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the money and putting it in his pocket to grab when the delivery person showed up.

The door opened behind the two of them and a man came out, adjusting a tie.  Behind him, a girl in a sparkly pink dress stood in the doorway, who could only be Janice.

“Oh, good,” the man said when he noticed Remus.  “Janice, your babysitter’s here, be good for him, okay?”  He turned to Remus.  “Bedtime is at 8, pizza’s on the way, otherwise you should be good to go.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, heading past him and into the house.  They both waved at Janice as they left, who notably did not wave back.

As soon as the car drove off, Remus shut the door and turned to face Janice.  “Well, sweetheart—” he started.

“First of all,” Janice snapped, sounding so furious that it took Remus aback.  He had barely even said anything yet.  “I have rules.”

Remus raised an eyebrow.  “Isn’t that kind of my job?”

“No!” Janice screamed, stamping her foot.  “You are here for me, that means I’m the boss!  First of all, don’t ever call me sweetheart.  And I am going into my room to change into my real clothes, and you aren’t going to stop me!”

Remus’ brow furrowed.  “What’s wrong with the clothes you have on now?” he asked.

“Dresses are for girls,” Janice snapped, voice filled with way more vitriol than Remus expected.  “I’m a boy.  And you are not going to take away the only chance I get to wear my real clothes!”  And, like that decided that, he turned and stormed away towards the back of the house and where his room no doubt was.

Remus looked after the kid, blinking for a second as he tried to process everything that had just happened.  So that’s what Mrs. Ekans meant by silly fantasies.

Well, fuck, he was way out of his depth with shit like this.

The kid came out of the hallway a couple minutes later wearing a t-shirt and shorts.  And while the t-shirt was still bright pink, he at least looked a little more comfortable than he had in a dress.

“Okay, J— kid,” Remus said.  “So let me see if I’ve got this right.  You say you’re a boy?”

“Yes,” the kid snapped.  “And you don’t get to say otherwise, you got it?”

“Hey, understood,” Remus said, holding his hands up.  “Can I just ask a question?”

The kid narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.  “What?”

“Do you want me to still use the name your parents gave me, or do you want me to call you something else?”

The kid seemed to grow even more suspicious at that question.  “Mom didn’t tell you not to indulge my silly fantasies?”

“Doesn’t seem to me like there’s anything silly about it,” Remus said with a shrug.  “I was just wondering if you had a different name picked out.”

The kid’s eyes widened slightly, though not enough to stop looking suspicious.  “You can do that?”

“Of course you can,” Remus said, taking a couple steps forward and kneeling down in front of the kid.  “I have a friend named Virgil who changed his name.  He used to be called Jacob, but he hated that name.  He thought it was boring.”

“He was right,” the kid said instantly.  Remus laughed.

The kid seemed to think for a minute.  “I don’t know,” he said finally.  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do you want me to use the name your parents gave me, then?”

“No,” the kid snapped instantly, looking angry again.

“Okay.  Got it.  For now, I’ll just call you kid.  How’s that?”

The kid seemed to consider that for a minute, then nodded.  “Okay.”

Remus smiled.  “Okay.  So your parents said that a pizza delivery person should be here soon.  Do you want to watch a movie while we eat?”

“No,” the kid snapped.  “Movies are stupid.”

Remus blinked.  “Okay.  What do you want to do while we eat?”

“I want to sit in silence and do nothing!” the kid snapped.

Remus blinked again.  “Uh, I’m not so sure that would be very fun.”

“You’re not fun anyway!” the kid screamed.

Remus was honestly a little offended.  How dare this child say he wasn’t fun?  He could be super fun!  Before he could reply to correct this wildly false statement, the doorbell rang.

Remus stood up and headed over to the door, and opened it to see, as expected, the pizza delivery person.

“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the pizza and pulling out the ten dollar bill Mrs. Ekans had left him.  He handed it to the delivery person, who thanked him and headed back towards the car parked out front.  Remus shut the door and carried the pizza over to the table, and the kid came over after him and grabbed one of the plates that had been left out on the counter.

“Give me two pieces,” he said, holding the plate out to Remus.

“Let’s start with one,” Remus said, taking the plate.

“No!” the kid snapped.  “I want two!”

“Kid, I’m gonna start you with one,” Remus said, taking a piece of pizza and putting it on the plate.

“No!” the kid snapped again.  “I want two pieces!  I’m hungry, are you trying to tell me I shouldn’t eat until I’m full?  That can have harmful consequences!”

Remus took a deep breath.  “I am going to start you with one.  If you want another piece after you finish that one, I will happily give you one.”

“I want two right now!” the kid screamed, stamping his foot.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut.  “Nope,” he said, handing the kid the plate.

The kid narrowed his eyes, and Remus had a second to wonder if eight year olds still threw temper tantrums, when instead the kid shot Remus a glare that could kill and stomped into the other room and sat down on the couch.

Remus took a piece of pizza and put it on the plate.  This was about as bad as it was going to get, right?

…

“Kid, you need to go to bed,” Remus said, leaning against the door frame, looking at the kid who was sitting resolutely and reading through a book.

“Why should I?  Bedtime is a social construct.”

“Oh my god,” Remus groaned, looking up at the ceiling.  This had been a recurring theme for most of the night.  The kid’s father was apparently a philosophy nerd, and the kid listened in on a lot of his conversations about the subject with his wife, and had turned that into a belief that all of society was a construct and he could do whatever he wanted.  He was brilliant for an eight year old.  And it was as annoying as all fuck.

“Look,” Remus said.  “If you go to bed now, next time I come, I’ll bring you a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” the kid asked, narrowing his eyes.  “How could any surprise you give me be worth it?”

“Well, if you don’t go to bed now, you’ll never know,” Remus pointed out.

The kid seemed to know exactly what Remus was doing with that, but he also finally put the book aside and laid his head down on his pillow.  Remus flicked off the lights and shut the door, and finally let out a breath.

He made his way back out to the living room, put the remaining pizza in the fridge, and then collapsed on the couch.

“Children are exhausting,” he said to no one.

By the time the kid’s parents got back Remus was ready to go home and sleep for a week and a half.  But that was a feeling that faded as soon as Mr. Ekans walked through the door and opened his mouth.

“How was she?” he asked, putting the car keys on a hook by the wall.  “She didn’t give you too much trouble, did she?”

Remus had to fight to keep from grinding his teeth.  “Fine,” he said, keeping his voice as pleasant as he could.  “The flyer said I should come back Saturday next, right?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ekans said, pulling out her wallet and thumbing out the sixty dollars in cash.  She handed it over, and Remus took it.  “I’m glad things went well.  Janice has been known to drive away a few sitters in the past.”

I can’t imagine why.

Remus got out of the house as quickly as he could.  He had some thinking to do, and he wasn’t going to do it in front of a couple of transphobic pieces of shit.

…

By the time Saturday arrived Remus had a battle plan.  Roman had been amused when Remus had described the first night as “frustrating,” but had been surprised when Remus had been determined to go back.  Remus left out most of the details that weren’t his to share, though he imagined Roman must have figured something was up when he spent most of the week researching boy names and hairstyles.

When he got to the Ekans house next time, the kid looked surprised to see him, and Remus couldn’t say he blamed him.  He tried to smile and nod whenever possible, as hopefully it would get the kid’s parents out the door faster.  The second they left Remus took off the backpack he’d brought and moved over to sit on the couch.  “Hey, kid, c’mere.”

“No.  Why?”

“I’ve got something for ya.  I promised you a surprise if you went to bed, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I turned the lamp on again as soon as you left the room.”

Remus sighed.  “Of course you did.  Come here anyway.”

The kid looked curious, and given that it was one of the few times he hadn’t been glaring at him, Remus would take it as a good sign.

“So I did some research these past couple days,” Remus said, starting with the notebook.  “And I found some names you might like.”

“Wait, what?” the kid sat on the couch and took the notebook from him.  “What do you mean you looked at names for me?”

“Well, you said you didn’t know what you wanted your name to be.  I don’t really want to call you ‘kid’ forever.  If you don’t like any of these we can keep looking, though.”

The kid turned and stared at him.  “But I was mean to you.”

“You’re the kid I’m babysitting,” Remus said, smirking at him.  “I think I can take it.  Besides, what does that have to do with your name?”

“Why are you being nice to me if I was mean to you?”

“Being nice and basic human decency are two different things.  You can be the snottiest kid in the world, that doesn’t mean I’m going to start treating you like a girl.”

The kid’s eyes widened.  “Really?”

“Really.  You say you’re a boy, I believe you, and I’ll treat you as such, okay?”

To Remus’ surprise, the kid’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh shit, don’t cry.  Hang on—”

The kid threw himself at Remus’ and buried his head in his side.  Remus awkwardly patted him on the back and waited until the kid stopped crying, after which he pulled back and wiped at his eyes, still sniffling.  “Mommy always says I shouldn’t make people indulge me,” he whispered.

“I’m not indulging anything,” Remus said.  “This is what you said you want, and it should be respected.  If you change your mind later, that’s fine too.  But even if you do, I’m not going to treat you in any way that makes you miserable in the meantime.”

The kid sniffed again and wiped at his eyes.  He looked like he didn’t know what to say, which was fair.

After a moment, he picked up the notebook and started looking at the names, sometimes pointing at one he didn’t know and asking Remus to read it.  He stopped at one on page three.

“You just wrote Janice,” he said.  “I thought you said I didn’t have to use that name.”

“J-a-n-u-s is a masculine spelling,” Remus said.  “I just figured if you liked the way your name sounded but didn’t like that it was associated with being a girl, that was an option.”

The kid looked at it for a while longer.  “You could use this one around my parents,” he said.

“Technically, yes,” Remus said.

The kid turned and looked at him.  “Where does Janus come from?”

“It’s the name of a Roman god,” Remus said.  “He’s the god of doors, gates, and beginnings.  He has two faces.”

The kid started to grin.  “I could be named after a god?”

“If that’s what you want.”

He started nodding.  “I like that.  I like that a lot.  And it could be like lying to my parents.  They’re forcing me to lie to everyone else, but this way I get to lie to them.”

Remus started to smile too.  “Yeah?  You think that’s the one?”

“Definitely.  And besides, if I don’t like later it I can change it again, right?”

“Of course you can.”

Janus beamed at him.  “Yeah.  That’s the one.”

“Awesome,” Remus said, leaning over and ruffling his hair.  “Now, onto the second manner of business.”

“There’s more?”

“Yep.” Remus reached into his bag and pulled out a hairbrush and ponytail holders.  “So I’m not going to cut your hair without your parent’s permission or I’d get fired.  But I have a couple ways I can deal with your hair as it is right now if you want to.”

Janus nodded quickly, and turned around so Remus could get to his hair more easily,  “So we could put it up in a bun so it’s out of your face, or I could move the curls further behind your head so it looks more like a style than just you having longer curly hair.”

“What would a style look like?” Janus asked.

“Alright, give me a sec,” Remus said.  He grabbed the bobby pins he’d borrowed from his mother and used them to tuck Janus’ curls further behind his head.  He turned Janus around after a moment and brushed some of the curls across his forehead so they looked more like bangs.

“Alright,” he said, sitting back.  “Here, check that out.”  He pulled out the mirror he brought with him, and handed it to Janus.

His eyes widened as he looked in it.  “Woah.  You did this with my hair?”

“Mm-hmm,” Remus said.  “You like it?”

Janus grinned at him again and nodded.  Then his gaze turned curious.  “Why are you doing all this?”

“I already told you—”

“No, I mean… Mommy says boys and girls can’t change who they are.  She says I’m a girl no matter what I do.”

“Bah,” Remus said, waving the concept away.  “Gender is a social construct.”

Janus snorted.

“You laugh, but it’s true.  Have you ever heard the term ‘transgender’ before?”

Janus shook his head.

“It’s a term people can use to describe themselves when their gender doesn’t match the one they were born as.  Plenty of people describe themselves that way.  I’m friends with a couple on the internet.”

Janus looked fascinated, and almost painfully hopeful.  “Not just me?”

“Definitely not just you.”

Janus sat back, seeming to take a minute to process that.  “Can you show me?” he asked, looking back up at Remus.

And so they spent most of the day on Remus’ phone looking at transgender people and stories and definitions.  Remus made sure to steer clear of any discourse or transphobia.  Janus had enough to deal with already without having to learn about that on a broad scale yet.

By the time Janus’ parents texted Remus saying they were on their way back, they’d been there for hours.

“Okay,” Remus said, setting the phone aside.  “I should probably take your hair down now.”

Janus sighed, even though he seemed to have expected that.  “Okay,” he mumbled.

“We can put it back up next time I come, okay?” Remus said.

Janus nodded.  “Yeah, we fucking better.”

Remus coughed in surprise.  “Wha— where did you learn that word?”

Janus grinned at him.  “You’ll never fucking know.”

Remus laughed despite himself.  Okay, so maybe this kid wasn’t so terrible.

…

Things went smoother for the last two times Remus had signed up to babysit him.  Janus had so obviously needed some kind of positive role model, because the second Remus reassured him that he believed him and would treat him as a boy, Janus got loads easier to handle.  At the end of the third time Remus babysat for him, Janus looking at him very seriously and told him that he was clearly one of those rare smart adults.

“Well, technically I’m a teenager,” Remus admitted.

Janus nodded.  “Oh.  That explains it.”

Remus blinked at him.  Well, this kid was definitely going to turn into even more of a nightmare as he got older.

Roman seemed more than a little surprised that Remus hit it off with the kid so well, and when Remus eventually mentioned it to Virgil, he got the same result.  But Remus would just shrug and say something generic along the lines of “We just clicked, I guess.”

He found himself actually looking forward to the last time he was supposed to babysit, which unfortunately came with a realization that this would be the last time he babysat for Janus.  The time passed much too quickly, and Remus, at the end of the night, was not looking forward to leaving.

So for once, an interaction from Janus’ parents brought a positive consequence.

“You just make Janice so happy,” Mrs. Ekans said.  “And that’s not really something that happens with her very often.”

I can’t imagine why.

“I know this wasn’t supposed to be a long term thing, but if you would be willing to become her regular babysitter, we’ll pay you eighty a night instead of sixty.”

Well, Remus probably would have agreed even without the pay raise, especially after he noticed Janus watching hopefully from the hallway, but the extra twenty a night didn’t hurt either.  In the end, after what was basically the opposite of a long and hard decision, Remus agreed, and was now going to spend his Saturdays (and many week nights) watching a kid that he was quickly growing to care for.

Janus plopped himself down on the couch next to Remus a second after he showed up next time, with his lip wobbling and sniffling in a way that immediately made Remus nervous.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Do you only like me because my parents pay you?” Janus asked.

“What?  Of course not, I love hanging out with you,” Remus said, relieved he was actually telling the truth.

Janus brightened immediately.  “Cool!  So if we’re actually friends does that mean you can take me out for ice cream?”

Remus blinked at him for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how in the hell he just got played by an eight year old.  Regardless, they ended up at an ice cream parlor that day.

There came times Virgil had to watch his little brothers too, and Virgil must have told them about Janus, because one day Virgil texted him asking if they could maybe set up a playdate with the little girl he babysat.  Remus winced, but said he’d bring it up next time he was there.

“Their names are Patton and Logan,” he said to Janus, who was looking up at him over the the drawing he was making.  He’d become insistent on drawing better than Remus ever since he’d shown him one of his pieces.  “They’re Virgil’s little brothers.  They want to meet you.”

Janus bit his lip.  “Do I have to pretend to be a girl around them?”

“Kid, that is entirely up to you,” Remus said.  “I haven’t told them yet because you haven’t given me permission.  I can tell you they won’t mind, if you’re worried about that.”

Janus gave that a moment of thought.  “Okay.  You can tell them I’m a boy.  If you’re really sure they won’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

Janus nodded.  “Okay.  Can they not come here though?”

“I don’t think we picked a place to go yet.  But we could go to a park, or possibly Virgil's house.  We’d have to run it by everyone’s parents.”

“Ugh.  Well that’s not gonna work out then,” Janus said, turning back to his drawing.  “My parents never want me to do anything that makes me happy.”

Remus felt his heart crack at that.  He didn’t know how to explain to the kid the difference between his parents being transphobic and his parents never wanting him to be happy.  He supposed the end result was the same either way.  But Remus couldn’t imagine them having an issue with Janus meeting some other kids.  He was apparently pretty lonely.

“Give it a chance,” he said eventually.  “They could surprise you.”

Janus gave him a look of such doubt that Remus considered, not for the first time, murdering Janus’ parents and hiding their transphobic asses out in the shed.

Luckily, Remus was at least right in Janus’ parents wanting him to meet new kids.  And he was of course also right about none of his friends having a problem with Janus being trans, although they seemed sad for the kid when they learned what his parents were like.  Good.  Remus would have lost respect for them if they didn’t.

They ended up meeting over at Virgil’s house, which was good, because Remus had a sneaking suspicion Janus’ parents would not have approved of Patton, and his love for all things pink and/or sparkly.  They walked through the front door and saw Virgil and Roman sitting on the couch chatting as Logan was doing a puzzle nearby.  Patton was sitting next to him, coloring in a coloring book and wearing a bright pink sparkly dress similar to the one Remus had met Janus in.  Janus’ eyes got really big when he saw Patton, and he hid behind Remus’ leg.

“I thought you said Patton was a boy,” he whispered.

“He is,” Remus replied.  “Patton likes wearing pink sparkly dresses, but that doesn’t make him any less of a boy.”

Virgil glanced up and waved.  “Hey, Remus.  Guys, Remus and Janus are here.”

Patton and Logan both glanced up, and then Patton hopped up and ran across the room.  “Hi!” he said, sticking out his hand.  “I’m Patton!  Virgil says you’re eight just like me!”

Janus slowly stepped out from behind Remus’ leg and shook Patton’s hand.  “Hi,” he said.  “I’m Janus.  J-a-n-u-s.  It’s the boy spelling.  Because I’m a boy.”

Patton grinned at him.  “Yeah, Remus told us!  I think that’s really cool!  Do you want to come color with me?”

It was clear Janus didn’t know quite what to do with that, but he nodded anyway, and Patton took his hand and dragged him over to where he’d been coloring.  Remus noted Logan saying hi as he did so, and including a note about how he was ten and too old for a babysitter.  Remus walked over to sit on the couch next to Virgil and Roman.

“That went about like I’d expected,” he said, nodding at Patton.

Virgil snorted.  “Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed, leaning back and ending up partly against Roman.  Remus would have to tease him about how bright red his face got later.

Overall, the afternoon was a success.  Janus and Patton got along very well, and they made a deal that next time, Janus would bring a sparkly dress and trade it for some of Patton’s more boyish clothes.  Janus talked the whole drive home about how much he liked Patton.

“Even though he could be a little less bouncy,” Janus said.  “He’s kind of a lot.”

“I get that,” Remus said.  “Patton is a really excitable kid.  He’ll mellow out the longer you know him.”

Janus nodded.  “Good,” he said, and Remus laughed.

Just like Remus had expected, Janus’ parents were glad to see him happy from hanging out with other kids.  Which unfortunately also meant they likely had no idea what had actually been happening at the playdate.  It was definitely worth it, though.  Janus gave Remus a hug, a beaming smile, and said he would see him on Saturday, before running off to his room still smiling.

Remus texted Virgil that they would have to do so again sometime soon.

…

Remus arrived on time Saturday, but Mr. and Mrs. Ekans were already rushing out the door, barely having time to hand Remus money for dinner, and saying something about getting something to cheer Janus up before they ran out their car and drove off.

Remus blinked as he watched them drive off, before processing the fact that they’d said something about cheering Janus up.  He headed inside, looking around and hoping to find him.

“Janus?” he called, but no one responded.  He started looking around the living room and found no one, there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen, not even the cabinets, and Remus checked in all their usual hide and seek places, but didn’t find anything.

“Janus?” he called, sticking his head into his room.  There still wasn’t anyone obviously in there, but just as Remus was about to leave he heard sniffing that sounded like it was coming from under the bed.

He shut the door quietly behind him and pulled up the blankets, and there was Janus, curled into a ball.

“Kiddo?” he asked quietly.

“Adults are stupid,” Janus said.  “They don’t understand anything.”

“As a seventeen year old I wholeheartedly agree,” Remus said, trying to get a chuckle or a smile, but not succeeding.  “Are we talking about something specific?”

“They just don’t understand,” Janus said, tucking his head into his knees.  “No matter how many times I explain it to them they don’t get it.  I don’t want to be a girl, Remus.  I mean, am I just explaining it wrong?  If I explain it enough times they have to understand, right?”  He sniffed.  “I just have to explain it a few more times, right?”

“Oh, kiddo,” Remus murmured, reaching a hand under the bed.  Janus grabbed it and let Remus help him out before burying his head in his chest.

“I thought they were supposed to love me,” Janus whispered.  “Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”

“They do love you,” Remus tried to reassure, because he’d seen some proof of that.  He’d seen the way they smiled when they saw Janus happy.  They’d thanked him so many times, saying they were unsure of how he did it.

“No.  They love J-a-n-i-c-e.  They love the little girl they think they have.  But that’s not who I am.”  Janus looked up at him, tears pouring down his face.  “Remus, why do they hate who I am?”

Remus didn’t have any good reply to that.  He just gently pulled Janus back to his chest and rubbed his back.  He wasn’t surprised when that just made Janus cry harder, but he didn’t know what else to do.

Janus pulled back and looked up at him after a second.  “Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you still like me if I was a girl?”

Remus had no idea what that question entailed.  He nodded.

“And you like me even though I’m not?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if—” Janus sniffed.  “What if I end up liking boys too or something?  That would be even harder to explain.”

“I like boys,” Remus said instantly.

Janus sniffed again.  “You do?”

Remus nodded.  “Kid, you know what my mom said when I asked her about this stuff?”

“What?”

“She said love should never be conditional.”

“What does conditional mean?”

“It means, Janus,” Remus said, shifting so Janus could sit more comfortably on his lap.  “That you could be trans, cis, gay, straight, a weird half snake man who wears a really stupid hat—”

Janus finally laughed a little at that.

“And if you ask me that question, the answer will always be ‘I love you,’ over and over.”

Janus blinked a couple times.  “You mean you like me?”

“Nope.  I mean I love you, kid.  No matter what.”

Janus’ eyes got big, and tears welled up in them again.  “Over and over?”

“Over and over,” Remus agreed.

Janus sniffed again, and leaned his head into Remus’ chest again.  Remus wrapped his arms around him.  “I am so sorry your parents can’t see what an amazing kid you are just as you are,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Janus said.  “They just don’t understand.  They’re stupid adults.  Adults don’t understand anything.”

Remus held Janus tighter.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Adults don’t understand anything.”

…

Over the next couple months, Janus and Patton ended up trading half their wardrobe.  Janus often had a monster truck or dinosaur shirt on within ten minutes of Remus coming over, though he would admit to Remus that those weren’t really his favorite.  He said he liked the one with the cartoon snake on it.  Remus spent the day going over shirts with more realistic snakes on them that Janus liked.  In the end they purchased a couple that Remus said he would keep at his house for days that Janus came over there.

They also spent quite a few days at the park with Patton and Logan, sometimes with Virgil, sometimes with Virgil’s mom or dad.  They felt bad about Janus’ situation too, and Remus could tell they wished they could be doing more.  But Janus wasn’t being abused or neglected, and transphobic parents weren’t a legal reason that someone could be removed from a home.  Remus was really doing about all he could for him.  At least it seemed to be making Janus happier than he was.  Sometimes, Janus told Remus everything he would do once he was too old for his parents to stop him.  Fifteen, he said.  When he was fifteen he would get a haircut.  And Remus would come, right?

Remus would consider for a moment that he’d probably be in college at that point, but he couldn’t imagine leaving this kid to deal with his parents alone, no matter how old they both got, so the conversation always ended with Remus promising that he’d be there when Janus got his first real haircut at fifteen.

There were, of course, things to teach Janus about how to rebel against all of society, though the kid already had an excellent head start with all the philosophy he knew.  Remus took him spray painting one time, and Janus sprayed all of curse words he knew on the wall.  Remus couldn’t be prouder.  They’d shoplifted together a couple times too.  Remus made sure Janus understood that you couldn’t shoplift from a small business that would actually get hurt by it.  Only big chains like Walmart.  And no stealing in a way that would hurt the employees.  Janus seemed to accept all of this easily.  “It’s about eating the rich,” he said, nodding firmly.  “Not hurting people who are already struggling.”

“You’ve got it,” Remus said with a proud smile.

But one of his favorite parts of being with Janus, after he spent one time at the park with Roman and Virgil, was how easily the kid picked up on how in love the two were.

“We have to do something about it,” Janus insisted.  “They’re wasting time!  They don’t have mean parents to worry about, why are they wasting time being scared?”

“I ask them that question all the damn time,” Remus said with a smirk.

“Okay,” Janus said, biting his lip as he started thinking.  “We’re gonna come up with a plan.”

“Oh, are we?  What are we doing?”

“I don’t know yet.  Come help me.”

They spent the rest of that afternoon coming up with their plan, and planned to enact it that Saturday.  They ended up at the ice cream parlor along with Patton and Logan, who were also in on the plan.  Janus was there with Roman and Remus, and Patton and Logan were there with Virgil.  The two in question were not aware that the other group was there.  So, after a couple minutes, Janus loudly remarked to Roman that Patton was there, and could they go say hi.

“You know,” Janus said before Roman could reply.  “I’m going to marry Patton one day.”

Roman smiled, his heart no doubt melting in the same way that Remus’ had when Janus had first told him this.  “Are you?” Roman asked, taking a bite of his ice cream.

Janus nodded.  “And he can wear a wedding dress, because he likes wearing dresses, and I can wear the tuxedo because I don’t like dresses, and you and Virgil can be the best men because it would be cool to have another married couple as the best men.”

Roman started coughing, and Remus patted him casually on the back as he struggled to stop turning bright red.  “What— Virgil and I aren’t married!” Roman exclaimed.

Janus gasped.  “What?  Why not?  When are you going to propose?”

“I— Janus, we’re not dating,” Roman said, turning more into a tomato by the second.

“What?” Janus said, sounding for all the life of him like he was heartbroken.  “You have to ask him out then!”

“Janus—”

“Roman, it could mess up Patton and I’s whole wedding!  You’re gonna mess up our wedding?”  His lip wobbled in a way Remus could tell was fake three months ago, but Roman was clearly not there yet.

“I— look, kiddo, I do like Virgil, but—”

“Then go on!  Time’s ticking, you have to get married before Patton and I do!” Janus called, jumping up and pulling Roman up out of his chair.  “Go on, go on, go on!”

Roman was left with not much of a choice at that point, and he headed over towards the booth across the parlor, where an equally red-faced Virgil had appeared to have been having a similar conversation.  Remus and Janus both followed him over.  There was no way they were missing this.

Virgil stood up quickly when Roman got there, and they both started stammering something that was barely coherent, but in the end, Roman managed to get out something about dinner on Friday, and Virgil managed to nod.

All of the kids, and Remus cause what the hell, started to cheer.

“Look at that, we finally got your heads out of your asses!” Remus called, slapping Roman on the back, who smacked him on the arm right back.

“You all planned this, didn’t you?” Virgil asked, looking too embarrassed to be angry, though Remus had no doubt that would come later.

“Maybe,” Remus said, sliding into the booth after Janus, who was now sitting next to Patton.

“We correctly deduced you would never do anything yourselves,” Logan said with a smile from Patton's other side.

“Janus and I are still getting married one day though,” Patton said, completely seriously.

“Yes,” Janus said, nodding along.  “And you two will be our best men.”

“Okay, slow down,” Roman said.  “That’s taking things a little fast.”

“I think they figured they’d make up for all the time you two wasted,” Remus said with a grin.

“I’m going to kill you later,” Roman said.

“No, please, think of my children,” Remus said.

“What children?”

“Me!” Janus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.  Remus laughed and pulled him to his side, giving him a noogie.

As the conversation started to head back into a normal direction, Janus nudged Remus in the side.  Remus glanced over.

“Sorry I made the children joke,” Janus said quietly.

“Oh, don’t be sorry.  It’s true is what it is,” Remus said, ruffling his hair again.  “I have adopted you.  You can never get rid of me.”

Janus started smiling.  “Promise?”

“Promise,” Remus said.  “You know why?”

“‘Cause you love me over and over?”

“Because I love you over and over,” Remus said, giving Janus a quick side hug.  “You nailed it, my little man.”

“Little man,” Janus said quietly, though he was still smiling really big, and Remus smiled back.  “Little man.  Yeah.”

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #trans janus #transphobia #misgendering #tw misgendering #deadnaming #tw deadnaming #babysitting

[trashyswitch]

The Auction

Nico is running an auction to see who might buy some animatronics. Sure enough, tons of people come! Especially parents with kids!

For everyone featured in the fanfic!

I hope you all enjoy!

“Patton: The fatherly animatronic. He can make ice cream, he can run with the kids! He’s been programmed to hug and develop friendships with all children. He can teach good life lessons! And he can even make balloon creatures for them.” Nico explained.

“And...Roman?” The person asked.

“Aah, yes. Roman is a fighter. He’s a stage actor with a love for being the hero! And his sketchy brother, with the iron mace. They are not sold separately.” Nico told them.

“Interesting...How much is Patton on for?” The person asked.

“$5000.” He replied.

“Hm...Not bad.” The person looked at Patton curiously and smiled. “Does he have any flaws?” The man asked.

“There have been instances of following the kids home till he shuts down...And there have been moments when he hugs too hard. But other than that, he’s in really good shape.” Nico told him.

The guy smiled and placed a hand onto Patton’s cheek. Suddenly, Patton closed his eyes. “Awww…”

The man gasped and pulled his hand away. “Oh god he’s on?!”

Nico giggled. “He is on, sir.”

Patton looked at the guy and smiled. “I’m Patton! You can call me Pat if you want.” Patton explained.

“Yes. He also goes by Pat if that’s easier. He’ll even scan mispronounciations of his name and react to those as well.” Nico explained. “An example of this is ‘Pabbin.”

“Yes?” Patton turned his head to Nico.

“See?” Nico smiled, patting his shoulder. “He’s a good one.”

Patton giggled and hugged Nico eagerly.

Patton let Nico go and looked at the other person there. “And what’s your name?” Patton asked the person.

“I’m Violet.” They introduced.

“Ooooh! Like purple!” Patton declared, clapping his hands and jumping up and down.

“Yeah, like purple. I like green too.” Violet told him.

Patton gasped and turned to Remus. “Ooooh REEEMUUUUS!”

Violet widened their eyes. No way…

“Violet likes green!” Patton declared.

Remus looked down at his own clothes and fist pumped the air. “YESSSS!”

Violet giggled at this reaction.

“Wise competition for the GREEEEEN!” Remus said, running up to the two of them with his mace in hand.

“Is this real?” Violet asked Remus.

Remus ripped it from her hands. “Yes! And no touchy!” Remus ordered.

“Remus, be nice! Or else you’re not gonna get sold.” Nico ordered.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t wanna be sold to a stranger?” Remus asked.

Patton walked around the auction, looking around for the kids. Suddenly, one of the kids ran up to the animatronic!

“Awww! Hello little girl! And what’s your name?” Patton asked.

“Ashy!” She replied.

“Ashy, huh? Like Ashy, dashy flashy?” Patton teased.

Ashy giggled into her hand.

“My name is Patton!” The animatronic told her. “Say, are you ticklish by any chance?” Patton asked.

“Noooo!” She giggled.

“Noooo? Are you sure about that?” Patton teased before poking her sides and belly.

Ashy giggled and laughed as she backed up little by little. “Nohohohoho! Pahahahahat!” Ashy told him.

“Oh, alright.” Patton stopped tickling her and started to stand up. But Patton froze in place the moment someone hugged his leg. Looking down, Patton realized it was Ashy trying to tell him something. “Ihihi didn’t want you to stop…” She admitted.

“Patton smiled widely and picked up the little girl. “Well if that’s the case:” Patton started throwing her up into the air and catching her. After the third catch, Patton started tickling her sides, and ribs. “Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!”

Ashy was laughing, snorting and giggling all over the place as she sat in his arms.

Nico was about to intervene, when someone stopped him. “It’s alright. She really likes it.” She told him.

Nico let out a breath of relief. Thank goodness…

Patton soon stopped tickling her and hugged her tightly before giving her a gentle squeeze.

“Yay! Mommy, mommy, can we keep him?” Ashy asked as she was put down.

“Maybe, sweetheart…He’s kinda expensive.” The mom admitted.

“I don’t know hunny…$5000 for an animatronic big forever babysitter is not bad.” her father admitted. “My headphones were crappy and were sold for $300.” He explained.

Patton looked around the auction room at all the tables and posters everywhere. It was so decorated and pretty!

A guy walked up to the broken yellow and grey animatronic. “What does this do?” The person asked.

“Ah, that’s Janus: a...dangerous animatronic, to be honest. He was scrapped after he allowed kids to use knives and matches.” The doctor told him.

“Cooool…” He reacted, grabbing the animatronic. “I like it! How much?”

2500. He’s not nearly as expensive because he’s fairly broken. But if you wanna use him for spare parts-”

“I’m not using him for spare anything.” Alex grabbed his own hat and replaced the wrecked black hat on the animatronic’s head. “I’m gonna fix him up.” Alex told him with a smirk.

Nico walked away before he could get caught up in Alex’s questionable shenanigans.

Roman growled and pushed a person’s hand away.

“This animatronic is threatening…” The person said.

“Yeah...No touching me.” Roman ordered. “Only Nico can touch.”

“Now now, Roman...that’s not how you get buyers.” Nico told him.

“Why don’t you wanna keep us?” Roman asked. “Are we not good enough for you? Or, perhaps too much for you?” Roman asked.

“We’re giving you to actual owners who will wanna keep you for other jobs. See it as adoption.” Nico told him.

“Except I’m being sold for $4000. Why is Patton more expensive than me?”

“Because you’re a little more dangerous than Patton is. And because everyone has been flocking to Patton.” Nico explained.

Roman huffed and looked down.

“I like this one. He’s sassy.” the same person admitted from earlier.

“I do too.” Another person admitted.

“Can I have your names please?” Nico asked.

“Shannon.” The first person said.

“Sayge.” The other person said.

“Alright. I’m putting your names into the hat.” Nico told them, placing two names in.

“Alright.” Shannon told him.

“What does this one do?” Sayge asked.

“He’s a fighter. But he likes other things like costumes. He’s a theatre animatronic.” Nico explained.

“Are they meant to have personalities?”’ Shannon asked.

“Well…”

“Excuse me?!” Roman reacted.

“YES...He was.” Nico replied. “We are quite surprised at how strongly the personalities effect the animatronics, however.” Nico added.

“I see…” Shannon responded.

“Do you have spare swords?” Sayge asked.

“Yes we do.” Nico got Sayge a sword. “What for?”

Sayge ran up to Roman and started dueling with him. “EN GARDE, ROMAN!”

“EN GARDE!” Roman yelled back, perrying the sword.

Shannon giggled at this while Nico sighed in slight annoyance. Of all the things to start during the auction…

Soon, people started flocking up to the human and the animatronic, and started watching with curiosity and excitement. It didn’t take long before people split themselves into separate cheerers. Some of them cheered for Roman, others cheered for ‘Roman’s Foe’.

Roman smiled and winked at Nico before spinning the other sword out of Sayge’s hand. Sayge jumped and put his hands up as Roman pointed his sword to him. “Give up, mortal.”

Sayge, feeling there was no other way out, grabbed onto the sword and pulled it out of his hand. Funnily enough, the sword slid right out of Roman’s grip! It was like he had no grip at all! “How about now?”

Roman widened his eyes and put his hands up. “Okay okay, I give up! I give up! Mercy, oh powerful one! Mercy!” Roman begged.

“Alright.” Sayge smiled and started to bow as cheers filled the room.

Shannon widened her eyes. “Saaaay...this gives me some ideas:” Shannon turned to Nico. “I am a costume designer, and I would like to use Roman as my costume dummy.”

Roman turned to her with his jaw dropped. “DUMMY?! WHO ARE yU CALLING DUMMY?!”

Shannon jumped and put her hands up. “I mean tester! My costume wearer! Or mannequin!” Shannon explained.

“Oh...Continue.” Roman told her.

“Okay…” Shannon hummed and looked back to Nico and Roman. “I would like to take Roman to be my mannequin for my business.” She explained. “Now, is Roman able to be gender neutral in any way?” Shannon asked.

“You can say that, yes. I can give him a more round chin and a different shaped nose, if you prefer.” Nico offered.

“Cause I would like to put dresses onto Roman as well.” Shannon explained.

“DRESSES?!” Roman gasped and clapped his hands. “HECK YES YOU CAN PUT A DRESS ON MY GORGEOUS BODY!” Roman made a sexy pose.

Shannon giggled. “Good! I’ll happily adopt Roman then.” Shannon told Nico.

“Wonderful!”

“HA! I got adopted before Patton!” Roman declared, as if being bought was a challenge. “Take that!”

Shannon handed over the money and started to explain to Roman all that she had planned for the next coming weeks for costumes and acting roles.

Meanwhile, a guy was looking at Logan and quizzing him. “How tall am I?” Andrew asked.

Logan looked at Andrew, looked him up and down and smiled. “You are 164 centimeters, or 5ft 4 inches.” Logan replied.

“Wow! And what is 150 x 38?” Andrew asked.

Logan smiled and turned his head a bit. “5700.”

Andrew grabbed out his calculator, and checked the answer. Sure enough, he was right. “That’s amazing!”

“Logan was a creation made to counteract the manipulative Janus. He knows plenty of facts, can educate many, and has never told a lie.” Nico told Andrew.

“Would you ever consider making Logan a teacher?” Andrew asked.

Nico widened his eyes. “I never thought of that!”

Logan turned to Andrew. “Can you make me a teacher?” Logan asked, sounding unusually eager.

“I can...It’ll take some steps, but it’s worth the try.” Andrew replied. “I think you would make a great teacher. Or a great professor!” Andrew told him.

Logan smiled at the thought.

Andrew soon walked over to the guy working in the back, listening to headphones. “Hey.” Andrew greeted.

The guy removed his earbuds. “Hi, how can I help you?” Virgil asked.

“Oh nothing. Nothing. What are you listening to?” Andrew asked.

“Wanna listen?” he asked.

“Sure!” Andrew replied.

Virgil and Andrew would be seen listening to music through the rest of the auction together. They would even wind up exchanging phone numbers so they could stay connected with each other! Talk about a match made in emo heaven!

Meanwhile, Patton was showing off his hairstyling skills to a lady with long, wavy hair. “And that’s how you do a big bow out of your hair!” Patton told them, showing her the hair-made bow with a mirror.

The girl smiled proudly and showed it off. “You did amazing!” The girl told him.

“Thank you Mela!” Patton replied. “Thanks for being my hair mannequin!” Patton told her.

“No problem!” Mela replied.

Suddenly, an army of kids came sprinting to Patton, knocking him over. “PAAAATTOOOON!” They shouted!

“Ohohoho myhyhyhy gohohoodnehehess! WOHOHOW!” Patton reacted.

“Really, Fizzy?” Mela asked, referring to one of the kids.

“YES!” Fizz replied. “Is Patton ticklish?” Fizz quickly asked as they clicked a few buttons.

Patton giggled and squirmed a bit, but widened his eyes as he felt his sensitivity increasing more and more! What in the world-

“Hey! Get off him! Be careful what you’re clicking!” Nico ordered.

“There’s arrows for sensitivity! Uuuup-” The kid kept clicking the up arrow, throwing Patton into laughter and hysterics. At first it felt like nothing. But now it felt like every hair and material on the kids’ skins and clothes were tickling every inch of his body! Patton quickly fell into hysterics.

“Aaaaaand doooowwwn!” The kid said, clicking the arrow button only a couple times. “But we all want Patty’s sensitivity UUUP!” They said happily.

Patton laughed and giggled hysterically as he was tickled and doggy piled by kids. “GUHUHUHUHUYS! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Patton begged.

“Off off off off off.” Nico ordered. “I will not have Patton get broken by a bunch of evil kids.”

“EEEVIL?!” Fizz smirked and casually walked away. As Nico started walking away, Fizz grabbed his foot and pulled, making Nico faceplant the ground! Nico squealed and yelled loudly for the kid to let go while Fizz whistled innocently and tickled his foot.

“AAAEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE! KIHIHIHID WAHAHAHAHAIT!”

“Yeah! Cheer up old man!” Fizz teased.

“Tickle Patton!” a kid declared.

“Lee Patton!” Ashlee declared, having joined the group.

“Senit ivee’tee!” a toddler said.

Patton and Nico both bursted out laughing as kids started piling on the robot and the human, and started tickling, tickling, tickling! It was probably really embarrassing for Nico’s case. But for Patton, this was all part of the job. Kids just loved being silly and playful! And he was created perfectly for the kiddies!

Roman got a recording of the whole thing, and sent it to Virgil through text.

[How much you wanna bet Patton’s gonna be sold?]

Virgil looked down at his phone and chuckled while he texted back:

[I bet $10 bucks one of the kids parents buys them.]

...Sure enough, a daycare lady ended up purchasing Patton as a fellow worker at a local daycare! With a little bit of fixing, Patton was gonna be the greatest entertainer!

Sorry Ro!

#sanders sides & fnaf crossover #robot patton #robot logan #robot roman #robot janus #robot remus #roman and remus are twins

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 66]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

It’s editing time for me because I have not edited in way too long. I am so behind on the Study Fic and this one. Oof. Also I should do some blog organization maybe.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out to the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to go in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see some flowers but all of the flowers as they grew. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits and the leaves were beginning to fall off some. They ended up in the vegetable garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on a direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him, and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin these, so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some left over. Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on you, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop?”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you would like to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at a large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected her to understand his words and the exasperation in his tone.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh, so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

  Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

#proofread stories #not writing

[aster-aspera]

Lullabye

Content warnings: past suicide attempt, hospitals, death mentions, needle mentions

Chapter 1

Masterpost

There were too many people staring at him, people looking out of their doors at all the noise and people rushing into the neighbouring apartment. Virgil sunk down onto the floor in the hallway, his breathing picking up speed, gasping sobs tearing from his chest. 

They were in there, with Janus.

And Janus…

He’d been so cold. And his skin had been pale and god, Virgil didn’t even know if he was breathing anymore. 

What if he was too late? 

What if his best friend was gone all because he had gone out to the store? He should have talked to him before he left. He should have seen this coming.

How could he not have seen this coming? 

He sobbed, wrapping his arms around himself, the memory of Janus, limp in his arms, barely breathing, a pack of empty pills discarded on the floor invading his brain.

“Hey.”

He startled, looking up at the person crouching in front of him. One of their neighbours, the girl Janus would often go over to borrow eggs, smiled at him comfortingly. 

“Do you have someone you can call?” she asked.

Virgil nodded. “My phone’s inside,” he whispered. Inside, where Janus was dying. Where five paramedics were doing god knows what to his friend.

He could still feel them pulling him out of his arms, handling his limp body roughly. Virgil had wanted to yell at them to be careful, not to hurt him. He had kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll get it,” Leah said softly, getting up and walking through the door as if it was the easiest thing. As if she was just there to steal some cupcakes from them.

Cruel, selfish eyes stared at him. Eyes that didn’t care, were just curious for a show. A mother herded her kids back into the room, staying behind herself to stare.

They all needed to leave.

Leah came back from the apartment, sitting down opposite to block the stares and handing him his phone. Virgil immediately tapped on Logan’s contact, then froze. “What do I tell them?” he whispered. How did he put any of this into words?

“Just ask them to come over, if you want I can call them?” Leah suggested.

Virgil shook his head, and did as she had said, sending Logan a quick text asking them to come.

He curled up against the wall, wishing he could disappear into the wallpaper. Leah asked if she could touch him and he nodded absently, too numb to process. He could feel her rubbing his arms distantly, whispering reassurances.

Her hands froze on his arms and he looked up in confusion. She stared at the door and Virgil’s breath hitched and he curled into himself even tighter when he saw them cart Janus out on a stretcher. 

He was pale and there were tubes sticking out of his mouth and he wasn’t fucking moving. Janus wasn’t supposed to look so small, so fragile. He was supposed to be sharp and witty and imposing. If he was awake he would have told all those curious eyes in the hallway to fuck off and mind their own business in that imperious tone of his. He would have told the paramedics he had it handled. But he didn’t, he just stayed there, washed out and broken.

And of course, as if the world was specifically out to traumatize everyone today, Logan chose that moment to appear around the corner, their eyes dark with worry.

They couldn’t hide the surprise and shock on their face as the paramedics rushed past with the stretcher and they reached out, as if they wanted to grab hold of one of Janus limp, useless hands. They retracted their hand before it could make contact and wisely stepped out of the way of the stretcher, turning to quickly walk over to Virgil.

“Hello V,” They said softly, kneeling down in front of him and taking Leah’s place. She gave them a grateful smile and moved away, returning to the comforting arms of her partner.

Virgil shivered as they gathered him up into their arms. 

“He’s going to be alright,” they whispered into his hair. “You did so well, they’ve got him now.” They rocked him gently, pressing him close to their chest. 

Virgil sobbed, burying his face into their sweater as they rubbed over his back.

“I was too late,” he gasped.

“No, you weren’t. You were there right in time. The doctors will help him now, he’s going to be okay, I promise. He’s strong,” Logan whispered.

Virgil shook his head, clenching on tighter. 

“Do you think you’re up for going to the hospital with me? Someone’s going to have to go seeing as Janus has no birth family anymore,” Logan said calmly. Virgil wondered how they managed it when his own mind was only filled with raging panic over what would happen to his friend.

“I’m coming with you,” he said decidedly. He knew this wasn’t a good idea by far, but he needed to see Janus, needed to know he was alive. Logan nodded and helped him standing, keeping an arm around his waist as they walked to their car.

He survived. Virgil broke down the moment he heard the news, sobbing openly into Logan’s arms as the doctor stared at them helplessly. And if the spot on Virgil’s shoulder where Logan had pressed their face was  just a little damp, well, he wasn’t going to tell anyone.

His relief soon faded as soon as they were led into the small hospital room, with machines blinking in every corner, a tube stuck down his throat, IV’s trailing into his skin. Virgil felt sick. 

He didn’t react when Virgil carefully took his hand. It felt cold and clammy. Logan took a seat next to him, brushing the curls out of Janus’s face and smoothing a hand softly over his brow. Virgil had rarely seen them so gentle with anyone. He hadn’t thought Logan had the capacity to be so caring.

“We should call the others, explain what’s going on,” they said, eyes glued to Janus’s pale face. Virgil nodded. Logan got up, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder as they headed out the room.

Virgil swallowed and looked out the window. He didn’t want to be confronted with Janus’s still form. With his failure. He looked away for five minutes and this happened. He should have realized something was wrong the moment Janus didn’t reply when he left.

“You have to come back to me,” he whispered brokenly. “You can’t just do this. You promised you’d bake babka tomorrow and I was going to take you out on a hike, and…” He took a shuddering breath. “You’re not supposed to die. You’re not… I love you. And god I don’t want to lose you, not like this.”

A hand settled on his shoulder and he looked up to see Logan, smiling at him gently, tears pooling in their eyes behind their glasses. 

“I told the others,” they said softly and looked back at Janus. “They all wanted to come over at once,” they chuckled sadly, “I’m not sure the nurses would agree with that.”

They sighed and sat down on the chair next to his bedside. “I wish... I wish I had been clearer about how much I cared for him. About the fact that I value him as a person, as a friend. But it is probably far too late for those sentiments.”

Virgil reached out and took their hand. “You said he’d be alright.”

Logan smiled at him.

“He will be, I sincerely believe that.”

It took three days for Janus to wake up, three days of switching out sitting on uncomfortable hospital chairs, nights spent on a bare mattress at the foot of his bed, staring at the lights of the machines reflected in the window. By day two, Virgil was ready to throw the next hospital meal he got out that window.

Patton called Virgil in the middle of making dinner and he had just enough sense to turn off the burner before grabbing Roman’s arm and dragging him out to the car. 

They ran into the hospital, following the familiar path up to Janus’s room. And there he was, sitting upright and looking mildly annoyed as a doctor looked him over. Virgil nearly cried at the relief of seeing that familiar expression. He was sure Roman actually started crying.

Janus locked eyes with Virgil and his face fell, looking away.

Virgil wasn’t going to let him shut him out. He sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed his hand, mindful of the cannula in it. “Janus,” he said softly.

Janus took a deep breath and Virgil swore he saw him blink back tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still staring at the wall opposite them.

Virgil reached over and pulled him into a hug. “It’s alright,” he soothed, “Well, it’s not alright, but you’re alive and that’s… That’s all I need for now.”

Janus let out a sob and turned to hold onto Virgil properly. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

The bed dipped as Patton wrapped his arms around them too and he felt Roman settle his hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” Roman said and Virgil hoped they could. He wasn’t leaving Janus again.

#sander sides #ts janus #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #anxceit #platonic anxceit #tw suicide mention #tw suicide attempt #tw hospital #my writing #let me know if i forgot to tag something #tw death mention

[shapa-likes-art]

Chapter one: Now or never

Warnings: death of major characters, food/battery poisoning (it's unclear). Tell me to put more warnings if needed.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety and Intrulogical

Summary: upcoming band, sunset curve, are about to make their debut at the orpheum when a serious tragedy occurs on the night of their performance. (Set in 1995)

A/n: here is my crappy writing bringing to you my Julie and the Phantoms au- er, Roman and Phantoms in this case? Haha, sorry! Besides that, there is are going to be links right before a performance/singing scene and it's highly recommended that you give it a listen before continuing on!

First | Next

Taglist: @that-peach-anon @thunderholtz @anxious-chaos-art @arcticfrostdoesthings @cirishere

__

It was a loud and busy night in sunset boulevard, there were crowds of people lined up right outside the orpheum, a line that was so long that it almost surpassed the width of the building. There was excited chatter amongst people- fans of the band that had yet to play in the building.

Up on the Marquee read: Sunset Curve - Sold out.

The sound of a distant guitar riff from inside the building seemed to rile up the excitement in the crowd.

(Listen to the song before proceeding)

There were three clacks of drumsticks hitting, "One! Two! Three!"

"Take off, Last stop! Countdown till' we blast open the top!"

A man in his late teens with purple-dyed tips and ripped jeans sung with a playful smirk. he seemed to be the lead singer of the band Sunset curve.

"Face first! full charge! Electric hammer to the heart-"

He looked in his element, effortlessly playing the guitar while singing. Three other voices joined the lead in harmony.

"Clocks move faster 'cause it's all we're after now, oh"

The lead looked over to a guy with a baby blue leather jacket a bass and he cocked his head to the side as if to say 'come over'. The bassist jumped over and sung in the same mic.

"Won't stop climbing, 'cause this is our time! yeah!"

The singer pushed him away playfully and the bassist went back to his own mic. They quickly moved to the prechorus

"When all the days felt black and white, Those were the best shades of my life!"

The singer belted with a grin, swiftly moving to the chorus, the other band members joining in every shout

"Don't look down!"

" 'Cause we're still rising-"

" Up right now!"

"And even if we-"

"Hit the ground!"

"We'll still fly- Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!"

The singer turned away from the mic and to the drummer as if passing it off to him with a shine in his eyes and an almost never-gone grin.

"We ain't searching for tomorrow," The drummer sung, "Tomorrow" The bassist repeated

" 'Cause we got all we need today," "Today!"

The lead took over momentarily

"Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins,"

The bassist smirked as he took in a deep breath, running his and through his hair,

"We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain"

Each band members stopped playing their instruments, clapping and clacking their sticks together to a beat as they repeated the start of the chorus

"Don't look down! 'cause we're still rising up right- now!"

They picked their instruments back up, a fire and smoke effect errupted around them as they played their instruments once again and delved into the final chorus

"And even if we hit the ground we'll still fly- Keep dreaming like we'll live forever but live it like it's now or never!"

There were more effects blowing around and lights shining on them as they harmonized at final part of the song

"It's now or never!" "Now or never"

Both guitarists and the bassist turned to the drummer as they strummed their last chords. They panted, catching their breaths as sweat fell down their faces and yet they had wide grins. They soon turned around and did their bows.

There was applause and cheers from the orpheum employees as the band members stood straight, "Whoo! Excellent!" A Girl cheered from the table she was wiping down, clapping alongside the employees,

The bassist chuckled, it sounded bubbly and sweet, and grabbed the mic, "Thank you, we're sunset curve," he said with a small wave before turning to the other bands members, who were immediately going on about that performance as the put away their instruments.

The lead and the second guitarist bumped their fists together with a smile, "Too bad we wasted that om a sound check," the second guitarist said, "that was the tightest we've ever played!"

The lead singer just smiled as he turned to the empty spot where the crowd would have been, "Just wait until tonight, when this place is packed with record execs," he said, his eyes lighting up at the mere thought. It was almost hard to believe and yet there they stood on the stage.

"Logan, you were smoking!" The bassist said to the drummer- Logan- who just huffed, pulling out his glasses from his shirt and sliding them back onto his face

"I oppose that, Pat, I was just warming up... In fact, you guys were the ones on fire," he said with a small smile and a faint blush on his light brown skin.

The bassist- Pat- pouted, "Aw, c'mon, lo! Can you, just this once, own up to your awesomeness? Hm?" He huffed, grabbing a few of their t-shirts and CD cases. The lead, who had been listening in, looked at Logan with a knowing smirk and an eyebrow raised.

Logan relented, biting his lip as he looked to his band members, "Fine, I was... 'Killing' it," he said, offering a small smile.

The lead smiled and went to lightly tap Logan's Shoulder, "ok, well, I'm thinking that we fuel up before the show," he took in a deep breath, "I'm thinking street dogs?" He suggested

Logan and Pat made sounds of affirmation. It had been a pretty high-energy performance, so having some hotdogs wasn't such a bad idea. At the time.

A female employee watched with a fond smile as she wiped down a table, and it seemed that she had captured the second guitarist's attention and interest

He went to walk off the stage and approach her.

"Hey Toby-" the lead saw him jump off the ledge of the stage and followed after, "Where you going?" He asked, the other two members right behind.

Toby turned to them, "I'm good," he said waving his hand dismissively and turned to the girl, smiling as he leaned against the table she was wiping.

"Vegetarian. Could never hurt an animal," he said, as if explaining. The others stood next to him, the three of them holding unimpressed and fond looks, seeming that they knew it was a lie.

"You guys are really good," she said with an impressed look on her face, a small spanish accent to her as she spoke. She had tan skin, shoulder-length voluminous curly hair, and a sleeveless sequin shirt.

"Thank you," pat chirped, resting his arm on Logan's Shoulder, to which said man didn't mind.

"I see a lot of bands," she continued, "Been in a few, myself," she smiled, "I was really feeling it,"

The lead smiled, "Well, uh, that's what we do this for," he said with a small awkward laugh before realizing something: "I- uh, I'm Virgil, by the way," he introduced then gesturing to Pat.

"Hi, I'm Patton,"

"Logan,"

"Toby,"

"Nice meeting you guys," she said with a curt nod, "I'm Rose,"

Patton seemed to perk up, "Oh! Uh-" he held out a CD, "Here's our demo," he said, sliding it over to her, then grabbing a T-shirt, "and a T-shirt, size: beautiful," he said with a grin. Logan groaned at that. Patton had the tendency to flirt as a joke and not meaning any of it.

Rose just smiled, talking the T-shirt, unfolding it and holding it up to he body, looking down at the design, before looking to the band, "Thanks," she said with a smile. She went to fold it in half and put it on her shoulder, looking to the table, "I'll make sure not to wipe tables down with this one," she said a little awkwardly.

"Oh, good decision," Logan said with a nod, "whenever they get wet, they tend to- uh, fall apart in your hands," he provided with a small smile.

Toby huffed, "Don't you guys have to get hot dogs?" He asked.

Virgil just smirked, "Yeah," he said then leaning close to Rose, "He had a hamburger for lunch," he said, cocking his head to Toby's direction before going to push himself away from the table and walk towards the exit, leaving an exasperated and disappointed Toby alone with Rose.

Virgil, Logan, and Patton grabbed their jackets before they went, shrugging them on as they went out the backstage exit.

Virgil hummed looking around, rolling on the balls of his feet "That's what I'm talking about," He said with an almost giddy shine to his eyes

"The smell of sunset boulevard?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow, readjusting his ripped denim jacket.

Virgil rolled his eyes and lightly punched Logan's arm, "No, smartass," he said with a small laugh, "It's what that girl said back there-" he said, walking in front of the others and kicking a puddle in his adrenaline-induced happiness.

"-about out music Alright?" He turned to look to the others, making a vague gesture with his hands, "It- It's like an energy," he said, slowing down a bit and walking beside them with a hum.

"It connects us with people- they can feel us when we play," Virgil hummed, walking behind them then hooking his arms around their shoulders, "I want that with everybody tonight,"

"Well then, we'll need a lot more shirts," Patton said, looking to the two ones in his hands. Virgil could help but let out a small laugh at that, "C'mon, let's go," he said.

They walked by a line of people- the people lined up for their show. Patton noticed two girls who were excitedly talking to each other and he went to diverge from the other two.

"Ladies," he smiled, giving them the last two shirts he had on hands before going back to the other two.

The two girls seemed confused, unfurling the shirt. Their eyes lit up as they realized who gave them the shirts

"Patton, wait!" One of them shouted, "oh my God, Patton!" The other one shouted. They both jumped in excitement, "oh my God, hi! It's me!"

As they walked away, they felt a little bit of pride bloom inside. They saw just how long the line was and it blew their minds. So many people lined up to see them and hear them play. This truly was a night none of them would ever forget.

They soon found a hotdog spot in an alleyway about a street down from the orpheum. They quickly got their hotdogs and went to putting on their toppings and condiments

Logan grimaced as he looked to where the condiments were stored- the trunk of a car along with a car battery.

"Virgil, there should be better places in Hollywood than this," he huffed, going to reach for the tongs to grab his topping of choice

Virgil didn't exactly look that crazed about it Either but he shrugged, "It's the closest spot to the orpheum and we cannot- for the life of us and our future- miss this gig,"

Logan just took on a deep breath, going to take a pickle to put on his hotdog, a slice slipped through the tongs and fell on the battery's cables. Great, just great, "I can't wait to eat someplace where the condiments aren't served in the back of an Oldsmobile," he grumbled.

Virgil just huffed and leaned against the trunk, waiting for Logan. This was going to be the one and only time they're eating at this spot. After tonight, they'll eat anywhere they want.

Logan finished with assembling his hotdog and turned to the vendor who was grilling hotdogs and patties, "Excuse me, uh... I got some pickle juice on your battery cables. Sorry," he said.

"No problem, it'll help with the rust," the vendor responded, giving Logan a pat on the back and a laugh

Logan looked dumbfounded, "That can't-" the vendor only chuckled and turned back to grilling. Logan looked to Virgil, who cocked his head over to a couch.

"Ok.." Logan sighed as he shook his head, defeated.

Patton let out a small sigh and he plopped on to the couch, followed by Virgil then Logan, they all leaned against the ratty and patched-up couch that was in the "dining area" of this pop-up shop.

Virgil hummed as he looked up to the sky, a small smile appearing on his face. Tonight was the biggest night ever and he could barely believe it, "This is awesome, you guys," he said, looking to his friends. "We are playing the freaking orpheum- I can't even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge!" He exclaimed

Patton chuckled lightly and smiled wide while Logan tried to suppress one. Virgil let out a small laugh of disbelief, "We are going to be legends," he smiled. He looked to the hotdog in his hands and lifted it up.

"Eat up, Boys," he said, the other two lifting their dogs as well, " 'Cause after Tonight... Everything changes,"

They all brought their dogs together as if a toast and bit in. As soon as Logan bit down, he tasted something metallic and ashy, "That's an odd flavor," he mumbled. Something felt very wrong.

"I'm sure It'll be fine," Patton mumbled. There was sudden sense of dread, "street dogs haven't killed us yet," he tried to joke.

They looked to the sandwich in their hands and reluctantly took another bite.

Only a few moments later, the siren of an ambulance wailed, driving towards sunset boulevard.

#yes this is all mostly unedited hdhdh #jatp au #Julie and the phantoms au #sanders sides #ts virgil #Virgil Patterson #ts patton #Patton Peters #ts Logan #Logan Mercer #sasi au #sanders sides au #prinxiety #intrulogical #ts october #ts shorts october #ts toby #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides patton #sanders sides logan

[fakeloveaskblog]

Patty have you ever asked Janus to join for dinner when you meet him? Maybe that can somehow help Logan with his flirting? Or at least get Janus more relaxed?

(btw you're adorable ily!!)

(*cracks knuckles* Oh yeah baby we’ve gotten to the angst. Words: 2364 )

Patty: ": D Oh hello lil magical bird who just talked to me! I love you too!! I didn't want to barge in too much into their relationship but now when my honeypie has asked him out once already I guess I can help just a bit!"

Patty had sunglasses on to look like a secret agent. This was an important step in her plan, she swore on it. She sneaked into the open library while chuckling to herself.

She glanced around and almost immediately caught her eye on Janus standing in the reception. She did a few sneaky walks between the bookshelves before sliding up to him.

"Hello Janister!" She greeted with a bright smile while putting her elbows on the reception to lean closer.

"Hiya PatPat. Logan is off helping a customer but he'll be back soon"

"Oh silly I'm not looking for him right now. I am actually here to ask if you could come over to our place tonight. You see I'm planning on making Jambalaya but I always make too much! I'm talking leftovers up to the roof!! But if a third person was there maybe I would be able to make a perfect amount" She lied. She was making jambalaya for Janus purposes alone!

Janus' heartrate shot through the atmosphere "To- me?- your place?- tonight?- I uh- I don't know if I have time-"

She pouted and did her puppy eyes "You sure? You don't have to if you don't want to!! But it would be nice!"

He let out a happy sigh "Sure"

She took his hand and let out a sqeaul "aaah Great! It'll be so fun!!"

---

Logan was leaning down so Patty could help him with his bowtie. "Are you completely sure I look adequate?" He asked.

"Oh honeybee, You look super duper ultra adequate. You're literally wearing a sweater with a math pun on it!!"

"Hmm sound argument. I can not deny the sexiness of math puns"

A knock came on the door. The couple stared at each other. Logan stimmed out of nervousness. Patty gave him a quick kiss before pointing between him and the door. They did a good luck high five.

Logan combed his hair back and leaned on the wall to look cool as he opened the door. Janus stood on the other side looking like a sardine that had just been pressed into a can.

He had on a purple vest with embroidered flowers details and with a long sleeved black button up under. Also a very funky pair of stripped pants with even funkier yellow snake socks under.

"Greetings Jan. You are looking" Like a dream. Like someone he wanted to kiss right this moment. "Very good"

"Aww are you trying to be a snake charmer Log-boy" Janus replied with a smirk.

"I am not a log or a boy. I'm an adult man made out of meat"

"You better be because I'm starving" He had downed 2 shots of vodka before coming to try to and cool his extreme anxiety. He was a lightweight.

Logan lead him into the living room "Are....Are you implying cannibalism?"

Janus shrugged while smiling.

The apartement truly did look like a mismatch of the couple's personalities. The walls were filled with maps of constellations and uplifting cat posters. On the bookshelfs cook books and travel books were stacked next to thick philosophy books and essays. The decorations were either cute porcelain animals, magical anime girl figurines or figurines of characters from Lo's different hyperfixations. The sofa was filled with fluffy blankets and pillows and stuffies were scattered around the light blue carpet filling the living room.

“Do you want to watch star trek while eating?” Logan asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“As long as I get to watch your beautiful face as well” Janus flirted back while doing an unsteady fingergun.

“Oh- Of course” His crush’s sudden forwardness was making his heart flutter.

Janus curled up in the corner of the couch, making himself as small as possible. Logan sat down pretty far away from him.

He started the first episode. Janus had a constant smile on his face as he listened to Logan go between telling him facts and gushing over his favorite moments. All while he could hear Patty in the kitchen half singing along to dad rock.

“Does she want help with that?” Janus, known gentleman and also nervous wreck, asked.

“She’ll tell us if she need it. She likes cooking. I like baking. It usually works out”

Janus got an amused look on his face “You’re into baking? So all those times at work when you brought desserts, that was your making?”

“Yes. And they were delicious. Anything wrong with that?”

“No. No. I simply didn’t take you for the type”

“Well cooking involves creativity and there’s room for your own ideas. Baking doesn’t. It is only about following a structure and doing kitchen chemistry. Of course I love it” He lowered his voice “It is also tremendously good for when you need to flirt without words”

“Oh really? I better start looking up recipes then” He pulled in Logan's bowtie “You have any favorites?” 

In his head he had the guts to say ‘Your lips against mine would be my favorite’ in reality he said “HehuHFKdjf jam drops in the shape of heart. The heart part is important. It adds to the taste”

“It usually does”

Janus slowly looked him up and down. And then he realized what the fuck he was doing. He shot back into his corner of the sofa like a naked rat. Logan sat still with blushing cheeks, staring at the tv but not taking in anything that was happening except his racing heart.

“Done!” Patty exclaimed, coming in with a big ass fucking pot of jambalaya and a just as big bottle of wine.

She saw the nervous state both of the guys were in and quickly made up a plan. She slammed the pot down onto the coffee table and moved the blankets so they took up about half of the couch. Then she sat down using up as much space as possible leaving the guys no choice but to move closer to each other, If both of them sat their hands down they would touch.

Patty cuddled up to her husband with a proud smile on her face. Logan moved his arm around her. 

“It looks great sweetheart” He pressed a kiss to her cheek making her giggle.

“So do you!! And so does mr. star trek captain man!”

 She enjoyed the hell out of her jambalaya while the two idiots sent each other awkward smiles. Janus downed his glass of wine in record speed. (He took it slower with the food, he didn’t want to seem disgusting). 

The whole star trek episode went by. Logan asked Janus a thousand excited questions about how much he liked it. All of his answers made the nerd happy stim. They put on a documentary none of them were really interested in the background while continuing to chat. Patty went on a long epic story about how a kid at her daycare had tried to bite her finger off last week.

“Soooo” Patty sudenly changed the topic. She said it with an innocent tone “My nerdy lil honeypie over here had the biggest crush on Data for a while. It was adorable. ANd while we’re on the topic” The look she gave Janus was happy but it still sent shivers down his spine “You having any crushes lately? Just curious!”

Both of the men internally gasped at the audacity. The gall! The sheer power!! Janus was sweating like a naked rat who had just been clad for the first time.

“...Well.......I have actually been meaning to....Ask about the polyamourous thing?” 

The couple exhanged knowing glances before looking back at him “Mhm yeah Mhm” “I am poly and also a thing so I am an expert in this”

“So...I totally haven’t fallen in love with 3 people. 2 of which I met in the span of around a week”

Patton did a double thumbs up. Logan took a long sip from his wine. “We’re all gossipy bitches here. Tell all about it”

“Well. The first one is Remy-”

“The one with the sunglasses?”

“...Yes...Are....Don’t tell me they’re a serial killer”

Patty broke up into a chuckle “Logie-bogie tried to kiss them while he was drunk once”

“I threw up on their shoes”

“He threw up on their shoes!”

Logan saw the terror in Janus’ face as he worried that maybe 2 of his crushes were exes and quickly added “We are only acquaintance and I was momentarily struck by the impressive lenght of their legs” 

Janus went on to gush about Remy and Remus. Why he loved them. All the dates he had daydreamed about. And then finally his voice was shaking when he mentioned just having a third crush.

Patty let out a long yawn before he could say anything more. She stood up “Well looks like it’s time to snooze! I assume 2 big burly ultra masculine men like you two can handle the dishes”

“It will be a challenge but we shall do our best. Goodnight honey” Logan kissed her.

She leaned in and whispered “Good luck Logie-bear! You got this”

She giggled mischievously while going off into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. Only the two lovebirds were left now.

“So the third crush? Who’s the lucky gentleman?” Logan asked.

Janus held onto his newly refilled wine glass so hard it nearly cracked. He forced a smile “Wouldn’t you want to hear about the fake couples counseling I go to together with Remus instead?”

“Fake what now?”

“Well me and Remus, who I am hopelessly in love with even though he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, started going to a therapist pretending we were a couple to see how long it would take before he realized we didn’t know each other. He hasn’t realized anything yet. It’s great!”

It looked like Logan’s eyes was about to bulge out of his skull “That sounds illegal. It should be. You are dragging shame onto the face of psychology you double dumbass!”

“I have done nothing wrong ever in my entire life and frankly I deserve to waste even more therapist’s time” Janus replied.

He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose “Which therapist is it that you’re harassing exactly?”

“Dr. Picani”

Logan’s eyes widened and he shut his lips tightly “Emile Picani?”

“Yes.....Please don’t tell me he’s a serial killer”

He slowly looked away while taking a sip from his wine “I have had intercourse with that man”

Janus choked on his drink. He coughed while staring at his friend with wild eyes “YOU FUCKED MY THERAPIST????”

“No.......He fucked me” Logan replied in a quiet tone. “Besides he’s not even your real therapist”

“He is still a sort of therapist man to me! I told him I enjoy Lana Del Rey. That was a very intimate moment for me!”

“Well I had a very intimate moment with him too”

Janus looked at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. He let out a chuckle which turned into a laugh which turned into Logan not being able to not laugh along which turned into the room filling with nothing but flustered happiness and laughter.

Logan grabbed onto his crush’ arm just to have some contact with him while his eyes teared up from laughter. Janus leaned his head against his shoulder and curled up close to him while giggling so much his stomach hurt.

“Oh we’re idiots” Janus sighed.

“We are. We truly are”

They stayed sitting like that. So so close. Logan’s arm around him. Janus breathing being felt against the other man’s skin. Their hands touching. Only comfortable silence surrounded them.

A few minutes went by. Janus looked at him shuly. His thoughts worrying about everything and anything “Should we- ehm- the dishes?”

The moment broke. Logan moved away before standing up “I uh yeah- we should”

It was strange. Just dishing together with his crush made Logan happy. All he could think about was getting to be this close, this domestic, with him every day. Getting to wake up next to him. Kiss his knuckles. Share a morning with him.

“Who was the third crush by the way?” Logan asked, glancing over at his crush.

Janus stared down into the water “I- I can’t say it”

“Understandable”

He stopped and turned fully to look at Janus. He had never been more unsure of where to put his hands before.

“Well I can...Say it I mean....I....I...Janus.....You make me happy just by being near me...You are so wonderful...I....I love you”

Logan couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He took a step forward and cupped Janus’ cheeks. He leaned forward, so close, so close that their noses and foreheads were pressed against each other. It felt like had been starving for this.

Janus froze. His wide eyes stared in shock at the other man. His hand moved up to his chest on instinct, to try and push him away.

Logan noticed his reaction. Of course he did. It was blindingly obvious. He forced himself to move away. He forced the desire to kiss him to simmer out.

“I-I’m sorry-” He mumbled out.

“No....Lo..” Janus took his hand. Holding it so so lightly in his own “I know” He looked up at him “I know. I’m sorry. I should go”

A horrible feeling of guilt filled Logan’s throat “You don’t have to” 

“I should go” He repeated, letting go of his hand.

Logan walked after him as he went to get his jacket “A date. Do you want to go on a date? Not just a hangout. Janus I- I want so badly to be close to you. We could go to the zoo, look at the snakes?”

Janus held his hand on the handle of the door. He didn’t look at Logan “Thanks for having me over”

He left. Logan stood alone in the hallway. His arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

#(: #loceit #mini fic #logicality #logan sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #patton sanders

[delimeful]

Wibar Extra: Patton’s Charms

A short WIBAR piece that takes place mostly before the first installment, commissioned by @kieraelieson​ ! Enjoy!

warnings: emotional distress, mentions of smugglers/trafficking, PTSD -

The first time Patton gave away his feathers, it was an impulse. 

He’d been running errands for Logan at market; even with the extra limbs, that goof tried to take on more than he could handle. Patton figured that the least could do was lend a pair of hands, even if that meant ducking and weaving through the occasionally precarious crowd. 

Still, his task wasn’t urgent enough that when a loud wail split the air, he couldn’t turn right around to investigate. He sidled along past a few clumps of bargaining patrons and came to a gap in the market’s flow, where people were putting space between them and the source of the racket: a Pataruan child in tears. 

By the spiraling horns and left-folded robes, a little girl. By the hearts-wrenching cries and skin color shifting to the blue-grey of sea stones, a very upset little girl. 

Patton offered the harried father a sympathetic trill as he approached, and was happy to see the man seemed relieved, rather than opposed to a stranger’s aid. Most species didn’t see him as a threat, since Ampens were small and as a whole rather friendly, but it was always better to get permission before interacting with others’ fledgelings. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted in Common, lowering his antenna to a friendly-safe angle. She probably wasn’t old enough to be familiar with Ampen body language, but it was the thought that counted. 

Her sobbing slowed slightly as she looked down at him with slitted pupils, cheeks pinching inwards and skin turning to lemon-yellow confusion. “Huh?”  

He let his eyes crinkle into an encouraging smile. “I’m Patton! What’s your name?” 

After a few sniffles and a glance at her dad, who was rushing through a transaction with a textile merchant, she blinked slowly and answered in a small voice. “I… I’m Neri.” 

Patton noted absently that she had the same type of translucent third eyelid as Logan, and nodded politely to her. “May the stars greet you, Neri! Now, I came over because you sounded a little upset. Is something wrong?” 

Neri’s skin immediately darkened back to that dark ocean grey, and she reached up to grip her horns, probably a self-soothing gesture. “No, I don’t want to! I don’t want to see the seamster! She’s got sharp itty-bitty things and she yells at me when I move. I like my normal clothes! I don’t need new ones!”  

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay, kiddo. Can you breathe with me?” Sensing an imminent breakdown, Patton held his hands out to her in an offer of comfort. Neri clutched at his hands with her own smooth, scaly ones, taking deep, shuddering breaths in time with Patton. 

“You’re doing great! That sounds like a rough time, but you must be a very brave one, to have been to a fitting before.” Patton beckoned her closer, into a crouch. “Do you want to hear a secret?” 

Neri shuffled close, pupils growing large and round with intrigue. “Mhmm.” 

“I have a secret power, that keeps your darkest days all lit up. If you see it, you’re guaranteed to have a good day no matter what tries to get you down. I think having a little extra glow will help you keep on that tough face while you’re at the seamster, yeah?”  

She seemed a bit doubtful, but leaned in anyhow, undeniably curious. “Yeah… I wanna see.” 

Patton fluffed up the feathers along his arms slowly, and Neri gasped as they flushed a bright, luminescent blue. Patton’s cheeks started to hurt as his eyes squinched up happily at the astonished look on her face. “Pretty neat, huh?” 

She ghosted her hand over the glowing feathers, careful even before Patton warned her that they were sensitive, her face slowly turning sun-warm orange. “You change colors like me?” 

“Only a little,” Patton admitted, “but this color is for making people happy! Do you think it will help you be brave?” 

Neri hesitated before blinking slowly, eyebrows furrowing in determination. “I’ll try really hard not to forget.” 

Patton cast a glance at her father, still haggling, and made a quick decision. He ran his hands through the ruff of feathers around the back of his neck, until he found one that had come loose after his nap earlier. He offered it to her with a flourish Roman would have been proud of. “How about you keep a little feather? Whenever you start feeling upset, you can hold it in your hand and remember.” 

It was as though he’d offered her the whole planet. She took the feather gingerly, and cradled it in her hands, flushed verdant green with happiness. “Thank you!” 

By the time Patton got back to his crew, he had completely forgotten that he’d been in the middle of running an errand at all. 

That was alright; Logan was only fondly exasperated when he explained. 

-

The second time Patton gave away his feathers, it was to help a friend.

The lighting circuit had gone out on almost the entire ship, and while the flight and grav controls weren’t affected, it was still startling to suddenly be plunged into the darkness. 

With how they’d all been doing different things at the time, it had taken them a little bit of stumbling around to find each other. Patton hadn’t been particularly concerned until they finally reached Roman.

Roman, who looked up at Patton’s glow with a desperate sort of hope. Roman, who’s tail had remained curled against his leg for what seemed like the rest of the cycle after the lights came back on. Roman, who had the worst darkvision of them all. 

He hadn’t offered an explanation, and Patton hadn’t pushed. They knew more about Roman’s past than most, but there was still a lot that remained unshared. There were probably some things he’d never share with anyone else, and that was okay. 

What wasn’t okay was the idea of ignoring the matter and leaving Roman to deal with it all on his own. 

Patton sequestered himself in his room for a few cycles, reassuring Roman and Logan whenever they stopped by that he was okay, just working on something. It was a process, since he didn’t normally craft other than drawing. Things like this were more Roman’s area of expertise, but Patton was ready to do whatever it took to create it himself.

Several snapped feathers and a lot of trial and error later, he finally had a trinket he found acceptable. Another few tics, and he had two, ready to present to his friends. 

“Just a little something for you guys to have that will remind you of me!” he claimed as he held out the somewhat clumsily-made necklaces, the feather charms glowing brightly. Roman’s grateful ear twitch told him that the Crav’on hadn’t missed Patton’s real motivation.

Even the slightly sore spots where he’d accidentally plucked out feathers that weren’t completely shed felt worth it when he saw the way Roman’s free hand fluttered happily as he strung the cord around his neck, the way Logan brushed his hand over the fluffy charm whenever he was attempting a particularly fiddly experiment, as though for good luck. The gifts were a complete success. 

Patton spent the rest of the week feeling lighter than air, barely able to hold in an excited trill whenever he saw the feathers glowing on his friends. 

-

The third time Patton gave away his feathers, it was for profit.

The first compliments and queries about the charms came at one of their usual markets, from strangers and regulars alike. The necklaces Patton had made were hard to miss, especially with how luminescent they were. 

He’d been surprised at the outpouring of interest, but it was nearing molting season and he had plenty of discarded feathers to share. It was a little bit tiring to have the bioluminescence activated all the time, but nothing a little snack couldn’t fix. 

The most motivating reason, however, was how excited his crewmates became at the idea. Roman would invite Patton to come sit with him in his quarters, showing him intricate knotwork that would hold the feathers more solidly, and Logan offered a preserve that would keep the feather’s glow maximized for longer. 

Even after contributing to the new and improved version, his two closest friends stalwartly refused to replace Patton’s original gifts, which made his hearts flutter fondly. He was happy to be helping create revenue for their ship, too. Generally, they were able to get by with their exploratory services and material trading, but putting away a little extra credit took a weight off all of their shoulders. 

He loved to run the booth at market, seeing the way people drew to the glow curiously and getting to greet them with his typical enthusiasm. Children were always the most excited, and he made sure to secretly undercharge any charms bought for them. He even got to implement a “tell a joke, get a discount” rule for a day, before Logan put his foot down after one too many puns. 

Through the market cycles, a few visitors stood out. There was a Bal’t’n who had shyly inquired if it was alright to consume the light of the feather(Patton didn’t see why not!), or a fellow Ampen who had spent half her time at the booth asking after Patton’s moms (Luckily, he was always happy to gush about them), or Neri’s father, who had expressed profuse thanks to the Ampen and then requested materials to help his daughter make her feather into a proper necklace(Patton refused any sort of payment for helping out a dad). 

There were also the less friendly visitors, like the Venefican stranger who had eyed his wares with a cold hunger, and then demanded he prove that he was the one the feathers originated from. He’d never felt so uncomfortable showing off his glow before. They didn’t even end up buying anything.

He saw that stranger only once after that, across the market square, speaking to a cloaked figure in a hushed voice. He only noticed them at all because of the feeling of another’s gaze on him, and he shivered and looked away when the hood of the cloak turned his direction.  

It was a bit unsettling, but there didn’t seem to be any real harm done, and so he put it out of mind soon enough. 

-

The fourth time Patton gave away his feathers, it wasn’t his choice. 

(Lightspans away, his two best friends held the pendants they had encouraged Patton to make and sell, the ones that had drawn smuggler attention to their small friend. 

They had never regretted anything more.)

-

The fifth time Patton gave his feathers away, it was for himself. 

The need proved itself early on in their post-escape travels. His huge new friend moved so much quieter than Roman, and Patton’s darkvision wasn’t anywhere near as good as a Human’s. 

Since they were trying to remain under the radar, they traveled by night fairly often, and recently they had gotten perilously close to losing each other in the fog of a particularly confusing patch of galthe vines. Patton could light up, sure, but Virgil would have to be the one to find and reach him. What if they got separated and Virgil was stuck or needed help? Giving his Human a feather charm was a good, sensible idea.

However, knowing it was a good idea and actually following through with it were two very different things. His feathers had grown back, thanks to Virgil, but the sensation of a slow death by starvation was still ever-present in his nightmares. Even though it wasn’t healthy, he hadn't preened any of his loose or ragged feathers, any attempts to remove them bringing back memories he'd much rather repress. He didn't know what he was going to do when he molted. The very thought of it sent a chill down his spine. He never wanted to feel that helpless and weak again. 

It was like a mental barrier, a bubble of terror welling up in his throat whenever he thought of broaching the topic. It was silly. He knew that Virgil would understand if he ended up being unable to bring himself to actually implement the idea, but the very idea of speaking it aloud suddenly seemed so… frightening. It frustrated him! There was no reason to be so nervous about helping a friend! 

It was while he was sitting at their latest camp, having one of these internal arguments with himself that Virgil approached, whistling a low greeting in Patton’s native tongue. Patton chirped back and released some of the tension in his body by shaking out his feathers, careful not to move too quickly. For a Human, Virgil was easily startled. 

“Hey, Pat.” Virgil crouched down, settling into a sitting position with languid grace. “You alright?” 

“Of course!” he replied, scooting over to press up against the Human’s side. “Are you?” 

Virgil nodded once, and then hesitated for a heartbeat. “So, y’know how we almost got lost for a while on the planet with all the mist and little crab guys?” 

Patton stilled, having spent more than enough time remembering the incident. “Y— yeah, on Hythag, right? With the vines? Lots of plants?” Please don’t ask me to give them up again. I’m scared. 

“Um, yeah,” Virgil replied, gaze looking him over sharply. He’d picked up on Patton’s unease, but was too unsure of himself to press. “I… well, I was thinking about how stressful it was, and, uh…” 

Patton’s antennae flattened against his skull, and he braced himself for the request. 

“I made these.” 

What?

He blinked, and saw that Virgil was holding two small lengths of thread— no, woven bracelets. Patton reached out and carefully picked up the smaller loop of twine, staring at the way the material was purposefully knotted in a pattern. 

“Is this for me?” he asked, looking up at Virgil with unbridled curiosity. “How’d you make them?” 

Virgil was staring off at a nearby flowering plant, avoiding eye contact the way he did when he was nervous. “Yeah, that one’s yours. They, uh, match. Back home, we call them friendship bracelets. A little childish, I know, but I don’t know any other patterns I can weave by hand...” 

It didn’t escape Patton’s notice that he had dodged the other question, and he squinted at the threads again with a growing sense of familiarity. He peered over at Virgil’s pants, one leg of which seemed particularly more frayed than the other. His feathers puffed up a bit, unable to contain all that he was feeling as he looked at the bracelet made from the only clothes the Human had.

Oh, Virgil… 

“... and right now, they won’t really solve our problem, but I figured we could find a source of pigment that glows and apply it? I would have done that part myself too, then it would have been a better surprise, but I wasn’t sure what pigments would be safe for your skin, so— oof!” Virgil’s rambling broke off as Patton launched himself directly at his chest, on the brink of crying as the Human carefully returned the hug. He always felt safest here.

“I take it this means you like it?” Virgil asked, his voice low and amused. Patton nodded into his hoodie, a few affectionate chitters escaping him. 

“I love it. I’m wearing it forever.” He paused, swallowing thickly, and then set his chin stubbornly. “But, for the glow, I have something that might help…” 

He might not be ready to deal with a molt, maybe not even when he was safe on the Mindscape again, but he could at least put some loose feathers to good use. He could start small, and work his way up to being okay again. 

Until then, he knew that Virgil would be by his side with everything he had. 

And that would be enough. 

#sanders sides #ts patton #ts virgil #space au #WIBAR #watch it burn and rust #wibar extra #writing #my writing #ts roman #ts logan

[four-rabbit]

A perfect birthday

This is for the day 4 of the @dukexietyweek: Parents.

Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: This is the first one of Janus' birthday that they are celebrating together since Virgil and Remus adopted her and Virgil wants it to be perfect.

Characters: Remus sanders, Virgil sanders, Logan Sanders, Janus sanders, mentions to Patton Sanders

Warnings: swearing (some of it in front of middle schoolers), something that is not exactly a panic attack but could have evolved into one.

Obs: Janus is a trans girl here and uses exclusively she/her pronouns.

"Who do you want us to invite?" Besides Logan, I mean" Virgil asked as the family finished lunch, looking down at Janus, who shrugged.

Obs: Janus is a trans girl here and uses exclusively she/her pron

"Dunno. I'm not really friends with anyone besides him" 

"Oh, you could invite Patton! You like him, don't you?" Remus suggested excitedly, looking between his husband and their daughter, waiting for approval. Janus fixed her gaze on her food, embarrassed.

"I mean, whatever, he's just nice to me, but he's nice to everyone. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even like me" 

"Well, then it's a great opportunity for him to get to know how cool you're!" 

"It's supposed to be my birthday, dad, I'm supposed to have fun, not be trying to impress some boy" she replied sharply. The kitchen stayed in a heavy silence for some seconds before Virgil said, softly.

"We just want you to make friends." she sighed.

"I know. But people already don't really like me. I'm new, I'm weird, I'm trans-" Virgil and Remus exchanged a worried look as Janus looked down sadly. 

"Hey" Remus started, putting a hand on her shoulder "Being weird and trans fucking rules, remember that, but we get it, school can be scary and making friends can be even scarier" 

"Especially if you're trying to be friends with middle schoolers. They are the devil" Virgil agreed and Janus chuckled. 

"Maybe we can keep the long list of guests for my next birthday, how about that? Then I won't be giving you guys too much work" she suggested.

"Oh, don't worry about that, we got everything under control, Remus, did you order the cake?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"... We got most things under control" she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Hm. How about that: I'll call Logan and order a pizza, you guys find me a gift. Suggestion: money" Janus quickly decided, putting her plate on the sink and going to her room, already picking her phone to call Logan. Virgil immediately turned to Remus as she entered her room. 

"I can't believe you forgot the cake. This needs to be perfect! We can't ruin her first birthday with us!" 

"Hey, emo, don't worry, it will be fine! We don't need to be perfect, man, as long as she has fun"

"I know, I know, I just- being a dad is hard and I can't stop worried that we'll do the wrong thing it's already hard because she is older and we need her to adapt and we know she had a tough life before the adoption and I just want to be there for her and-"

"Virgil, breathe with me" Remus said calmly, putting a hand on his husband's shoulder and guiding him through a resting exercise for some minutes until Virgil got better.

"Thanks" he whispered. Remus held his hands, looking his partner in the eyes.

"Being a parent is hard, dude, it's on the job description, but we'll get there. Together, the three of us. Also, if it serves as any consolation, we literally cannot fuck up as much as yours parents" Virgil chucked.

"Or yours"

"Oh yeah, talk about shitty people"

"I'm glad we don't have to deal with them anymore"

"So am I. Hey, about that cake, we won't be having a personalized one, sorry for that, but how about I pick one up at the supermarket? It's better than nothing" 

"Oh so you're not totally useless after all" Virgil provoked, with a grin "Yeah, bring some snacks too, I'll try to clean the house a little bit while you're gone" 

"Cool. Let me just wash the dishes-"

"Look at him, offering himself to do chores" Virgil commented sarcastically. 

"Oh shut up, I'll just do it and then I'll go" 

"'Kay" he smiled, messing Remus' hair fondly and giving him the plates.

•••

When Remus got back the house was already cleaner and Janus' weird nerd friend was already there.

"Oh finally! Your dad is home, he brought food!" Virgil announced, relieved to be able to back away from the videogame where the kids were destroying him. Middle schoolers really are the devil, even the nice ones. 

"Yeah, I sure hope he did" Janus replied, not even looking away from the screen. Her dad rolled his eyes, going to open the door and let his husband in, who carried three plastic bags and a chocolate cake.

"I'm here guys, you can start the party now!"

"Of course. We were playing some video games while we waited for you"

"Yeah, wanna play with us? I didn't want to say anything, but" Janus put her hand in front of her mouth as if she was going to tell a secret, but said as loudly as always: "because dad Virgil sucks at this" 

"Hey! Show some respect! I haven't played in a long time"

"Fuck yeah girl, but don't you cry about it when I beat you, oh hey Logan, sup!" 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Storm."

"Oh, I bought you something!" He grabbed one of the bags as Virgil organized everything at the table, coming back with a jar full of jam. "I knew you liked it so I bought" Logan's eyes were almost shining.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Storm!"

"He got something but I don't? It's like you don't even care about me!" Janus said dramatically. 

"I did buy you something, I- you know what" he grabbed his wallet, picking a one hundred dollars bill from there and handling it to Janus, who accepted the gift with a wide smile "Use it wisely"

"Thanks, dad!" 

"Hey, I bought you something too, an actual gift, by the way" Remus subtly showed his middle finger to his husband, who smiled and grabbed a small box, wrapped in gift paper, handing it to Janus, who immediately opened it, only to find an eyeshadow palette. She didn't answer immediately, slowly getting to her feet and hugging Virgil, whispering:

"Thanks" said genuinely.

"I can teach you how to do makeup! I was really good at each when I was trying to be a cis girl!" Remus suggested right after. She rolled her eyes, but didn't stop smiling.

"It's not a competition, you dumb old man. But thanks anyway. You guys are cool" 

"Oh, I see that it's time for the gifts, in this case, here is mine, Janus, I hope you appreciate it," Logan added, grabbing a heavy book from his backpack and giving it to his best friend. It was called 'Philosophy through History'. "We can talk about it at school" 

"I'm waiting for it, you big nerd" Logan opened one of his rare smiles. 

"Nice" Remus grabbed a bowl filled with Doritos, starting to eat it "What do you guys wanna do? How about a game?" 

"Oh, we could play chess!" Logan suggested.

"Chess? How the fuck do you even know how to play chess? Oh, shit, don't tell your mom I said that. I mean, the "fuck" part, you can tell that I asked how you know how to play chess, she probably already thinks I'm dumb so whatever"

"Mr. Storm, if I was to tell my mom everytime that you swore in front of me, she probably wouldn't allow me to come here anymore" 

"Yeah, right. How about we play poker? Everyone knows how to play poker, right?" Logan looked at him dead in the eye.

"Mr. Storm, I'm ten. However, I'm friends with Janus, so yes, of course I know how to play poker" 

"Yes! What are we going to bet?!" Janus exclaimed, smiling devilishly. 

"Cake slices" Virgil was the one to answer. She seemed disappointed, but quickly accepted it.

"Yeah, ok, I'll grab the cards, oh Logan, come with me, I totally forgot to show you a book I just bought, you'll love it, I can lend it to you if you want to"

"Alright" as the kids went to their room, Remus turned to his husband.

"The makeup was a great idea, you know?"

"Yeah. I would have liked for my parents to support me when I was her age. Would have made it easier to come to terms with my gender" 

"I feel you, man. See, we can do it" Remus said, holding his husband's hand. 

"I guess we aren't that bad" 

"Yeah" Remus smiled, planting a soft kiss on Virgil's lips, who smiled too. 

"I'm going to destroy you at poker"

"I would love to see you try" 

#dukexietyweek2021 #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #rabbit writes #cw swearing #parents au

[thedramaclubs]

Tonight belongs to you

Summery: it’s prom night and the group is going to have the night of there lives

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, demus/dukeceit

When they’re singing

Patton- blue

Remus-green

Duet- orange

Kaylee- black

Ms Greene- pink

All-purple

It’s prom night. Remus is at Patton’s helping him pick out a suit. “You better hurry up in there or your gonna me my drag alter ego....Eugene lee yang from the try guys.” Patton came out wearing a light blue tux.

“What do you think?”

“Well it’s better than the pink. But you got fuzz on your shoulders. You’ve got great shoulders”

“This isn’t working” Remus clean off the fuzz

“Don’t panic...does this help?”

I don’t know?....What did you wear to your prom?” Remus got quiet “Well I was gonna wear a dark green dress with sparkles everywhere. But this isn’t about me this is about you. Your gonna have the night of your life.” Remus walked back to get a view of the tux.

“Hey what’s your date wearing?”

“I don’t know.” Remus’s face change to confusion. “He didn’t give you a little fashion show?”

“I’ve never been to his house. His mother doesn’t know about us.” Patton felt anxious

“How long have you been together?”

“A year an a half.”

“Oh my god....”

“But he’s coming out tonight big time that’s the plan.......I’m really scared”

“Why?”

“Well for so many reasons but mainly because.......half of the people their still hate me.” The room got quiet. Remus put out his hand for Patton and they sat on Patton’s bed.

“Look I never went to my prom.” Remus started to tear up. Patton gave him a hug and a single tear fell from his face. “Looks like your mystery boyfriend and I never had your courage. You made all of this happened and when you walked into that gym tonight, you know what their gonna see.....the bravest person in the world.”

Patton gave a small smile and a nervous giggle “This is scary does everyone go through this?”

“Are you kidding of course. Right now girls are spraying on their tans, whitening their teeth and shoving their fingers down their throats one last time and trying to look their best for the prom. But they are wasting their time. They might as well be wearing a garbage bag........with the word “whore” on it and you know why.........because.......they’re whores.”

Patton was shocked “WHAT?!”

Remus then regretted that last statement

“No my god they don’t have the glow you have right now”

“I trust you completely and that’s kinda scary”

I can tell your feeling wary but you can count on uncle reemy he turn this butchy duck into a swan

Your whole look could use a shake up you can borrow all my make up and the pair of SPANX I currently have on

I think I’ll past

Treat the whole world like your run way make it fierce but in a fun way try to flip your hair like Cher and drag queens do

And I don’t mean to be rude dear but you could use some attitude dear

Let’s show the school tonight belongs to you

One things universal, life no dress rehearsal, so why not makes some waves before it’s through

Go big or you’ve blown it, it’s time that you own it let’s make it clear that tonight belongs to you

Now whatever we choose we gotta make sure to sell it

How do I do that?

Allow Ms Allen to demonstrate

You might find this disconcerting but old Remus has done some flirting

Try to bat your eyes and smile each time you grin

I can guess your whole agenda

You be Elphie I’m Galinda

It’s makeover time so why not just give in

Cmon!!

One things universal

Life’s no dress rehearsal

So why not make some waves before it’s through

Go big or you’ve blown it

It’s time that I own it (yes sir!)

Let’s make it clear that tonight belongs to you

What?

Belongs to me

Kaylee and Shelby are at Kaylees house

“Oh god I can’t believe this is finally happening” Said Kaylee

“He almost ruined it for all of us” Said Shelby

“Well what goes around comes around. You look hot”

“You look so hot”

Well I hate to sound conceited but the boys get over heated when I strike a pose or or two like thus *they do poses here*

And you have to hand it to me I mean even I would do me

Let’s show the world tonight belongs to us

One things universal, life no dress rehearsal excuse me while I state the obvious

go big or you’ve blown it

It’s time that we own it lets make it clear that tonight belongs to us

Logan finished getting dress. He was in a black tux with a dark blue tie with his hair pulled back with gel.

“You look so handsome. You should always wear your hair like this.”

Logan took a deep breath. “Mom I want you to know what’s gonna happen tonight I-”

“Shh can we not spoil this moment. I’ve worked very hard on this night. I have a right to enjoy it too. Your gonna have a wonderful prom like a normal boy I made sure of that”

“What does that mean?”

I don’t like when strangers in my way or when somebody messes with the PTA

Or maybe that’s just me trust me

Fixes little problems is what I do now everyone is happy I promise you

And I would never ever miss a night like this Logan your my super Star now get your ass in the car

The Prom has begun. Every is dancing and having the night of their lives. Everyone has worked so hard for this night music blasting, streamers and confetti flying and everyone haveing the night of their lives.

One things universal life’s no dress rehearsal excuse me while I state the obvious

Go big or you’ve blown it

It’s time that we own it

And make it clear that tonight belongs to

Make it clear that tonight belongs to

Make it clear that tonight belongs

TO US!!!

Patton and the actors are at the gym door about to go inside we’re the rest of the kids are.

“You look so handsome” Said Roman

“Are you sure it’s not to boyish?”

“No it’s definitely boyish.” Said Janus as he held a little box.

“He means it’s not to boyish. My husband likes to mess with people time to time but that’s what I love about him.” Janus blushed at what Remus Said. “You did good Remus. I thought you had no fashion sense whatsoever but I was wrong.”

“Thanks Roman. Where’s your date?”

“We’re meeting inside the gym. He’s still a little shy about all this but he’ll be there.”

“Well this is were we leave you our work here is done.” Remus got the box from Janus and inside was a boutonniere. He pinned it on Patton’s tux and they started to walk away.

“Can you walk me in Remus? I’m a little nervous.”

Remus gave a small smile “of course.” The two of them squealed and walked in the gym

“We did good you guys. Now who’s wants a drink?” Roman, Janus, Thomas and Joan walked out.

The moment Remus and Patton walked in the gym.........they were in shocked. The gym was empty. Their was no one there except for Virgil on the phone and some balloons and streamers.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m just putting the pieces together give me one second.” Virgil went back on the the phone and Remus kept looking around the sad and empty gym.

“Where is everybody?”

“What’s going on here?” Once Remus said that Roman, Janus, Thomas and Joan came in.

“Something’s wrong. The entire parking lot is empty!” Roman looked around

“Jesus what’s the theme of the prom death row!” Said Joan

Patton’s voice started to shake “Mr Hawkins. Where are all the kids? I don’t understand?”

Logan and his mom were at the real prom and Logan was concerned

“I don’t understand. Why aren’t we at the gym?”

His mom provided and explainantion “Well at last minute their was a problem and we had to change the venue.” “Mom what’s going on tell me the truth.”

Gym

“This is what happened as I understand it the courts told the pta to hold and inclusive prom.”

Prom

“Don’t worry we did what we had to do”

Gym

“There was some resistance but the parents met without my knowledge and organized 2 proms”

Prom

“We gave him a prom”

Gym

“One for all the kids at elk lodge down town”

At both places

“Oh my god” Said Patton and Logan

Gym

And THIS prom.....JUST for you!”

Prom

“Now you go have fun! I will be here to make sure everything is perfect”

Gym

Patton’s voice was shaking “Wait no I got texts from kids at school everyone said it was here!”

“They lied to you it was part of the plan.”

“Oh my god!” Roman exclaimed

Prom

“YOU LIED TO ME!” Yelled Logan at Kaylee and Shelby

“Who’s the lier.”

“What?”

“We know about you and Patton.”

“Trust us we’re doing you a favor.”

“You can thank us later.”

Gym

“Patton I’m so so sorry this is...... IM STILL IN SHOCK” Patton walked away to cry a little

“So your saying the whole town kept this from him?!” Said Thomas

“This is so cruel” Said Janus

“I’m gonna cry!” Remus ran into Janus’s arms and started to cry.

“This is a disaster.” Said Roman

“This is a PR problem.” Said Joan as they walked to Roman

“No we had a PR problem, this is a full-blown disaster this is the end of my career.” Virgil overheard the conversation.

“Whoa whoa, that’s why you came here for publicity!?” Roman walked to the taller man “Virgil you don’t know how the world works.” “Yes I do......unfortunately.” Patton put his glasses back on and walked to the front of the gym.

One things universal, life’s no dress rehearsal, when people find a scapegoat, to condemn. We went big yet we’ve blown it I guess I should have known it all along tonight belong............. to them

Patton’s phone rang

“Logan!”

“I swear I didn’t know.”

“You were on the prom committee how did you not know?”

“It was Kaylee and Shelby. They found out we were together they didn’t want me to tell you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“YOU THINK I WOULD DO THIS TO YOU!”

“Then come met me.”

Silence. Logan began to cry

“I can’t”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“My mom is here.”

“WELL LEAVE HER!” Tears we’re streaming down Patton’s face

“She’s watching me every second!”

THEN TELL HER YOUR GAY!!!! TELL HER WE’RE IN LOVE THAT WAS THE PLAN WASNT IT!!!

I CANT BECAUSE KAYLEE AND SHELBY KNOW!!!!

“I’ve had enough”

“I mean it’s not how I thought it would go I’m sorry.”

“Great, perfect, that fixes everything, have fun at the normal persons prom!” Patton hung up.

“Patton. PATTON!”

Remus than interjected “Okay here’s what we’re gonna do, we are gonna go to that prom and-”

“NO THIS ALREADY THE WORSE NIGHT OF MT LIFE JUST STOP HELPING ME!!” Patton ran out of the gym crying and Janus followed after him

And make it clear that tonight belongs to

Make it clear that tonight belongs to

Make it clear that tonight belongs

TO US!!!!!!!

End of act 1

Okay so I’m gonna take a break from writing the au for a bit. I’ll still be on tumblr and you guys can talk to me I’m just gonna take a break do for about a week or 2. if you want to be tag let me know

People to tag/ @artissijules @patt-off @frogsandcookies @icantthinkofacreativeurl @purplestarrystars @actingonimpulse

#sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #demus #dukeceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #c!thomas #ts joan #livy writes #sanders sides the prom au

[lovelylogans]

so idk if requests are still open for wyliwf but i’m a sucker for dee in aus and it seems like he gets a bit of redemption before the most recent oneshot. If you feel up to it, i’d love to read something on that

debutante

part of the wyliwf verse.

chapter one | next chapter

notes: this ask was sent right after odds are! look, i know i’m overlooking several of the rules of the debutante ball, but honestly, so did gilmore girls, so. source material, here.  i hope this can serve as a distraction for some of you today—please go out and vote if you are able and if you haven’t already! also happy birthday logan!!!

A debutante or deb (from French: débutante, “female beginner”) is a young woman of aristocratic or upper-class family background who has reached maturity and, as a new adult, comes out into society at a formal “debut” or possibly debutante ball. Originally, the term meant the woman was old enough to be married, and part of the purpose of her coming out was to display her to eligible bachelors and their families with a view to marriage within a select circle.

or: logan wants to dismantle the cis-heteronormative patriarchy with his bare hands and teeth if necessary, roman delights in dresses, virgil fucking hates tuxedos, patton’s really proud of his son, and dee thinks those sanders’ might not be so terrible after all.

⁂

“i need a dress.”

patton blinks, glancing up from the kitchen table where he’s organizing his notes for midterms for his business degree. bright side, last set of midterms patton would ever have to take! dark side, midterms. “just, like, generally, or…?”

the slight attempt at a joke dies when he catches the look on logan’s face—clenched jaw, eyes flashing—and he sets down his papers.

“i’m coming out,” logan continues.

“kiddo, you did that when you were about eight,” patton points out. “remember? i said i loved you and i was proud of you and i’m so glad that you trusted me enough to share that moment with you and thank you for telling me, and we went and got ice cream at lucy’s, and then you tried to use the whole sentimental thing to get me to ask out virgil because you were supposed to have a positive gay role model in your life, as if us being separately gay wasn’t enough in this town whose main tourist attraction is its rich history, from the times of our founding fathers to the times of pride.”

patton’s quoting the most recent town brochure, here.

“no, dad,” logan says, and arches his eyebrows significantly. “i’m coming out.”

the double-meaning clicks in his head.

“no,” patton says, hushed—he isn’t sure if it’s in awe or horror. “like—like, debutante coming out? or, um, wait, like—like—?”

“the male equivalent is a beautillion, and no, i mean like debutante coming out,” logan says. 

patton pauses, waiting, but logan says nothing, until patton says, “kiddo, either your attempts at trying to push this information into my brain via telepathy aren’t working or my brain’s too fried from midterms to catch the implications of what you’re saying, i’m gonna need more details than that.”

logan drops into the other seat at the kitchen table, huffing out a slow breath. 

“you remember dee.”

“your former rival turned weird allies that are still sometimes rivals, yes,” patton says. 

“who came over to our house once.”

“for the gsa poster-making thing?” patton says.

“right,” logan says, and arches his brows, waiting for patton to catch on.

“when… he mentioned he was also trans?” patton elaborates.

“right,” logan says. “i think dee’s parents are trying to out him, because they informed him of their intentions to sign him up for the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball.”

a cold feeling crawls uncomfortably in his stomach.

presenting him to society. a debutante ball. undeniably, harshly female. one of the main benefits of the timing of patton’s coming out had been so he wouldn’t have been a debutante—the very concept of doing that had given him this exact same cold, crawling feeling.

“dee gave me about five separate explanations as to why, of course, so i don’t particularly know why they’re choosing to out him now,” logan says briskly, “but i have a plan as to how that’s not going to happen.”

“you’re… going to be a debutante,” patton says slowly.

“well,” logan says, and fishes out a piece of paper from his backpack. “hopefully, not just me.”

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY, the title screams in huge letters, then subtitled with Become a debutante or an escort today! Why should women be the only ones who have to go through this? Be a better feminist and put on a dress, if you’re a boy, or a tux, if you’re a girl, and if you fall outside of the gender binary, the choice of debutante or escort is up to you. Contact Logan Sanders for more details. there’s two copies—one blank, and one with an already modest list of names. which is probably to be expected, debutante balls were a big deal at chilton, except the usual names that would be listed under escorts are listed under debutantes, and vice versa.

“dermot, tristan, brad, henry, roger,” patton reads off, slow, and then he looks up at logan. “and madeline, lem, lisa, summer, and ivy.”

“well, it’s hardly fair that girls have to go through all this primping and glamming up just to be seen as presentable to society,” logan says briskly. “boys should come out into society, too.”

“which is your cover story,” patton says slowly, putting it together. that cold, uncomfortable feeling is turning into a warm glow that’s turning up the corners of his mouth.

“right,” logan says. “if a group of boys will show up in pretty white dresses, all very serious about their intentions of being presented to society, with their escorts of girls in tuxes, then—”

“then everyone will think dee is part of the ploy.”

“exactly,” logan says. “his secret is kept under wraps and no one has to know.”

 patton leans abruptly over the table to wrap logan up in a hug.

“hey,” logan complains, but patton just squeezes a little tighter.

“you are,” he says, choked up, “such an amazing friend, kiddo.”

it sounds like something he and christopher might have done as a prank back in the day—christopher in the dress, patton in the tux—but this—this—

patton lets go of him, grinning hugely. “i am so proud of you.”

“so you’re okay with it?”

“okay with it?!” patton laughs. “you’re protecting your friend from getting outed in a way that would be very embarrassing and schooling high society about how weird it is that they still present their daughters like they’re cattle for purchase! of course i’m okay with it!”

“so, dress?” logan asks, and honestly, patton’s just about ready to grab his wallet and haul logan to the finest dress store he can find, before logan continues, “if grandma still has it, we could probably steal the one she was intending to use for you from the cellar.”

that cold feeling is back. “ah.”

logan blinks. “what?”

patton sits back down. “i forgot about your grandparents.”

“what about—?”

patton chews at his lip. “mom’s a part of the daughters of the american revolution.”

“why does that matter?” logan says, and patton sighs.

“oh, you know by now that things work differently in grandma’s world than ours,” patton says. “just—i definitely support your right to do this, but just… know that if a fight comes out of this, i will not regret it or back down, okay? i’m always on your team.”

“well, i know that,” logan says, like it’s obvious, which, fair, it probably is, or at least patton hopes so, it’s his job as a dad to be on his kid’s side. “i’ll bring it up at dinner on friday, we’ll see how it goes over then. they’re less likely to yell at me.”

“it’ll just be us and grandma, your grandpa’s in… i think copenhagen?” patton says, considering, and waves a hand. “some historical city across an ocean, anyway, and virgil’s working.”

virgil is almost always working on friday nights. it’s only partly because he owns the diner, but it’s also because, well. friday night dinners. patton doesn’t blame him for avoiding them—even with the buffer of a couple months, it’s not exactly an easy relationship between him and patton’s parents.

“well, that’ll be something,” logan says briskly, then stands. “i’m going to go put one of these sheets on sideshire high’s bulletin board.”

“good call, a ton of kids here would want to crush heteronormativity and an excuse to wear a pretty dress slash tux,” patton says. “i’m betting you’re gonna ask roman?”

logan looks like he’s trying not to flush, and he adjusts his chilton jacket. “he’s the one letting me in. he’s still there for cheer practice.”

“ahhh,” patton says, only a little teasing. “well, let me know what your plans for the afternoon are, it’ll probably be virgil’s for dinner tonight, ‘cause,” and he lifts up a sheaf of his papers for emphasis.

“isn’t it always?” logan points out, and, with that, he departs.

“my little baby, off to destroy people!” patton calls teasingly after him, grinning, so proud he feels like he’s about to burst.

“i’m destroying the cis-heteronormative patriarchy!” logan calls, and then there’s the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

patton’s going to take him on a trip to bookstore and he’s buying him everything he wants.

⁂

“granmè, i’m home!” dee calls, dropping his backpack at the door and hanging his bowler hat on the coat rack.

“hello, mister slange.”

“nanny,” dee acknowledges. he’d address her by her first name, if he knew it. he admires that about her; it’s something they share.

nanny soledad used to be his nanny, back when he’d needed such things; she’s from the dominican republic, which his parents thought was “close enough” to being haitian that it would be enough to help him adjust. which is accurate enough geographically, but not culturally. honestly, he’s surprised his parents even bothered to look as far as geographically. 

but now he is too old for such things, and his grandmother’s memory problems are growing more and more apparent by the day, so nanny had made the transition from the ancestral slange manor to the slange family townhome, where his grandmother evelyn lives.

the townhome is a bit run-down, in comparison with the manor; no multiple wings, no murals on the ceilings, no precisely selected statues in the alcoves. instead, the townhome is a conglomeration of furniture collected by the family over the years; all of it high-quality, expensive, but almost none of it matching, with persian rugs thrown down over almost every hardwood surface, armchairs cluttering the spare corners, paintings hanging dilapidated with no rhyme or reason to their collection. it feels a bit squashed and claustrophobic, sometimes, with its dark woods and narrow hallways and secluded rooms, in comparison to the aggressively, purposefully airy nature of the manor with its open floor plan and silver accents and crisp, neutral colors.

the townhome is closer to chilton, so dee had reasoned to his parents that there was no reason to keep using too much gas to have him make the commute home every night. his parents, frankly just happy to have him out of their hair, had acquiesced swiftly.

well. they tended to like him out of their lives, until they needed him for something. until he needed to act like a doll. dee pushes those thoughts away; he’s thought about it quite enough today.

so dee and his snakes and his clothes were stationed in one guest bedroom, nanny and martha in the others, and dee would return to the ancestral home on weekends and long breaks. it would stay that way for as long as he and nanny could get away with it.

especially with the latest developments. dee suppresses a shudder at the way he’d handled himself earlier in the day, and instead turns his attention to nanny.

“where is she?”

“your grandmother’s in the greenhouse,” nanny says, then, seeing the look on his face, “not gardening, you know i would be supervising if she were.”

“the azaleas are in bloom,” dee acknowledges. “she does like the azaleas.”

“that she does,” nanny says, and falls into step beside him. “i’ve had martha gather some cuttings sent up to her room. bertie is out running errands, but he should be back in time for supper. ingrid will be in later for dinner and should be sticking to the menu, unless you have other requests. it’s lobster linguine tonight.”

“all fine,” dee says, and winces to himself at how distracted he sounds. he needs to stop thinking about it. he needs to focus on the now. the present. thinking about his parents’ ultimatum looming over his head would do no good right now.

“now, she’s taken her medicine for the afternoon and requested some tea. would you like some as well, perhaps a snack?”

“whatever she’s requested will suffice,” dee says. “thank you, nanny.”

nanny nods, and departs for the kitchen. dee continues through the house, to the backdoor, and into the greenhouse.

greenhouse is a bit of an exaggeration. it’s really more of a solarium that’s been overcrowded with pots and planters, in addition to the gardens outside. there’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and the room is overwhelmed with wicker furniture. it’s calming, in here; to say that there’s a lot of earth tones would be an understatement, and the light filters in gold and tangibly warm. 

it’s the most open-air part of the house, but less like the manor; if the manor was like some renaissance painter’s imagination of heaven, all pearly white clouds and soft pastels, this was an impressionist painting’s portrait of a landscape—plants and woods and life, verdant and vibrant and vivid. 

the greenhouse is also the warmest room in the house, which he’s sure is part of why it’s his grandmother’s favorite. dee’s already moving to shed his capelet and gloves; if he doesn’t, he’ll get disgustingly sweaty.

his grandmother is sitting in her favored rocking chair, seemingly not having heard him open the door. her reading glasses are perched on her nose, about to slip off, and she’s deeply absorbed in her book.

“hello, granmè,” he says in french.

that makes her look up, and she smiles at him, reaching out her hand.

“hello, my sweet,” she says warmly, and he reaches out and squeezes her hand carefully—he has an irrational fear that one day, if he forgets his strength, if he squeezes too hard, he’ll snap the delicate little bones in her frail hand easier than blinking. she switches to french. “did you have fun at school?”

he scowls, settling in the rocking chair beside hers, separate by an end table that’s teeming with books. “it’s school, grand-mère.”

“that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun,” she says. “did you learn anything interesting, at least?”

that logan sanders is just as unsurprisingly terrible at comfort that one would expect?

instead, he says, “we’re supposed to start reading sula for homework today.”

she brightens, as he knew she would—his grandmother adores all things toni morrison—and they begin talking about books, and other works by toni morrison, and their favorite parts of said books, which eats up the better part of the fifteen minutes it takes nanny to deliver the tea tray to the greenhouse.

“thank you, nanny,” evelyn says, still in french. nanny nods—she’s fluent in spanish and portuguese and english, not quite in french, but she knows enough to get by in a conversation—and withdraws from the room without a word.

dee swiftly takes the teapot before his grandmother can attempt to pour it herself—her plus a heavy pot of near-boiling water was a hospital visit waiting to happen—and switches to english, saying, “would you mind plating some of the battenburg for me, granmè?”

“as long as you have a crumpet,” she says. “you’re a growing boy, noodle.”

“yes, yes, fine,” he sighs, pretending to be put-upon at both the pet name and the insistence of somewhat healthy eating. “a crumpet too, then.”

he fixes her cup as she likes it—two sugars, a splash of cream—and trades her teacup and saucer for a plate of snacks before he works on making his own tea and she arranges her own plate. he notices that she has reached for none of the savory options, instead opting entirely for sweets.

dee hides his smirk in his tea. 

they continue chit-chatting about all kinds of things as they work their way slowly through tea, a holdover from his english grandfather. even though grand-mère’s french, she’s too fond of teacakes and snacking in general to really do away with it, even nearly two decades after his passing. they talk about the azaleas (yes, they look exceptional this year) running the household (bertie was going to visit his grandchildren next week, yes he’d make sure bertie would pass on her hellos, yes he’ll manage fine without him, it’s not like nanny and martha and ingrid won’t be here) and his academics (yes, he thinks the semester’s going well.)

they talk about everything except the thing that’s weighing most heavily on his mind. 

she might not know. she might not even remember.

dee pushes that thought away. once they’ve finished their tea, he excuses himself to do his homework, leaving her to her book and her admiration of the lilies, and nanny smoothly institutes herself in his chair, with the guise of a magazine to make it seem like she wasn’t supervising his grandmother.

dee picks up his capelet, gloves, and backpack on his way up to his room. back at the manor, he has a whole wing, but here he just has his room. it suffices.

he sits on the bed, briefly, in sight of the full-length, gilt-edged mirror, to sweep the capelet back around his shoulders and ensure that it’s sitting on him properly; he could probably get away with taking off his binder, as he’s home and they aren’t expecting visitors, except he very much does not want to do that right now. he pulls on his gloves, covering his vitiligo-ridden left hand first; his dermatologist swears his particular case is segmental, which typically doesn’t expand with time, but it feels like it has been.

but then again, it is just his left side affected. so. perhaps the woman who’d been to school for twelve years and was a specialist in his particular condition was right.

dee toes off his loafers, debating crossing the room and entering his walk-in closet to store them properly on the shoe rack, but decides against it—the singular item of clutter makes his room seem a little more lived-in.

it’s not that he doesn’t like his room here; they hired decorators to redo it back when his grandmother moved in and he started spending more time here, years ago, so the walls are a subtle shade of gold, with an accent wall plastered with an art-deco black-and-gold theme was behind his bed. his bed is massive and plush. everywhere he looks, things are black, gold, and white, in that order of frequency.

it’s just not very… well. lived-in.

his room at the manor house is worse, though. just about the only thing he likes there is the aesthetic of the gold. the chandelier and tufted wall and personal tv and absurdist decor that screamed “this is too expensive for you to even look at!” he could do without.

he might have to look at it all the more, soon. he’s dreading it.

“homework,” he reminds himself, “homework.”

he makes a beeline for his desk, where his snakes are settled in their vivarium, all lazily sunning themselves under the heat lamp, tangled together in a loose pile.

“layabouts, the lot of you,” dee informs them. luke, leia, and han do not seem to care.

dee settles at his desk, getting out his agenda, his books, and his notebooks. he gets out his favorite pen and sits, ready to get started on his to-do list for the day.

and that’s where his brain stops focusing on school, and starts focusing on what happened at school.

there are several locations in chilton that seem like they were designed specifically for crying.

the most popular ones are the almost-always abandoned bathrooms near the journalism lab were a good bet for most, with the stress of deadlines; and, considering they tended to share with the chemistry and biology labs, that was tripled, and therefore the most commonly-used choice. it wasn’t uncommon for med-school-aiming seniors to duck out around finals week and return after a carefully scheduled five-minute crying break, red-rimmed around the eyes. most were polite enough not to mention it to their faces.

then there was the kiln room; considering it was mostly empty, all bare walls and concrete, excepting for the periods of time where there were ceramics classes or art club, of course, it went mostly empty, and tended to be the discerning choice for arts-inclined students.

and then there was the option that he had opted for today; steal into the senior’s lounge, near the rear exit of the school, and hunker up into the most hidden corner, giving himself until the bell for the next class bell rings to have his breakdown where no one, not nanny or ingrid or bertie or martha or god forbid granmè would be able to hear him, the urge he’s been holding in since he descended from a lie-in yesterday morning to see his parents both sitting at the table. at granmè’s house. to speak to him.

which, really, was never a good sign in the first place, but even for his parents it was a particularly fucking terrible—

the exit door opens.

shit. shit.

dee hastily uses the ends of his capelet to wipe at his eyes and then rummages in his backpack, yanking out the first book he lays hands on, hoping against hope that he can pass it off as skipping class, he can manage that, his reputation wouldn’t even take a hit for that, whereas if someone like louise fucking grant caught him crying—

“are you skipping class?”

dee makes a show of glancing up, nonchalant, at the person who’s spoken.

“are you?” dee contests. logan sanders shakes his head, his hands braced on his backpack straps.

“no,” he says, then, “the bus popped a tire on the way to school.”

“another count against the bus,” dee murmurs, and he turns his attention back to the book, feigning a loss of interest.

logan has not walked away. in fact, he’s walking closer. dee clears his throat, hoping that he won’t get close enough to see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. he’d specifically planned this particular crying jag so no one would see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

“are you skipping class?” logan repeats. dee stifles a curse. damn journalist.

“so what if i am?” dee says, and he might have pulled off his airy tone, if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last word. dee coughs, to cover it, but now logan is walking closer.

“were you… crying?” logan says uncertainly.

“no,” dee lies. and honestly, getting caught might be worth it for the expressions that wars across logan’s face—pained awkwardness overwhelms it, but there’s concern, and discomfort, and a sense of do i have to, and honestly, if dee wasn’t in such a shitty mood it would be pretty funny.

“may i sit?”

“will you listen if i say no?”

“probably not,” logan admits. “even if you weren’t crying, which i’m pretty sure you were—”

“—i wasn’t—” 

“—your attendance is as good as mine, i’d still want to know why you were skipping class.”

dee makes a show of sighing, but shoves his backpack a little further away and scoots further into the corner. logan nods, settling his backpack beside dee’s, and sits close to dee. not quite side-by-side, but just far enough away that it’s clear he’s offering dee the choice to lean closer. it’s strangely thoughtful. he remembers, distantly, logan at his birthday party; he’d ducked hugs a lot of the time, only accepting it when he couldn’t substitute a handshake. he wonders if logan doesn’t like physical contact, and tucks away the idea of investigating that for potential use later.

logan pauses, before he says, almost kindly, “the book’s giving you away. you’re reading the scarlet letter. we read that last quarter. i highly doubt you’d be rereading it. you made your dislike known enough as we were reading it, not that i blame you for finding it dull and archaic. it is dull and archaic.”

dee bites back a curse as he makes a show of glancing at the book. he knew he should have cleaned out his backpack after midterms, but no, he’d been too busy—

“i like the scarlet letter,” dee lies, and logan looks at him, arching an eyebrow.

“try again.”

“what?” dee says. “i could.”

“you literally overrode class one day to complain, at length, about how stupid the plot is, how overblown and over-long the prose is, and that hawthorne desperately needed an editor. which i agree with, by the way.”

“well,” dee says. “i could still like it.”

“please,” logan scoffs.

he turns the book in his hands and reduces a shudder. god, what a terrible book. he’ll toss it as soon as he gets home.

“well, i like sleep,” dee says lightly, “and one should always have sleep-inducing material on hand. it’s remarkably effective. i like it for that reason, how about that?” 

logan smiles, with a little hum of acknowledgement. a i don’t believe you but i think your excuse is funny enough that i won’t press you on it hum. dee’s heard it many times.

they sit in silence for a couple minutes. long enough that dee thinks that he’s going to get away with it—if they’re quiet until second period, then dee can steal away and have an excuse ready by lunch, if need be.

except logan clears his throat, and dee braces himself.

“if you’d like to… talk,” he says stiffly, and he coughs again. “i am—here. clearly. not just physically, as i am now, but as a means of support. i suppose.”

dee rolls his eyes. “how convincing,” he says, and ignored how clogged-up his voice sounds, all of a sudden.

“yes, well,” logan says. “of the many things my father’s taught me, one thing he apparently hasn’t been able to pass down is being particularly good at navigating these… emotional kinds of conversations is not one of them.”

dee would laugh at the look on logan’s face when he says emotional, if his brain wasn’t stuck on my father. 

“your dad,” dee says, a strange tone in his voice, before he can stop himself.

logan’s dad, who was raised in this environment, in this world, and, somehow, had managed to be openly, proudly trans.

logan’s dad, who had been trans, without his parents attempting to publicly interfere with the way he presented himself.

must be nice.

“yes,” logan says cautiously. “what about my dad?”

dee takes a deep breath, and, immediately, two concepts begin to war in his mind.

don’t tell him, one side screams. the whole reason you’re out here is because you don’t want people to see weakness!

he has access to a unique perspective that, to your knowledge, is only shared by yourself and that other person, he argues with himself. and the largest part of this that would be kept secret, he already knows. and you have blackmail in hand if he were to suddenly confess with this additional quest for information.

dee lets out his breath. he says, “does your dad talk about the way it was for him? back then.”

logan stiffens, ever so slightly, in surprise.

“not often,” he says, the cautiousness still lingering in his tone. “he’s only ever really told me a little; bits and pieces. not details, you understand, but…”

logan pauses, collecting his thoughts. dee almost snaps at him to hurry up; usually, logan’s a decent enough public speaker, but the whole dramatic pause thing he did sometimes was really quite annoying.

“i know that it wasn’t easy, for him,” logan says. “that in part, the reaction helped fuel his desire to run away, in addition to my existence and the further stigma that’s associated with that. there are likely old issues of the jefferson that could provide the nastier details; i’ve given him my word i wouldn’t seek them out. i don’t particularly want to. in addition to the writing skills of the jefferson being terrible, i am not particularly inclined to read transphobia and terrible rumors about anyone, much less my father.”

another pause. then, “he had a bonfire for all his dresses and skirts.”

dee turns to him, startled. logan’s dad? that soft little puffball?

“i know,” logan says, seemingly agreeing with how out-of-character it seemed. “my other father—christopher—helped. he’s been saving stories of his various teenage rebellions, too. he used to be rather…” a brief hesitation. “a rabble-rouser.”

dee snorts. it sounds very snotty and terrible and he immediately wishes he hadn’t.

(also—well, dee had known that logan was technically a hayden, it was just he hadn’t really heard logan outwardly express it, ever. he knows that christopher is located in california, somewhere. he wonders how logan handles that. something to look into.)

“why do you ask?” logan says.

“you know why.” 

“all right, that was poorly phrased,” logan says. “why ask about this now?”

dee hesitates. logan adds, awkwardly, “if you don’t want to answer—”

“it’s… fine,” dee says stiffly. he clears his throat. he looks at his shoes.

logan is one of the smartest people you know, he reminds himself. he wouldn’t tell. he knows you’d immediately move to destroy him if he told.

keeping his eyes on his toes, he says, forcefully light, “my parents have entered me into the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball. apparently, they’ve decided to stop humoring this phase i am going through, as i am now sixteen, it is time to cease such childish rebellion and enter society properly, as a—” dee stops, abruptly.

“as a gender which you are not,” logan finishes for him. his voice is very, very quiet.

dee clears his throat, and redirects his gaze from his shoes to the wall across from them. he’s very conscious of logan’s eyes on him, examining him, staring at his face for any sign of weakness.

“dee,” he begins, haltingly.

“it doesn’t matter,” dee says, except for the fact that it very much does matter. 

“that’s not,” logan begins, then, “i don’t,” and then, a frustrated sigh, before he says, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t,” dee snaps. “i don’t want your pity.”

“the definition of pity is the feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others,” logan snaps back. “as a fellow member of the lgbtq community, of course i feel sorrow and compassion at the information that someone does not have the support of their parents, and that lack of support will cause that someone will be outed publicly without their consent.”

dee doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to stare at the wall. his jaw is clenched so tightly he thinks his teeth might break from the pressure.

“is there anything i can do?” logan says stiffly.

dee keeps his eyes on the wall. “no,” he bites out.

they sit in awkward silence for a few more seconds. it feels like an hour. then:

“what if i stopped it?”

dee scoffs.

“what?” logan says.

“please,” dee says. “it’s the dar debutante ball.”

“we can get you out of it.”

“the bill’s already paid,” dee says. 

“then we’ll stop the ball,” logan says.

“i’m sorry, have you met the ilk of your grandmother and her friends?” dee says pointedly. “you think you’re going to rob them of the chance to trot their precious little darlings around in a circle for all the men to drool over?”

logan’s back straightens. dee, finally, turns to look at him.

it’s like dee can see the lightbulb go off over his head.

“what?” dee says.

“nothing,” logan says, except he’s smiling.

“what,” dee snaps.

“nothing,” logan repeats. “it’s just—i might have an idea.”

“might,” dee repeats.

“might,” logan agrees. he’s clearly about to say more, but the bell rings, and there’s the beginning of shuffling steps that means people will emerge into the hallways. logan scrambles to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, before, belatedly, offering a hand to dee.

dee considers it. he accepts. logan helps haul him to his feet.

“your idea,” dee says, picking up his own backpack.

“you’ll see,” logan says, and dee huffs at him, before beginning to head off to his next class—

“dee?”

dee turns, and logan offers an awkward little facial expression that might be a smile.

“if you want to talk about it—”

“we aren’t friends,” dee says, cutting off whatever platitude that he’s clearly building up to. an idea. probably a lie to try and make dee feel better.

“i know that,” logan says, firmly. “but if you ever do… want to talk about it.”

“i will,” dee says, and tacks on, “if i want to.”

“okay.”

“but i probably won’t.”

“that’s fine.”

dee hesitates. “but if i do—”

“i’m around,” logan says simply. 

“i doubt i will,” dee says, attempting to resume his haughty expression.

“you know where to find me, if you do,” logan says. 

dee rolls his eyes, as if that conversation was very trying and not something that threatens to create an even bigger lump in his throat, and resumes his route to his science class.

“mister slange, dinner!” nanny calls, and dee startles. he clears his throat and puts down his pen, rising to his feet.

“coming, nanny!” he calls down the stairs.

find him. right. like the idea of talking to logan sanders about anything else in his life is even slightly appealing.

no, he tells himself. the idea of getting to know logan sanders? maybe even becoming something other than rivals? not even a little bit nice.

⁂

as soon as virgil comes out of the kitchen, roman has this Look on his face that makes virgil immediately say “no.”

“you don’t even know what i’m asking yet!” roman protests.

“i can tell you’re plotting something just by the look on your face,” virgil says.

“ah, but technically i’m not the one plotting, logan is,” roman says, and, well. that’s outside the norm. roman tends to be the plotter of the things that give roman That Look on his face, the one that reminds virgil only a little painfully of remus.

“okay, why am i involved in the thing that logan’s plotting?”

“patton’s in on it too,” roman points out. “and, uh, my mom.”

virgil pauses, contemplates, and says, “i don’t know if that’s a warning sign or not.”

“well, logan and i can explain when patton and him get here for dinner,” roman says. “in the meantime—”

“please don’t order something that will make your mom kill me for violating your meal plan too terribly, i don’t think i’ve recovered from last friday,” virgil says wearily.

“ugh, fine,” roman says, and orders something that is at least passably healthy, which he could really teach to his boyfriend and—and virgil’s boyfriend.

virgil’s boyfriend, patton. nope, even after two and a half months, it’s still bizarre in the best possible way.

by the time virgil puts roman’s order in, and carries out about three more, he’s carting a tray across the diner as the bell jangles and two familiar faces walk in.

“hey,” patton says, and leans in to give him a brief, welcoming kiss. habit. routine. thrilling. patton runs a thumb along virgil’s stubble, grinning at him.

“hey yourself,” virgil says, and jerks his head. “roman’s in a booth over there, and apparently i have a plot to be brought in on?”

and then patton… puffs up with pride? literally, puffs up. whenever he’s proud of logan, his posture gets better and he puffs his chest out a little and his chin tilts up, like logan achieving something is an achievement for patton, makes him more confident in himself. virgil guesses a lot of logan’s achievements owe at least a little credit to patton’s parenting, though, so it’s a fair trade. logan doesn’t seem to be complaining.

“that you do,” patton says, a little smug.

“okay then,” virgil says. “brainstorm your pitch and i’ll be right over.”

he drops off dinner orders—mrs. torres and a gaggle of other older ladies who coo and giggle and wave to roman, who blows kisses back, because he’s the default adopted son/grandson for any active older woman in town—before he sidles up to the sanders/prince booth.

“right, okay, orders, then plot,” virgil says, flipping to a new page in his notepad and clicking his pen.

patton and logan put in their orders—virgil successfully convinces them both to trade in something unhealthy for either a salad (patton) or a side of vegetables (logan)—which he notes dutifully, before he slides in beside patton in the booth.

“okay,” virgil says, and he nudges patton. “pitch.”

“my idea, actually,” logan pipes up, and virgil obligingly turns his attention to the younger sanders.

“so,” logan says, folding his hands. “i am coming out.”

“um,” virgil says, dropping his gaze pointedly to where roman’s resting his hand on logan’s wrist. “you did that. like, eight years ago.”

“that’s what i said,” patton says, pleased.

“let me rephrase,” logan says, and his nose wrinkles. “i am coming out in the sense of the viennese waltz, i will be deemed of good breeding and marriageable age, must have dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, fluffy white dresses, et cetera.”

“oh, jesus christ,” virgil says. “what friend roped you into being an escort for this thing? because that is not a friend.”

“keep listening,” patton chides, a laugh in his tone.

“well, that’s the thing,” logan says. “i’m not going to be an escort.”

virgil considers this for a moment. “i’m not following.”

“logan’s creating an army to charge upon the daughters of the american revolution so we can destroy the patriarchy,” roman says, bright and perky.

“i’m recruiting like-minded members of the next generation to make a statement about gender equality,” logan corrects. “in other words: i shall be the one with a dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, in a fluffy white dress.”

“uh.”

“me too,” roman says sunnily. “i’m going to be wearing a fluffy white dress, too. plus a ton of other kids in our grade—the idea’s really caught on. ooh, logan, we can recruit some of the dance girls as escorts!”

virgil tries to picture it: a group of boys in dresses, girls in tuxes, gasping, scandalized rich people. the idea brings a smile to his face.

“oh, good idea, we should send put a sign-up sheet in the studio,” logan says.

“wait, you said i was going to be involved,” virgil says, his brain catching up with him. “where do i fit into all that?”

“well,” patton says. “isadora and i decided to set up a kind of etiquette-and-dance crash-course day for all the kids involved, because despite my best efforts i have not purged the viennese waltz or my numerous etiquette lessons from my mind—”

“you, cultured?” virgil teases, and patton smacks virgil’s arm playfully.

“with no help from you, thank you very much,” patton says. “anyway. since isadora and i are teaching the kids, and there will be an influx of fluffy white dresses and tuxes…”

it clicks. “alterations.”

“got it in one,” patton says cheerfully.

virgil’s a pretty decent tailor, for an amateur—he’s done his fair share of hemming dance costumes, or fixing suits, even some emergency repairs for some wedding dresses, over the years. he’s about to say something along the line of are you sure i should do this, i don’t think i’m qualified for something so fancy but then he catches the hopeful look on logan and roman’s faces, and—

“all right, fine,” virgil says, and he stands. “just let me know when and where, yeah?”

logan grins at him, and roman chirps a thank you, and patton giggles, soft, as virgil makes his way back for the kitchen.

fancy debutante tailor. he guesses he can handle that. it’s not really a step outside of the norm, so it’s not like he’s doing anything super out there, like the kids are.

virgil thought too soon.

by the time he re-emerges from the kitchen, ready to wipe down the counters, patton and logan are at the table finishing up the last of their meals, and roman’s at the counter, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes snapping to him. 

“hey,” virgil says. “you need a refill of water? because i’m telling you now, if you’re going to try for dessert, you may as well give up now—”

roman rolls his eyes. “no. it’s about the debutante ball.”

“okay,” virgil says, and tosses his towel over his shoulder. “what about it?”

“it, um,” roman says, and clears his throat. “ugh. apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.”

“oh,” virgil says. 

“and, um, since i don’t really have a dad,” roman begins.

“i could alter a tux for your mom?” virgil suggests. “since everyone’s already doing the whole ‘screw gender’ thing anyway.”

“i—no, no, she’s probably going to do backstage stuff to make sure that the sideshire kids aren’t spooked by the rich people,” roman says. “plus, she’d hate wearing a tux.”

“yeah, fair enough,” virgil says. he thinks the only time he’s really seen her dressed up is when she has to, during a recital or performance or something. “okay. i could help with the tux of… i forget his name, what’s that guy who was your one-on-one instructor during the nutcracker? sergio, right? i could drive you to visit sergio—“

“sergio is in portugal,” roman says, looking an odd mixture of helpless, amused, and frustrated. “y’know. where he’s from?”

“oh,” virgil says. “um, there’s always taylor? you know he’d be super into the whole pomp and circumstance thing.”

“taylor,” roman says. “virgil. you of all people. recommend taylor.”

“i know, okay, i know, but i’m kind of coming up blank here,” virgil says. 

“coming up blank?” roman repeats, the frustrated part becoming more clear.

“i’m trying here,” virgil says. “you could—”

“oh, for god’s sake, dumb-utante, i’m trying to ask you to escort me,” roman snaps. 

virgil’s jaw drops. just a little. 

“oh,” he says.

roman flushes a brilliantly bright red, and looks down at his shoes.

“i—just, whatever, okay, you don’t have to,” he mutters, and scuffs the toe of his shoe over the diner floor. he needs new ones—the white, rubbery part of his converse is overrun with mud and sharpie doodles, the aglets frayed, part of the high-top worn from where roman grabs it to shove his foot into it every morning discolored. 

remus used to wear green converse, sometimes, the most casual in his extensive collection of costume-style clothes. he remembers telling roman this, when roman was pretty little and ms. prince had enlisted virgil to take roman out for back-to-school shopping, and virgil had bought roman his first pair. he’d been little, then. six, he thinks. maybe seven. they’d gotten ice cream after. roman had gotten rum raisin, and virgil ended up having to eat the rest of it when roman pronounced it “ucky” and roman had ended up getting his usual chocolate-cherry. virgil had made roman pinky-promise that he would get a small one, so he wouldn’t spoil his dinner.

but roman prefers high-tops, and remus had always gotten classic chucks. roman loves red, and remus loved green. 

they’re different, remus and roman. like night and day. it still makes virgil feel a little strange whenever he thinks about how much longer he’s known roman than he’d known remus—really, it had topped out a few years ago, much longer if virgil was just considering how long he and remus had been friends. so much of his relationship with roman was built on the basis of being the last of remus’ friends still in sideshire, other than ms. prince, and so he was one of the only ones who could tell roman about his dad. do what his dad would have done.

remus probably would have bought roman his first pair of chucks when roman was a baby, those little tiny shoes that can sit comfortably in the palm of virgil’s hand with plenty of space to spare.

but remus is dead, and so buying roman his first pair of signature red shoes had fallen to virgil.

basically everything remus would have loved to do with his son had fallen to virgil, really, if ms. prince hadn’t taken care of it first.

apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.

“no,” virgil says, strangely choked up. “that’s—that’s a good idea. cool. i can, um. i can do that.”

“really?” roman asked, eyes snapping up from his shoes. he smiles like remus when he’s plotting, that much is true, but when he smiles when he’s just happy—all virgil can see is roman.

“yeah, sure,” virgil says, and then he coughs into his elbow to clear whatever’s lodged in his throat. “just, uh. just keep me updated on, y’know. details.”

roman’s grin grows a bit more delighted, a bit more remus-like. “are you crying?”

“what? no,” virgil scoffs.

“because you sound like you’re about to start crying.”

“i was chopping onions,” virgil says lamely. “this has nothing to do with you.”

“oh, i better check my calendar again, i didn’t realize it was opposite day,” roman says gleefully.

“you’re the most obnoxious teenager i’ve ever met,” virgil says, and roman laughs, even as he’s backing away, slowly, toward the door. virgil rolls his eyes, and moves to wipe down the counters.

“and you have to wear a tux!” roman calls, and virgil’s head snaps up.

“wait, what, no way—“

“shave off the five o’clock shadow, too, i won’t be looking scruffy by comparison!” roman calls, opening the door. virgil scowls, rubbing a hand along his face—yes, he goes stubbly sometimes, especially during winters or when he’s busy, but he doesn’t look bad with facial hair, he just looks a bit off today because he woke up late—and the reality hits him. a tux. dressing fancy. being involved in a high society ceremony.

“the tux is bad enough!”

“you’re forgetting the tails, the cumberbun, plus white gloves!“ roman says, ticking it off on his fingers.

“i take it back!” virgil calls. “i’m not doing this anymore!”

“too late, i already signed you up!” roman shouts, and disappears from the diner before virgil can yell at him anymore.

a tux. tails. white gloves.

a cumberbun.

dammit, of course roman would manage to net him into some kind of makeover.

⁂

it’s been a shitty day so far. 

something kept interrupting his sleep last night, so when he finally managed to get to sleep, he slept through his alarm. granmè was already having a bad memory day, repeatedly calling out for her dead husband and not recognizing nanny, which means she probably won’t recognize him, so he had to keep out of their way, and as he was walking out the door he saw bertie holding up something ensconced in a garment bag, lips pursed in disapproval, whose length could only mean the arrival of a fluffy white dress, a nice reminder of the thing that dee was dreading.

and it isn’t even eight yet.

“move,” dee snarls to the particularly amorous couple blocking the path to his locker—really, people, it was seven forty-five in the morning, did they always have to start the day attempting to tie their tongues together?—and they shuffle aside, to a vacant stretch of wall, presumably to resume their excessive pda.

dee rolls his eyes. typical.

except—

“slange,” one of the makeout participants says. dee ignores him, placing the books he’d had to bring home for homework in and pulling out the books he’d need for his morning classes.

“hey, slange, i’m talking to you,” he repeats. 

dee rolls his eyes with all the sarcasm he can muster, and directs his gaze to them; summer, absently wiping some stray lipgloss off with her finger, and tristan, leaning over.

“what,” dee says, in the crispest tone he possibly can.

“didn’t take you for a troublemaker,” tristan says, grinning still; dee notes, sourly, that summer could probably spare some energy to wipe off the sticky lip gloss on tristan’s chin, too. 

“excuse me.”

“oh, right, right,” tristan says, and rolls his eyes. “fighting the patriarchy, excuse me. hey, if that excuse is enough to make it look good on your college resume, you wouldn’t happen to know how to—”

“you already know all the people in our grade who write papers for a fee, dugray,” dee says, already exhausted and snippy and—he hates to even admit it to himself—confused. “take it up with henry, if you must. and wipe off your face before you go to class, you have holographic glossier smeared everywhere. it’ll give you away to julia, she doesn’t wear lipgloss.”

summer gapes at him, and immediately begins to screech something along the lines of “what is that supposed to mean, i knew you didn’t block her like i told you to!” but dee’s already tuning it out, slamming the locker door shut and making his way to homeroom. frankly, summer should have dumped tristan the second he told her that she wasn’t allowed to talk to other boys. the pair of them were toxic together—half the material he had on tristan were things that he wouldn’t want summer to know.

the other half would, if it made its way to the right hands, get him sent off to military school.

dee’s saving most of the rest of that for when he gets really annoyed with tristan.

he might be there in ten minutes if he didn’t get an answer—what did tristan mean, trouble-making? and tristan dugray, fighting the patriarchy. please. tristan’s as emblematic of a toxic, rich, straight white boy that there could be. tristan adores all the trappings of the patriarchy; it better allows him to pursue whatever girl he wanted into being his girl of the week, despite the fact that they weren’t particularly wanting to be his girl of the week, whenever he and summer were on a break (and, most of the time, when they weren’t.)

except that isn’t even the only time.

henry, dermot, lem—even shy little brad, who usually breaks out into cold sweats at the sight of him since the whole theater incident in sixth grade, seem to be attempting to make eye contact with him as he walks down the hall, like they were in with him, or something. like they were suddenly friends.

dee stews, furious, at the very idea they could know something about him that he doesn’t know—until he sees lisa approaching logan sanders, who seems to be loading up his backpack.

dee frowns. logan wouldn’t like lisa—well, obviously, he’s gay, but also, lisa subscribes to her parents’ politics, including the epithets of “fake news,” and he’s pretty sure that alone would spring logan into a furious tirade like little else could.

dee pauses.

fight the patriarchy, tristan had said. trouble making.

“what if i stopped it?”

and then he moves immediately toward the locker.

“—long as you don’t say why, then yes, of course,” logan says.

“duh!” lisa chirps. “hilarious, lo-lo, seriously.”

logan’s face twists up as politely as he can manage at the sound of a cutesy nickname, but he can’t really say anything, since lisa’s already flouncing off to be discriminatory and heartless on her parents’ orders.

presumably.

“what,” dee says, “was that.”

“i know,” logan says, turning back to his locker. “lo-lo. what am i, a puppy?”

“not that,” dee says. “you know she’s—”

“a terrible person who stands against everything i am, yes,” logan says mildly. “but she’s wealthy and has a fair amount of—” a near-sneaky glance at a notecard in his hand— “clout, amongst the puffs.”

“the puffs?” dee repeats, his voice already sounding strange.

“you know, the secret sorority,” he says nonchalantly. “one of them, at least, and certainly the most desired to join—”

“i know who the puffs are,” dee says, in a tone that clearly denotes do you think i’m stupid, i’ve gone to this school for longer than you have.

“ah,” logan says. “right. well, i would have gone through francie jarvis, who is less diametrically opposed to—” he makes a sweeping gesture up and down his body, “but she was absent yesterday, so. lisa was the obvious in.”

“why do you need an in with the puffs?” dee says. 

logan glances up and down the hall—god, way to show off you’re discussing something sensitive—before he pulls a leaflet out of his backpack, handing it to dee.

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY!

dee skims it, and feels his eyebrows rise higher and higher, even as his throat gets disturbingly closed up.

“i noticed that a lot of the puffs are due for their debutante ball,” logan explains, even as dee stares at the—the excuse, the excuse that logan’s pulling for this elaborate ruse, that, if it works—

i won’t be outed.

dee swallows, hard. he folds the leaflet back up, and clears his throat.

“the puffs are a decent enough start,” he says, voice perhaps a bit thicker than normal. “as they’re the most socially prized secret society at chilton, it was a good place to begin—people will want to emulate them, especially those who are attempting to get puffed. mostly freshmen, but there are a few sophomores who are sixteen that’ll join. but you need to pivot your focus—the old crows and the skull and dagger would probably gain more participants per club capita.”

“old crows?” logan says uncertainly.

“the secret society for a select few seniors,” dee says. “who have likely already had a coming out, but it’s not uncommon to do multiple. skull and dagger would probably love an excuse to cause chaos, but that’s sorted, so long as you bother tristan some more. and if you’re going to come at it from the fight patriarchy angle, you’re going to need to get the clairosophic society involved.”

“the…?”

“another secret sorority,” dee says. “do you only know the puffs?”

logan abruptly looks sheepish, and dee sighs, put-upon.

“well,” he says. “clearly, you need my help pulling this off. of all the secret societies at this school, only ten are worth mentioning—”

“only ten?!”

“—so we can get people through those,” dee says, “and yes, ten, i thought you were a journalist, aren’t you supposed to know how to research these sorts of things?”

“well,” logan says. “i’ve already gotten a group of kids from sideshire, but clearly, i’ll need your help on the social side at chilton.”

a beat, and then, uncertain, “if you’re okay with this.”

dee stares at him for a long few seconds.

“if this works,” dee says carefully, trying to directly telepathically communicate i am okay with you attempting to cover for me like this, please count me in, “you’re going to have a hell of a college essay on your hands.”

a grin breaks out on logan’s face.

“as if i don’t have three drafts written already,” he says, and dee allows himself to grin back at him.

“now,” he says. “the clairs,” and logan readies a notebook, and, if dee were at all prone to clichés, he might say something like, this is the start to a beautiful partnership.

but he isn’t. obviously.

⁂

logan has his game face on.

patton’s seen this face countless times before; before he walks into mayor porter’s office to demand answers beyond pr statements, before they entered charleston’s office his first day at chilton, when coming face-to-face taylor after his latest piece that critiqued the way he handles town government.

he’s seen it while they were driving to the exact same place, too; before holiday parties, before birthday dinners, before the first-ever friday night dinner. but he hasn’t pulled up to the sanders’ mansion looking like that in months.

patton puts the car in park, removes the keys, and wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers for what must be the dozenth time that night.

“i’m on your side,” patton reminds him. 

“i know,” logan says and opens the car door, ready to storm up to the door and… well. tell emily that he was going to join the debutante ball.

which she’d probably be thrilled with, if he was the one escorting a girl in a white dress.

it would almost be a little funny to think about, if he wasn’t so nervous—emily expecting patton to go through a debutante ball in a fluffy dress, only to be derailed by the fact that he wasn’t a girl and, you know, the teen pregnancy; emily then expecting logan to escort a lovely young lady on his arm only to be turned around by logan doing it in a fluffy dress.

patton wipes his hands off on his pants again before he rings the doorbell. 

he has never seen the woman who answers the door before.

which isn’t surprising; new maids crop up at his parents’ house like weeds. he’s really hoping that therapy would help make a dent in that habit of his mother’s, but no dice yet.

“hi,” patton says, as kindly as possible—he always tries to be as kind as possible to the maids, just to make up for whatever future tiny offense that they might get fired for. one time he got grounded for two weeks for helping esperanza polish silver and practice his spanish. poor esperanza, he’d liked her.

plus, ever since the whole “being a homeless housekeeper” thing, his sympathy had really only escalated for them—he feels a level of solidarity, even if he’s not a housekeeper anymore.

“hello,” the maid says; she has an accent, patton thinks probably german. she’s blonde, and patton can see only half her face from the way she’s practically hiding behind the door.

“you’re new?” patton asks, and she nods.

“okay, well, hi,” patton says, offering a hand to shake. “i’m patton—”

she shakes his hand hurriedly, before pulling back further into the house.

“—and that’s my son, logan. what’s your name?”

“liesl.”

“hi, liesl,” he says warmly. “i’m emily and richard’s son, she’s expecting us for dinner?”

“oh! please, come in,” she says, flustered, opening the door further. 

“i, uh,” she says, “can i, um. get you a drink?”

“you know what, that’s okay!” patton says brightly. “we can handle it.”

a pause, before patton says in an undertone, “if you’d like to hide in the kitchen before my mother gets down here, please go for it.”

a look of relief breaks out on her face. “really?”

patton nods.

“thank you,” she exhales, and scuttles off to relative safety.

logan waits until she rounds the corner, before he says, “she won’t last another day.”

patton sighs, moving to hang his coat on the rack. he would tell logan that’s not a very nice thing to say, if he wasn’t right about it. “i know, poor thing.”

as they continued into the living room, patton could hear his mother coming down the stairs; less than a few seconds later, she rounded the corner, landline phone firmly affixed to her ear.

“—don’t forget that the dar meeting’s on tuesday, it’s at three o’clock and all the women are extremely punctual…”

emily makes eye contact with patton to roll her eyes, as if to curse the entire customer service industry; patton shrugs at her, just a little, before he lightly bumps logan’s shoulder and murmurs “soda?”

logan nods, drifting off to investigate the latest influx of tiny figurines that definitely weren’t there last week, and patton goes to the drinks cart to prep their drinks for the evening.

her mother’s talking about heddy cubbington—ah, so she’s talking to a caterer, then—and patton leans into her line of vision just enough to wiggle a bottle of gin at her, mouthing “martini?”

okay, he might try and make it a smidge stronger than usual. honestly, if she’s a bit off her game from more gin than usual, then maybe she won’t freak out as badly as patton is kind of expecting her to!

but regardless, his mother nods, even as she’s telling the caterer about her very precise tasting methods that they’ll have to follow to a t, and patton reacquaints himself with the process of preparing a martini exactly as his mother likes it—there was a stint of about a month or so when the hotel’s bar staff was incredibly short, way back in the day, so he picked up a few cocktail tricks here and there. 

he wonders if he could still manage to do a lidless shaker flip without spilling anything.

before he can try, though—and probably hear his mother’s outcry about trying his absolute hardest to stain her rug—his mother hangs up on the phone with a fervor, rolling her eyes as she did so.

“honestly, sometimes it’s like the only person with any sense,” she huffs. 

patton hums, carefully straining the martini into one of the coupes. he would do a martini glass, but those tend to spill more, the coupes hold more liquid, and she prefers the material of the coupes anyway—less likely to have fingerprint smudges, which also means one less thing to use to potentially snap at poor liesl. “troubles with the dar, mom?”

(okay, so maybe he’s busting out his old tricks to put his mother in a good mood—there’s almost nothing his mother likes more than gossiping and snipping at the members of the dar that aren’t pulling their weight, and once she’s expelled a bit of energy ranting like that, it usually meant less energy could be spent ranting at him.)

she sighs, settling on her usual spot on the couch. “constance betterton is running this event into the ground—” patton presses the martini into her hand, and she looks startled, momentarily, before thanks him briefly and continues on her tirade, including the perils of unsold tables and constance’s absolute inability to plan a function. 

patton hands over logan’s soda and directs him to the couch before he can crack open any books of interest, because logan will probably spend most of the dinner ignoring them if that happens, and since richard is on a business trip again that means it will be just him and his mom, and with how nervous he is over logan’s upcoming proposal he absolutely cannot do that, and then he goes and makes himself a plain club soda because him drinking sounds like a not-great idea right now.

by the time that particular train of conversation runs out of steam, it’s enough to carry them to the dining room. 

“so, logan,” emily says, as liesl attempts to set a land speed record for serving salads in her quest to get back to the kitchen, “is there anything new in your life?”

patton’s pretty sure that it would be impossible to pick up on who’s more nervous, him or liesl.

“there is, actually,” logan says, somehow entirely unfazed. “dee slange—you remember, you took me out to lunch with him and his grandmother evelyn—”

“oh, yes,” emily says, “wonderful woman, incredibly talented gardener. she’s coming out less and less lately, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good, long chat.”

“—we’re arranging a bit of an extracurricular project,” logan continues. 

“oh?” emily says, sounding interested. she picks up her fork and begins to eat her salad. “you two are getting along, then?”

“we’ve come to an understanding,” logan says coolly, and even as nervous as patton is, he can’t but grin a bit at his son. we’ve come to an understanding. really, logan, it wouldn’t hurt to say that you’re friends now.

“wonderful,” emily says briskly. “good that you’ve put that petty rivalry behind you.”

patton bites his tongue rather than start on a rant about the seriousness of physical assault.

“quite,” logan says. 

“so, what’s this project?” she asks, with a slight gesture of her fork. “you two are interested in journalism, from what i hear, is it something like that?”

logan sets his fork down. “actually, grandma, it has to do with you, tangentially. mrs. slange is a member of the daughters of the american revolution. like you.”

“a research project, then?” she says. “richard will probably have some books for—”

“not really,” logan says. “we’re both arranging for greater participation in the debutante ball. i’m coming out.”

patton holds his breath. here we go.

emily chuckles. “the correct term for the young gentlemen is escorting, logan. are you both escorting young ladies, then? anyone i know?”

“oh, i used the correct term,” logan says mildly. “i’m coming up with a partner later, but i was actually going to ask if you ever bought a dress for dad to use before he came out.”

emily lowers her fork.

patton’s pretty sure that even if he was about to breathe, he wouldn’t be able to.

“i’m going to be a debutante,” he says, very slowly, as if explaining something he thought to be obvious.

“you’re not serious,” she says disbelievingly.

“i am,” logan says. “we have approximately twenty-five participants so far, and we’re recruiting more. so. do you have a dress or not?”

“that’s absurd,” emily says. “i mean—my grandson, gallivanting about in a dress, how will that look?!”

“you were going to let dad do it,” logan points out, and before patton can say hey, nice point! emily swivels to face patton, piercing him through with a glare. “did you put him up to this?!”

before patton can squeak out anything, logan putting down his fork with a clang louder than necessary, and she turns to face her grandson.

“i was simply asking if you had a dress,” logan says. his voice is very, very even. the game face has reappeared. “i can ask again, if you’d like. do you have a dress suitable for this occasion, or should i shop for my own?”

emily and logan stare each other down. patton’s eyes dart between them both.

his mother has a variety of nicknames: the cobra, from her antiquing friends, because she’d squeeze and squeeze at you until you complied. wicked witch of the west, by some of her shopping friends, over the levels she’d go to over something as simple as a pair of shoes. 

christopher had joked once that “people considered what patton’s mother would do in a given situation, dialed it back, and they’d have what mussolini would do, then they’d dial it back, and they’d have what stalin would do, and then they’d dial that back and then it starts approaching what a sane person would do.”

she’d once forced an ex-president out of a hotel room because theirs had been bigger than theirs. a president. of the whole united states.

patton’s gearing himself up to provide as much supportive parent backup to logan that he possibly can, and also cursing himself for taking the time to hang up his coat, because if he hadn’t and just kept it with him they could make a quicker escape, and palming the car keys in his pocket. he puts together comebacks for my friends will be at this event and undignified and what will people say?!

and then patton takes a closer look at his mother’s face. it’s not her version of the game face, patton notices.

and then patton puts together what that expression is, with no small amount of surprise.

she’s calculating.

she’s calculating, patton realizes with no small amount of shock, if it’s worth it to go up against logan.

because logan is definitely wearing his game face, coupled with a defiant, angry look that, with another shock, it reminds him of him. it reminds him of him when he was a bit younger than logan is now—and, he realizes, his mother must be recalling those hellion days too.

at last, his mother sighs, wipes her mouth a napkin, and stands. “i might have something suitable.”

patton’s left sitting there, gaping. his mother. his mother backed down. his mother. did not fight with logan when it was clear what he was doing would interfere with her social status. 

his mother!

“well?!” emily snaps. “do you want to see it or not?!”

he and logan exchange a look before they scramble out of their seats, heading after her as quick as they can.

they’re going down to the basement, which holds a conglomeration of things and also patton’s second-most-frequently-used sneak-out route. the wine cellar’s down here, along with his parents’ collections of luggage, and matching white wardrobes filled with all kind of things, and gifts from granny trix that his mother has refused to display over the years, and art and furniture deemed out-of-fashion but were still held fondly enough to be stored in the house—it was, by far, the most disorganized segment of the sanders’ mansion.

of course, there were still clear paths to each segment of the basement, so it wasn’t as disorganized as, say, patton’s garage, but still. disorganized by his parents’ standards.

so patton follows logan who follows emily, past life-sized dog statues, past a stack of steamer trunks and matching carry-on luggage, past framed paintings of some of patton’s old family members, past the rows of old wines stored for an occasion fancy enough for them, past candlesticks and antique tables, past crates and cardboard boxes filled with, patton’s sure, more of the same, until they get back to yet another white wardrobe.

“it’s in here somewhere,” his mother says, already flipping her way through rows and rows of hanging garment bags, before she makes an “aha!” sound and plucks free a garment bag that looks identical to all the rest, before sparing it a fond glance.

“we got it in london,” she says fondly, “never actually worn, of course, but goodness, the plans i had for the seamstresses…” and patton feels a squirming sensation in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in a very long time; the same one he’d get every time he was dragged into a department store, the same one he’d get every time he knew he had to wear whatever was laid out on the bed for whatever party or get-together his mother was having, the same one he’d get when his mother’s friends, over for tea, would croon, my goodness, how pretty you are! 

patton clears his throat before his mother can start reminiscing on the times of dresses and skirts past, and says, “maybe show logan the dress, mom?”

“oh,” she says, seemingly successfully jolted out of whatever fashion-induced daydreaming session she’d fallen into, “yes” and unzips the garment bag, to reveal—

well, patton doesn’t know what he’d expected, really. all he can see is a lot of white, puffy tulle. 

“can i try it on?” logan says. “just to see it.”

emily hesitates, clutching the delicate fabric, before she hands him the garment bag with no small amount of reluctance.

“we’ll be upstairs when you want to give us a little fashion show,” patton says, carefully catching his mother’s elbow before she can rethink any of this. “let us know if you need help zipping it up or anything?”

logan nods, and begins the process of carefully unearthing the dress as patton steers his mother back up the stairs.

“he’ll need help getting into the dress,” emily protests.

“if he needs help, he’ll ask,” patton counters, firmly. “he’s sixteen, he’s helped roman with a lot of elaborate costumes like that before. he’ll manage. let’s give him a bit of privacy.”

patton glances back in enough time to see logan shooting him a grateful look, and patton shoots him a thumbs-up—he’d always hated it whenever his mother barged into a dressing room to “help,” so he’d always tried his best to let logan have his privacy when it came to this kind of thing.

also, okay, maybe the weirdness of having his pre-selected debutante dress he’d never worn or even really known about coming back to haunt him in some way is getting to him, just a little bit. 

“how did this idea get into his head?” she asks suspiciously, as soon as they’ve cleared the last of the steps and relocate to the living room; patton crosses to sit on the couch, and maybe walks a little slower than usual to get an answer straight in his head.

“i don’t… exactly know, why this, i mean,” patton says slowly—which is a little true, he doesn’t know exactly why logan chose this course of action over anything else—and fiddles with his suit jacket. “um, but i know it’s important to him. and dee,” he tacks on unnecessarily. “so, i’m all for it. a thousand percent.”

she surveys him, before she says, “you know more than you’re letting on, though.”

“not my story to tell,” patton says, and it surprises him, how firm his tone is. “but i am really behind logan doing this.”

she sighs, as if he’s a child all over again. “you would be behind logan doing anything. will you keep that attitude if he decided to drop out of school tomorrow?”

“okay, first of all, that sounds more like me,” patton points out. “in fact, that was me. logan is at least channeling any trouble-making tendencies toward something productive.”

“productive,” she says. “the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball—”

“—is an outdated, sexist ‘tradition,’” patton says, using finger quotes, “that will, at worst, turn out to be a college entry essay for logan, and at best be a nice, eye-opening event to some of your friends, who, if i recall, were not particularly enthusiastic about that whole upholding,” time for finger quotes again, “‘the promise of equality for all, and we share an obligation to help our nation fulfill that founding promise.’”

emily’s eyes widen, and oh boy, patton sure said a lot more than he meant to there, so he braces himself for what might be a fight, but luck happens to be on patton’s side tonight.

“dad?” logan calls.

“yeah, kiddo?”

“i need help with the buttons,” logan says, voice distinctly closer than before; like he’s hiding around the corner.

“okay, well,” patton says, about to get to his feet to go and help, but then logan turns the corner.

the dress, patton sees, is… surprisingly simple, for his mother’s taste. there’s delicate, appliqué straps, with a modest scoop neckline. the bodice is delicately embroidered, and the skirt is unadorned tulle. 

the dress is simple, he realizes, a little startled, because even before his mother was shopping for it, he had made his distaste for elaborate dresses and gowns clear. she must have picked this out for him in an attempt to garner his good graces with this dress; this was what she must have thought his tastes would have looked like.

he still would have hated it.

it twists up his stomach a bit more, thinking about what would have been, what his mother probably thinks should have been, but patton plasters a smile on his face, rising to his feet, pushing that out of his mind and trying to focus on how logan looks in the dress, not on the fight that would have happened if patton had seen this dress, if he’d had to wear it, before he’d come out.

it’s a little bit short on logan, but that’s to be expected—patton had been a pretty short teenager, and logan’s taller than patton is even now, after a half-foot testosterone-induced growth spurt. the skirt would have swept along the ground if patton was wearing it, if he’s calculating right; as it is, it hits logan somewhere above the ankles, giving it a “fifties flare skirt” kind of vibe. the bodice isn’t really thought out for someone with as flat a chest as logan’s, either, but at least it follows the path of his torso—no need to try and lengthen that.

“very handsome,” he says, before he rounds to logan’s back to examine—ah, yes, as he expected, the buttons up the back are all delicate and tiny and fiddly, and almost impossible for logan to fasten on his own, because he’d never had practice with things like this before. “yeah, okay, let’s see how you fit into it—gosh, i must have been almost a foot shorter than you are now when mom ordered this dress. we’ll definitely have to alter it—”

“do you have a tailor in mind?” emily says.

“virgil’ll do it,” patton says absently, as he’s a little surprised at how easily his fingers remember to maneuver the little pearly buttons—muscle memory, he guesses—and glances up to see his mother arching her eyebrows disbelievingly.

“i know he sews,” she says, voice clearly tinged with doubt, clearly about to say but.

“uh-huh,” patton says, turning his attention back to the buttons. “he’s really good at it, too. he’s done some emergency fixes on wedding dresses and stuff, so he knows how to work with gowns.”

there’s a soft hmph.

“he’s going to be altering dresses and tuxes for the sideshire kids involved in this,” patton continues, then, “all right, hon, that’s the last one. is it too tight, too loose…?”

“fine, i think,” logan says. “tight, but i think i can manage for now.”

patton flips a strap of the dress that’s gotten all twisted around, before sidestepping the skirt—they’ll need to get a crinoline so that it puffs out properly, patton can tell—and observing the entire look, how it seems now that logan’s fully dressed.

it’s a bit odd, definitely. logan’s only ever really worn dresses when he was roped into it as a kid, mostly while playing dress-up with roman—logan’s always been pretty attached to jeans or slacks to pair with his ties or bowties—so seeing logan in a dress is an unusual enough occurrence that it strikes patton’s brain as something completely new.

the dress, as delicate-looking as it is, combines with logan in a strange contrast that works; he looks nice in white, and all the delicate details seem to change what they emphasize—the scoop neck makes his collarbone look graceful, demure, but the thin straps emphasize the broadness of logan’s shoulders, the muscle there. the dress is all soft, sweet femininity, a look that logan doesn’t rock very often, because all the rest of it is logan—who usually favors a straight-forward, business-like, traditionally masculine look. 

he looks good.

“give us a twirl, kiddo,” patton says, mostly teasing, but logan obliges, lifting himself onto his tiptoes to spin himself around, the skirt flaring and settling. patton applauds.

and then he smiles, because logan is kind of smiling, but also kind of trying to hide that he’s smiling, because it’s probably the first time in about ten years that logan’s spun around in a long skirt, and hey, skirts of any kind might mess with patton’s gender dysphoria, but he also remembers how satisfying it is to spin around in a really long skirt.

logan plucks lightly at the skirt to make sure it’s all hanging straight, before he glances over and says, and patton only knows it’s tinged with slight nervousness because of how well he knows him, “what do you think, grandma?”

patton turns to look at his mother for the first time since he’d started fastening logan’s buttons.

emily’s staring at the pair of them. and staring. and staring. patton’s about to prod logan to maybe ask again, before—

“heels,” she says.

“what?” logan says, glancing up from the skirt.

“that dress will never work if you don’t wear heels,” she says, a glint in her eyes.

logan says, “heels are scientifically proven to cause foot, ankle, knee, and back problems. also, they are a tool of the patriarchy, designed to slow a woman down.”

“oh, it’ll be required,” she says. “as well as elbow-length kidskin gloves, pantyhose, a crinoline—”

“that’s ridiculous,” logan huffs.

“uh-huh,” patton says absently, recalling his own experiences with heels. “that’s a debutante ball, kiddo.”

“and if you’re going to do the thing, you may as well do it properly,” emily says decisively, standing up. “i might have a pair of heels that will fit you, just so we can see the amount of height you’ll need—”

and she’s off, heading straight for her closet. in retrospect, patton thinks, he probably should have expected his mom being more on board when it came to clothes.

“help,” logan says, looking at patton pleadingly.

“hey,” patton says, holding up his hands with half a laugh, “this was your idea.”

logan looks like he’s sincerely regretting it.

⁂

virgil’s putting away the last of the dishes he’d washed (patton would probably get on him, later, for doing chores that patton was going to do later, and how you don’t have to do that, honey!! but he was bored, he did some dishes, sue him, also patton always gives him this smile whenever he does things like this, so it is for slightly selfish reasons) when he hears patton’s car pull into the driveway, and the motor cuts off.

virgil smiles to himself, and makes sure that he’s put everything away properly, before he meanders over to the couch and tries to make it seem like he hasn’t been cleaning patton’s kitchen. he’s obviously going to get found out as soon as patton notices his sink is empty, but.

he can hear logan’s voice floating through the door, “—glad she took it okay, but dad, you had to stop at that store right then—?”

“i probably should have warned you,” patton, a laugh in his voice, “but honestly, well. you are gonna have to wear the gloves and crinoline at least, and since you’ve never—”

the door opens, logan carrying a garment bag, patton carrying a shopping bag, “—walked in a pair before, it’s probably smart that you—virgil, hi, honey!”

virgil rises automatically to his feet as patton’s face brightens, and patton rocks up on his toes to give him a greeting kiss. 

“i thought you were working?” patton says.

virgil shrugs, and sticks his hands in his pockets. “things were slow enough, i figured i could let jean close. hey, l, is that the dress?”

“it is,” logan says.

“so that went okay?” virgil says, and logan scowls, ever so slightly. 

“virgil’ll need to see you in the heels you’re intending to wear to get the hemming right,” patton says. “won’t you, virgil?”

“yeah, i’ll have to use it to see if the skirt needs more length—and heels, huh?” virgil says, glancing at logan.

logan scowls even deeper. “grandma seems to be under the influence that if i’m going to be a debutante, i’m going to have to do it properly. therefore, heels.”

“and elbow length kidskin gloves, and a crinoline,” patton says, ticking them off on his fingers. “i have a list.”

“should probably wait until you get the petticoat to tailor the dress,” virgil says. “could i see it, though? you don’t have to put it on or anything. i brought a—”

“oh!” patton says, catching sigh of the torso-only mannequin sitting in the corner of the room.

“i’ll just keep it here for logan’s dress,” virgil says. “i figured a headless one would be less… creepy.”

“it’s appreciated,” logan says, before he hands over the garment bag, and virgil unzips it, starting to unbunch the skirt and wrestle it onto the mannequin.

“i hate heels,” logan grumbles. “have you seen the studies on what wearing these things on a regular basis will do to your spine?”

“uh-huh,” patton says. 

“not to mention your feet,” logan says, scowling at the shoebox like it’s morally offended him.

“also,” logan continues, “heels are an invention of the patriarchy! they were originally meant to help men secure their feet in stirrups, and then it became a symbol of nobility and class, so they’re inherently classist, too!”

“oh, absolutely agreed,” patton says. 

“i can’t believe grandma insisted on heels,” logan says. “flats would be fine.”

“yeah, i probably should have guessed she wouldn’t let that part go, given the lessons,” patton says.

logan glances up, frowning. “lessons?”

virgil glances away from where he’s fluffing out the skirt of the dress, too, to see patton with a strange look on his face; half nostalgia, half regret. it’s a look he usually gets when he’s talking about growing up in the sanders house.

“oh, yeah,” patton says, reminiscent. “as soon as i was deemed old enough, we had walking practice lessons, me and your grandma.”

“…what,” virgil says. because. what?

patton laughs, just a little. “yeah, every day for half an hour a day, one summer! she’d make sure i had proper posture in heels. i had to balance a book on my head, too, to make it even more cliché.”

logan looks, perhaps, a little cowed. virgil, on the other hand, is just—

sometimes, it knocks him totally off-guard, whenever patton talks about the various absurd things he had to do, pre-transition, as the sole scion of a rich family. etiquette lessons and country clubs and going to the opera and flower arranging and walking lessons. patton remembers a lot of it, clearly—of course he does, for so long it had been deemed that patton would be a house spouse who raised kids for a similarly wealthy scion of an esteemed family—but it always throws virgil off, just a little.

he briefly pictures patton—long-haired, in the admittedly few pictures patton has shown virgil of himself at that age—chin tilted carefully up, but not too far up, one of the too-big grimoires from richard’s library wobbling on his head, eyes fixed on one of the portraits emily has dotting the house, walking loops around the living room as emily critiqued his posture and stance with a hawkish eye, the click-click-click of heels on hardwood the only thing to break up her commentary.

“i mean,” patton says, breaking that particular mental image. “you know. at least you’ve only gotta wear heels for this one thing. women are expected to wear heels all the time. and since you’re selling this to a lot of chilton students as experiencing what women experience for a day…”

“…i will shut up about the heels,” logan mumbles.

patton ruffles his hair, and, seemingly detecting the mood that’s dropped over logan and virgil—thinking about what it would be like, to be raised like that—and says, in a gentle tone, brushing logan’s hair back into place, “heels really aren’t so bad, once you get used to them. it does just take a bit of practice, i promise.”

logan sighs, and looks at the box a smidge less distastefully than before. “i suppose i’ll have to try it to see.”

“that’s the spirit,” patton says brightly, and virgil shakes himself and refocuses on fastening the buttons of the dress, before stepping out from behind it to get the full effect.

“it’s a bit short on you, huh?” virgil comments, already digging around in his breast pocket for the notepad he usually uses to take orders.

“i think it’ll look very audrey hepburn once we get the crinoline,” patton offers. “the flare skirt thing, y’know.”

virgil nods, jotting this down; as he is, he asks, absently, “logan, was it tight, loose, itchy, anything like that?”

“tight,” logan says immediately, “and a bit itchy.”

virgil’s brow furrows thoughtfully as he considers what to do about that—brick davis had already stopped by the diner to tell him their nickname they were going to use while they were considering other names to eventually adopt and show off their dress, and they had some sensory issues and had already told him that they loved the shape of the dress, but they already knew that if they could feel the itchy gemstones it would be enough to make them have sensory overload, so he was already brainstorming fixes for that—but he jots it down all the same, before reaching out to pinch at the skirt and lift it, then let it go, just to get a sense of how it moved.

“i mentioned earlier that it makes sense, since i was probably a foot shorter than he was when mom ordered that dress,” patton says. “but if there’s a way to just loosen it a bit, maybe, and make the flare skirt thing look more intentional?”

“that’ll all be in the,” he gestures, “crinoline, petticoat, whichever you get. a crinoline would probably be the better choice, if you really want the fifties vibe—logan, you’re cool with the fifties vibe?”

“fine by me,” logan’s voice floats from the couch, then, “how is this supposed to work?”

both patton and virgil glanced over in enough time to see logan holding up a high heel—white, of course, and very sensible-looking and, if virgil had to guess, three inches tall, maybe four, at the highest. 

patton blinks. “putting them on already?”

logan shrugs, and says, intentionally casual, “if they take practice, why not start now?”

patton pauses, before he clears his throat and crosses the room, and says, “yeah, okay. do you need help?”

virgil crosses the room, too, if only to get a look at the dress from a full-view angle, and he hears a ka-CLUNK as logan staggers to his feet. he turns in enough time to see logan pinwheeling his arms wildly, and patton reaching out to balance him.

“whoa, easy,” patton says. “let’s not walk yet—”

“not that i didn’t before, but i now, truly, know that i never would have been cut out to do pointe with roman,” logan announces, arms stilling, but still held out for balance.

patton laughs. “there’s a bit of a difference there—he’s been on tip-toe since he was learning to walk, honey.”

“you wouldn’t let patton set you down on wet grass until you were three,” virgil points out, which is true—he and patton had laughed a lot back then as logan had avoided bare feet on grass at all costs, doing some interesting baby gymnastics in his attempts to avoid it.

“i hardly see what that has to do with my balancing capabilities,” logan mutters, a little embarrassed, the way a teenager always is whenever someone brings up baby stories.

“okay, speaking of tip-toe,” patton says, “you’re putting all your weight on your toes, you gotta let the heel touch the ground.”

virgil leans a little to see—and indeed, logan is balancing on his tiptoes, as high as he can, the white heel hovering off the ground. logan, slowly, lowers and lowers until the heel thumps as it hits the ground.

“good,” patton says, hand still on logan’s shoulder. “let’s just get used to how that feels, yeah?”

logan frowns. “the weight distribution is different than i expected. i thought it would all be in the toes, not in the—” he cuts himself off.

“heels?” patton finishes for him. “that’s all okay, just—i’ll let you know how to walk. but you’re kinda getting the feel for it? is it okay if i let you go now?”

logan nods his assent, so patton takes a step back—not far enough that he wouldn’t be able to lunge for logan if logan fell—and logan wobbles, just a little, but he manages to regain his balance quickly enough.

“they hurt,” logan says, frowning.

“toe-pinching like it’s too small, hurt, or—?”

“i think it’s my feet aren’t used to it hurt,” logan admits.

“that’s perfectly normal,” patton says. “your grandma used to tell me to throw on shoes super early so that my feet would get all nice and numb.”

“that’s sick,” logan says. “the patriarchy is evil.”

“amen, brother,” virgil says dryly. 

logan preoccupies himself with shifting his bodyweight this way and that, trying to grow accustomed to it, so virgil goes over to inspect the dress a bit more—this dress, honestly, will probably be the most adjustment-intensive, so it’s probably good that it’s logan’s dress—half-listening to patton and logan discuss how logan should distribute his weight and any adjustments he might need to make to his posture and on and on.

considering patton was incredibly short, back then, it’s honestly probably a miracle that this dress even slightly fits logan well enough—and honestly, the fifties skirt effect would probably save virgil a lot of work, rather than spend any time on figuring out how exactly the lengthen the skirt to brush the floor. it’s not like virgil can really start any work right now, considering he really does need to have logan in the heels and crinoline to really get a feel for how the dress looks, but he can gather a few ideas on supplies he might need, fixes he could use for any potential problems.

it looks like his days are going to be filled with those kinds of questions for a while. brick davis wasn’t the only sideshire high student asking virgil to help with their dress; a large chunk of roman’s class had followed his lead, since, to virgil’s everlasting amusement while comparing him and remus, roman was a popular kid that people wanted to emulate, and roman’s friendship slash tutorship of all the students of isadora prince’s dance studio meant that there would also be an influx of tuxes—which, fortunately, were probably going to be way less labor-intensive than any of the dresses.

virgil’s busy jotting down things he might need to bring over or buy, not just for logan’s dress, but for all the dresses and tuxes of the sideshire kids, when patton says, “all right. walking time, do you think?”

“walking time,” logan agrees, with the grim, matter-of-fact determination of someone about to start to climb everest. 

“okay. now, remember, let’s start with half-steps, slowly, we can work your way up to your usual walk slash pace,” patton says, and virgil glances up in enough time to see logan cautiously put a foot forward.

he wobbles, and patton lunges forward, catching his hands—”i gotcha, i gotcha,” patton says, a bit of a laugh in his voice, as logan sways his way back to a balanced stance. a stray thought tickles the back of virgil’s brain, but he can’t quite identify what it is before patton starts talking again.

“don’t walk heel-toe, i’m sorry, i should have mentioned that—try putting weight on your toes first.”

“okay,” logan says, and renews his grip on patton’s hands, before carefully stepping forward once again. the thought pings at virgil again, and his brow furrows, ever so slightly, trying to identify what it might be.

“that’s it,” patton says, encouragingly. “just like that! you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

and that’s when the thought clicks into place—it’s déjà vu.

virgil’s brain flashes—logan, all of sixteen, not quite secure on his feet, but nevertheless trying to walk forward, patton moving backward with him, their hands clasped together.

it reminds virgil of logan learning how to walk.

and the mental image blooms into his mind, crystal clear, like it was yesterday; logan, all of ten months old, wearing his tiny overalls and his tiny t-shirt and his tiny little tennis shoes, mouth open and showing off all of his newly-grown baby teeth, tongue sticking out as he’d take one toddling step forward, two, patton kneeling on the black-and-white diner tile and saying in the exact same, near-laughing tone, that’s it, honey, that’s it! papa’s gotcha! c’mon, lo-lo, you got this! the sight of logan walking new enough that it was enough to stop twenty-three year old virgil in his tracks, watching eagle-eyed as patton shuffled backwards on his knees, eyes wide, encouraging and watchful, and so thrilled as logan babbled a stream of nonsense at him, stamping his way forward, hands wrapped around patton’s fingers.

and a laugh breaks through the memory, and suddenly he’s back in the present; virgil, all of thirty-nine, watching a nearly-full-grown logan, in his officious suit jacket and tie, struggling to take a few steps forward in his new high heels, brow furrowed still, but no childish urge to stick out his tongue; patton, taller, healthier, happier, overall, voice deeper but the tone’s still the same—absolutely thrilled at the concept of logan learning how to do anything, another milestone for logan to succeed in, another instance to celebrate. 

virgil remembers, too, logan’s soft, chubby little baby hands, wrapped around virgil’s fingers, staggering toward him, the way virgil’s voice would get softer and how quickly it became second-nature to catch logan if he fell. logan’s shrieking laughs, logan’s babbling in his ear, logan’s cries going quiet when virgil shushed and rocked him.  the sweet, babyish sigh logan would let out whenever he fell asleep against virgil’s chest; his head resting against virgil’s shoulder, his weight and warmth in virgil’s arms. 

logan’s far too big for that now.

virgil’s heart pangs—when did they all get so old?—but especially at the sight of logan, almost an adult, taller than patton, nearly as tall as virgil, and almost as old as patton had been that day he’d crashed into the diner for the first time. 

and now here he was; in high school, and preparing to be presented to society as an adult. granted, as somewhat of a prank. but the idea’s still there; logan is almost an adult. soon, logan would be making his way in the world.

soon, he wouldn’t need them to hold his hands. 

“you got this!” patton cheers, as logan slowly, gradually, walks a lap of half-steps around the room without wobbling too much, without the fear of falling down. “you’re gonna be a heels-walking professional by the time of the debutante ball!”

virgil swallows, and echoes patton, voice perhaps a bit thicker than usual, “yeah, kid, you definitely got this.”

logan glances up from the ground to flash a quick smile in virgil’s direction, and virgil takes a deep breath before he crosses the room to take a look at how logan’s handling it; sure, patton had had walking-in-heels lessons, but virgil had definitely worn heels more recently than patton had.

and logan still needs them to hold his hands, for now. just a little while longer.

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