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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

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A story by heroes and villains

Roman Castile: Passion and duty

Roman finds that his different passions seem to get in each other's way for now. But one day, he will find a balance.

“Ugh! I am done!” Roman exclaimed relieved, barely hearing the hissed warning from the librarian. Homework had been draining. Sure they’d had fun. Especially when it came to teasing Virgil about his pronunciation when they worked on Spanish.

Still Roman was ready to do literally anything else.

“Give me a sec, I have to finish this thing for English,” Virgil muttered absentmindedly. Roman knew that Virgil had rewritten that particular assignment two times already.

“Want me to read it trough for you?” Roman offered. Maybe hearing someone say that it was good would be enough to stop him from second guessing himself again.

“You don’t…” Virgil started, somehow looking guilty.

“We’re here to help each other Virgil. If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t offer. I thrive on being of help to my friends. It’s no trouble,” he assured him. Virgil offered him a small smile and a nod in response. “Alright. You can read it when I’m done,” he allowed.

Roman took peace with that and opened his notebook to start doodling.

He had a few ideas for some more shirt designs. He’d enjoyed making his ‘coming out’ shirt. Then there was the Halloween party and every other social event this year has to offer where he had to slay. Junior year was a year to be noticed. Nothing wrong with putting down some ideas in advance. He just might come across the perfect outfit.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can draw up some clothes,” Virgil noted and Roman nearly fell of his chair when he jumped at his sudden proximity.

“Will you stop that!?” A thing about Virgil Roman had learned over the last week. He always seemed to pop up out of nowhere. One minute he’s gushing over the latest Disney trailer with André and suddenly Virgil stands next to him giving his two cents. It was terrifying.

“Not a chance,” Virgil chuckled as he picked up Roman’s sketches.

“This looks good though… You ever thought of becoming a fashion designer?”

Roman’s eyes widened. Making amazing outfits for a living? He could make a whole ‘wear your pride’ line and… Oh… Oh…!

“You are a genius!” Roman exclaimed. He’d had no idea what he wanted to do with his future, aside from hero work, but now the idea was brought up he wanted nothing else. Fashion designer, superhero, actor, maybe also Mr. Castile-Anker. That was a future he could look forward to!

Virgil chuckled. “It’s the least I can do. I sent in the designs like you said… I’m kind of excited.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m sure next time you see DreamPrince on the news he’ll be wearing your design.” He was. He’d been shown some alternative designs by Manifestor and found Virgil’s drawing among them and immediately declared that that was the one.

As he’d told Roman, he’d changed a few things. He’d shown him on Wednesday to get his stamp of approval. Roman had gushed unapologetically, because he knew he’d have to tone it back a bit in front of the team.

Which had been hard.

Tonight he’d be taking it for a test run and he’d make sure to be seen by people and cameras.

“We’ll see,” Virgil smiled as he pushed his laptop with his assignment towards Roman.

Roman read it, dropping the subject without problem.

Virgil was easy to be friends with and he’d quickly learned to read his moods.

During lunch Virgil usually sat himself a little bit away from the group when he felt the need to just focus on his music and sketch a little before heading back to class. He was sarcastic, witty and could dish it out about as well as he could take it.

He was also very guarded emotionally, which Roman could understand, but whenever they were just the two of them, Virgil opened up some more. He’d learned about Virgil’s soon to be stepdad and the admittedly adorable meet cute he’d been a part of.

He knew that Virgil’s dad had found them a new home and they’d moved in just that week.

He learned that Virgil was mature and his dad’s only wingman which they both agreed was super awkward but also hilarious.

Roman had joked that Virgil might end up being his father’s best man. But apparently there was a family friend ‘uncle Thomas’ who might get that position.

Virgil had gone out with another girl that week. Anna, who’d had English with him last year or something. Virgil had listened patiently, but relatively unaffected to her asking him out and arranged another semi-date at the music store for the next evening. Luckily nothing came from it again. Roman asked him why he kept saying yes to people he barely knew. Virgil explained that he had missed out on enough chances to befriend others. So the way he saw it he’d at the very least get a friend out of it. Roman kind of took comfort in that. It didn’t sound like Virgil was trying to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend right now. Just trying to socialize. Roman had reminded Virgil to watch his boundaries though. He wouldn’t want him to push himself out of fear he’d be missing out.

One more thing he learned about Virgil: he was overly critical of himself.

“Well, I think you can hand this in with confidence Virge,” Roman concluded as he returned Virgil’s laptop to him.

“So… I recall something about pizza? I’m starving!” he grinned.

Virgil chuckled and lead the way. Soon they were sat at a table with their orders and they were talking about everything and nothing. It was great. And Roman was so close to asking Virgil out but…

“So… Um… There’s this… Shoot wait a minute,” Roman got up and picked up his phone.

“Si mama…?” he asked curiously after seeing the caller ID.

“Darling. I know you are out with your friend. But I wanted you to know we’re headed to the university now,” his mother informed him. The university… Wait. “Que?” Roman looked at his watch incredulously. He was going to be late. Unless he left right now that is.

“Perdona! I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and dug through his wallet for some money.

“So sorry Virge! Time got away from us I’m afraid. I swear I intended to give you that ride… Can you call your dad… You know what? Just use the change to take the bus or something alright? My treat! I’ll call you later!” he promised as he tossed down a few bills that should more than cover the tab and the tip before rushing away.

How was it so late already?

He sprinted around a few corners and found a spot to get changed. BS had explained about the sciency stuff behind his costume change, but all Roman really cared about was that he basically had a magical boy transformation. Sure he could sit there and let the tech do its thing, but it was much more fun to make up a cool transformation sequence.

First, hair. He retrieved a lip balm like object and applied the substance to his hairline. He tucked the balm away and with one smooth movement of his hand he styled and recolored his hair. Instead of parted in the middle with regal waves it was flicked to the back, save for a single rebellious strand dangling down his forehead. Instead of a deep ash brown it was warm chestnut in color.

Then he took a tini metallic bead from a ring on his finger and tapped it against his temple, before he swiped his hand in front of his eyes as his mask placed itself securely on his face, changing his eye color in the process. He tapped his wrists together in front of his chest and brought them down with force, feeling his blazer and shirt get replaced by the skintight suit. He tapped his right heal against his left before taking another power position and finishing his costume change.

How cool was his life?!

He created a platform to lift himself to the roof and sprinted towards the university. The GTH was in it’s basement. As he made his way there he started to think over asking Virgil out again.

Maybe, now wasn’t the time. Virgil was clearly still upset about the whole Janus thing. He didn’t say it but Roman could tell. And he didn’t want Virgil to think for even a second that Roman’s crush was anything less than genuine, he had noticed that Virgil still had trouble believing their friendship was real at times. Not to mention that starting a relationship with someone while he was still figuring out how to balance out superhero and civilian life was clearly a bad idea. He couldn’t even ask him out without being interrupted by his other life.

So, he'd wait until he had his life in order and he was sure Virgil was ready. There was definitely some kind of connection between them. And Roman was willing to wait until the time was right…

He knew he was being a coward, but his friendship with Virgil was so fragile.

He entered the basement campus with little hassle and dropped of his bag in his personal locker, making sure to lock it. If anyone with ill intent got in here they could easily find out his identity with it's contents and Roman didn’t want his name out like that. Not yet at least.

He hurried to the training hall, threw open the doors and slid inside.

“Your prince has returned!” he exclaimed, doing a pretty good job at pretending he hadn't just sprinted the whole way there.

“Has he now?” BS asked, apparently in a bad mood today.

“Oh come now big S, the boy is just excited for his present! I would be too if I got a new costume made for me by a secret admirer,” Sweets offered with a calming hand on BS' shoulder. Sweets was an empath. He could share his emotions and those of others, perfect match for someone who wants or needs to keep his calm.

But what sweets said made Roman rather flustered. “I don't think DreamPrince has had enough appearances to already gain such attentions. Whoever did this just couldn't stand to look at this any longer.” Roman gestured to his current costume.

“Speaking of which…” he held out his hand bouncing on his feet in excitement. He was supposed to meet the chief of police today and he wanted to look presentable.

Manifestor chuckled from his spot on the desk. “Give the boy his stuff. He's been looking forward to this day for the past four years.”

BS sighed and handed Roman a small box, which the young hero snatched up before rushing to the dressing room.

He turned his suit off and took off the containment units. He opened the box and switched the old units for the new ones. The bracelets were more comfortable and adjusted to his skin tone, the metal bead was replaced with two skin colored stickers he applied to his temples.

“Let’s do this,” Roman smirked excitedly.

“To adventure!” he called out as he crossed his arms and tapped at his temples while simultaneously clicking his wrists together. At the same time he tapped his right toe behind his left heel and brought his ankles together. He struck a power pose, facing the full length mirror and grinned excitedly. Virgil had added an insignia on his cape and golden trimming in the final design. There'd been a few options for his emblem and Roman had chosen the shield with a castle by the sea with the sun shining down on him. He looked quite dashing.

He left the dressing room and handed the box back to BS with an elegant gesture.

BS wasn't amused. Sweets and Manifestor on the other found it hilarious.

“So? What do you think?” Roman asked as he turned around to show off the end result.

A loud ‘bing' announced a message from his family watching from the observation room.

“Gaaaaaaay!” Roman rolled his eyes good naturedly. Remus was a fan.

“Stay away from Planes!” the next one read. Roman chuckled. He had asked Virgil about the cape, considering he’d expected someone as cautious as him to heed Edna Mode's advice.

Apparently Virgil had intended the Cape to be an addition for official events. So ‘Prince’ would look good on camera. He'd also pointed out that it would look badass for the prince to un-claps his Cape before a fight. He'd had a point and Roman actually loved it.

“You look very handsome darling.”

“Thanks mom!” Roman called out.

Then two beeps came from a device on BS wrist. He looked down and relaxed, tapping away at a holographic screen, turning up the intensity of his shadow. “The chief is here,” he announced.

Roman raised an eyebrow, that was not what BS had been so tense about. Something in his private life maybe? If that was the case he'd never find out.

Roman had no time to worry about that though. The door opened and in walked the police chief. A small but commanding African American woman. It was something in the way she walked that made Roman want to stand at attention. And so he did. He wasn't the only one.

“DreamPrince, at your service ma’am,” Roman introduced himself respectfully.

“So you are what all the fuss is about?” she asked as she looked Roman up and down.

Chief Davies pursed her lips before nodding to herself. “I’ve read your file, you’re quite the prodigy aren’t you?” she asked.

Roman chuckled a little awkwardly. “I’ve just been training from a young age, that’s all.” Most gifted didn’t realize their talent until they were well in their teens.

“Good answer. I have no time to stroke an adolescent ego. We’ve got work to do.”

Chief Davies turned to Manifestor. “You got the files I sent?”

Manifestor nodded hurriedly. “Yes. I had no time to review them though.”

“I’ll walk you through it,” she announced dismissively. The leader of Roman’s training team nodded and tapped at something on his wrist. The screen that had shown the messages from Roman’s family earlier was now filled with mugshots.

The men looked dangerous. Roman shifted nervously. “You… you want my help apprehending these men?” he asked, trying not to show how frightening it seemed.

“God No!” Roman hid his relieve. “These men are all in jail already, with iron clad cases keeping them there for a long time. You think I’m going to send some rookie after hardcore criminals? No offense, but you are still a baby,” Roman blushed at that and focused back on the pictures.

Wait a minute. “I know that guy! Remember at the end of my first week? I spotted some tugs bothering that kid and tossed a rock at them?”

“And by some miracle you weren’t found when said tugs came looking for you,” BS added through gritted teeth. Still upset at Roman's initial recklessness.

“I wasn’t the only one they were looking for,” Roman insisted. He’d been so sure he hadn’t been alone that night. But BS claimed the would have known if anyone else had been there.

He never went after the tugs after they left the alley. BS insisting he was done with back alleys for the night.

And now those guys were apparently behind bars?

“Next slide please!” Davies called out.

A picture of a ziplock bag with pictures, a USB stick and a note of cut out letters that said ‘your turn’.

“For almost a year now we’ve been getting mysterious packages like this. Pictures, audio and video recordings. Every last one had one of these men incriminating themselves. It’s like whoever delivers these stands right next to them, but never gets caught taking pictures or carrying a wire. I have a small task force on the case who have dubbed them ‘The Phantom’. We are keeping this as in house as we can. Once the public hears about the Phantom, we’ll lose the most valuable asset we’ve ever had. Plus until now we weren’t sure if they were a sensible vigilante or a mobster who was taking out competition in a very clever way. Given what you just said I’d be inclined towards the former. They might have some sort of gift that hides them well enough to get away with spying. But right now, they are putting themselves in danger.” Davies turned towards Roman.

“Keep an eye out, see if you can spot him during your patrol this evening. And if you do, get him on board with the program.”

“Prince did not go through all that training to be your recruitment poster boy!” BS snapped to Roman's surprise. That was the most emotional response he's seen from BS ever. Aside from when he scolded Roman on his reckless behavior.

Davies glared at BS, looking quite intimidating, despite barely reaching to his chest.

“Now don't go all noble on me BrainStorm. What? Did your heart grow three sizes while I wasn't looking? Is there suddenly room for more than one other person there?”

Roman knew that this was a threat. Davies knew BS’ true identity, where he worked, who he cared for. She could ruin whatever he had built in an instant.

Roman often wondered what kind of life BS had outside the facility. Did he have a partner? A family? Did they know about his past at all.

A few seconds ticked by with no one daring to do so much as breathe.

Then Davies relaxed and stepped back. “I'm no monster BrainStorm. I wouldn't ask some rookie to deal with this if I hadn’t tried everything else already. I send in my agents and even called in other gifted. All we got out of that was this,” she gestured and Manifestor showed the next image. A note in the same style as the previous one that said ‘no babysit!’

“Our profiler thinks they are young. So maybe your prince won't seem as threatening. They might've had his back once before already. If this Phantom were someone you cared for, would you rather we left them be, or would you drag their noble behind here yourself to give them proper gear and back up?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, BS had nothing to counter with. Roman imagined Phantom being one of his friends, or even Janus and the answer remained the same.

“I will do what I can,” he vowed before lifting his chin and facing the fierce chief head on. “But ma'am, I don't appreciate you threatening my mentor like that.”

BS had stood up for him, it was only right for him to return the favor.

Davies chuckled. “Just when I started to worry you were only brawn and a pretty face. You can be smart too huh? And you’ve got guts. You just might have what it takes kid. Now. I have places to be. Keep me updated, and don't lose this.” Roman accepted the watch he was handed with a confused frown.

“My people will call if we need you. Please use that brain and return the favor?”

With that she left. Well… that was intense.

Roman put on the watch and saw that it had a frequency displayed on it instead of time. He also spotted two buttons. One blue and one red. It didn't take much to realize that one was a panic button and the other was to make it so the cops could hear him. He wondered if it would connect to the nearest patrol car or to Davies directly.

He hoped he’d never have to find out.

“Well… time to show the city their hero is ready for action.”

It had been a pleasant evening so far. He'd stopped a few shoplifters, broke up a fight or two and dodged a few reporters, though he let them snap a good picture of his new outfit.

Now the sun was down however and he was making his way to the back alleys.

“Looking for a fight is foolish Prince!” BS growled through his earpiece.

But Roman wasn't looking for a fight. He was looking for someone who'd gotten him out of at least one pickle.

He ignored BS as he landed on a roof, overlooking the city using his sight. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, but it was his only plan.

Suddenly he spotted something strange and unusual. There was an energy, a few blocks ahead. But it was impossible for him to really see it. Like he was looking at it trough glasses with strong prescriptions.

He rushed towards it and found a gang of criminals with violently swirling auras. He knew what this meant. They were going to hurt someone.

“Send back up to my location,” he instructed before turning the receiver off. He needed to focus.

“I say we attack now! They are week! We can take them down easily.” A shorter guy with energy like glass shards insisted.

“Boss says we have a truce until the rat is found,” a giant of a man stated calmly, though his energy betrayed how much he wanted to go with the first guy's plan.

Were they talking about Phantom?

“What rat!? Those idiots just bragged to the wrong crowd.” The first voice shot back. Phantom was becoming a bit of a ghost story it seemed. Some who believed, judging by the shudder that went through the other men's auras at the mere mention of them. But clearly not everyone was convinced.

“Oh and they gave out pictures as well? Did a little livestream? We're not safe until this rat is lynched,” the tall man pointed out tensely. He was a believer. And he wanted Phantom dead. Not good.

Roman studied the tugs and to his relief he spotted they were all armed. Weird thing to be happy about. But it meant he had probable cause to interfere.

He jumped down, slowing his descent just so that he didn't hurt himself on the landing without sacrificing the cool factor.

“Do you gentlemen have permits for those weapons?” he asked as he rose up to his full length facing them fearlessly.

“what the…?”

“It's that Prince clown!” Rude.

The tall guy, the leader probably, silenced the group with a gesture and smiled, his anxious energy almost completely disappearing. He'd found something to vent on. “Sure kid. Got mine right here.”

Roman flung his cape in front of him and manifested a gelatinous shield around himself as the leader pulled out his gun and fired several rounds at him. The tugs wouldn't see it. But it was there, and it caught the bullets slowing them down until they were harmless, making them fall to the ground when they met with the fabric.

“Well now you just pissed me off. This is brand new!” he complained as he dropped both cape and shield.

“I suppose you won't surrender peacefully?” he deduced. The criminals all readied their weapons. Seriously? Did they not get that he was essentially bulletproof?

He sighed as he took off his cape and hung it on a water pipe that ran down the side of the building.

“Fine,” he sighed and then he amped up his speed a bit while shielding himself from the rain of bullets heading his way. He used the gelatin shield because he didn't want to risk the bullets ricocheting and injuring someone. Especially the gifted he was sure was still watching the whole thing.

It wasn't hard to disarm the criminals. He even managed to knock a few to the ground. But there were at least two who'd gone down without him even touching them. And he would’ve sworn he saw a figure move between him and a tug once or twice to block a blow. He couldn't really see the other hero. It was an odd sensation. But he could feel his presence better and better and soon he was adapting his moves to those of the Phantom. Together they took out the whole group. Though to the villains it would seem like he'd done it by himself. He stood victorious over the leader, a pile of disassembled guns behind him and sirens lighting up the alley.

He twisted his foot to show off his white boot with gold accents. “So… how does it feel to get your butt kicked by a guy in heels?” he wondered playfully before looking up towards the presence and winking in acknowledgment.

“Good job Dream Prince. We've got it from here.” Roman turned to the cops and bowed to them

“It's my pleasure to be of assistance to the police of this fine city.” Then, while turning around, he made a gesture that could be taken as a ‘goodbye’, or as a ‘follow me’.

He was glad to notice that the presence seemed to follow him. He found a fire escape and floated himself to the roof it led to.

He turned to face his hopefully soon to be partner in crime fighting.

He could hear the clanging of someone climbing the metal fire escape. And while he still couldn't quite make out the figure that reached the roof he saw his reflection in a pool of water left behind by the rain earlier that day.

An unfortunate weakness, but so long as no one knew, no one would be looking for it. In order to be a hero, no one could know Phantom really existed. Was that why the authorities were kept at a distance? Why Phantom never made introductions despite having crossed paths at least once before?

He stepped forward with a bow. “Greetings Phantom. I must thank you for the assistance. Both just now and three months ago. I am Dream Prince, he/him if you please. A pleasure to officially meet you.”

A distorted chuckle made him look up. He could see Phantom much better now. He was dressed in Male coded clothes, though that was no guarantee. The hero outfit was simple. A black t-shirt, boots and denims, paired with a black coat that reached down to his calves and had the collar popped up. He looked really cool… but Roman couldn't make sense of his head. He was looking right at him he could see it, but his brain couldn't identify a thing.

It was so weird.

“Phantom huh?” His voice was a strange deep echoing sound. The distortion was pretty spooky if he was honest, but he wasn't afraid. Phantom was on his side.

“Sure you can call me that. He/him… mind telling me what that was about? I thought you officials weren't let of your leash unless you could be responsible enough to not get yourself killed?”

Roman cocked his brow. “Says the guy who has half the criminal underworld out for his blood,” he reminded him. Phantom looked away. Clearly he knew Roman had a point.

“Do you have something against the program?” His tone had been oddly bitter.

“No I…” Phantom took in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just pissed at the cops for sending you, I guess.” He sure sounded upset. And Roman could understand that. Here Phantom was, doing his part and all the cops could do in return was bother him At least as far as the young vigilante could tell. But then why…?

“Yet you chose to follow me up here?” Roman pressed. That didn’t make any sense. Phantom had shaken off his ‘babysits’ before. What made Roman special?

“Um… Well… I just…” Phantom stammered. Roman wondered why. Was he bad with confrontation? Social interaction in general? Or had Roman said something that hit a nerve somehow?

“You interrupted my stake out!” Phantom blurted out all of a sudden.

“Do you know how long it takes to work my way up the ranks? First I have to find a low level runner, then I follow him to his boss, that guy to his and so up the ladder I go. I was getting real close to the big guy of this group. And now…” Oh… Well Roman could understand how that would be frustrating.

“I apologize,” he said sincerely with a small bow. “I merely intended to help. They were talking about killing you.” Surely he could understand that he could not stand by after hearing that.

“And now there is a price on your head! The leader of that little club is like two steps away from the big boss. They won’t be happy with you taking him in.”

Well… He had a point. But Roman had back up. It would be rather stupid of the mob to come after a hero with government sanctioning. And these guys would go behind bars for a long time right? “You got dirt on them?” he asked. If the guns weren’t enough then surely whatever Phantom had gleaned from his stakeouts would be sufficient. Right?

“Yes… But that’s not the point. They have no clue about me. Not really. But you are out in the open. This is not your kind of mission Royal pain.” Oh, he had nicknames huh? It was an insult, but Roman didn’t mind witty banter. Especially if it came from a place of care. And Roman was starting to think it did.

“And now that you are out, you can’t expect me to hold your hand any longer…”

Roman crossed his arms and smirked catching the implications of what Phantom just said.

“You’ve been looking out for me all summer huh?” he guessed.

Phantom scoffed and probably rolled his eyes. While Roman still couldn’t quite see it, he would bet his entire Disney collection on it.

“It’s not like I came looking for you.” Phantom snapped. And Roman believed him.

“Still… Thank you…” he was going to say more but then he heard a beep in his ear followed by a loud voice. “Prince! Answer this instant!”

“Ow!” Roman exclaimed annoyed, reflexively reaching for his ear though it wouldn’t help much. He pressed the button to talk to BS. “One. Loud. Two. Rude! I am in the middle of something! And did you seriously remotely reactivate my com?”

He would demand a new com that couldn’t do that or he’d refuse to wear one period. What if he needed to concentrate right now? What if he was in the middle of tense negotiations or being told delicate information. As a matter of fact. This situation right here was delicate. One wrong move and Phantom might bolt. And he might not come along next time he found him. And even if he couldn’t get him to join the program, he wanted Phantom to know he had an ally in him. Someone to talk to, confide in, count on if he didn’t have anyone else.

“You do not turn off your com while going into a gunfight! It’s moronic to go in alone!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I am fine, not a scratch on me.” He wasn’t going to mention that he wasn’t alone exactly. Phantom had never consented to BS and the rest of his team knowing.

“I’ll call you when I’m done here.” And this time he took the com out of his ear. BS could yell at him later.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “My mentor is… intense at times.” In a cold and distant way.

“Mentor?” Phantom asked.

“One of the people helping me practice my powers, test my limits. Comes with the program. It’s not just a babysit and a nice suit,” he joked casually.

“Oh…” Phantom’s tone was odd. It made Roman want to come closer and offer comfort. He didn’t though. They weren’t at that point yet. Not by a long shot.

“Listen, I admit I was sent by the chief. But I didn’t come here to recruit you. I wanted to thank you and tell you… If you ever need someone to talk to, to help you figure something out… I’d be more than happy to oblige. No need to tell me your name or anything about yourself,” he vowed as he reached out his hand. Phantom hesitated for a few moments before bridging the distance and offering his own.

Roman grinned and grabbed it for a firm shake. “I’ll see you next time,” he assured his fellow hero before letting go and turning around to finish his patrol.

Progress was made. Not much, but still.

He just might’ve made a new friend.

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

End of this part meet Virgil and read his story.

Masterlist

#ts sides #sanders sides #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Prinxiety #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Remus Sanders #Hero Au #Janus Sanders #fic

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xlehukax · 4 years

Text

Still Beating Heart

Foreword: Hello! I’ve been working on this thing for a little while now, and it’s finally done! This fanfiction is set in the Pediatric Doctors AU that I made, that you can learn more about here. It’s done in conjunction to writings by @eeveeeclair246, to who has the first installment of this series, titled Inefficent Iron, which you can find here. And, if you don’t want to read on Tumblr, I get it! This will also be on Archives in a hot minute, so check my Masterpost for the link. Now, on with the show!

Ships: Roman x Virgil, Implied Remus x Logan

Word Count: 10215

Warnings: LANGUAGE, Alcoholism, Bars, Panic Attacks, Medical Issues (ie. weak hearts), Cheating, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Rape, that creeping feeling of regret.

Summary: Virgil’s always been the quiet nurse, the prickly one, the don’t talk to me unless there’s an issue one. Roman’s fresh out of a relationship, and looking to go out on the town, and needs a friend to go along with. And Virgil can’t say no to his crush, even if they work in the same place.

~~~~

It’s just another day at the office: by that, Virgil means, Patton’s handing out cookies, Logan’s being a work-aholic and refuses to let any of the patients go to Janus, in which is being very meticulous and annoyingly good at his job and refusing to let Virgil do his, Remus is going through the latest urine samples, and Roman is doing what Roman does best. Ranting about his latest breakup while painting his nails in the receptionist booth.

And Virgil just happens to be the only one around, after Patton leads the last patient of the day to Logan and the waiting room finally empties. Virgil simply sighs in defeat, and tries to shrink into his nurse uniform. Let it be known, he did not choose to be there. Or ever.

“Emo, are you even listening?”

“Yup, yes, I am, absolutely,”

“Alright, just had to make sure, you know, you tend to ignore me, which you’d think is impossible but you never cease to surprise me in that regard. Anyway, so this guy, Ethan- total dreamboat, eyes bluer than you’d ever believe. So I met him on this app, and we went for drinks a few weeks ago: and thirty minutes in, I’m in love. He’s a painter. Sweetest guy- we end up at his apartment, and you know- but I was in it for the long haul. Virgil, I was really ready for a long-term with this guy. He seemed like he was down for it too… and then, just yesterday, you know what I found in his apartment?”

“Another person,” Virgil sighs.

“Some floozy, blond and covered in hickeys, and Ethan painting her. Like, I didn’t know what to be more offended about: the fact that he cheated on me or that he doesn’t have a sexy painting of me!”

“Mhmm…” Virgil’s almost fallen asleep, and doesn’t even notice Roman hovering utop him until he’s right in his face.

“Virgil-” Roman shouts, and Virgil startles right into Roman’s arms. Which he now is realizing quite quickly are not just incredibly strong because they hold his weight easily, but landing their faces inches apart. Virgil sucks in a gasp- Roman smirks. “Hey there… you know, you’re not too bad looking yourself. Under all that makeup, you’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” It takes Virgil a moment to craft a response, he’s so scatterbrained and blushing.

“Fuck off Princey, I’m not your latest conquest,” Virgil hisses, still a large flush on his features. Roman flicks his nose.

“Yeah, but you’re still cute. Maybe I should date you~”

“In your fucking dreams- you cycle through boyfriends so fast, I’ll be dust in the wind,”

“Hmm,” Roman still hasn’t let Virgil go, and it is not helping the warmth in his face whatsoever, “Can’t argue with that.” And then Virgil is unceremoniously dumped onto the chair he was sitting in, with Roman towering above him. Did he always have those pretty eyes? He’s got these fantastically plump lips, it really shows when he’s smirking like that. And that hair is quite… quite royal- now that he’s looking at it-

Bloody hell, stop, now’s not the time to fawn, Virgil curses at himself. Virgil has always been introverted, and this- this interaction, Roman’s boldness with him… it’s completely unfamiliar. A bold move, reaching into his space, completely ignoring all of the protective glares and hisses that Virgil had in place. Disregarded his shields completely. Virgil has been harboring a bit of an infatuation with this confident musical wonder as of late, and this is not helping matters. Roman chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, J.Delightful, now I simply must make use of this situation,”

“What are you getting at-” Virgil snarls, to which Roman simply grins widely.

“You’re going to be my new wingman. There’s a open mic at a gay bar I frequent, and if I’m going to find somebody, then I need someone else to be my safety buddy. You know, watch for creepy old men who hit on me and all that jazz,” Roman pushes, eyes alight with excitement, “Patton won’t go with me anymore because he doesn’t like the loud noises, Logan doesn’t drink, I’m not asking Janus to come he’ll scare them all away or steal the attention, and Remus- well, you can probably guess why not Remus, and it’s not because people approach us because we’re twins. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you to come with me! It’ll give us some good outside of work bonding time too. Isn’t it great?”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil grumbles. Roman tuts.

“Oh come on now- am I so hard to be around?” No, Virgil thinks, and that’s the problem. “Pfft, if it’s really so hard, I’ll just cave and bring around someone else.”

“No…” Virgil whispers, so quiet that he’s sure it’s nearly silent, and Roman’s eyebrow perks up.

“Hmm? Was that a no I just heard?”

“I just- I’m not good in social situations, do you even really want me there? I’ll probably just screw your chances, scare people off,”

“Perfect! I’ll need someone to scare someone off,”

“But- I’ll damper on your fun,”

“Never! You will never cease to be fun to poke fun at,”

“I don’t know, Princey. You really want me there?” Virgil says, looking away and speaking in hushed tones still. Roman grabs his pale hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I need you, Virge,” Roman purrs. Virgil blushes harder, somehow, and tucks his head into his shoulder and murmurs his agreement. Damn it. “Wonderful! I’ll pick you up at 9, how does that sound?”

“Wait, tonight?” Virgil squawks. Roman drops his hands, blessedly, and steps back from him shrewdly. Smart, as Virgil’s immediate response is to throw a punch. Roman easily sidesteps.

“Oh, yes- did I not mention that? Tonight. It’s Friday,” Roman nods, smiling wickedly. Oh my god, I need to bathe, I need to find something nice-ish to wear, unearth my good eyeshadow, fuck it all I need new skin-

“Hey, hey, don’t freak. You don’t have to get all fancy for me: wear what makes you comfortable, and I’ll stop by your apartment at 9,”

“Wait a second- how do you know where I live?” Virgil says, suddenly horrified. Roman snickers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Uh, yes I would,” Virgil growls.

“Pfft, I need to know everyone’s addresses, I’m the receptionist, Virge. It’s my job,” Roman scoffs. Virgil blushes: well, now he feels foolish. But it reminds him: Roman and himself work together. It doesn’t matter if something comes out of this, as it is- Remus and Logan are constantly being sickeningly cute around the office. The real problem is if he screws this up, and still has to go to work with him the next day. This is a really bad idea. But… When will he have another golden opportunity like this one?

“Okay, okay- 9, right?”

“Yes! Thank you, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance- you’re going to have so much fun. I’ll sing a song just for you, as thanks,” Roman grins cheekily, Virgil blows the hair out of his eyes, attempting nonchalant despite the whirlwind of anxiety confined within.

“Alright, fine, whatever. Should I- should I dress a certain way? Wait, is there a dress code? How much money should I bring? Is it credit or cash? Do they have food there? Will I have to dance?” Virgil shudders at the thought of dancing, even with Roman, who is currently blinking rapidly under the onslaught of questions.

“Okay erm, just dress how you normally do? Scratch that, a peg hotter than a hoodie, thank you. No dress code, have you ever been to a bar? Just bring your wallet, think about how many drinks you want, and I’m dancing whether you’re going to or not, so-”

Virgil takes notes internally, already too worried about this whole ordeal. He should really just cancel, say he just remembered something, but he knows he’ll regret that later. Either way, the only other thing he’s doing tonight is hanging with his spider, Missy, and watching Unsolved Mysteries. So…

“I’ll- I’ll see you later then, Princey,” Virgil murmurs, before gathering the few things he has around him and breezing past whilst trying to make it appear like he’s not running away.

“See you!! At least pretend to be excited- It’s going to be one hell of a night, Virge- you won’t regret this!”

As Virgil silently clocks out (Patton will take over the end of the day nurse activities, it’s fine) he thinks to himself, I certainly hope not.

~~~~~

And then, it’s already 8:50, too soon. Virgil showered, twice, because the first time he used his usual unscented body wash for work and not the one that smells like lavender and violets and by jove Roman inviting him out after work deserves more than unscented. Then the clothes resulted in a mini fashion show in front of the mirror for an hour, where upon he finally settled on a black button down over a grey undershirt with some black ripped jeans (it took him another 25 minutes to decide on mostly untucked in a ‘I just threw this on’ careless feel), and his favorite purple and black hoodie just in case it got cold… of which he ended up shivering right away anyhow and put it on anyway.

And then a whole other hour on makeup: a very tasteful black eyeliner and purple and black smokey eye with just a hint of dark glitter. Some lipstick, and a little dust on his cheekbones, and Virgil finally felt confident, an emotion that lasted all of ten minutes when he realized that he hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes yet.

The shoes took another thirty minutes alone. And then the idea of changing his hair up a little occurred to him, and that was another hour wasted that ended with keeping his regular low-hanging hair anyway.

And now he’s trying not to look like he’s waiting, because he doesn’t want to be waiting on Roman, but he needs to see if his car comes up, but he doesn’t want to be desperate, so he’s panicking slightly in his apartment with all the lights off because he was going to leave and now he’s freaking out instead, because he doesn’t know if it’s more appropriate to wait for Roman to text him that he’s outside and head downstairs after that or to just head downstairs now like a normal person or maybe he just shouldn’t go. His head slowly stops pounding, and his breath evens out, the oncoming anxiety attack fading away with the thought. Yeah, maybe Virgil can stay home instead- there’s too many variables anyway.

When Virgil was young, he was always making decisions like this. He was sick, not like crazy-sick, but sick. Anemia, coupled with coronary heart disease, topped off with bronchitis. He had weak lungs, weak heart, weak blood- his whole body was frail, and sometimes his blood didn’t move around fast enough to make him work right. There was no running around, no nothing: he was constantly worried about every little thing, because his parents were. Did you take your pills today? How was your bloodwork? Are you feeling woozy? Until Virgil just stopped leaving the house whatsoever. It was just easier. There was no chance of passing out while crossing a street and getting run over, never going to embarrass himself at school by having a heart attack…

And wouldn’t you know, staying at home made him only sicker. No muscle mass whatsoever, pale as a ghost, always so cold, so frail from not getting enough nutrients. His parents made the best decision of their lives and set him down the path that led him here by… by hiring a nurse. A kind nurse, with funny jokes and encouragement, who helped him go outside for the first time in months. Who taught him little things to make him stronger, like light weights. Virgil grew out of his heart disease, and though he still had bronchitis and anemia, he regularly took medications which made them easy to handle. And just like that, Virgil was no longer sickly (at least externally, he still had anxiety, but he’s managing it). Then he was a normal teenager, who wanted to be strong enough to help someone in the same way that nurse had.

Here Virgil is now- and he’s not going to fall into that same loop he was in as a kid. He’s better now, medicating only when needed. Virgil is all lean-muscle, and he’s better than his anxiety. He can totally go on a date-not-a-date with his crush to a gay karaoke bar. Totally. Taking a deep breath, Virgil checks his phone (which is fully charged with two mini backup batteries on his keys tucked into his back pocket) and realizes with horror that Roman texted a whole six minutes ago while Virgil was panicking that he was waiting downstairs.

“Shit!” Virgil slams his door, and just runs down the stairs instead of taking the elevator (he only lives on the fourth floor anyway, because anything higher than like 10 fire ladders can’t get to and there’s a 50% possibility of surviving a fall from four stories), and hopes his meticulous makeup job isn’t ruined. By Roman’s expression, he doesn’t think it did-

He had been grinning teasingly, mouth open to say some quip, but his jaw goes slack when he sees Virgil. Roman’s eyes are wide, leaning up against his red car, as he watches Virgil stop by the curb only a few feet in front of him. Roman whistles.

“Damn, Virgil… you look- damn. Wowza, do you clean up nice,” Roman falls over his words, making Virgil flush. Roman thinks I look good- I did good, it’s all good.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Princey,” Virgil whispers. Because really, he doesn’t: Roman’s white dress shirt has the top two buttons undone, showing off his pectorals and just a hint of his abs, and some nice pants. His hair is done over to the side, and one crown earring hangs from an ear. It’s really a delightful look, but makes Virgil feel out of place with his dark clothes and his heavy makeup. Roman only has a light bit. “Did I go overboard? I can- I can wash it off,” Virgil asks, hating that he’s offering to change this intensive and difficult look for a stupid guy.

“No, no- you look gorgeous. Seriously Virge, you should do my makeup. Like, I feel outdone, and I never feel that way! Come on, get on in, let’s go,” Roman shoos Virgil into the car, where he feels just as much if not more awkward. Still, he’s excited, out of this world excited: Roman likes how he looks. Roman finds him attractive, and they’re going to the club, together.

Not together, Virgil- you’re just his buddy. Virgil has to remind him that this is not a date, that he’s gotten all worried and dressed up for sitting at a bar and watching Roman flirt with other men. It makes his heart ache, but at least they’re together now .

“We’re almost there, Emo. You ready to have a good time?”

“I uh- erm, I mean. Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll have fun sitting in the corner doing fucking nothing, that’s what I’m ready for,” Virgil’s suddenly defensive and feels horrible about the crude outburst.

“Oh my- Virge, do you not want to go? I don’t want to force you into anything!” No, I do, I do!

“Eh, it’s whatever. I got all dressed up, be a shame to not go out. I just- I don’t like to- I’m-”

“I know you don’t like being left alone! Don’t worry, I’ll be close by the whole time. I’ll watch you if you watch me, yeah?”

“Why are you so worried about being watched? You’ve clearly been to a lot of these things…” Virgil changes the subject to hide his flush at Roman’s empathy for him.

“Ah, well- I have been to a lot of these things, and I’ve had some… unfavorable experiences. A few times now, guys have put stuff in my drinks, or waited for me to get drunk and then take me home. It’s… it’s not what I want. I go to meet new people, not to get a one-night stand that I didn’t want. They don’t make me feel good. I hate it,” Roman growls at the road, and Virgil makes what might be a rash decision and places his long pale hands on Roman’s tanned worn ones by the gearshift. Roman looks over at him, and Virgil ducks his head. Roman smiles.

“I’ll watch out for you, I promise. I don’t really drink either, ‘cuz of my blood issues, so I can drive home too,” Virgil murmurs, still looking away. Roman moves his hand around, grips his tightly. Virgil doesn’t look at it, but knows they’re intertwined, and it makes his head hurt.

“Thank you, Virge. Aaand, we’re here,” the bar is bright in the dark evening, a neon sign advertising it, and Roman pulls into a parking space behind the building. He takes his key, and reaches out to put it in Virgil's pocket. “Don’t trust myself to hand em over, this thing’s my baby. I’m trusting you, though, and you gotta be good about that, alright?”

Virgil nods, and allows Roman to exit the car and help him out the other side. Roman throws his arm over Virgil’s shoulders, and saunters into the bar. As expected, it is loud. Someone’s already singing, a song by Chicago, and is doing pretty okay. There are bright lights here and there, some spots illuminated completely and others in darkness. There’s a whole load of people here too: some make eyes at him as he walks in. Virgil sticks to Roman, who chuckles, as they both head to the bar. The bartender seems to recognize Roman.

“Here for the open mic, are you, King?”

“You know it! Sign me right on up,” Roman laughs. Roman’s arm drops from Virgil’s shoulders. The bartender rolls his eyes, swipes some green dyed locks from his vision and writes Roman’s name on a pad.

“What song are you singing?”

“It’s a surprise, like usual, Vincent, I don’t know why you even bother asking,”

“Uh huh. And I see you brought a friend… you wanna sing too, baby-cheeks?” Vincent asks, leaning forwards.

Virgil hisses at him, then clears his throat.

“I don’t fucking sing,” he snarls, adding in his mind, in public. Vincent smiles knowingly.

“Aha, a feisty one. You really know how to pick em’, eh? Can I get you a drink then?” Virgil feels like he’s about to explode: this is not what he signed up for. He is here to be with Roman and watch out for him, not take this guy’s shit. Roman notices, and slings his arm once more over him.

“Nah, just a work colleague. He’s a nurse~ and doesn’t drink. It’s a shame, I know, but it’ll work better in my favor anyway. I’ll save money on the taxi. Incredible Sulk, how does a black coffee sound?”

“I guess that’s okay,” Virgil grumbles, glaring at this man even as he shrugs and complies. They both take a seat at the bar, Roman ordering some complicated fancy thing to match his personality and Virgil immediately hunching over his hot coffee. It’s surprisingly good for a bar, bitter yet flavourful, and Virgil finds himself smiling down at it.

“Eh, I think that smile says it’s more than just okay!” Roman purrs, shimmying closer to Virgil and bumping their shoulders. It seems as though the alcohol is already having an effect, his disposition somehow brighter. Virgil shies away slightly. Someone else saddles up to the bar and introduces himself. This man has long swoopy raven hair, and is even more lanky than Logan. He leans by Roman, eyes colder than Virgil would like. The dark haired fellow decides to listen in on the conversation… just in case.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” the stranger says. Roman puts his hand on the bar, slurps the rest of his drink down in one go.

“I’m not sure- I do tend to get around. Where do you think you know me from, blue eyes?” Oh no. The guy’s got blue eyes, he didn’t even notice that. Virgil mourns his only chance at getting with Roman- this guy’s stealing it.

“Oh, I know! The theatre, right? You were Jason Dean in the Heathers production! Scary shit, man. You’re a fantastic singer. Hey, can we get another drink?” the stranger waves over Vincent, who fixes Roman another bright cocktail. Roman immediately starts fiddling with the straw, and looks up at the stanger.

“The name’s Roman. What’s yours?”

“I’m Lucian. It’s nice to meet you. Man, it’s so loud here: I wish we could go~,” Lucian says. Virgil narrows his eyes at the stranger, takes another sip of coffee. Roman smirks, and turns and winks at Virgil as if to say Look at this catch. Virgil tries to smile, but is pretty sure it’s just a grimace. It may just be Virgil’s luck (despite how it affects Roman) but Virgil notices Lucian dropping something in Roman’s drink. Virgil slams the table, slaps Lucian, and pushes the drink away. He fists his hand in Lucian’s shirt, able to lift the man a foot or two in the air. Patrons gawk at the events unfolding, Roman seems shocked.

“Don’t fucking touch Roman’s drink, what the fuck did you put in there you bastard?”

“Dude- that’s my drink. It was a little additive, I can consume alcohol without risk without it! He seemed to be enjoying it so much, I asked for one too, can you please- let me down, you’re hurting me-” Virgil snarls, but drops him anyway. Roman touches Virgil’s shoulder gently.

“He’s right, it’s his drink, Virgil. Thank you for defending me, but really it’s okay-” Roman reassures him, smiling placatingly, and all Virgil can feel is embarrassed. Embarrassed out of his mind and his anxiety is shooting through the roof.

“I-I… I- uh… I-” to make matters worse, another man comes stomping up to him, throws his drink on Virgil. His hoodie is now soaked, his shirt too. Virgil’s lower lip trembles. He grits his jaw against them, holding it in. Despite the fact that he’s made a total fool of himself in front of Roman. Virgil wants to bite his nails, to go home, to run away and never return. This new man points his finger right in Virgil’s face.

“Who the hell do you think you are, grabbing my husband’s shirt like that?” he growls. Virgil wants to hide in his sopping wet hoodie. Hide and never come back.

“I- erm, uh- umm-”

“My friend here is very sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Hey, can I buy the both of you a drink? Tell me how you met,” Roman leads them both away, looking pityingly at Virgil, “How bout you go to the bathroom and clean yourself up a little, huh? I’ll take care of this.”

Virgil ducks his head and runs with his tail between his legs. He throws himself into the surprisingly clean stall and locks it tight before falling down on the seat fully clothed. I can’t believe you did that you fucking idiot you’ll never shape up what were you thinking doing some stupid stunt like that? You’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. There’s no way Roman will ever want you now. Virgil’s panic attack is coming on quickly, like a train hurtling down a track with no end in sight. He doesn’t want it to happen, but he starts to cry.

Usually, Virgil looks to his familiar hoodie for comfort. But his hoodie is soaked, and Virgil is shivering in it. He should take it off. But he doesn’t want to, he just wants to wallow in it and wither away.

You’ll never amount to anything. You should have just stayed inside: no one would have missed you. Roman had to clean up after your mess, you were supposed to be helping and now you’re just rotting in the bathroom like an idiot. Why did you even come, if you’re just going to be a let down?

Virgil’s breath is coming out in uneven gasps, his heart is palpitating dangerously. He really shouldn’t be alone, he should go out and- no, no, no. His skin is too tight, his head is too small, and his hands are pressing bruises into his arms, he is holding them so tight. What is he supposed to do again? When his thoughts get too big for his mind and he feels like fainting, feels like how he was when he was younger and like his heart could just give out any minute and the next time he blinked open his eyes he’d be on a hospital bed.

His hazy, anxiety-filled mind vaguely recalls a conversation he had with Logan once, after he had pulled him back from an attack in the workplace (he mixed up two patients and fell apart in an empty room) that he should… he should ask for help. Call me, he had said, no matter the time. Just call me for help, and I’ll talk it out with you.

Logan is on speedial, Logan, Logan can help- with shaking fingers, Virgil can just make out the emergency phone button on his cell to call Logan.

The ringing of the phone helps station Virgil, stations him better than the pain in his hands. It picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello, Doctor Logan Berry speaking.”

“Logan,” Virgil’s voice sounds so fucking raspy and teary, sounds so horrendously uncertain, “You- you said to call, and- if you’re busy just hang up, it’s fine you don’t have to worry, actually this was a bad idea, I’m going to hang up-”

“You will do no such thing, Virgil. Stay on the line with me. Scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“I- uh, I dunno, probably like- like a seven? I messed everything up, Lo, I- fuck, I can’t do anything right-”

“Well, that is one foul-tempered lie. Let’s calm down first, yes, and then you’ll tell me all about what happened. I’m sure it’s better than it seems,” Janus’s voice, even hindered through the phone, forces Virgil to relax. He had no idea that Janus could hear, but apparently they’re together. His mind recalls lamely that tonight is when they get together to go over payments and make sure everything is in order. A part of him is glad that Janus can hear; He’s like a hypnotist with his voice, a snake. Virgil nods, then another wave of idiocy flows through him because it’s over the phone.

“Okay, Virgil, now exhale through your mouth. I want to hear it through the telephone,” Logan instructs, no nonsense.

Virgil shakily breathes out.

“Good. Now close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose. I’m going to count to four, alright?”

“O-okay,” Virgil complies, breathing it in. Janus counts him off rhythmically over the phone: Logan’s on the right and Janus on the left, and the result is relaxing.

“Hold your breath now for seven seconds. I’ll count for you once more.” Janus-

“Exhale again, for a total of eight seconds. Here we go-” Logan-

“Exceptional work, darling. You’re doing so well. Let’s repeat the process a few more times, how does that sound?” Janus-

Holy hell, do they make a good team.

And just like that, Virgil feels better. His chest eases, his mind soothes, and he’s no longer shaking.

“Thank you, both of you. That was- it was really fucking helpful. I don’t know what would happen if I was here alone,”

“If you don’t mind me asking… where is here?” Logan asks, dry and with no sense of privacy whatsoever.

“I’m at a bar with Roman. He- he invited me, because he wanted backup, and I made a total fool of myself. I got all aggressive on this guy who did nothing wrong,”

“Aha, jealous?” There’s a sound of Janus wrestling the phone from Logan, much to his displeasure, “Just finish this weeks, Berry-” is heard through the phone.

“Maybe… hey, wait a second! Who told you-”

“I’m not blind, Virgil. Nor stupid. Don’t even try that on me. It might work on the nerd, and even Remus and Patton, but unlike them, I’m not clueless,”

Virgil pouts, grunting softly. Is he really that obvious?

“Whatever! And now… I’ve got no chance with him. I don’t know why I even came here, anyone could see that it was a stupid idea.”

“No- well, yes, this was very stupid and most likely going to end in strife, but you still certainly have a chance! Remember, this is Roman we’re talking about: he’s a carousel when it comes to men, always changing.”

“That’s part of the issue, Jan- where am I? I’ll be left behind, and have to watch as he finds a another and another and another-”

“You’re starting to panic again, Virgil. Calm yourself. And I know that won’t happen.”

“How?”

“You’re more perceptive, attentive, and caring than any of those guys will ever be. Roman would be even more of an idiot than either of us could possibly imagine if he were to let you go. Again, I am not blind: I see how good you are with the patients. You are careful and thoughtful. Despite how you might see yourself, Virgil, you are a good person. A wonderful person, who makes mistakes, but always fixes them. You do not leave them behind you. You feel empathy, and guilt, two very humane things, and you remedy your problems. That’s what happened with me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess, I guess you’re right,” Virgil’s blushing again. It’s true, that he doesn't like to leave things unsaid or unfinished: it makes him terribly worried, and the only solution he’s found is confronting them head on. Janus and Virgil had met long ago, when they were both younger: Janus had just started medical practices, and done work for Virgil. It ultimately failed and hurt Virgil more, which sparked deep hatred on Virgil’s side and a continued regret on Janus’s. They eventually reconciled, reuniting later when Virgil started out as a nurse, and everything had become much better.

“Now, get back out there, darling. You’ll do great.”

“...Thanks, Janus,”

“Anytime,” and with that, Janus hangs up the phone to return to Logan. Virgil sighs to himself, and exits the stall: in the mirror, he sees his makeup all ruined. He washes it off, cleans his hoodie (which is relatively drier now) and ends up taking off the damp shirt as well. Thank goodness he’s wearing an undershirt: walking out topless seems hellish, and this only slightly better.

It’s been a while since Virgil has gone anywhere without his hoodie on or makeup. He barely recognizes himself, and he sees this face every morning. But… it’ll be what it’ll be. Checking his phone, Virgil realizes that he’s been in the bathroom for… nearly two hours?

Oh my god, I hope Roman hasn’t left yet- Virgil flies out of the bathroom, holding his damp dress shirt and beloved hoodie in one crooked arm. Scanning the room, he notices Roman sitting at one of the small square tables watching some guy sing “Mad World” somewhat decently. Virgil sighs in relief, and walks over and sits right in front of him.

“Princey, thank god you’re still here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Virgil says, his voice softer than usual from all the crying. Roman looks at him, a smile curving on his features.

“Hello there, you’re- you’re pretty,” Roman slurs slightly mid sentence, and Virgil gapes. Roman is drunk. Very drunk. So drunk, that he doesn’t recognize Virgil without his makeup and hoodie. While Virgil stares openmouthed, Roman reaches over and squeezes his bicep. “Ooh, you’re so strong too! Pretty face, and a hot body-”

“Roman, you seriously don’t recognize me? Honest to god?” Virgil insists. Roman blinks slowly, but there’s no spark. Roman seriously has no idea, Virgil’s a stranger.

He should probably bring him home.

Or… he can start over. Roman won’t remember it anyway: this might be his only chance.

“I think I’d remember such a handsome prince” Roman huffs. Virgil, unsurprisingly, blushes.

“That’s very kind of you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” Virgil purrs.

“Oh- you’re a flirt too! I like you,” Roman smiles widely, “Do you want to get another drink?”

“I think you’ve had enough… do you want to go up and sing instead?” Virgil suggests, scooching closer to Roman. Touching his clothed shoulder, he feels how warm Roman is. Roman snuggles up to Virgil just a tad- he’s over affectionate, and with no filter, and no sense. It’s adorable, and Virgil is glad he got here when he did, because who knows who would take advantage of this cuddly child-like man?

Now he understands why Roman needs a drinking buddy.

“I love singing, I’m very good at it. I like Disney too. Do you like Disney?”

“Yes, I like Disney,” Virgil snorts. They’ve had this debate over and over: the both of them like the franchise, though Virgil sees the darker bits that Roman tends to ignore.

“You wanna- you wanna sing Love is an Open Door with me? I like that song, it’s a good song-” Roman rambles, looking excited. Virgil hates public speaking, let alone public speaking, but… he doesn’t know anyone here, what’s the issue?

“That sounds good. Let’s go sign up, shall we?” Virgil suggests, Roman excitedly clinging to Virgil’s arm.

“You’re so cold, it’s so nice,” Roman murmurs, rubbing his face on Virgil’s bare shoulder. Virgil can’t help but smile: his heart is beating fast, but in a fantastic way. Vincent doubletakes as they make it to the bar.

“Hey you two- heading home? Ro looks pretty slammed…”

“I’ll take him home in a bit. He wants to do one more song,” Virgil explains. Roman giggles, and Virgil’s heart does another flip. His smile widens.

“Ah, sorry folks- Roman can’t do another one. He’s already exhausted the limit of five: you should have heard him sing some of those. An undercover celebrity, he is,” Vincent reaches over and mussies Roman’s hair, to which Virgil slaps his hand away.

“Princey, did you hear? You can’t sing another one,” Virgil tells him, his voice still soft.

“Aww, really? I wanna- I wanna sing some ‘ore,” Roman pouts, his lower lips trembling. Virgil kisses his cheek, just a peck really, that’s all he can manage without exploding. Roman turns on a dime, sadness morphing to elation all at once. He leans in for another, to which Virgil declines, pushing him away with a palm.

“Hey, how about I sing a song for you, huh? How does that sound?” Virgil asks, nervous beyond anything at singing in front of all these people, but Roman seems so ecstatic at the thought that Virgil knows he’ll be going through with it.

“You sing? But you just-” gawks Vincent. Virgil glares at him.

“Don’t act so surprised. And yes, I do. Just didn’t feel like saying it. Totally. When do I go up?”

“After this guy,” Vincent points at the person going on stage, and Virgil steels himself for this experience. It’s okay, you’re the only one who’ll remember. It’ll be fine. Virgil starts walking closer to the stage, Roman hanging on him still. “Hey, dude, are you going to tell me what you’re singing? I’ll set it up for you,”

“I got it. We’re good, right Princey?”

“I’m so good, I’m the best, you’re so nice, gonna sing a song for me-” Roman rambles. Virgil shakes his head good-humoredly, adoring this side of him. Not suave or fanciful at all: only cute. They come to a table right by the stage, miraculously empty and clean.

“Okay, Ro, you wanna sit here and watch?” Roman smiles, nodding quickly, and plops down in one of the chairs. Virgil goes beside him, fanning his confidence by reaching for his large hand. Just like in the car, Roman takes it and squeezes.

“I’m so moved, you’re going to sing something for me! So romantic!” Roman gushes. Virgil blushes, rubbing his thumb on Roman’s sun-kissed hand.

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking. Or any of this stuff… but you’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter. I really really like you, Roman. I’ve known you for a while, so it wasn’t all at once, but you tease me with all of your flirty winks and tell me about how much you get around and today, calling me pretty- you’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice. You never do, and- Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend. I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that. You like- you like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that. Except for today, when I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing. It’ll just be for me. Just for me to remember, for you to enjoy now. You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me. Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Virgil tells him, under the lights and despite the singing in the background. Roman blinks a few times, not understanding.

“I- uhm… I don’t understand, whadda ya mean?” Roman squints at him. Virgil sighs, presses their foreheads together and gets up.

“Doesn’t matter. I only want to say… whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s my turn to go,” and Virgil pulls away, waving slightly to the confused man, and hunches his shoulders to make him look small as he walks to the center of the stage. Scrolling through the music (it operates sort of like a karaoke machine), Virgil selects a song he knows.

Virgil doesn’t particularly like his singing voice: his mother loves it, would sing along with him during Nightmare Before Christmas, and told him it was very nice. It’s kind of low, gentle, and the words flow into the next.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through… you’re barely waking, and I’m tangled up in you,” Virgil sings quietly. It’s awkward, and he can’t look out into the audience at all, and he hears them ignore him. He takes a deep breath, and continues. “I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again,”

People are starting to notice Virgil, as his voice rises, and it’s frightening but also exhilarating. He refuses to make eye-contact with them, unlike Roman who always does, and speaking of him- it’s very clear that Roman’s watching, enraptured. Virgil can practically feel it.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme- Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I, collide,” Someone in the crowd whistles, causing Virgil to struggle a bit, but he picks it up right after. He’s imagining that it’s only him and Missy and- Roman. Virgil glances up at Roman barely: he’s awestruck, and it fills Virgil’s heart with glee.

“I’m quiet you know.You make a first impression. But I’ve found I’m scared to know you’re always on my mind,” Virgil messes up the lyrics a bit, but no one notices at all. They’re cheering him on, listening attentively- it helps him go on, return his gaze to the floor.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine, out of the back you fall in time, somehow find, you and I- collide,” Virgil’s voice is still quiet: even as his confidence rises, he can’t seem to raise it at all.

“Don’t stop here. I’ve lost my place. I’m close behind,” Virgil used to sing this song with his parents, when he was young: his mother and father would sing and dance with him. It has sentimental value, it reminds him of childhood and pain and love and survival. They used to sing it to him, comforting him with the words. He knows every one.

“Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find that you and I collide. Finally find that you and I collide. You finally find you and I collide,” the music plays for a while longer, with Virgil humming along rhythmically. When it finally fades out, Virgil scurries off the stage to thunderous applause. It is way too much attention, all at once. On his way, he grabs Roman’s sleeve, dragging him out as people fawn. As they rapidly exit, Vincent calls out from the bar.

“Hey, grump- I don’t sing, my ass! You sing gorgeous! Come back anytime, with or without Roman!” Virgil glares at him, and then he’s out into the parking lot.

“Phew- that was- oh my god, that was exhilarating. Roman? What did… what did you mmfp-” Virgil was smiling until he was cut off by Roman’s lips on his. Virgil moans into it: it’s more decadent than he could have ever imagined. Roman’s lips are deceptively soft and taste like strawberries. He finally moves back for air, and Virgil leans against the car, holding his mouth. Did… did that just happen? It takes a second to register that a) Roman kissed him, and b) that it doesn’t matter because he’s not in his right mind. It’s worth nothing beyond right now… but it means so so much. Virgil will remember this for the rest of his godforsaken life.

“Ro-Roman, what was that for?” Virgil murmurs, touching his lips addictively.

“You’re the kindest guy I’ve ever met. God, I want to take you home. Handsome, and sweet, and caring and a voice of an angel. I wish I met you forever ago,” Roman says, approaching closer to Virgil until he’s pressed up against the car and can feel Roman’s warmth, “Fuck… I don’t even know your name, but you’re… you’re magic,”

“You’re making me seem better than I am, really,” Virgil flushes, feeling all sorts of fuzzy feelings. Roman chuckles, coming in closer to lean his head on Virgil’s shoulders.

“I don’t… I don’t think I am, beautiful… I just- I don’t want to go home alone tonight. I’m so freaking lonely, all the goddamn time. So lonely… it’s only me, and no one really cares, when it comes down to it,” Roman sighs, on the verge of tears. Virgil is dumbfounded: who would have thought? Roman, the Prince of Theatre, who sings songs to children and flirts easily, and never is by himself because he’s a magnet for conversation… is lonely.

“Maybe we can be lonely together,” Virgil whispers aloud, meaning it to be internal but slipping out anyway.

“Can… can we?” Roman pleads, “Please?” Virgil exhales: he’s so cute. Remember though- he’s not going to recall any of this. It hurts, all of a sudden, that Virgil is at once Roman’s world and at the same time an illusion.

“Alright, alright. We’ll see,” Virgil smiles at him. Roman leans down for another kiss, and now Virgil lets him. What’s the harm? I’m the only one who will hurt. I can take it. “I should take you home now, huh? You can’t drive, you’re drunk,”

“Pfft- I am not-”

“You are,” Virgil rolls his eyes, unlocking his car, “Now get in.” Roman shuffles his feet around. Virgil glares.

“In the car, Princey, you have to go home now,” he demands. Roman frowns, looks away stubbornly. And, just like a puppy, he’s adorable but persistent as all hell. Roman murmurs something under his breath, inaudible. Glancing at him kinder, Virgil asks him to speak up.

“I don’t wanna go home, I wanna stay with you,” Roman mumbles, slightly louder. And, Virgil is struck right in the heart. My god, is it even legal to be that cute? Virgil sighs: he should bring Roman to his house, that’s what he had asked before he was intoxicated, and he definitely can’t take advantage of him, but… those eyes are begging for him to stay with him. He can’t refuse.

“Okay, okay, you win. It’s going to be impossible to explain this to you in the morning, but whatever! I’ll drive you to my house,” Virgil agrees, and the look of pure elation on Roman’s face is more than reward enough. Though Virgil has to help Roman’s wobby body into the passenger seat and buckle him up, he can’t stop smiling.

Even as he starts the car to drive it home.

Even as Roman says he’s going to be sick.

Even as he has to rush Roman upstairs to his apartment before he pukes all over the place, Virgil is happy.

Roman hugs Virgil’s middle after he cleans him up. Missy and Roman get along swimmingly, Virgil offering to let him hold her, and Roman enraptured by her. He’s enthralled by Virgil lending him a toothbrush, seemingly blessed by the offering of a piece of toast to calm his stomach at the small kitchen bar. Roman stares at it, sitting on one of the stools.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he wonders. Virgil frowns. Are people usually unkind to you?

“This is normal, Princey. People are supposed to look out for one another,”

“Oh. Yeah,” Roman says to himself. Virgil can’t hold back from reaching over and kissing his forehead.

“Anytime you need, I’ll be nice to you. I don’t mean to be so prickly: it’s a defense mechanism. You only have to tell me you’d like some care, and I’ll give you everything,” Virgil tells him. This charming man, he hiccups and his eyes water as he blubbers. Virgil is good with a lot of things: crying crushes are not one of them. “Hey, no crying, don’t cry! Let’s go to bed, huh? Yeah, that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Roman makes a pitiful little nod, and Virgil leads him to the bedroom. There’s only one… so either they share, or Virgil’s going to the couch. So, he tucks Roman into the warm black duvet and brushes his forehead as a way of good night. As he goes to leave, Roman grabs onto his arm.

“Stay with me? Please?”

“Ro, I don’t- I don’t think this is a good idea, buddy. No, it’s really not a good idea,” his heartbeat is picking up again, and Virgil bites his lip nervously. Roman ignores it, pulls his hand to kiss it.

“Stay with me, princess,” he purrs. Are you trying to kill me? Roman’s too attractive, too flirtatious. And Virgil’s too head over heels to say no. And that’s how he finds himself sharing his bed with Roman King.

Who fell asleep almost immediately, and snuggled up right into Virgil’s side. So close, that there is a permanent blush on Virgil’s face and his breath on his neck. Okay, this is not going to work. I’m never going to get to sleep if this goes on. Fuck.

Virgil shuffles away, attempting to get out of bed and go sleep on the couch, but Roman slings and arm over him and growls “Stay”.

Well, can’t argue with that, now can I?

~~~~~~

When morning filters through the window, Roman blinks awake. Jiminy Cricket, does his head hurt. Ugh, what happened last night? This isn’t his bed: it’s not colourful at all, all blacks and purples. For goodness sakes, the curtains that are blocking most of the sun have spiders on it. Roman rubs his eyes: did he go home with someone? He must’ve. But who? Roman can’t really recall: he doesn’t remember talking to anyone. After Virgil ran out to the bathroom, Roman just wanted to drink and be alone. Anyone who approached him was turned away instantly by one of his cold stares.

He couldn’t help but feel as though it was sort of his fault: he said he’d be with him. That Roman would leave Virgil alone. And yet… he was in the bathroom for two hours, and not once did Roman gather the courage to go and check on him. And then what? Then he went to some strangers home and left Virgil?

What kind of asshole would do that to someone? Virgil, despite how he acts, is amazingly perceptive. He can tell when something is wrong, it’s why he’s so good as a nurse… he’s just genuinely a good person. And Roman left him?

He can’t imagine he’d do that to the emo, even drunk. He wouldn’t be able to forget Virgil, would he?

No, he really has no clue.

Think, Roman, think- he presses his hands to his pounding head, as if it would squeeze out a memory. All that happens is scraps of a song. Oh great, not only do I have no idea where I am but now there’s a song stuck in my head. Wonderful.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme-” he murmurs under his breath. Then an image follows right after: a man, holding onto the microphone at the bar, singing the words so soft, so sweetly. It makes his heart pang, it’s so lovely. Is that the guy I went home with? Roman thinks to himself. He focuses harder on the memory. The man, he looks up shyly, nervously, and meets eyes with Roman.

God, he’s fucking beautiful. Love at first sight? Maybe not, but whatever this is, it’s as close to that as it could possibly be. It makes Roman feel all warm and bubbly inside. He bites his lip and looks at the ceiling of this stranger’s bed. Things come back in bits and pieces all out of order; kissing that man by a car, his car- that man laughing at him as he gawks at his, what is that, a spider?- the man sitting at a table in the bar right next to him, letting him nuzzle his shoulder (embarrassing, it makes Roman blush he was so mushy)- a kiss to his forehead to calm him, wiping away drunken tears ever so gently. His hands felt baby-soft, despite the obvious muscular frame he sported.

Who is he…?

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking…” in his mind, this man’s voice follows: it’s soft, muted a touch. Focus now, Roman, you’ve almost got it-

“You’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter…” Of course it matters! I’m not a blackout drunk! Roman wants to scream.

“I really really like you, Roman,” his voice, saying such kind words, is like what he’d imagine an angel would sound like. Or some sweet interaction that only comes between A-List celebrities in a scripted movie.

“I’ve known you for a while…” Okay, finally, getting somewhere. He knows him? Does he do tech at the theatre or something? It’s a possibility.

“You’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice…” Well, that’s harsh. Kind makes him feel guilty: this gorgeous meal of a man was lusting over him, and he didn’t even notice? What kind of idiot-

“Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend…” So he knows the snakey doctor. That can either be very good or very bad: is this fellow a sleazeball? No, Roman assures himself blushing heavily, He’s too sweet to do that. Too kind and loving. Did you see him sing that song? Just for you too- and he looked so nervous! Precious!!

“I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that…” Roman wants to pull his hair out. Did Roman say or do something wrong? Did he ruin his chances with this Adonis, because if he did, he’ll be furious.

“You like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that,” I don’t care! I don’t care about any of that! I just want someone to hold my hand and not treat me like shit! Just a sweet cute guy!

“I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing,” Ah, sorry to break it to you, but hey, I’m remembering! And I’m going to track you down!

“You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me…” he sounds melancholy, so very sad, and Roman wants to hold him. Hold him and kiss the top of his head and make him feel better. This person, he doesn’t deserve to be ignored. Why was Roman ever-

“Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Roman’s mouth runs dry. Virgil? Virgil. He- the man he went with- Virgil. Virgil was singing to him, with that angelic voice, Virgil drove him to his house because he didn’t want to leave him alone and every other little wonderful thing, the forehead kisses and the smiles and the hands- oh my stars, I am an imbecile.

How didn’t he notice? How Virgil would bite back at him whenever he flirted with him teasingly, how Virgil wilted whenever Roman talked about his relationships, how careful and thoughtful he was with every move, hell, he even agreed to go out to the bar with him to find some other guy because he was worried for Roman’s safety.

How was I so blind that I missed the perfect man right in front of my eyes?

And this… this must be Virgil’s house. It’s… very Virgil. Is that a Nightmare Before Christmas poster? Yes, it is- how wonderful. How him.

How didn’t Roman notice? It’s that classic blunder, unseeing of the person right in front of him. How did he not see how romantic Virgil is? Little gestures, smart moves, kindness. Thoughtful. He had said that he wasn’t a romantic, but by Jove- he’s sweet. His mind can’t stop repeating Virgil’s soft singing and his gentleness. God, it’s so beautiful it’s painful. He should tell him to go without makeup more often. And a shirt. Yes, without a shirt sounds good. Undercover buff, much?

His mind swirls with the knowledge of Virgil.

Oh shit- how is he going to face Virgil now? He’s in his house, he’s most likely in the living room: should he just pretend like he doesn’t remember?

Roman’s a good actor, he could pull it off: but Virgil would still be wanting and lonesome. And Roman would know, and that hurts. He won’t do that to him, not anymore.

He should just come out, say that he remembers and... ask him out on a date. A proper one. They both have the day off today, it could be now!

They’d do Virgil things, things that make the emo happy, maybe a zoo or watch movies or coffee shops or whatever. And... Roman will hold his hand, hold him, and hold him and hold him. Yes, yes, this is good.

Roman wishes he had more time to plan. Time to get flowers, or chocolates or anything, really. Wait, you don’t even know if he’ll say yes! Maybe he’s so embarrassed by the whole interaction that-

Wait.

Is that pancakes?

Roman sniffs at the air: yes, it is. Blueberry ones, at that. And coffee. His stomach rumbles, and hunger is enough to spur him out of bed. His legs are wobbly, and his head is swimming, but he makes it out of the room eventually.

“Oh hey, Princey, finally decide to wake from your endless slumber, huh?” Virgil teases. His makeup has returned, as usual. He’s wearing another hoodie, a black one, and it’s hanging off his shoulders as he flips pancakes. Roman’s mouth runs dry. “Also, umm, sorry about not taking you to your apartment. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh... it’s fine,” Roman sounds odd, even to himself, and Virgil gives him a skeptical look. “Heh, anyone who makes me good morning pancakes is alright in my book!”

Virgil snorts, and pushes a plate over the kitchen bar for Roman to sit and eat.

“How’s your head? What do you- you know, never mind,” Virgil ducks his head into the fridge to receive some maple syrup, “You like it warmed?”

“Uh... if it isn’t an issue,” Virgil casts another weird look to Roman: is he being too nice? Roman can’t help it, how could he be rude? He puts his syrup in the microwave, with the long pale fingers.

“I uh- Virgil,” Roman starts, more nervous than anything, “Oh fuck, this is hard but- I uh-”

“You’re making me worried, Princey, spit it out or shut up and eat my food,” Virgil glares. Roman gulps. It’s like a bandaid, rip it off, come on, just spit it out-

“I REMEMBER! I remember everything, I always do after I’m drunk, it’s why I get a buddy, because I always remember in the morning and I hate what I’m like when I’m intoxicated, because I always remember, I think I’ve said that a few times- uh, Virgil, are you okay?” Roman finally looks up at Virgil- or rather down, as the man has crumpled to the floor in a heap. Has he fainted? Roman gets up and squats next to him.

“Virgil?” he whispers into his ear, poking at him. Virgil jolts up, narrowly missing a collision with Roman’s head as he sits up straight. He groans, and puts his head in his hands to try and hide his full-faced blush.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot, oh my god, I’ve made a total fool of myself- oh god, please just leave me alone to die, Roman, just go,” he yells. Roman chuckles, and peels Virgil’s hands from his face. He seems about to cry, moisture glistening at his eyes. Roman’s heart can’t take it: he thinks he looks foolish? No, never.

Roman kisses the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not an idiot, you’re most certainly not a fool. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before at the office. I’m the only idiot between the two of us, because I didn’t see how wonderful you were until you had to be blatant about it. I’m so very sorry, and in your debt. I feel silly to even try and ask, but would you… perchance, want a real date? One where I’m not flirting with other people- only with you, you Incredible Sulk,” Roman consoles Virgil pulling him into an embrace.

“Really?” Virgil asks.

“Honestly,”

“Then yeah, yeah, that sounds okay. I uh… I don’t do a whole lot so-” Roman cuts Virgil off by pressing his finger to his lips. Virgil raises his eyebrows.

“How’s right this second sound?”

“Yeah- uhm, that works for me-”

“Fantastic! And I believe your pancakes are burning,” Roman notes, laughing as Virgil shoots up cursing colourfully as he discards a very black pancake. Even as the man squawks and yells and forces Roman back into his seat, he can’t help but feel fulfilled. After the pancake fiasco is remedied, Virgil breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Roman.

“Sorry about that, Princey,”

“Hey, it’s no problem for me! Kind of entertaining, actually,” Roman snickers, earning him a slap upside the head. And then, just to push Virgil’s buttons, he snakes his hand through his dark locks and kisses him deeply over the counter. It’s a knee-shaking kiss, a heart-stopper, a signature Roman smooch. One he should’ve given Virgil last night, but was too drunk to make happen. It seems like Virgil likes it too, if the noises are any indication. Virgil is the first to pull back for air, and presses his chest, gasping.

“Oh my goodness, was that too much? Are you okay, Virgil?” Roman frets. Virgil, he recalls, has some sort of horrible cocktail of medical issues. Most he’s grown out of, but the effects still linger.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s cool. Hah, my heart’s still beating. It’s stopped once before, and I have a defibrillator in my room but- I’m okay. I guess that just means I’m fragile, right? Gotta be careful with my heart, both ways, alright?” A still beating heart. How romantic, how delightful.

“Now you must stay with me, so I can restart your heart whenever it’s required!” Roman announces. Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs, despite his small smile, then returns to finishing off the end of his pancake batter. Roman pokes his bicep, his deceptively strong bicep, to pester him into an answer. Virgil catches it, squeezes.

“Hey! My heart’s still beating, you’re going to have to try harder,” he teases. It has to be the most lovely seductive challenge he’s ever been issued. And you said you weren’t a romantic.

His heart still beats, and it beats just as hard for Roman as the other way around.

How positively lovely.

~~~~

And from that day on, the entire pediatric office would all go out once a month to a particular bar’s karaoke night, and Roman and Virgil would sing many songs but always one. They always sang one at the end, and it was so beautiful that people cry every time. It’s longing and love and acceptance.

They like to hold hands while they do it, perhaps to show off their relationship… or maybe just the matching rings that adorn their fingers.

~~~~~

The End! Thanks for reading!

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mycatshuman · 4 years

Text

Castle of Devils

Wingmen and Blood Suppliers

Warnings: Remus being Remus, talk of blood, let me know if I missed any?

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Roman wasn't sure what he expected when he had asked his brother to help him vanquish a villainous vampire, but he most certainly did not expect to be sitting outside of the very house he had helped the vampire buy with his brother and two pairs of binoculars and a bag of snacks. Remus claimed the stakeout was vital to defeating the vampire but Roman couldn't be so sure. It seemed incredibly dangerous to him that they were just sitting outside hiding in the trees by the house mere feet from the closest window. "Is this really such a smart idea?" Roman asked for the tenth time that night. "What if it catches us?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "First, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't like being called "it". Second, relax. Sit back and watch. We might find an unknown weakness or some shit." Then Remus grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into his mouth and began chewing loudly.

Roman's nose wrinkled in disgust and he moved a little bit away before huffing and resigning himself to being stuck looking through the window of the house with binoculars like some kind of creep. But his brother said it might reveal an unknown weakness and Roman couldn't really argue about that. The first thing Roman saw when he looked inside the house was a cat lounging lazily in the window. A small smile stretched across Roman's face and he let out a quiet 'aww'. The second thing he saw was Virgil curled up on a couch, his face lit up by the light of what must have been a TV. He has a big fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he was holding what looked to be a bowl of popcorn. Roman soon noticed another cat wrapped around Virgil's neck and even once in a while, Virgil would reach up and scratch the cats' head before returning to his popcorn. Roman felt his heart melt a little at the interaction.

Before Roman could remember that Virgil was a vampire and therefore a monster in his eyes, a semi-transparent face popped up in the window and seemed to glare at him and his brother. Roman let out a quick and quiet yelp as the thing pushed through the wall and rushed at them. Roman grabbed his shit, turned tail and ran for his life. He heard a rustling behind him a shot a glance over his shoulder to see his brother following him while cackling gleefully. Roman groaned and just kept running until he made it to the car and leapt inside and locked the doors as he waited for his brother to catch up.

When Remus caught up with him, he quickly pushed the door open and yanked his brother inside before slamming the door shut and locking it. "Damnit!" Roman exclaimed.

Remus snickered. "Looks like vampy has got themselves a guard ghost."

Roman groaned. "Come on, let's get out of here."

The two left, neither aware of the glaring spirit watching them drive away with a scowl.

--------

"What's wrong with you?" Virgil asked as Janus reappeared beside him on the couch with his arms crossed.

"I just saw Roman with who I'm guessing was his twin."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"They were spying on you trying to find a weakness."

Virgil turned to the door wistfully. "Wait, come back! Please, I'll tell you anything you need to know."

"Virgil," Janus scolded.

Virgil laughed lightly. "It was a joke Janus, lighten up." Janus stayed silent. Virgil sighed. "Why are you so mad about this?"

Janus huffed. "Because! He's being an idiot! I just don't understand why he is so dead set on hurting you when I know for a fact that he likes you!"

Virgil snorted. "Dead set, huh?"

Janus scowled. "You know the pun wasn't intended." The ghost and vampire stayed silent for a few moments before Janus let out his anger with a sigh. "It's just-" he started off, his voice softer. "You deserve to be happy, you deserve a chance to be happy, but he's not even letting you have a chance. I mean, he lived with you for a month and I don't get why he hasn't realized that you haven't once tried to sink your teeth into him. You may be a vampire but that doesn't mean you aren't a good person."

Virgil bit his lip as he considered his friend's words. "I see what you're saying, Janus, but I don't exactly blame him. I mean, I'm essentially sucking the life out of people when I take their blood. Maybe he wasn't as happy as I thought he was. Maybe he was just being polite."

Janus groaned. "Virgil, come on! He said he fell in love with you! Remember?"

"He also said I was a life-drainer," Virgil pointed out.

Janus groaned and pulled at his hair. "You're impossible!" Virgil shrugged and went back to watching tv.

--------

Remus snuck out of his brother's home and back to the house with the vampire and ghost. "Psst! Ghostie! Hot Ghost! Come out, come out wherever you are." The ghost popped out in front of him. Remus yelped and fell back on his ass. "Looks like I've fallen for you," he purred flirtatiously.

Janus blinked in confusion. "What?"

Remus chuckled as he stood up. "I'm flirting with you, Valak."

Janus recoiled.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "You know, the Nun from the Conjuring movies?"

Janus leveled Remus with a dead stare. "You've got to be kidding me. I've been a ghost for hundreds of years, I'm not exactly up to date on all the recent things or whatever."

Remus laughed. "I heard from my brother that he had a movie marathon with Virgil and they watched the Conjuring universe and that Virgil had said they were some of his favorite movies. So I know for a fact that you would have had to of happened upon Virgil watching them at some point."

Janus raised an eyebrow. "First, Virgil and I didn't forgive each other until after Roman left. Second, so Roman seems to remember the little things about Virgil?"

Remus nodded his head. "Yeah! Roman is trying to convince himself that Virgil's nothing but a monster and that he has to kill him. And I know that he really likes Virgil but he doesn't want to accept it. He doesn't let himself think about Virgil. He only thinks about what he is. But I'm playing wingman! Imma help my brother fuck a vampire!" Remus snickered excitedly.

Janus stared at the man in disbelief. "I-what?"

"You seem like you want to help? So, what do ya say?"

"I just want Virgil to be happy. And Roman made him happy."

"Yes! Let's go! I don't know how we're gonna do it yet but oh boy is there gonna be some sexual tension!"

---------

As Janus reentered the house after his encounter with the weird little man known as Remus, he found himself slightly confused with the interaction. Remus was a little...unsettling. He dressed as if he had no sense of style and seemed to vibrate with a weird energy. He was kind of attractive, but Janus was a ghost so there was no hope there.

He found it interesting that Remus was acting as a sort of wingman for his brother. It was also interesting that Roman was trying to ignore his feelings for Virgil. And he was focusing on the fact that Virgil was a vampire. Distancing himself from him and dehumanizing him. Janus had to wonder if this black and white thinking was due in part to media portrayals of vampires. He would have to look more into this the next time Virgil left his laptop open.

---------

Virgil sat on his bed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. Once opened, he clicked on a small black icon with no descriptions or details. A dark grey screen popped up with a search bar in the middle. Virgil quickly typed in his inquiry into the search bar. Local blood suppliers. Soon, Virgil had the results of his search. He scrolled for a bit before finding one that looked trustworthy. He clicked the link and inspected the website a bit before deciding that this was actually a real supplier.

Virgil contacted the dealer and began to arrange and order and pick up.

"Finally breaking that hunger strike I see."

Virgil's eyes shot over to the doorway as he noticed Janus lingering there. "Shut up," he snapped lightly.

Janus floated over to Virgil. "Thank you," He said quietly. Virgil inclined his head slightly in response. "Do you think I could use your laptop when you go to pick up the order?" He asked as he settled on the bed beside Virgil.

"Why?" The vampire asked as he shot a suspicious glance at the ghost.

"Because I want to look up some stuff."

Virgil inspected Janus for a few seconds more before relenting. "Fine. But I better not find some weird ghost porn or some shit next time I go to open my laptop," Virgil snickered.

Janus snorted. "As if."

Virgil laughed and stood up from the bed. "Alright, I'm gonna get going. I should only be an hour."

Janus nodded. "Have fun." Virgil waved before leaving. Janus sighed and moved in front of the laptop before beginning to manipulating the energy emitting from the laptop to type. He was so lucky that Virgil left the laptop plugged in.

-------

Virgil slowly walked through town until he found the abandoned gas station sitting desolate on the edge of the town. He paused behind a tree for a few moments to listen to the sounds of tree the area. It was relatively quiet aside from the animals and bugs. He heard shifting and a voice from inside the gas station and bit his lip. That must be the person I ordered from. Virgil wished he didn't have to meet someone new but, he supposed it was the best way to get his supply. He almost half wished he could have brought his supplier from Transylvania with him. But even then, he wasn't that close with them either since he did find occasional people who were more monster in personality than him.

Virgil took a deep breath and swiftly made his way into the gas station before making his presence known to the person standing next to a box of his order. "Hi," he said softly.

The person turned around with a bright smile. "Hi! I'm Patton!"

Virgil blinked. "I've never heard of a human helping vampires like this," he commented.

Patton giggled. "Yeah, I know. I just work in a blood bank and since I found out about vampires from a friend of mine. I started helping them out and eventually I made a small side business out of it to help other vampires in the area." Patton laughed. "It helps that I'm the blood bank manager. We even have people come in to specifically give blood for their friends or family. It helps keep things less messy."

"Wow," Virgil breathed, awed. "I didn't realize that people would react to vampires like that."

"Like what?" Patton asked, confused.

"Never mind."

Patton smiled slightly before pushing the box over to Virgil. "Here you go!" He exclaimed brightly.

"Thank you," Virgil said as he handed over the money.

Patton waved his hands at the walls. "Doesn't it look so nice?" He asked. "I'm planning on fixing this building up and make it the official blood bank for vampires."

Virgil frowned. "What if humans come across it?"

Patton frowned. "Well, that's what I'll have my husband help out with once I actually tell him that vampires exist." Patton laughed good-naturedly. "Oh you should have seen him when our friend tried to tell him that he had been living with a vampire for a few months." Virgil stiffened and paid adept attention as Patton continued on with his story. "Logan, that's my husband's name, stared at Roman like he had grown two extra heads." Patton giggled. He turned back to Virgil only to freeze. "Kiddo?"

Virgil blinked out of his frozen state. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Patton smiled sympathetically. "It's okay."

"I'll, uh, I'll let you know when I need more," Virgil replied before picking up his order and leaving.

Patton waved. "Bye!" It wasn't until a minute later that Patton realized he had never gotten the other's name. "Oh fiddlesticks!" He exclaimed. He frowned. "I'll just have to ask next time." And with that, he took one last look back at the empty gas station before leaving to get into his car and drive home. He wondered if he should tell Logan soon. Then they could fix up the building together. And maybe even Roman could help once he worked out his issues. And maybe that vampire he just met. It would be so fun to have his newest adopted child help out and be a part of the family! Patton drove home happily.

--------

Castle of Devils Taglist: @kittycake574 @rainbow-Roman @icequeenoriginal @ilovemygaydad @comicsimpson @notalwaysthebadguy @iloveyatothemoonandback

Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws @odette-ssbu

#castle of devils #no read more #mycatshuman fics #vampire virgil #remus sanders #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #sander sides fan fic #sanders sides patton #patton sanders #ts patton #ts janus #janus sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus

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footballffbarbiex · 4 years

Note

How about a cute Trent one where like he falls for the barista at Melwood and she’s new so he just goes to get coffee every day to settle her in and all the boys can see the difference and it’s just fluffy and gorgeous just like him ☕️

Sorry this took so long, I got watching a tv show and ended up bawling my eyes out.

____

“Going for another coffee Trent?” Alex shouts out, prompting him to lift his hand and flip him the finger as he walks towards the restaurant. “You’ll be shitting like mad mate.” He cackles but Trent continues walking down the hallway and ignores the jibes thrown his way.

He hasn’t seen her today, he’s not even sure if she’s on shift but he hopes she is. For three weeks, Trent has visited and tried his charm with her. She’s smiled, laughed politely at his jokes and held his eye contact as she flashed her grin at him. At first, he was polite and asked how she found working here.

“Yeah and if anyone gives you any trouble, tell him and he’ll sort them out.” Virgil had draped his arm over Trent’s shoulders and acted as his wingman momentarily.

He’d seen the way she’d softened, her expression would brighten as he approached and the way her eyes seem to light up. Trent would hang around for as long as he possibly could just to speak to her, accepting any nugget of information that she threw his way, eager to learn more about her.

“Turn around Arnold. She’s not in.” Maxine shouts to him the moment he steps foot inside.

“You said that last time and she was. You’d just hidden her out the back.”

“You distract her too much.”

“She distracts me too much.” He scowls at her as he argues his point.

“Maybe I should let her go then...” The manager says as she wipes down the worktop and Trent narrows his eyes at her.

“And take away the best part of my morning? You cruel woman.”

“You can’t have both my boy.” The staff room door swings open and she appears, her arms filled with boxes of serviettes and sauce refills.

“Hi.” Trent grins and Maxine shakes her head as she watches him revert to being a lovestruck fool. “Want some help?” He asks, but he’s already in front of her, taking the boxes from her and walking where she goes.

“How’ve you been?” She asks, grinning up at him as she begins to take the bits she needs.

“I’m not paying him a wage for helping,” Maxine shouts over to them both, a grin spreading across her face.

“Bet you’ll pay me to leave though.” Trent quips back, raising his eyebrow at her which makes her laugh harder. “I’m good thanks, how’ve you been?”

“I can’t complain. You don’t want a drink today?” She asks, her eyes flickering to the big clock on the wall. “You’re pushing it for time today.”

“I’m starting to think no one wants me around in here.”

“She might not,” she jerks a thumb in Maxine’s direction who busies herself cleaning, “but I like having you around.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.” She plays it down, pretends like it’s nothing but Trent sees the small smile that threatens to spread over her lips properly and the hint of a blush that colours her cheeks.

“I like seeing you too. I don’t want you in trouble though Trent, you shouldn’t be here.” She tells him and turns to look at him properly. She opens her mouth to say something else but closes it quickly, deciding against it.

“You can say it.”

“I wouldn’t mind speaking with you after my shift is over. Unless you don’t want to? I’d understand if you didn’t.” She quickly adds and shakes her head as she frowns, an expression he’s come to know to mean she’s also scolding herself internally for saying it.

“I’ll come by after training. I promise.” He grins and taps the boxes he’d put down. “You better be nice to her Max, I’m looking at you.”

“For you Trent? Anything.” She calls back and with one last glance back at her, he heads back to training.

#trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold drabble #football one shot #football imagine #football blurb #football drabble #Anonymous

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venusdeservedbetter · 4 years

Text

Miraculous Defenders - 8

1 // 7 // 9

Nothing screams Valentines Day like a villain who forces people to fall in love.

------------

Marinette was standing in the park waiting for her friend to arrive, with non-magical butterflies in her stomach. With what was being planned, it makes sense. As she was contemplating this, Nino finally arrived, carrying two ice creams. He handed her the caramel one - her favorite, cool, he still remembered - and the two sat down. “Sorry it took so long, dude. You wouldn’t believe how long the lines were.”

“It’s no big deal, I’m just glad we got this chance to hang out.” Especially with all the testing, homework, Akuma battles, and meetings with Max getting in the way.

“So am I, it’s been ages since we last hung out together.” He then took a small lick of his ice cream - mocha, by the looks of it. It always struck her as an odd choice, seeing as how laid back he was, but whatever. He then asked her, “Sooo, what made you call me here out of the blue?”

Ah, of course he would ask that. How should she answer that? ‘Oh, remember that kid who went missing a few weeks ago? Well, turns out he found weird stuff at his internship, so now the Agreste is hunting him down. Also, they were dealing in weird magic stuff, and are using it for evil. So now Max is creating a team of heroes to challenge them, and he thinks you would make a great addition.’

...Well, knowing Nino, he would totally be down for kicking Gabriel’s ass. He never did like his type.

Before she could get the chance to respond, a winged figure flew above them. He was wearing the traditional Cupid-style tunic, dyed magenta. He had large crimson wings, and had an Akuma over his heart. ‘Should I be mad for him interrupting our talk, or glad he gave me some time to actually come up with something? Eh, I’ll figure it out later.’

“My name is Wingman. My bro didn’t appreciate all the hard work I put in trying to get him together with his crush, so I made him appreciate it.” Once he finished his speech, she started shooting his feathers (Falcon-style) at the people around him. The minute they hit, the target falls in love with the first person they see. ‘That’s gross’

Then the villain set his sights on both Nino and Mari. “Oh, you two look cute together!”

Before the Akuma could launch his attack, Marinette pulled her friend to safety. ‘Huh, deja vu.’ Then the two made a run for it.

------------

The two continued running through the city, dodging his attacks whenever possible. All around them, citizens fell under the affects of his projectiles. Mari couldn’t help but feel guilty, as this will be hard for them to explain to their partners.

After a bit, Marinette broke off from Nino. “Keep running, I’ll see if I can get some help!” Ducking in an alley, Mari pulled out her Gear.

Tikki then appeared next to her. “Are you ready, Marinette?”

“Of course!” Marinette then pressed the button on her Gear. Confirmed. Ready?

“Let’s do this!” Her belt then appeared around her waist.

Opening Magical Circuit. Tikki then flew into the device.

“Transform Me!” Sliding her Gear onto the Belt, she was washed over by a soft red light.

Once the light faded, she was shown in her armor. She then opened her Wing Pack, and charged.

------------

Once she entered the Akuma’s line of sight, he smirked. “Looks like our friend has arrived. The Master is willing to give a lot to gain access to your little helper. However, giving him you should be more than sufficient.” He then launched a volley of feathers towards her.

Acting quickly, Ladybug switched a yo-yo to Shield mode and blocked the attacks. “Sorry, I’m not looking for romance right now.” Saying this, she grabbed a Sword mode yo-yo, and charged him.

Seeing this, he closed his wings over his body, creating makeshift armor. Her energy blade clipped a few feathers, but mostly bounced off harmlessly. The villain then pulled a bow off of his back. “I’m no one trick angel. If you don’t want to come quietly, I’ll just have to use force.”

Preparing for a long battle, Ladybug readied her nerves.

------------

As Nino kept running (he noticed that the villain started chasing after Ladybug, he just didn’t want to take any chances), he took a moment to think over the past week or so. Some supervillain is using mechanical butterflies to turn people into his superpowered servants. The thought sickened him, and he wished there was something he could do.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice someone grab onto him and pull him into an alley. Once he took a moment to look at his face, shock washed over him. “Max?!?” Putting a finger over the Moroccan boy’s lips to silence him, he then pulled a green device out of his pocket.”There isn’t any time, Ladybug needs your help! Put your thumb on the screen!”

Confused, Nino complied. Authorized, Wielder Confirmed.

After that, the device sparked with green energy, before a green ball pushed itself out. It circled his body for a bit, before turning into a small green turtle. “Greetings, Master Lahiffe. My name is Wayzz, pleased to make your acquaintance!” He then bowed.

Nino screamed.

------------

Mwah ha ha, Now you have to do something Nino.

@virgil-is-a-cutie @gothfoxx @fantasyfandommaiden @thegayestasexual @iggy-of-fans @sassakitty

#ml au #miraculous defenders #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #ml tikki #ml wayzz #max kante #miraculous #ml #miraculous ladybug

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rosesisupposes · 6 years

Text

Destined, part 22

aka The Missing Prints

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, mention of Anxceit

Chapter Warnings: Graphic description of violence, Visions of Major Character Death, Swearing

Specific content warning note: Graphic descriptions of violence and depicted MCD from "The world twists upon itself..." to "Hands grabbed him and shook him..."

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @nightmarebeforevirgil @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 21 | Masterlist | Chapter 23>>

read on ao3

Virgil was used to being nervous. Kind of par for the course, when you’ve spent thousands of years watching single decisions transform the course of lives and centuries. That nervousness was the kind that paralyzed him, sent him into weeks- or years-long stupors of contemplating the butterfly effects of human life. He was also getting happily used to this new type of nervousness that spawned in Roman’s presence, this fluttery feeling that made him want to babble out all his feelings, float away in champagne bubbles, or just run into the sunset with Roman’s hand in his.

Roman hadn’t responded to any of his texts since last night, including the “Let me know when you’re home safe” text. He wasn’t sure which type of nervous he should be feeling, but he was probably going to err on the side of overwhelming terror.

He went to How You Brewin’ as normal, but couldn’t suppress his jitters.

“Remy, is it a bad sign that Roman isn’t texting me back?”

“Girl, chill. You just started dating, don’t even worry about it.”

Fat chance of that, Virgil thought to himself. But Remy hadn’t been caught up in the drama of the past few days. He wasn’t on edge, and had no reason to be.

Virgil tried not to ruminate too much through the morning rush. Any moment now, Roman would blow in, all red and white and glamorous smile, and he’d ask for something ridiculous, like a jumbo latte with 13 pumps of vanilla syrup.

Any moment now.

Any moment.

The morning crowds left, as did Remy. Logan came in as normal, and lingered in the bakery, waiting for Patton to emerge from the back. When the baker did so, Virgil could have sworn the sun had risen again right there across the bakery counter, a solar flare of smiles reunited. Logan’s lost glasses were replaced by seldom-used contacts which only served to make it easier to see just how delighted he was to see Patton again.

Virgil, meanwhile, was checking his phone obsessively.

Okay, let’s assess the situation. I’ve sent a lot of texts. And he hasn’t responded once. So what should I do now??

I should send just one more text anndddd sent.

Nostradamus, what am I DOING?

Okay, he clearly could not handle this on his own. It was time to bring in backup. He checked quickly for customers then scuttled over to the bakery. Logan and Patton looked up at him from where they’d been holding hands as Logan leaned on the counter. Something in his face clearly told them both that this was important enough to warrant the interruption. Logan steered Virgil to an easy chair while Patton brought him an apple turnover, still warm. They both sat as close together as possible on a small couch next to Virgil’s chair and waited expectantly for him to explain.

“It’s Roman,” he blurted out. “He’s not responding. Normally I would think that you know, we just spent a whole day together and he needs a break from me but I can’t shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong. And… it might be my fault.”

Patton leaned across Logan to pat Virgil’s knee. “Kiddo, I’m sure it’s not your fault - what could you have possibly done to cause him pain?”

“It’s not what I could have done, but what someone else could have done because of how I got him involved…” Virgil put his head in his hands. This was no good. He was going to have to explain everything for this to make any sense. “I asked you both for advice before, and you helped me make the right choice. At least, I think it was the right choice. And I don’t know who else to trust. Plus… you’ve both already lived through the effects.” His eyes flicked sadly to the bruise on Logan’s temple. Someone had clearly helped cover it with makeup - Virgil suspected it had been Talyn, but even their skill wasn’t quite enough to hide the swelling.

He swallowed nervously. “I’m about to tell you both something that is going to sound incredibly weird and possibly delusional, but I swear it is all true.” Logan looked cautiously skeptical already, but Patton wasn’t showing any emotion except calm acceptance.

Virgil took a deep breath and said, “I am not human. I am an immortal being called a Sage. I can touch people’s hands and see the possible paths their life will take. As part of that power, I am obligated not to share specific details, but give only hints towards that person’s pivotal choice through riddles- the way I’ve been taught since I came into being at the Oracle of Delphi approximately 3400 years ago.”

Virgil stopped and looked up at his friends. Both were staring with wide eyes, Patton’s mouth hanging open. Neither seemed able to form a verbal response just yet, so Virgil plowed forward.

“Just over 500 years ago, I read the destiny of a sorcerer who wanted to rule the world and was willing to destroy anything or anyone who got in his way. Luckily, back then, he was defeated. Six days ago, however, I ran into him here, not too far from my apartment, and saw that he was back to try again. This man, Dante, was your kidnapper. He wanted your research to find people like me, magical beings who are still left in the world. That’s what those genetic anomalies were, Lo. They were me, and him, and all the other remaining magic folk left in the world. I thought at the lab that Roman had killed Dante in his shape-shifted snake form… but now, I’m not so sure. He’s cheated death so many times, and he will blame us - well, blame me - for being the common thread in his defeats. And I… I am so nervous that he’s gone after Roman for revenge. Or maybe just as bait. But even if it is a trap, it will work, because I cannot let anything happen to Roman, not if there is anything I can do to stop it. But I don’t know what to do.”

He stopped talking and forced himself to breathe. His heart was pounding and he felt slightly delirious.

After several minutes of stunned silence in which Virgil imagined he could practically hear the bullshit alarms going off in his listeners’ minds, Logan recovered first. “Well. That is quite a lot of… new... information. Thank you for clarifying that my attacker - Dante, you said his name was? - actually did turn into a snake. I thought I’d seen a snake in the lab but was worried it was just the concussion speaking.”

“I also saw that, I thought I’d taken a blow to the copperhead ,” Patton added. The pun didn’t have quite the baker’s normal level of delight, but Virgil appreciated his attempt at lightening the mood. From the twitch at the side of his mouth, Virgil could tell that Logan did too.

Logan steered back to the matter at hand. “So, let me get this straight-”

“Good luck with that,” Virgil muttered.

“You can see possible futures. And the string of events that lead to them. When you asked us for advice before, that’s what it was about? Whether or not to share what you knew.”

“I already had seen Dante’s futures, and Roman was included in them,” Virgil said, nodding. “I was trying to decide if I should offer to look through all of Roman’s futures too, try to give him as much preparation as possible, but was worried about how once you know, you’re locked in. It makes choices a little less free because of the very fact of knowing the nature of the future you could be working towards. The question of free choice versus determinism becomes a lot less hypothetical when you see the future the way I do. I don’t know that I thanked you enough. You both helped a lot - I was so worried about Roman’s ability to make free choices in the future that I lost sight of the freedom of choice I was preventing him from having in that moment.”

Logan chewed on this information. “Your… ability, this, uh, magic .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I can’t believe I’ve spent my whole life researching the natural world and am just suddenly finding out ‘oh hey, magic exists and also your wingman is an immortal magic being.’ But, well, we can discuss this more later. Can you see where Roman is now? Or Dante, who is a sorcerer , you said?”

Virgil shook his head, shame-faced. “I wish I could see him. It only works if I have direct contact, both hands on their skin. And yes, he’s a sorcerer or wizard. One of those, I’m not positive which. A human with the ability to do magic without a wand.”

“Well, if you can’t see Roman or Evil Snakey Man,” Patton offered, “why don’t you try looking for yourself? If there’s a possibility that Roman is in danger and you rescue him, you’d be able to see that in your own future, right?”

Virgil was stunned. The idea had never even occurred to him. “I… that’s… I don’t even know if that’s possible . It’s definitely not allowed by the Sage’s Law, which are the rules that we have sworn to follow.”

“Patton’s right,” Logan said, an approving hand on the baker’s knee. “It seems the only logical option - seek the information that is available to you before you make a decision. What would be the consequences if such an act of seeking indeed breaks this ‘Law’ but you are able to do so?”

Virgil could feel his breath coming faster, his heart rate increasing. Outright breaking the Law? The one constant that he’d kept as a guide for over three millennia? “My brethren would punish me, somehow. I don’t know what they’d do. But,” he admitted, “it would likely take them a while to get to it. Their sense of time is a little off.”

“If Roman is really in danger, are you willing to risk it?” Patton asked softly.

Virgil looked straight into Patton’s blue-grey eyes and saw nothing but understanding and affection. His jitters were nowhere near gone, but the uncertainty vanished. “I… yes. Yes, I am. If it means keeping him safe, I’ll do anything.”

Logan placed hand on the violet-haired man’s shoulder. “Then I think it is indeed worth a try. Can we help or support you in any way?”

“I just… I need to think,” Virgil whispered, closing his eyes.

Virgil was terrified. Not for himself, but for Roman. His friend and newly-minted boyfriend. Was this a punishment for pulling an innocent man into a destiny he hadn’t sought out? Did he bring this upon them all from his foolish attempt to be a human rather than a Sage?

His brethren might be merciless. They might cut him off from the ether, turning him mortal. They might forcibly bring him back into the ether, ending his human life and ensuring that he remain a spirit for the rest of eternity. They could even do both, if they were feeling particularly displeased: kill his current form and cut him off from his connection. He’d be truly dead then, with absolutely no chance of returning. There was no way of knowing what action they’d take, or if what Virgil was about to attempt was a heinous enough offense to warrant any punishment at all.

All he knew was that he was willing to risk both eternal life and this finite one if it meant Roman would be safe. He took a deep breath, summoning his power, and linked his own arms, forearm to forearm.

He sees a world like the current one. Humans thrive. Magic is invisible to the point of nonexistence. He sees Roman, alive, happy, safe . His heart is soothed until he realizes - he can’t see himself in this future.

The world twists upon itself. He sees natural disasters and apocalypses, the world spinning too fast, the sun collapsing and exploding in a brilliant supernova that stretches to infinity and leaves behind vast nothingness.

He sees himself as Supreme Ruler over humankind and magic folk alike, dragons returning and fairies dancing.

He sees himself at Dante’s side, the man’s former beauty fully restored. He is clinging to his lovers’ arm, doted upon by the sorcerer-king and tended to by the humans that labor in servitude to their magical overlords.

He sees Dante die, himself die, Roman die. And Patton die. And Logan, and Remy, and Virgil’s landlady, and Remy’s boyfriend Antony, and Joan and Talyn and the bakafé’s regulars, Heather and her daughter and Emile and and and...

He sees Roman’s death over and over in hundreds of futures. Now, Dante transforms into a massive adder and tears a chunk out of his shoulder. Now, Roman’s theatre burns in dragonfire, the princely man trapped inside by a falling set as he desperately pushes the last of his cast to safety. Now Virgil himself sends Roman to a labor camp, Dante grinning smugly at his elbow. Roman leaps in front of a witch’s curse in the last fight of the Human Rebellion, keeping Logan and Patton alive for just a few more minutes. Dante chokes Roman to death, holding him up by a vice-like grip on his neck, legs flailing desperately in midair until they go still. Roman, gaunt and hollow-cheeked, dies of starvation in an unknown ruin. Dante breaks Roman’s ribs in his serpentine coils. Roman dies of old age, alone in a dark retirement home. Roman’s blood drips sluggishly down his chest as he is forced to watch Dante kiss Virgil’s neck, and the sorcerer’s casual gesture sends another iron spike through his body- enough to continue killing him, never enough to let him die outright. Roman is in a hospital as a heart monitor slowly blips to flatline. Roman kisses Virgil desperately as an unavoidable blast of magical energy hurtles towards them both. Patton and Roman both watch in horror as Patton thrusts a sword directly through the Roman’s heart, compelled to act against his will by a vindictive fairy’s spell. Roman dies falling from a tower. Roman dies at a furious sprite’s hands, crushed under falling stone. Roman dies. Roman dies. Roman dies.

Tears pour down Virgil’s cheeks. He can’t find the crux. Where is the one choice? What is the future decision that will put the world on the correct path? Who can save the only person he’s ever loved?

Hands grabbed him and shook him to wakefulness. Logan held both his shoulders, pale and visibly shaken, but forcing himself to remain calm. Patton was turned away, glasses on the table beside him, weeping silently. Virgil stared at them both through red-rimmed eyes. He’d broken the Law, risked his powers, and what did he have to show for it? He hadn’t seen anyone whose choice would shape these futures.

But… perhaps that didn’t mean it had been useless. All these years, he’d been sought out by those who didn’t know better, hoping to make the best out of uncertainty. What had he given them? Guidance? That guidance had been a road map to an untimely death as often as not. Following the Law of Sages hadn’t changed that. He’d followed every rule with Kat and she’d died as surely as Colan had. Yes, she’d had a fuller lifetime, but the end result was the same. She’d died, as surely as Baxter had, and Vorel, and Pasithee. What value did his gift add, compared to the pain it had caused, and the tradeoffs he’d made?

His long, long life had been temples, grottos, and mountain caves. Isolation or captivity. His Seekers has been young and old, brave and cowardly, good and evil. And in all his thousands of years on this earth, he’d felt more alive in these last few weeks than ever before. He’d been watching humanity skitter to and fro for eons and only just now understood how wonderful and wonderfully imperfect they could be. And never, in all these years, had his own choices been a part of any future.

All these lives he’d lived. All those false choices he’d presented- were they ever really different? They all lead to death. The ersatz hopes had stacked on each other into a tottering tower that was his present, and there was only one thing keeping it all from collapsing with an impact that would reverberate through his entire past and future.

These men. These friends . He’d never felt such easy and sudden connection before, had never felt able to trust anyone so completely- Patton, Roman, even Remy. Even Logan, despite it feeling less direct with the scientist. Each of them echoed with familiarity, a thin and whispered melody as old as his power and just as intimate. Why did he feel as if he’d known them before? Why could he picture each of them alive and surrounding him in each one of his past lives?

It couldn’t be magic. He would have been able to sense if any of them were a magical creature. But then why did he feel like these friends of his had weathered and waited through the ages just as surely as he had? As surely as Dante had?

He believed necessarily in the power of choice and free will, but he was not such a fool to stop believing in meaningful coincidence. These men, all of them, meant something to him. And he’d be fucked (sorry, Patton) if he wouldn’t do all he could to protect them. And when he’d looked for a decision-maker in all those possible futures, he hadn’t seen anyone… except himself.

“Dear Cassandra, forgive me. I can’t just stand by any longer,” he whispered. He grabbed his backpack from beyond the bar and started throwing in anything and everything that his own futures had shown to be useful. “Patton, Logan,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t explain more right now, but I know where Roman is, and I’m going to save him. If you want to risk it and help, I’ll be at the corner of Canterbury and Laurel. Bring flashlights, and be on your guard. Tell Remy I’m sorry for ditching my shift.” The bell over the door clanged urgently, and he was gone.

Patton watched him go, still in shock. He’d never seen so much pain on one person’s face. Not even in the foster homes he’d lived in before his forever family found him. He wasn’t sure if Virgil knew he’d been continuing to cry as he’d whirled out of the cafe. It hurt his heart to see his young - well, not so young, apparently - friend grieve and suffer right in front of him, his eyes glowing a painfully bright white as tears flowed without stopping. Patton hadn’t been able to bear it, and had had to look away as he begged Logan to “Wake him up, please, God, wake him up!”

Logan turned to him now, and without a word embraced him tightly. Patton hugged back, tears seeping into the other man’s black polo.

“Patton… I’m sorry you had to see that. You’re so gentle and good and…” Logan shuddered, and took a deep breath. “And that was painful to watch.” The blonde head laying on his shoulder nodded. “I don’t want to pretend we’re not both scared, but… I want to help Roman. I want to help Virgil, no matter who he is. Or what he is. After you all saved me… I owe them both that much. But if you can’t or don’t want to, I won’t think any less of you. It’s a scary, uncertain situation, and we’re walking in blind. The sensible option is to avoid it.”

Patton lifted his head, eyes puffy. “Who ever said I’m sensible? They’re our friends, and they’re in trouble.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, and picked up his glasses from where they’d fallen on his lap. “We have other options, but there’s only one right choice. I have flashlights under the bakery counter, next to the first aid kit. You go grab them, and I’ll lock up the store. Remy will understand.”

author’s note: welp, that happened, did it not

(Now is a GREAT time to tell you this: Dante’s prophecy was inspired by, I kid you not, the movie ‘Pokemon 2000’. “Though the water's Great Guardian shall arise to quell the fighting, alone its song will fail. Thus the Earth shall turn to ash.” As in, Ash Ketchum. ‘The world will turn to flame,’ as in Flame the fire sprite. Did you think this was some deep shit? Nah, man, I am a dork)

#destined #writing #Roses Writes Fanfic #this is late but #i am a BIT of a mess! so have it now #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #prinxiety #logicality #angst #tw deceit #villainous deceit #villain deceit #lotta angst #my smol future-seeing baby

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

Text

Turning Circles

A/N: Okay, so this is the last idea I had in my head for Olympics stuff, and it’s the one that kind of did what it wanted to do. Remember how I said I don’t write ships.... well Gordon had other plans.

So Pen and Ink - and I abandoned the summer Olympics for the Winter. Because, fun fact, I don’t know anything about the other sports. But what I do know is ice skating.

So you can tell me if you enjoy this or if this is weird. I dunno.

I don’t write ships, this is weird for me. please beniceomgomgomgomg

-----

TURNING CIRCLES

It was official.

Gordon had a crush on his brother’s pairs partner.

By all rights, Penny should be representing Great Britain, not the US. But loopholes with her mother’s ancestry aside, it was obvious she and John just fit as a pairs team, and their ease with each other translated beautifully into their performances.

Their fit hadn’t been immediately obvious; it took Coach Moseley reaching out to John directly and asking him to just come give it a try. What could be the harm? Up until then, John had considered himself a singles skater. But in his past competitive performance, his programs had just felt flat, and dispassionate. The World Stage knew it.

And Penny – well she was, rightfully so, a little –uh, selective after her previous partner was willing to abandon her safety for the thrill of the win. The partnership of Fischler and Creighton-Ward had dissolved a few years ago, right before the national championship, in a major upset that reached even the most remote television screens.

There was video of the qualifiers, and Gordon fumed thinking about Penny’s fall. Pairs was about trust, about knowing each other’s cues and speaking silently, soul to soul. Penny hadn’t been prepared when Fischler changed the throw to a more difficult one that would score them a higher technical score. He hadn’t warned her, and she hit the ice hard with a cry that still sent goosebumps up his arms when Gordon thought about it.

Then again, that could just be the cold of the rink this early in the morning. He rubbed his gloved hands together to spread a bit of warmth up his frozen limbs. Gordon had bundled himself into a pair of long jeans and a thermal bomber jacket, with faux fur adorning the hood for this morning’s visit to their family’s Ice Arena and Sports Complex.

In comparison, Penny and John wore their practice outfits, and for Penny that still meant tights and a cobalt blue skating dress with a sheer skirt and rhinestones framing her chest -stop looking, Gordon. John wore a pair of black joggers and a long sleeve grey Henley. His red hair was messy from their warm-up, looking like absolute bed head in comparison to Penny’s immaculate high ponytail.

They kept warm somehow, but then again, they were the ones currently practicing the salchow. Gordon was just the one who ran for drinks.

Penny’s rotation was a bit faster than John’s. Coach Moseley echoed it as he thought it, clapping her hands together and shouting, “Again!”

The pair started with the footwork sequence right before the triple salchow, setting up the back left inside edge that started the jump. They turned, one-two-three (and it had taken Gordon a few months to get comfortable recognizing the rotations, but it was obvious now), and then landed on an outside edge on the right leg.

Better that time.

From his jacket pocket, Gordon pulled out his phone and the stylus he used to make notes and opened his digital notepad for John. He’d lost some height in his jump - an increase in his calf exercises should help correct that.

Coach Moseley skated over to the edge of the rink to greet Gordon and gestured for the pair to join her as they finished off their edge with the next few steps of the next sequence.

“Did you get that, kid?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. “All right here.” He tapped the stylus against the side of his phone. So, in all truth, he did more than bring drinks. It took a village, and John and Penny had Coach Moseley, a Choreographer, a ballet teacher, and, well, Gordon had the honor of being their nutritionist and personal weight trainer.

“I’d like you to work with Penny on her forearms, too,” Coach Moseley added. “They had a wobble in their twist lift yesterday.”

Gordon’s heart jumped. “Is she ok?”

“She didn’t fall, kiddo. John held firm. I’d just like to be a bit on the safe side.”

He understood that. A few taps with the stylus later and the note was added into Penny’s file. Then he pocketed his phone to greet his brother and his partner with a grin.

“Morning!”

“Gordon, Darling.” Penny reached for the pink thermos he offered. It was filled with warm green tea to start her day. “Thank you,” she hummed. “You’re a Godsend.”

He ducked his head as his cheeks flushed, pretending to check the other two drinks to make sure he had the right ones for each.

“Ah – here you go, John. Black with honey and cinnamon.” Pen and John were allowed natural sweeteners only. And for their coach – “Caramel macchiato with hazelnut.”

“Thanks, Gordon,” John said, humming happily into his coffee as he took a sip.

“I brought some honeycrisps too.”

“Wonderful. Okay kids, take five,” the Coach said. “We’ll drop jumps down to doubles when you get back. I want to focus on footwork this morning.”

He noticed John’s galaxy blade protectors sitting to his right on the barrier of the rink, so Gordon slid them over to his brother, stepping closer to the rink doors just in case he needed a hand. John had a habit of tripping when transitioning from gliding on ice to the awkward process of walking in heavy skates.

For Penny, taking five meant she went right back to what she was doing. Turning circles, weaving grooves of figure eights onto the smooth ice, beautiful like crystal and as hard as glass. Much like the woman herself.

She’d taken her thermos and abandoned it on the other side of the rink.

Gordon watched her skate. And saw resilience, strength, intensity. When she first came to them, there’d been a shield around her, and slowly John and the rest of their family had started to help her bring that shell down. Much the same as when Kayo joined their fold.

But Gordon knew Penny could still cut him down with just her words and her stare. And though she knew it was a power she held, Gordon tried his hardest to hide the extent to which he knew she could truly and utterly break him if she wanted to.

If she knew.

A crunch to his right startled him; he jumped as Virgil came up beside him and bit into one of the apples he’d washed this morning and thrown into the thermal bag.

Virgil had his pair of hockey skates draped over one of his broad shoulders, and his red flannel was rolled up a bit at the sleeves. He casually leaned forward over the edge of the rink to mirror Gordon’s position, watching Penny as she skated freely.

“We need a fourth for even teams,” Virgil offered. He placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, turning to look him in the eye. “What do you say? You and me against Scott and the Sprout?”

“That’s hardly fair.” Virgil was a tank as goalie, and Scott had yet to figure out Gordon’s tricks for finding openings where there didn’t seem to be any.

“I wouldn’t underestimate them, Gordo. Alan’s been getting quicker on his feet. Which you would know if weren’t spending so much time out here lately.”

Gordon shrugged Virgil off and grabbed an apple for himself as well, taking a bigger bite than he probably needed.

“Gordon.”

“What? What are you trying to say, Virgil?”

Virgil sighed, sitting back on the bleachers behind them. “Nothing. Just – when you’re ready we’ll be over on rink two.”

“Sure.”

He slid back and grabbed his hockey bag by the door. “Don’t be too long.”

And as Virgil left, John returned. They whispered a few words to each other in the doorway, and Gordon tried to ignore the way his ears burned, even in the cold air of the rink in the morning

End Note - if it feels very “The Cutting Edge” it should. Turning Circles is a song from the movie, and the concept is....eh, similar. and Moseley is the last name of a character

#Gavii Scribit #Olympics!Tracys #John Ice Skates #So does Penny #pen and ink #and also Virgil wants his wingman back #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Note

10, 14 and 20 with Virgil and Scott

Wow! you do like to listen to me babbling :P

10. If the fam HAD to swap Thunderbirds, who would you place with which ‘bird?

You had to make me think! I ate too much chocolate to think :D

::writes by seat of pants:

Gordo gets Two, cos let's face it, he hates going too fast. Every time he did in the show he was left clinging to his seat in both One and Three. And besides, despite his evil ribbing, Virg trusts him with his girl. His flying in Bolt from the Blue was bloody brilliant.

Of course, that puts Virg in Four. A little cramped, but considering he has the most contact with her and probably knows her inside and out (Unlike Scott, the doofus). He would also respect her and her position in Two would give him visiting rights to the big green one.

Alan gets One, John gets Three, and Scotty gets Five.

The least stable of this combo would be Scott. he's not a fan of space and this would have to be short term. Despite Five moving relatively fast at all times, it is just not the same. Also, Eos would relocate to Three and bitch about the lack of computing power aboard the red 'bird. Scott and Eos respect each other, possibly a little too much as neither trusts the other completely. Also, John would pine for his daughter.

Alan would have so much fun :D But he would miss space.

I do think FishTank could switch roles. The sea wouldn't be Virgil's preferred place, but as he is as much Gords' wingman as Gords is his, they should technically be able to swap easily in canon.

And yeah, did you see that? I switched back to talking about Virgil :D

14. What’s a trope that you love to read in fic?

Okay, I am horribly predictable here. Anything that focusses on my main character in a caring, looking after, sometimes worried way.

Favourite character collapsing into caretaker's arms will melt me every time. Something special about favourite character (yes, I seem to have written this one multiple times, oops) that draws attention.

Care and worry and kindness to special and favourite character.

Yeah, ever so predictable. Just swap out 'favourite character' and put in the words 'Virgil Tracy' and we're all set. And have the plotline for 90% of those million odd words I've written recently.

Oops.

20. Send me two characters - Virgil and Scott - and I’ll tell you which one I think is….

Most afraid of the dark Scott, mostly due to PTSD from the incident in the Air Force.

Putting off homework/paperwork Scott, mostly because he has brothers he cares more about.

Going off the grid for fun Scott disappears off the grid because John cuts him off to make sure he gets some rest. Scott is not aware of this because he is usually asleep at his desk at the time. Virgil has been known to conspire with John during this activity. Neither of them are fully comfortable disconnecting completely due to responsibility. Johnny has his ways, but then so does Gordon. Big bros need smothering as much as little bros, after all :D

Reading Jane Austen in their spare time Virgil has been known to steal John's copy.

Going to move off Tracy Island first That's a tricky one. If Virgil pairs up with Kayo like he does in a lot of my fics, he's going to stay on Tracy Island for a very long time. If he pairs up with Cass McCready, she has two kids and this is a dynamic that leads Virgil off Island (with a bucket of angst). If Virg doesn't pick up a romantic interest, he is likely to follow Scott. Scott is tied to International Rescue like it is a life line. If there was an injury, possibly. I once had Virgil leave the Island due to serious injury and not look back for ten years because he felt he was either the cause of Alan's death or Alan could no longer stand his presence (I never decided which and the fic became too traumatic to write). Basically, these two are tied to IR and each other to a certain extent. And I don't want them to leave :P so there :D

Secretly replacing Grandma’s cooking Virgil's being running interference for years since the last food poisoning incident that took out IR. he loves her too much to tell her that her chilli is poisonous.

Taking all the family photographs Virg is the family photographer. All the way back to when he was little and took photos and video of his mom.

Planning a picnic for the next sunny day Gordon...oh, outside the rules? Scott when Gordon yells at him enough. Virgil when Gordon declares it medically necessary and Virgil then tells Scott :D There is lots of planning but sometimes there is just too much interruption. Out of the two, Virgil would be more conscious of the need for positivity and he adores his family - John, get your ass down here now, we haven't seen you for two weeks! Alan, tune into reality for a moment, I've forgotten the colour of your eyes! Scott, I'd like to see you without a financial hologram between us. Gordon, just get over here, will you, I love you, too.

::hugs:: Thank you so much for asking ::hugs you more::

Nutty

(babbler extraordinaire)

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Night Out

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

#fluffember day 18 - ‘touch’ - and something a little different, mostly because @janetm74 decided to call me out about whacking ‘unsuspecting characters’ with a chair of ‘pain and suffering’ and @gumnut-logic mentioned literally hitting them with a chair... I promise this is mostly fluff still! That Teen rating (Teen for a fluff fic? Tsari what are you doing?) is for language and alcohol, because we have two former military boys in a London pub.

Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason.

Gordon couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out with Scott – just Scott – for a reason that wasn’t mission related. He’d hit the town with Alan (not that alcohol was allowed on those occasions, what with the kid being underage and all that) a few times, and Virgil on more than a few post-mission de-stressors, but Scott was always too busy for frivolous things like having fun.

No more. It had taken some convincing, a lot of wheedling, and the strong-arm combination of Grandma and Virgil, but a blissful forty-eight hours’ downtime was being spent in England, just because they could. The gracious offer of being chauffeured around by Parker – made by her Ladyship, to the man’s apparent disgruntlement – just made the choice all the easier. And what better way to unwind than a nice, rowdy night in the pub?

Karaoke, free-flowing alcohol, and Scott’s communicator firmly confiscated in the Creighton-Ward manor to ensure he didn’t slip back into work habits meant that he was having the time of his life, and Scott seemed to be enjoying himself, too. At least, if the gaggle of girls he’d acquired, flirting with him and being flirted with in kind, was anything to go by, his big brother was definitely enjoying himself for once.

Unwilling to spend the entire night as the wingman, and definitely not interested in finding out if Scott managed to go further than just exchanging some smooth words, Gordon had found himself over by the pool table. He’d spent enough time in pubs – even if he’d been underage for most of it and Scott (probably) didn’t know that – to be able to find entertainment with a group of strangers, so separating from his brother wasn’t much of an issue.

He was good at pool, too. Good enough to quickly work his way through the ranks until he was the champion everyone else paid to play, and all in all he was having a really good time of it. The drinks were good, the company was fantastic, and best of all, he was having a blast. Maybe later he’d drag Scott away from the girls for a game – show the Londoners exactly how good the Tracys were (and hope Scott was inebriated enough not to beat him, because Scott played a mean game sober).

At least, that was the plan. The world liked to mess with plans.

It started with raised voices. Nothing unusual in a pub, especially now it was entering late evening and the alcohol had been flowing for a while. Gordon thought nothing of it, and continued to roast his latest challenger at pool, beaming when the black ball found the pocket. Well-meant congratulations passed between the two of them – they had manners, after all – and Gordon cast around for his next opponent.

Then the tingle ran up his spine, and immediately on its heels came a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” the guy – Dennis, Gordon had trounced him two games earlier to much laughter and another pint – started. “Didn’t you come in with that guy?”

There was only one that guy he’d come in with, and combined with his squid sense kicking in, Gordon had a sinking feeling as he turned to look at where he’d left Scott.

Just in time to see a bar stool smash into his head.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just Gordon’s default reaction to seeing someone smash a bar stool over his brother’s head, but his vision went red. The pool cue dropped, but he paid no attention to where it landed, already surging forwards towards where his brother had crumpled to the floor.

Someone was laughing, someone else was screaming, but Gordon had eyes for only two things: his unmoving brother, and the guy still holding the bar stool aloft.

“Hey!” he roared, elbowing gawkers out of the way and slamming into the guy hard enough to make him loose his grip on the stool. It fell to the floor with a crash, thankfully missing Scott, followed by the man himself. Gordon kept his feet, feeling the buzz of alcohol mixing with adrenaline, and placed himself firmly between the aggressor and his brother.

Everyone else backed off; in his periphery Gordon could tell that the three of them – him, Scott and the stool-wielding asshole – were loosely ringed in by the other patrons of the pub, all looking on with varying emotions ranging from astonishment, fear, and bloodlust.

“You with ‘im?” Stool-Bastard spat, pulling himself to his feet with a glower that was supposed to be intimidating. Gordon hadn’t served in WASP to be cowed by a drunkard in a London pub.

“You attack him for a reason?” he shot back, hearing shuffling noises from directly behind him. Good, that sounded like Scott was conscious. The pleasant fuzz of alcohol was gone, leaving him as sharply aware as it was possible to be after however many drinks he’d had, and he tallied everything up as the guy snarled, swaying on the spot but not attacking. Not yet.

Tabs were all paid up; no need to worry about any unpaid drinks. No sign of the bouncers, but that could change any moment and a barfight was not high on Gordon’s list of reasons to get arrested (yes, he had one. No, his brothers didn’t know about it). The nearest exit was… there, by the group of girls Scott had been with.

If Scott was conscious, as he suspected, it wouldn’t take much to get out of there. He just needed to not be attacked the moment he turned his back.

“’E was ‘itting on my girl,” the man snarled. Gordon had many things to say to that, including the fact that Scott – even drunk – had morals and that if the guy didn’t trust his girlfriend around other guys then maybe he should be looking for problems a little closer to home. He said none of them.

He didn’t have to. The girls surged forward, arguing the point for him – good for them, and did he need to take note of their names to hand over to Lady P? – and he took the chance to crouch down and assess Scott’s condition.

His brother had managed to drag himself up onto his elbows, one hand holding his head, and there was a scowl on his face. Blue eyes were dilated and a little unfocused, although how much of that was the alcohol as opposed to the knock, Gordon wasn’t entirely certain.

“You good to stand up?” he asked, gently touching where Scott was holding his head. The dazed blue eyes blinked at him for a second, and his brother grimaced but tried to move. Gordon caught him when he swayed, wedging himself under one arm and dragging Scott’s arm around his neck for support, wrapping a firm arm of his own around his brother’s waist.

Dennis from pool came over, clearly offering help, but Gordon waved him off with a smile that was probably more strained than he’d planned.

“I got him,” he said. “If you want to help, make sure that bastard doesn’t get another hit in.” He didn’t want trouble – this was supposed to be a relaxing downtime, dammit all – he just wanted to get Scott somewhere safe so he could check him over properly. Luckily, the man got the message and moved to stand so that he was blocking Stool-Bastard’s view of them, leaving Gordon to haul his brother out the door.

No-one else stopped him, and with a few stumbles – Scott was heavy, okay? – he got them over to a nearby bench, which Scott sank onto bonelessly. Gordon shot a quick message to Parker to come get them – fun night out was over – before turning his attention to Scott.

“You with me?” he asked, keeping an arm around his shoulders and peering at the shock of brown hair resting on his shoulder. “Scott?”

“M’fcker,” his brother slurred, sounding vaguely annoyed. He didn’t move, though, seemingly content to remain slumped against Gordon’s side and trust him to hold him up. It was just un-Scott-like enough for him to be a little worried, but he had also been drinking and he wasn’t entirely sure how much Scott had had. Nor had he actually ever seen Scott drunk before – at least, not without the buffer of Virgil and/or John to handle him. He vaguely recalled something about him being an affectionate drunk, though, so with any luck that was all that was.

Still, he ran his free hand through gelled hair, gently probing for signs of injury. Scott hissed when he reached the back of his head, where he’d seen the blow land, and Gordon explored the area lightly with his fingers. It didn’t seem like it was a bad knock – certainly not as bad as it could have been, and he was starting to realise it had actually only been a glancing blow rather than the square hit he’d initially thought – but it could definitely do with some ice and painkillers, and he was pretty certain there was a minor concussion in there, too.

No amount of alcohol explained Scott’s suddenly quiet and slightly lethargic attitude, when Gordon knew he’d been laughing and flirting right before the attack. Virgil was going to be so pleased.

“Hey,” he tried again, poking his cheek when he didn’t get an instant response. “Talk to me, Scott. What happened back there?”

Scott groaned at him and buried his face further into his neck in an additional show of drunk and concussed. “D’nno,” he muttered. Gordon felt more than heard the words. “M’fcker came’p ‘hind me ‘nd yelled sommat ‘bouta girl. D’nno what. Then th’bast’d hit me.”

A very small part of Gordon was amused at the filterless language. He knew Scott knew how to cuss – he’d Served, the same as he had – but Big Brother also had a very strong grip on his language around family. To hear what was no doubt a throwback to the Air Force days was quietly satisfying. However, most of Gordon was a combination of furious and worried, in approximately equal measures. Maybe a little more worried than furious, but there was a large part of him that really wanted to show the guy why you never messed with a Tracy.

Fortunately for his PR, Scott needed him here, not embroiled in a fight or spending the night in a lockup, so he swallowed down the rage and pulled his brother a little bit closer.

“Anything hurt except your head?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his hair again. Scott shook his head then groaned.

“’m fine,” he claimed, still not lifting his head from where it was buried in Gordon’s neck. “St’p fussin’.”

“I’ll stop fussing once we’re back at the manor and your head’s been looked at properly,” Gordon countered, to another groan. “How much did you drink?”

“Was’nly weak sh’t,” Scott told him. “Few p’ntsa cid’r.” Enough to get buzzed but not enough to get blindly drunk, then.

A breeze blew past them, reminding Gordon that London was in England and therefore cold. Scott shivered just a bit – not enough to be noticed if he wasn’t plastered against Gordon’s side – and he tightened his grip again. Neither of them were dressed for the night air, not with the original plan being for them to remain inside the pub until Parker arrived, and the thin jacket Gordon did have on wouldn’t fit his brother, even if he could peel him off long enough to shuck it.

“Not the best end to an evening,” he mused instead, rubbing at the denim jacket Scott had on in a vain attempt to give him a little more warmth.

“C’n say thattag’n,” Scott agreed, burrowing into his side even more. Gordon assumed he was trying to leech body heat. “S’posed t’be fun.”

“Well we’ve got all of tomorrow to lounge around the manor,” Gordon reminded him, spying a flash of pink approaching at speed. “You know that’ll be fun.”

“W’th this h’ngov’r?” Scott complained. Gordon winced – he had a point.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, letting go of his brother with one hand to flag Parker down. “Water and painkillers and you’ll be good as new.” Depending on the severity of the concussion, that might be stretching it a bit. Scott was definitely going to be off duty for more than another day, though.

FAB1 pulled to a stop next to them and Parker jumped out, eyes sharp and alert as he took in their condition.

“Trouble, sirs?”

“Someone took a swing at Scott with a bar stool,” Gordon admitted, prodding his brother. Parker’s eyes narrowed and he suspected Stool-Bastard might find his own brand of trouble later, once Parker was convinced they were safe. The man seemed to have a soft spot for Scott – hell knew he didn’t have one for Gordon, despite his best efforts to the contrary. “C’mon, Scott. Let’s get you in the car.” His brother groaned but at least made a token effort to stand up, freeing Gordon long enough for him to get to his own feet and haul Scott up. Parker slid around to Scott’s other side without waiting to be asked, and between them they helped him stagger into the back seat, where he promptly slumped again. Gordon slid in beside him and was immediately reclaimed as a pillow, which he resisted long enough to make sure they were both strapped in before allowing Scott to bury his head in his neck again.

“’Ow ‘is ‘e?” Parker asked as he slipped back into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. Gordon caught sight of him looking at them in the rear view mirror and offered a tight grin.

“Minor concussion,” he answered, running his hand through Scott’s hair again, to a quiet noise that could have been either complaint or contentment. “He also drunk enough to get buzzed, so I’m not entirely sure how much of this-” he shrugged at the big brother draped against him “-is that.”

“Hmm.” Parker sounded unconvinced, but did at least return his attention to the road.

Gordon glanced down at his brother and poked him lightly.

“You’d better not be falling asleep on me, Scott,” he warned.

“’M n’t,” came the muffled response. “W’k m’up wh’n we g’t therr.”

“Scott, no,” Gordon scolded, shrugging his shoulder and forcibly peeling his brother off of him. “You’re concussed. Don’t sleep.”

The baleful glare he got was pretty pathetic, on the Scott scale, but his brother huffed in defeat.

“F’n,” he grumbled. Gordon caught his head when he attempted to bury it in his neck – again – and guided it to rest normally on his shoulder.

“We’ll have a proper look at the manor,” he promised. “Then you can rest.”

Scott huffed, but didn’t close his eyes again. He did, however, wrap an arm around Gordon in a tight grip, which he returned in kind.

“Are you always this cuddly when you’re drunk?” he asked. The grumble he got wasn’t a coherent answer, but the way Scott purposefully looked away was. Gordon laughed. “That explains why you don’t go out drinking with us much. Do any of the others know this?”

“Shuddup,” Scott grumped. It was a shame he was also concussed, otherwise the blackmail would have been glorious.

Aw, who was he kidding. As soon as Scott came out the other side clear, it was totally acceptable blackmail. For now, though, he was content to hold onto his brother while Parker drove them back to the manor, more than a little relieved it hadn’t been worse.

So much for a relaxing night out with his brother.

#fluffember #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #aloysius parker #thunderfluff

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sidewritings · 7 years

Text

Tea For Two

Pairings: Royality, Analogical

Genres: Human AU, fluff

Warnings: Tea, one shot, some mild awkwardness, rude hand gesture mention

Word Count: 2563

Author’s Note: Fluff for an anon. I really like tea, so this is a Tea House AU instead of a Coffee Shop AU.

“Why did I let you talk me into this again?” Virgil asked as he walked through the door to Patton's Parlor, the local tea house.

“Because I need a wingman,” Roman replied, closing the door behind them and moving past Virgil towards the counter, perusing the large chalkboard menu like he hadn't been in there every day for the past week, “and I showed you a picture of the cute new hire.”

Virgil quickly looked around to make sure mentioned 'new hire' was not within earshot before following to stand a couple paces behind his companion and fixing him with a glare.

“You are as subtle as a brick through stained glass Sir Sing-A-Lot. And, with that in mind, why don't you just ask the owner on a date and be done with it? Why do I need to be here?” Virgil kept his voice low. The shop only had a few patrons at the moment and they were all chatting quietly at their tables over cups of tea and plates of treats There was some classical music quietly played through small speakers around the room, but it wasn't enough to cover the sound of their voices. Too loud, and one of the patrons, or worse, the employee and owner, would hear them.

“Hmmm, jasmine pearls with cucumber sandwiches would be delicious. Do you know what you want Virgil,” Roman asked, avoiding the questions.

Virgil huffed and looked at the menu board up on the wall behind the counter. The teas were organized by variety (White, Green, Black, Oolong, and Herbal) in neat print and bright colors. There was a list of tea foods and pastries as well with a note to check their display case for their 'sweet of the day'. Little doodles decorated the edges of the board depicting steaming cups of tea, delectable looking pastries (for chalk doodles anyway) and the occasional smiley face or sun.

“May I take your order?”

Virgil jumped slightly, jerking his attention away from the board to the incredibly attractive man behind the counter. The man wore black-framed glasses, a black button down shirt with short sleeves, and a pale blue tie that matched the accent décor. On the left side of his chest was a small rectangular name tag which shone and reflected the light in such a way that he couldn't read it.

Virgil had a hard time talking right after he'd been startled. He also had a hard time talking to people he didn't know and he had a really hard time talking to handsome people. The guy behind the counter looked like a benevolent deity had breathed life into a Greek statue and unleashed the perfect creature on the world. His hair was brown with auburn highlights, his bangs smoothly curved to one side. His skin was smooth and flawless, and those lips. The guy had the most perfect pair of lips Virgil had ever seen on a human being. Wow, Virgil might never get his voice back after this.

“Hello Logan, I'll have a small pot of the Jasmine Pearl tea and a plate of the cucumber sandwiches.” Roman looked over his shoulder at Virgil who was still openly staring at the guy behind the counter with his mouth hanging open, still unable to speak. Roman rolled his eyes, “And a cup of the Cranberry Black for my friend.”

Logan nodded and scribbled on a notepad, “Feel free to sit anywhere, your order will be out in a couple minutes.”

Roman grabbed the sleeve of Virgil's hoodie and dragged him to a table away from the other patrons, sitting him down. With Virgil in place, Roman sat down and angled his chair to better see the counter and the door behind it leading to the back.

“Common Panic at the Everywhere, you can't help me score a date if you go all nonverbal on me.”

Virgil let out a noise that was somewhere between a choke and a squeak only dogs could hear. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“That picture you snapped on your phone did not do him justice. Oh man, I choked! He's going to think I'm a total idiot.” Virgil groaned and crossed his arms on the table, hiding his face in them.

“Oh he noticed you, but I doubt he thinks your an idiot,” Roman said, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his handsome features. “You know, I've never seen him blush before, and he was looking right at you while he took my order.”

“You said he started yesterday,” came Virgil's reply, muffled by his arms, “of course you haven't seen him blush. And he was probably embarrassed that I was staring so openly.”

Roman snorted and flicked his head, making his hair fall perfectly into place, “I have my eye on someone else and even I can tell the dude looks like the love child of a male model and a nymph. There is no way he's not used to people staring at him.”

Virgil groaned and picked his head up to scowl at Roman. “Speaking of, where is this Hotty Mc. Hotson that keeps you coming back here every day?”

Roman glanced at the counter where Logan was ringing out a customer. “He's probably in the back. He wouldn't leave Logan here by himself on his second day of work, would he?” Roman gave Virgil a pleading look.

“He's probably here, and if he isn't you can always come back another day with a new wingman,” Virgil replied.

“What? Why new wingman?”

“I'll be busy.”

“You can't just say you'll be busy when we haven't set a date or time! What will you be busy with?”

“Hiding under the covers until the embarrassment goes away.”

Roman rolled his eyes but withheld any further comments, opting to check the counter again.

The customer was gone and Logan was headed to the back. Still no sign of the gorgeous blue-eyed Adonis who owned the place. Roman turned back to the table and started fiddling with the pale blue tablecloth.

Last Monday he'd been walking through town after an audition for The Sound of Music when he'd seen Patton's Parlor. The exterior had a beautiful white facade with blue trim, a large display window, and an intricately decorated door. The charming appearance and lovely window display of a high tea service were enough to bring the actor inside, Roman enjoyed a nice cup of tea.

The soft music, the soft lighting, and the inviting smell of tea and pastries had enveloped him as soon as he'd opened the door. The neat bistro tables with their white and blue tablecloths, the wood counter and glass display case all contributed to the comfortable atmosphere nicely. That atmosphere alone would have been enough to bring him back a few times if he got the part. He could easily see himself in here with a fellow actor or two running lines and sipping tea. He'd have to visit the local coffee shop for larger groups, the tables here were too small for more than three or four people.

As Roman had looked around, already planning his future visits, he'd seen something that stopped all thoughts dead in their tracks. A handsome man in a blue polo-shirt and grey slacks with a white apron tied around his hips laughing with an elderly couple. Roman had seen the light reflect off of his sandy blond hair, the perfect line of his jaw, the way his broad shoulders shook when he laughed and he'd known then and there he'd be coming back daily.

He'd found out the next day as he'd watched from his table over a cup of earl grey that the handsome man's name was Patton. Patton seemed to know most of his patrons, referring to them by name and asking about their lives with genuine interest. His own interacts with Patton while he ordered were friendly, but far too brief. He'd sit at whichever table was available closest to the counter and watch Patton taking orders, prepping dishes, making drinks, and serving with superhuman speed and enthusiasm. Roman found out a lot from watching Patton like that. He found out that he was single, that he loved dogs, that he had the cutest dimple, and that he had a special fondness for chocolate chip cookies.

A not-so-gentle kick to his shin brought him back to the present. Virgil was looking pointedly past his right shoulder and tapping his foot which meant it probably wasn't the first time he'd kicked him. He felt rather than saw someone approaching their table and immediately perked up, hoping it was his crush. He was a bit crushed to see Logan instead with their tea.

“Here's your Cranberry Black tea, sir, and here is your Jasmine Pearl tea,” Logan said, setting their drinks in front of them. “Mr. Turner will bring your sandwiches in a moment.” He paused, eyes locked on Virgil was staring back, thankfully, this time with his mouth closed. After a moment that seemed to stretch unbearably, their server nodded and left.

Roman poured a cup of tea from his pot, lifted the cup to his lips and raised his brow at Virgil who was still blushing adorably from his staring contest with Logan.

“Oh shut up,” Virgil muttered, lifting his own mug and cradling it between his hands.

“I didn't say a word,” Roman responded before taking a small sip of his tea. His eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted in a soft sigh. As usual, his tea was absolutely perfect.

Virgil sniffed his mug before taking a cautious sip, he didn't necessarily trust anything Princey chose for him. He took a moment to appreciate the flavor and fell madly in love. It was delicious, a slight astringent fruity note making the black tea more flavorful. Another sip produced the same effect, a pleasant zip of flavor on his tongue. He didn't drink tea often, but he'd be willing to change that if other teas were this good.

Virgil smiled, actually smiled, and lifted his gaze to catch Roman's eye, however, Roman's eyes were still shut while he savored his tea. Movement in his periphery caught his attention just in time to see a different handsome man (must be Patton) in glasses plaster on a smile and head their way, a couple plates in hand. Virgil gave Roman a swift kick to the shin, earning a glare from his friend for his efforts.

“Hello there! I have your cucumber sandwiches and a new pastry I'd like your opinion of.” Patton smiled at Roman who smiled back, clearly smitten. Patton's smile softened, still looking at Roman as he set down the plate of sandwiches and a smaller plate with a single puff pastry in the shape of a heart on it. When he looked at Virgil his smile faltered, “I didn't know you'd brought a date. I'll just go back to the kitchen to grab a knife so you two can split...”

“No,” Virgil cut him off, unwilling to let this awkwardness continue, “I'm not his date.”

Patton's face brightened considerably. “Oh, my apologies, I didn't mean to assume...”

“I'm just a friend,” Virgil continued “trying to set my friend here up on a date with a cute, single teahouse owner.”

Roman's jaw dropped and Patton looked perplexed, his brows adorably scrunched up above the frames of his glasses. While Roman was speechless and Patton figured out what he meant, Virgil stood up, grabbed his mug, and went to sit at a table closer to the counter.

A glance behind him showed Patton had finally gotten his point and taken Virgil's vacated chair. Feeling relatively assured that Roman would be too preoccupied to murder him for a while, Virgil made himself comfortable and sipped his tea.

“Is everything alright?”

Virgil would have jumped again if the tea hadn't relaxed him so much. Logan was standing next to his table, looking at him...concern?

“Yes, the tea is very good,” Virgil replied. Wow, he hadn't jumped and he could talk to the hot guy. He really did need to start drinking this tea stuff more often.

“I was referring to your abrupt change of seating arrangement.” Logan said, looking a bit uncomfortable, “Is everything alright with you and your friend?”

Virgil felt a flicker of hope at the way Logan had said 'friend' and decided not to squelch it just yet.

“Yeah, he dragged me here to help set him up with Patton. Now that my job is done, I can enjoy my tea while I wait for them to finish flirting. He's giving me a ride back to campus.”

“Oh, are you a student at Sanders University as well?” There was a little twinkle in Logan's dark eyes.

“I'm a graduate student there, working towards my masters in cyber security.” That flicker of hope in his chest was growing quickly. “What are you studying?”

“I'm earning my masters in education.” Logan hesitated before continuing, “My shift ends in a few minutes, and then I'm heading back to campus as well. You could ride with me if you don't feel like waiting for Mr. Turner and your friend to finish their uh...discussion.”

Virgil couldn't stop himself from grinning if he tried. “I'd like that.”

Logan smiled, a blush tinting his cheeks, “Great! I uh... great.” Logan spun on his heel and headed to the back without another word.

Virgil finished his tea and placed his empty mug in a bin marked 'dirty dishes'. The other customers had left, leaving the two lovebirds at their table, holding hands.

Virgil walked over to their table, completely unnoticed. Roman was too busy kissing Patton's hand that was entwined with his. Virgil smirked and cleared his throat.

“Hey Roman, Logan offered to give me a lift so you don't have to give me a ride home.”

Roman smiled, “Good. Virgil, let me introduce you to Patton.” Roman turned his besotted gave back to the man whose had he was still holding, “Patton, this is my best man, Virgil.”

“You mean best friend, dork.”

“Yes, my emo-nightmare best friend.”

Patton smiled at him and Virgil smiled back. “You've got your hands full Patton, he's quite the drama king.”

“Oh I know,” Patton replied, looking back at Roman, “He's been telling me about some of his recent auditions.”

“Not really what I meant...”

“Mr. Turner, I've cleaned up the back room and emptied the display case. Is there anything else you would like me to do before I leave?” Logan asked, coming to stand next to Virgil. His name tag was gone and he had a black leather jacket on.

“It's Patton, Logan. I'm the same age as you, don't make me feel older. You're all set, have a good night.”

“Thank you, good night.” Logan gestured for Virgil to accompany him as he headed for the door, switching the sign inside to 'Closed' before shutting the door behind them.

As the door closed, he thought he heard Roman say “Don't do anything I wouldn't.” to which Virgil responded with a rude hand gesture hidden behind his back from Logan.

Tag List: @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch, @aikogumi , @justanotherpurplebutterfly , @anxietyisahufflepuff

#sidewritten #fanfiction #Sanders Sides #Royality #Analogical #Fluff #Tea House AU #Tea For Two #fanfic #human au

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glaceontea · 7 years

Text

Cheerleader pt.2

Yes this has been brewing in my head for months and i finally got around to writing it...

The sequel to Cheerleader (it’s one of my favourite fics that i’ve written, and jay and i have screamed about this au more than once)

Special thanks to @starlight-sanders for the encouragement, ilysm

Tagged: @starlight-sanders @sanspie122 @80s-addict @watch-me-introvert (please pm me or send in an ask if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!)

Warnings: Swearing and a not-so-appropriate pick-up line

Ship: Logicality and platonic(?) prinxiety

Previous Part | Masterpost | Next part

Patton had done it.

He'd successfully managed to convince Roman to join the cheerleading team.

It hadn't taken much, they'd just been eating lunch together, talking about anything, when Patton had mentioned cheerleading.

"You should join, I think you'd like-"

"Yes! I've been taking gymnastics lessons for months, Pat, thanks for giving me this opportunity." Patton had just laughed and shook his head at the ecstatic boy.

Roman was the popular boy, the jock that played most sports and had everyone following him on Instagram. His hair was always perfect, and he usually had his one of his sports teams' jackets on. Despite him loving sport, he was also a theatre kid, always performing in school plays and musicals, along with playing the french horn.

No one knew how he had time for everything he did, but he did. Some suspected he had a time-turner. He hadn't denied it, being a massive Harry Potter fan.

All the girls swooned over him, which made him laugh. Many students questioned why he sat with Patton and Logan, the so-called nerds (more like the coolest kids in school, in Roman's opinion), instead of the rest of the jocks. Truth is, most of the jocks were homophobic, and he didn't tolerate that.

They were good guys, but not really.

Logan sat down next to Patton, seemingly confused as to why Roman was beaming.

"What is wrong with Roman?" Logan asked.

"I invited him into the cheerleading team." Logan just mouthed 'oh' and took a bite of his sandwich.

"I might invite Virgil, if you would like that. We're bonding, and I don't think he participates in anything in the afternoons." Roman looked up.

"Really?!" He squealed. Logan nodded an affirmation. Virgil, whom they'd dubbed 'Anxiety', due to his constant anxious behaviour, was Roman's crush. The cute emo boy, the grumpy, intimidating kid from the backstage crew for the theatre club. He was in a few of Logan's classes. "I'd love that!"

A few weeks later, it was Roman's first practice, and Patton and Roman were in the locker rooms. Patton's phone buzzed. Roman looked over, curious.

It was a text from 'Gay nerd'. Logan.

'I invited Anxiety to the cheerleading practice today, I hope you don't mind, love.' Roman squeaked.

"Shit, today? I'm not ready!" Patton looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Roman, you were practically perfect when we practiced at my house. You'll be fine, Virgil will love you," Patton assured him, rubbing his back gently. "Come on, let's get changed." Roman grabbed his bag and opened it, pulling out a short red skirt and a white singlet.

"Is this... good enough?" Roman asked, glancing at Patton. Patton nodded.

"It's basically the same thing I wear, so I'd say that's about right. You don't have to wear a skirt, you know."

"Oh, I know. But, my dear, I really want to," Roman said, quickly slipping into the outfit. He pulled his phone out of his sports bag (containing Every Fucking Sports Uniform Ever) and opened Instagram. "Come on, Pat, selfie." Patton rolled his eyes, joining Roman in the frame.

Roman always posted pictures of himself in the uniform of whatever sport he was playing at the time, so of course he needed to show everyone what he was doing this time. He always looked flawless and was Instagram famous, though no one knew why.

He took the picture. Patton was smiling brightly and Roman had winked at the camera, sticking out his tongue. Roman quickly posted it with the caption 'first cheerleading practice! xx'. Immediately a flood of likes came in, causing Roman to laugh and turn his phone off.

"Hurry up, Ro, we'll be late!" Roman jumped up and followed Patton into the gym, nervous for once in his life. He glanced up into the stands, only to meet the gaze of Virgil. Roman immediately felt warmth creeping up his neck. Virgil was dressed in a black shirt, with a black leather jacket sitting comfortably on his shoulders. He had ripped skinny jeans on, adorned with chains, and from what Roman could see, black nail polish had been painted onto his nails. His hair was curly, making Roman weak at the knees.

Roman knew how to seduce Virgil already, he couldn't wait.

"Stop staring," Patton whispered in Roman's ear. Roman immediately looked away and looked at the coach instead. The coach smiled at him, clearly glad she had another guy on the cheerleading team.

"Girls, and Patton, we have a new cheerleader. Everyone, please welcome Roman to the team!" Excited muttering came from around them, because actual ROMAN was on the cheerleading team.

They immediately went into the routine they'd been rehearsing, Patton teaching Roman anything he didn't already know. Roman picked it up extremely quickly, becoming quickly confident in what he was doing.

Roman was in his element. When he played his other sports, football, baseball, soccer, anything, he didn't get to be his usual flamboyant self. So, naturally, he went all-out. He threw his plan into action, doing as Patton would to Logan.

As the routine started again, he blew kisses, gave winks, and was generally more flirtatious towards Virgil than he was before. He showed off his muscles, flexibility, and handsomeness to the cute emo boy in the stands.

Much to Roman's dismay, Virgil didn't even bat an eye. Instead, he was talking to Logan, the former having an amused expression on his face.

Maybe flirting with Virgil wouldn't be so easy after all.

"Please please please take us over to Logan and Virgil, please?" Roman begged Patton during their break. Patton rolled his eyes and smiled fondly.

"Where's all that confidence you had before? You're the most popular boy in the school, I didn't think you of all people would need a wingman."

"You're not a wingman! You're just a friend who happens to be able to get me closer to my crush so that I can flirt with him!" Roman exclaimed. Patton laughed and starting walking towards his own boyfriend, Roman following eagerly behind. He put on a mask of coolness and popularity, because for some reason Virgil seemed to take that away from him.

Virgil had his elbow resting on the seat above him, and gave off a cool, calm and collected vibe. Roman felt his heart flutter at the beauty he was approaching, watching the way Virgil's light pink lips flowed as he conversed with Logan.

"Are you made of Fluorine, Iodine, and Neon? Because you are F-I-Ne!" Patton said to Logan with a wink. Logan rolled his eyes.

"For fuck's sake, Patton. I need you to realise science pick up from the internet aren't really effective on me."

"You're hotter than a bunsen burner set to full power-"

"Fuck off." Even as Logan said this, you could see him blushing bright red, gazing at Patton lovingly. Such dorks.

Roman made eye contact with Virgil and smirked. A good pick-up line should work.

"Hey baby," he purred smoothly. Virgil just looked at him blankly. "I'm gonna treat you like my homework," he began. Virgil's expression didn't change. "I'll slam you on the table and do you all night long."

"I doubt you do your homework, pretty boy," Virgil said immediately, apparently not give a shit.

"Excuse me, I always do my homework, thank you very much."

"Sorry honey, sarcasm falls out of my mouth, just like stupid falls out of yours." Roman's mouth opened and shut in shock. Logan smirked at him. Roman decided to shut up.

Soon Patton and Roman were back out to rehearsing, and Virgil was ecstatic.

"Holy fuck he likes me!!!!" He squealed, grinning. Logan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Then why in the world did you shut down his pick-up line? You're an idiot." Virgil blushed even more than he had been earlier.

"Nah, I wanna have my fun before we date," he claimed, smirking cheekily. Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, shifting his attention back to his boyfriend.

Imbeciles, the both of them.

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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WIP #46

(Send me a number 1-60 [or a fandom/character I guess] for the corresponding wip) because I’m bored and brain-fried and have too many wips that’ll otherwise never see the light of day.

For @janetm74 who actually asked for ‘Thunderbirds, 31′ but 31 isn’t TAG so we’ve got the closest TAG one instead. (top tip: wips are mostly arranged alphabetically by fandom and the TAG wips are 46-59!)

It was really only a matter of time before someone hit Scott!whump, wasn’t it? Snippets of this one have actually appeared in previous ask games, so you get the whole thing this time (because I don’t remember which bits I’ve already posted). Fun fact: this was my first attempt at Virgil’s PoV!

There was always something wrong about Scott in Thunderbird Two. Of all the Tracys, he was the least likely to travel in the green behemoth that was, in Virgil’s private opinion, the heart of International Rescue.

And yes, that included John.

Gordon was his co-pilot, his wingman, his back-up. For all that the aquanaut was, well, an aquanaut, there was honestly no-one else Virgil would rather behind the controls of his beloved girl if he was needed elsewhere. Heavy lifting, or – his least favourite – medical duties could sometimes pull him elsewhere, and in those moments his immediate brother would take the helm with a joking smile but steady hands that would never let anything befall Two (if only, he thought from time to time, because without Two Four would be grounded).

Alan was all nervous energy, a genius pilot but too cocky for Virgil to ever be truly relaxed when Two was in his hands, but it was far from uncommon for his youngest brother to be perched behind him, screens and panels showing readout after readout as he assessed situations and started remote assembly of pods when time was particularly of the essence. Sometimes, often, he knew Alan desired the speed of One, but he also liked his comfort and short of pulling Three’s own seats into One (a feat done once, never repeated), there was no comfort as a passenger of their first response craft. Or even as the pilot, in Virgil’s opinion.

John was an unusual passenger, unlikely to be Earthside for a mission – and even if he was, quickly wrapping things up and ascending back to the lofty heights of Five and the world at his fingertips – but when he was Earthside, well, Thunderbird Two was his ship of choice. He didn’t pilot her, for all that he was trained, but no matter what Scott would mutter, John was stubborn about always using Two to get to the danger zone. Something about reckless flying and too much gravity. Virgil couldn’t truly say he understood, because John’s aversion to gravity had never been a point in common between them, but he did at least appreciate that Thunderbird One was fast, and generated far more Gs than any atmosphere-bound craft had any right to make.

Statistically speaking, Scott did travel in Two more than John did, but as he didn’t spend over three hundred days in the year off planet, Virgil wasn’t quite so fussed on the literal numbers. Scott in Two always, always meant something was wrong. Maybe One was out of action (again) but Scott wanted to be on the rescue anyway. Maybe the world was conspiring against them, and Scott just wanted to be with his brothers rather than haring off at triple their speed and leaving them alone and vulnerable (Virgil knew that really One was more vulnerable than Two, although his eldest brother could never see it that way).

Or maybe, the worst wrong of all that always lined Virgil’s stomach with lead and dried up all the saliva in his mouth, Scott wasn’t fit to fly.

John was hovering, holographic form always a little too dull to accurately capture his brother’s vibrancy. Gordon had flight control, gloved hands firmly on the yoke as though he was her designated pilot. Alan had co-pilot, booted feet reaching the floor with little difficulty nowadays – he would out-grow Gordon soon – as he flicked switches in uncharacteristic silence.

Virgil was in the medbay, scanner clutched in his hands like a lifeline as it told him nothing that he wanted to hear, and many things that he didn’t.

Scott was in the medbay, doing nothing.

Danger dogged their steps with every rescue. They knew that – had always known it, even before the Zero-X blew their father sky-high as he tried to save the world – but it never made it any easier when it got closer than normal.

As normal for them was less than a second’s escape – buildings collapsing the moment their trailing foot left the threshold, planes erupting into fireballs the instant they leapt clear – closer was barely possible. Closer was a Thunderbird coming home with deep gouges. Closer was broken bones and terrorised faces.

Closer was their eldest brother lying motionless in his ‘bird’s medbay because it had taken thirteen minutes to find him after the snow roared down.

Avalanches were a messy business. Survival rates were low, some of the worst odds International Rescue ever faced, and there was no denying that their own past experience did nothing to help whenever John uttered the word in a brief. This one shouldn’t have been too bad, as far as snow monsters went. Out of season, with few people in the huts that dotted the lower reaches of the slopes and fewer still outside. Ten people were reported missing.

They found nine, all fortunate and breathing, before the second one struck.

Alan had been in Thunderbird Two, holding her steady in the air because the large Thunderbird would have done more harm than good if she’d landed and providing a much-needed birds’ eye view of the danger zone. It had been entirely due to the combined information from him and John that had let them find the nine lucky people so quickly.

Gordon had been on triage in the hut deemed safest in the event of a second avalanche. Virgil had just reached him with rescuee number nine when it had struck.

Scott had been heading up the slope, travelling scant inches above the snow via jetpack, searching for person number ten. One’s drones had been with him, scanning furiously even as John hijacked them to give Five even more data than the space station had already obtained from other means. Those same drones had given them a glimpse of blue, grey and white all jumbled together before going dark.

It took two minutes for Virgil and Gordon to force their way out of the semi-buried but still standing hut. One more for Alan to configure a pod and tentatively lower it from the module even as they realised their original one would take too long to excavate from the snow. In those three minutes, John had triangulated all the data he could amass from Five to provide the most viable search area.

Five minutes to find a body, cold to the touch. Rescue number ten had never stood a chance. Face down and neck broken, he would have been killed almost instantly during the original avalanche.

Fifteen minutes was the time limit. Nine people had already defied it, surviving anything between half an hour and an hour under the snow before International Rescue reached the scene and dug them out. The Tracy family never had that much luck, and an avalanche was their own personal hell. They knew, in that cold-fist-closing-around-their-hearts way, that Scott would not be number ten.

Twelve minutes and the pod’s heat sensors showed yellow-green in a sea of blue.

Thirteen minutes and their eyes showed them blue in a sea of white.

Scott had been wearing his helmet when the avalanche struck. As Virgil knelt to ease his limp, cold, but breathing body from the frigid prison, he’d thanked their parents for that fact silently but profusely. Still intact, the helmet had stopped snow clogging his airways, and had enough of an air supply to stop Scott from suffocating to death in the thirteen torturously long minutes it had taken them to find him.

In the medbay, scan finished, Virgil finally removed the life-saving gear. The detached feedback from the scan told him as much, but he sighed resignedly when there was no response. Scott didn’t gasp dramatically as his recycled air supply was replaced with the real deal, nor did lightly closed eyes snap open.

“How is he?” John asked unnecessarily as Virgil’s hand lingered under brown hair longer than strictly necessary after lowering the now helmetless head back down onto the stretcher.

“Cold.” Virgil humoured him, knowing full well that John had been desperately analysing the results of the scan as they occurred. Their suits were well designed for the varied environments they found themselves in, and while Scott had shown up far, far too cold in their initial search for him, as soon as they’d got him into the security of Thunderbird Two the hint of a shiver had taken hold and Gordon had encouraged it with a single blanket.

Scott’s uniform was somewhere in the middle as far as easy to remove International Rescue uniforms went. While Gordon and John’s specialist environments necessitated almost vacuum-tight uniforms, and Virgil and Alan had heavy-duty but therefore less clingy attire, Scott wore a streamlined flight suit that didn’t adhere precisely to his body but wasn’t exactly loose either. Still, the zip tugged down easily enough and Virgil manipulated his rag doll of an eldest brother out of the tough material delicately before clearing away any leftover snow trying to chill him further and cradling him in blankets.

John watched in an agitated silence, the distance between their physical bodies never so apparent as when one of them was hurt and he was twenty two and a half thousand miles away. Sooner rather than later, Virgil knew the space elevator would be docking at Tracy Island, but before John could leave Five he needed to get One nestled back safely in her hanger.

The Thunderbird had escaped the avalanche by never landing, set to an autopilot hover by Scott upon his arrival to the danger zone because despite being smaller than Two, her VTOL posed just as much of a risk to the stability of the snow. With Gordon at the helm of Two, and a universal desire for the whole family to be together landing Alan in the co-pilot seat rather than their brother’s Thunderbird, it was up to John to remote pilot her home.

Hypothermia was not the only issue Scott had been hit with by the avalanche. None of them had done the exact calculations – John might have done, but if he had he hadn’t shared them – but Scott had been swept a fair distance by the sheer might of the snow and the journey had been far from smooth. Something had knocked him out in the tumble – what, Virgil couldn’t begin to decipher – and while his ribs were miraculously okay, thanks to the support of his flight suit, his left arm was bent awkwardly. Already, beneath the blankets, his skin was blossoming in the reds and purples of early bruising.

“Any change?” Alan asked, his hologram flickering into existence beside John’s. Gordon was just visible at the edge of the projection.

“He’s warming up,” Virgil assured them, eyes never leaving his eldest brother as shivers slowly intensified. “No sign of consciousness, though.” He leant forwards, running his hands gently through gelled hair. The scan didn’t indicate a concussion to accompany the rest of Scott’s injuries, but with no evidence for why he was remaining unconscious barring the hypothermia itself, Virgil needed a more hands’ on check to reassure himself that there would be no further complications.

“We’re almost home,” Gordon chipped in. “Make sure you’re both ready for the landing.”

“F.A.B.”

Securing Scott was easy, straps looping over him and cinching tight but not too tight against the stretcher. The temptation to stay standing beside him, watching like a hawk for any sign of change – good or otherwise – was strong, but John made a small noise in the back of his throat and Virgil forced himself to take the two paces away from the stretcher and collapse into a fold-out seat.

“Thunderbird One has landed,” the astronaut informed him, and Virgil managed something that was almost a smile.

“See you soon,” he said, and John returned the almost-smile before floating with purpose. With the limitations of the holograms, it was difficult to tell where he was headed, but Virgil knew there was only one place John wanted to be.

Their landing was soft, softer than Gordon had ever managed before, and Virgil shot out of his chair and back to Scott’s side as soon as he felt the wheels connect solidly with the runway. The touchdown had done nothing to disturb him, eyes still softly closed. His skin was pale, and the shivering was still gaining in intensity, but Scott’s face was as peaceful as Virgil had seen it since the Zero-X.

He pulled the scanner back out, running another one just for something to do as Gordon taxied them back into the hangar. Scott’s temperature had risen marginally, still too cold but headed in the right direction. He adjusted the blankets cocooning him as Thunderbird Two finished her rotation and the hydraulics either side of the module whirred into action, raising the body of the craft.

Someone had remembered to call ahead – a flash of guilt coursed through Virgil as he realised that should have been his job – because as the module door lowered, letting in the orange flickering light that indicated mechanical movement in the hangar, Grandma was standing there, arms crossed and finger tapping nervously. She didn’t wait for the door to finish lowering, jumping into the module as soon as she could and heading straight for them.

“What happened?” she asked, wrapping an arm around him firmly for a moment before taking the final step to Scott’s side and tutting at the results of the scan.

“Avalanche,” Virgil responded, even though he knew she knew. Old hands that had yet to lose most of their dexterity pulled at the blankets, exposing Scott’s throat enough for her to press two fingers to his pulse. “Nine survivors, one fatality.”

“Broken arm and extensive bruising,” she mused, light fingers dancing over her eldest grandson’s body as she confirmed the scanner’s results for herself. “His suit protected him from the worst of it. Let’s get him inside.” Virgil nodded, reaching out to activate the hover jets on the underside of the stretcher before releasing the clasps that held it to the wall. Hurried footsteps indicated the arrival of his younger brothers, finished with their flight checks and anxious to see their eldest brother.

“Is he awake yet?” Alan asked, blue eyes filled with hope. Virgil shook his head as Gordon placed a hand on the youngest’s shoulder.

“Your brother will be fine,” Grandma assured them all before he could find the words to explain Scott’s condition. “A little battered and bruised, and rather cold, but some rest and home cooking will sort him right out, you’ll see.”

Gordon’s mutter that home cooking would do more harm than good wasn’t as quiet as he’d clearly intended, but Grandma ignored the slight as she put a firm hand on the hovering stretcher and started to guide it towards the house. Virgil paused, checking his two younger brothers over thoroughly. Alan was pale, shaken at the sight of Scott’s limp body, while Gordon headed over to the discarded uniform and picked it up.

“He’ll be alright,” he told them. Both nodded sharply. “John’s coming down; Alan, why don’t you go meet him?”

Neither asked why John was coming down if Scott was going to be fine. It was a much appreciated fact that sometimes a hologram wasn’t enough for reassurance, and none of them would ever begrudge John the chance to be there in person. Alan nodded again and left.

“I’ll clear up here,” Gordon said. He was feeding the damp uniform through his hands, most likely unconsciously. Damp, half-melted snow littered the module, and the remaining pod. “Go help Grandma.”

Virgil didn’t protest, although he gave Gordon a final look over before turning to leave his ‘bird. They all needed to feel useful, finding something to do while they waited for Scott to wake up. He would have cleaned his ‘bird himself, but Gordon’s order had been a hidden plea: I want you with Scott.

“I want her spotless,” he said instead, and Gordon laughed.

“Yes, yes,” he dismissed. “Now go help Grandma keep Scott in bed.” Because that was going to be the hardest task of all. None of the Tracys made for a good patient, but Scott was the undisputed worst patient of all. Alan and Gordon would try for subtle, the elder blond with more success, escape attempts made when they were left alone for too long. John hid in Five, well-practiced in manipulating holograms to make him appear healthier than he actually was – although the arrival of EOS had put a stop to that particular trick. It was the thing that had finally got her into Scott’s good books. Virgil himself knew that he gave his brothers a little too much grief, largely because he knew how to treat his own ailments better than they did.

Scott didn’t bother with subtlety. The moment their backs were turned, and sometimes not even then, he would be forcing himself up and out of bed, determined to carry on working no matter what. He’d never been a good patient, but it had only worsened since their Dad’s crash. Knowing why didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Not bothering to change out of his uniform, he ran after Grandma and the stretcher, catching up with them just outside the infirmary doors. Scott was still unconscious, a fact that bothered him considering there was no sign of injury that would cause it, but it made transferring him from the stretcher to the soft bed far easier. A pile of warm blankets were gently tucked around him, mindful of the broken arm.

As Grandma fussed with an IV line, more a precaution than a necessity, Virgil turned his attention to the limb. It was a clean break, simple enough to reset and splint. Scott let out a noise of complaint as the bones were dragged back into place, and both he and Grandma immediately looked at him. Brow furrowed, hazed blue eyes flickered open.

“Scott?”

“Vrrgg?” his eldest brother slurred, eyes slowly focusing on him. “Whh..?”

“We’re home,” Virgil told him, resting a hand on the blankets over where Scott’s right shoulder was buried. “The rescue’s over.”

Scott blinked at him slowly, the haze of confusion not quite leaving his eyes.

“Rsscu?”

“Let’s focus on getting you warmed up for now, Scott,” Grandma cut in, smoothing his hair back gently. She gestured sharply with her other hand – hidden from Scott’s view – to the reset arm. Virgil took the hint, returning to strap it up, knowing that he’d need to mix up a proper cast for it if he wanted any chance of it healing properly with Scott’s reluctance to rest of any length of time.

“Buh-”

Scott’s protest was cut off by the door slamming open, the pitter-patter of Alan’s booted feet flying into the room. Behind him, at a more sedate pace, John followed, turquoise eyes raking over the scene in front of him sharply.

“Is he awake?” Alan asked, skidding to a stop by the bed. “Scott?”

“Ara?” Scott started. Virgil lunged up to stop him as he made his first attempt to get up.

“No, Scott,” he said firmly. “You’re still too cold.” Scott didn’t fight him, a sign that he was still confused. It didn’t go unnoticed by either Alan or John, the former losing his smile and the latter narrowing his eyes for a moment.

“Go get yourselves changed,” Grandma told them. “He’ll still be here when you come back.” Hoping she wasn’t including him in that order, Virgil busied himself with fussing over Scott, fixing the blankets he’d dislodged and hushing any attempts to ask about the rescue.

“It’s over,” he repeated as his two brothers left the room with orders from Grandma to also locate Gordon and make sure he got changed, too. “Stay still.”

“Virgil,” Grandma warned, and his shoulder slumped. “You too, young man. You’re still wearing some of the snow.”

He hadn’t noticed, but when she mentioned it he realised that the creases of his uniform still carried damp white.

“I won’t be long,” he promised Scott, who looked at him with wide blue eyes. They reminded Virgil of Alan. Usually it was Alan who reminded him of Scott; he didn’t like it the other way around. “I’ll bring you back a drink. Think you can manage that?”

“Drrnk?”

Virgil sighed, and turned to Grandma.

“I’ll bring him something,” he told her and she nodded with a tired smile.

“You do that,” she said. “Now go get out of that wet uniform before you catch a chill, too!”

With a last look at his brother, still too pale but thankfully shivering properly at last, he forced himself to leave the room.

When it came to Grandma, there were fights that could not be won, and unspoken orders to be heeded nonetheless. It was not as simple as tugging off his uniform, throwing on some casual clothes and running back into the infirmary with a warm, sugary drink in hand served with a straw to sip it with, so he begrudgingly threw himself under a hot shower, allowing his own body to warm up after too long in the snow himself, albeit not buried like his big brother. Still, a shower did not have to be long to be effective, even if he would usually take the time to let his muses grow amongst the gentle hiss of pouring water, and within five minutes he was thoroughly warm and worming his way into clean clothes. A quick blow with his hair dryer got the worst of the water out of his hair, but he forwent the gel to return it to its usual style. Certain younger brothers might have a field day about his hair not being carefully sculpted, but a certain hypothermic older brother was worth a little bit of pride.

John had beaten him to the kitchen, a hot squash – blackcurrant and apple, from Scott’s personal stash – steaming on the counter. Virgil glanced around the room to make sure nothing was broken.

“You haven’t taken it in?” he asked, wrapping a hand around the container. It was almost hot to the touch. John shrugged.

“I’d drop it,” he said, plucking a blue straw from the collection in the cupboard and neatly dropping it into the top of the cup. Virgil couldn’t disagree with the possibility and scooped it up, straw bobbing in the dark liquid, before continuing on to the infirmary.

Alan and Gordon were there, both out of uniform as per Grandma’s orders, and trying to get a laugh out of Scott, if their antics were anything to go by. Scott himself, Virgil was pleased to see, appeared less confused than when he’d left.

“I have a drink for you,” he announced, passing it to Grandma as he perched on the bed by Scott. “Think you can manage some sips?” Scott was still shivering but managed a grateful smile.

“Will i’ tas’e goo’?” he asked, still too cold to pronounce his words properly. Virgil gently brought the head of the bed up slightly before propping Scott up in a more upright position with the use of many pillows. Gordon helpfully readjusted the blankets as Alan crawled onto the bottom of the bed.

“It’s from your own stash,” he promised, taking it back from Grandma and holding the straw to his lips. “John made it hot, so be careful.”

“’M alway’ ca’ful.” Scott mumbled the biggest lie Virgil had ever heard before accepting the straw and taking a sip.

“If you say so,” he said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help keep him in place as he drank. He was still cool to the touch, despite the blankets wrapped around him firmly.

Scott hissed as the liquid entered his mouth, and Virgil tightened his grip even as he rolled his eyes.

“I warned you,” he said lightly, as John entered the room and perched on the end of the bed, watching Scott carefully. Scott took another sip, more cautiously the second time.

...tbc one day..?

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #wip excerpt #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #thunderwhump

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mycatshuman · 4 years

Text

Castle of Devils

What's In The Creepy House? It's a Ghost! Its a Mummy! No! It's a Trash Man!

Prologue | Previous | Next | More | Masterlist

Word Count: 2,167

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety

Warnings: self hatred, talking of murdering a vampire, ghost, not eating, let me know if I missed any.

Thank you to @icequeenoriginal for reading through this for me!

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Today was the first time since Roman had gotten back that Logan, Patton, and Roman all had a free day. So, the three were going to spend a day out on the town, hitting the mall, spending time in the park, shopping, and eating their meals together. They had even promised to go with Roman to see Frozen II in the theater one last time. The day was supposed to be perfect.

The three friends were walking along the street to get to their favorite pizza shop for lunch when it happened. A dark figure clad in purple plaid patches and white stitching walked past them on the opposite side of the road. It was pure coincidence that Roman looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of the figure's face before he moved out of sight. Roman stopped dead in his tracks, Patton and Logan nearly bumping into him.

"Roman!" Logan shouted.

"What's wrong?" Patton asked carefully, the fear on Roman's face an unusual expression for his friend.

"It-its him!" Roman yelped. "I- he followed me here!"

Logan frowned and turned Roman to face him only for his friend to continue staring off into space as if looking at the last spot he saw whoever it was who frightened him so much. "Who did you see?"

"Virgil! It's him! The vampire! He's here," Roman cried out terrified.

Logan thanked the universe there weren't many people near them.

"Roman, breathe. You need to breathe. What do you mean he's here?"

"I-I-" Roman paused, finally blinking as he tried to ground himself and bring himself back to the present. "I just saw him. He must have decided to move into the house I helped him purchase." Tears filled Roman's eyes. "We have to stop him. We can't let him kill anyone."

Patton stepped forward. "Roman," he started carefully. He didn't want to tell his friend he thought he was crazy. Because he didn't, not really. Patton just didn't want to be rash. "I think we should give it a few days…"

"A FEW DAYS??!?!?!" Roman exclaimed. "HE COULD SUCK THE TOWN DRY!"

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Roman, we can't go to the police without solid evidence. If we go up to the cops right now with nothing other than your statement and the fact that you think he's a vampire, they could carry you away in a straight jacket. If we really want to get 'rid' of him legally, we have to wait until we have a least an attack, it's not the best but without one, that's all we can do."

Roman frowned. "What if we found a vampire hunter instead?"

Logan sighed. "Sure, if we found a vampire hunter and got their 100% guarantee that this 'Virgil' is a vampire then we can see where we will go from there."

Patton frowned. He knew his husband didn't believe Roman. He probably knew that Roman wouldn't be able to find a real vampire hunter willing to help them if he could find a real vampire hunter at all. And he hated the false hope it gave Roman, but if doing this could provide closure, then he was all for it so long as nobody got hurt.

Roman bit his lip. "Okay, I'll start looking tonight." Then the three were back on their way to lunch. Now, Roman was not stupid. He knew his friends thought he was crazy. But he was going to prove it to them once and for all. And on another note, maybe it was time to pay a certain someone a visit.

------

Remus Mort was an odd little fellow. He had unruly hair that never looked like it was brushed. Not that Remus actually brushed his hair. There was also a streak of white in his bangs while the rest of his hair remained a dark rich brown similar to that of a freshly disturbed grave. His mustache was particularly villianly with their handlebar shape and only added to his gremlin appearance. His clothes hardly took away from this either. They were ripped and rumpled, looking as if he had just crawled out of a dumpster. Maybe searching for new clothes, they would certainly be better than the ones he was wearing which were covered in so much grime that one could hardly call it a shirt. Rags would be more accurate. But if anyone were to ask he would reply with a grin saying no one would suspect a doctor dressed the way he was. The occupation differed each time but the result was the same. People just assumed he was happily living the life he was living even if it looked like he didn't own a home much less the amount of money he truly had.

Remus Mort lived in a big creepy mansion up on a hill surrounded by many trees. He bought the house after his first best seller, If Dr. Hyde and Mr. Jekyll: The Twisted Truth. It turned out, a lot of people were curious what would have happened if society was okay with man's more primal instinct (as if a lot of society didn't already try to place the crimes of men on others.) Remus went on to continue his dark series of stories earning him enough money to live comfortably and still give close to 40% of his earnings to different causes. Lots of them having to do with the ocean and a push to find the delightfully mysterious creatures yet to be found.

All of this displayed Remus's personality very efficiently. A gremlin dressed as a gremlin. It was very fitting. Remus was also very unpredictable. But those who knew him, even those who didn't would brush whatever he did off as normal for him after the initial shock. He was predictably unpredictable. However, the one thing that was truly unpredictable for Remus was something even he had no control over. His brother was practically his complete opposite.

Those who knew both Roman and Remus were equally stunned when they first learned that the two were brothers. They were two opposites and as different as day and night, water and fire. Polar opposites. A person learning the two were brothers would have them sitting in an existential crisis for a few hours.

The two brothers did not talk often, preferring to keep to their own lives with an occasional call to make sure the other was okay. Roman wanted nothing to do with his brother's habits. It was one of the reasons the two drifted apart. Past Roman never would have expected to end up here any time soon. But past Roman didn't know the things present Roman did. Did experience the things present Roman had experienced.

Roman sighed and turned off his car before climbing out. He had been sitting inside for a while, staring up at the old house as he debated his decision before he decided it was now and never. And he couldn't bear to think what his stubbornness would do to the innocent people back home with that monster running around. With determined steps, Roman walked up the stairs and rang the bell. It's loud dreadful sound resounded throughout the home. Roman was surprised to find the tall door opening in front of him and he stood face to face with his brother for the first time in years.

"Roman!" Remus exclaimed. "So glad to see you here! It's been a while hasn't it!" Roman blinked as his brother quickly yanked him inside and started dragging him into the living room, which looked surprisingly clean and organized. Remus shoved Roman down onto the couch before he dropped down beside him. "So, what has you dropping by, bitch?"

Roman grimaced. "Well, I.." He paused. Did he really want to admit to his brother that he drove all the way to New Jersey just to ask him for help regarding the same topic he told him he was stupid for believing years ago. Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands, his confidence fading. 'I-I.."

Remus frowned as he took in his brother's reaction. "Hey, you know I'm not going to make fun of you, right? Tell me what's wrong."

Roman let out a breath and then told his brother everything. From arriving in Transylvania to falling in love to finding out that he was a vampire and returning home only to find that vampire had followed. Throughout the story, Remus stayed silent. Which was a completely new thing for him. But while he didn't exactly get along with his brother, he did care for him deeply and seeing how his brother nearly broke out into tears as he recounted everything. Afterwards, Remus and Roman sat in silence for a few minutes to let the air clear and to let Roman compose himself.

Now, Remus would say his brother was very predictable. He always loved the idea of romance and love and would often wax poetry to whoever was his crush. (Not that it always worked out in his favor.) But Remus could tell what his brother was here for. He wanted him to be his wingman! To help him woo Virgil properly. He wanted Remus to tell him how vampires behaved and the things they couldn't have so Roman could plan a surprise picnic. And they were twins, when they were in the same room, they almost always seemed to know what the other was thinking. So, Remus would say he knew his brother pretty well.

"I want you to help me kill him." Wait, what?

Remus blinked. "What?"

Roman gulped. He really didn't want to have to repeat it. Just trying to say it the first time was like pulling a tooth. He didn't want to kill Vir- the vampire. But, he had given his word that he would rid the people of the monster. And that's what he had to do. "I need you," Roman pushed out. "To help me...I- I need to get rid of the monster. I made a promise to do so."

Remus blinked. "You want me to help you kill a vampire?" Roman nodded. Remus bit his lip. He could work with this. Sure his gay disaster if a brother wouldn't be much help but he could work with this.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll help," Remus replied, his mind already whirling with different plans. His face twisted with gremlin-like glee.

Roman sighed. "Thank you, Remus. Thank you."

-----

Virgil laid faced down on his new bed and groaned. "Uggggggghhhh. That was so much work."

Valak chuckled as he floated above Virgil. "Perks of being a ghost, got an excuse not to do chores." Virgil rolled his eyes and turned his head to stick his tongue out at the ghost. They existed in silence for a few moments before Virgil sat up against the headboard and pulled his knees to his chest. Valak paused in his floating to look at him.

"What if...what if he hates me?" Virgil asked, his voice sounded small.

Valak hummed and gently floated down to land beside Virgil. "I don't think he does." Virgil hummed in acknowledgment. Valak frowned and tried again. "I think, if he truly hated you, he would have killed you as soon as you told him."

"He couldn't have, there was nothing he could use to kill me," Virgil mumbled.

Valak sighed. "Well, we'll have to see about that." Silence settled over the room until Virgil's stomach grumbled. Vievil frowned and shoved his face into his knees. The ghost frowned. "Virgil." The vampire ignored him. Valak rolled his eyes. "Come on, Virgil. You can't do this."

Virgil's face twisted in anger. "You can't stop me."

Valka let out a sigh. "Virgil, you have to eat."

Virgil shook his head angrily. "No."

Valak and let out a sigh. This wasn't the first time Virgil refused to eat. Virgil didn't know it, but Valak had witnessed every time Virgil had stopped eating. Luckily, Virgil always pushed through it. The only problem was he didn't know when Virgil would eat again. And they were in a new country. They didn't know where dangers lied. For all they knew, a vampire hunter could be living just down the block. Valak highly doubted it but he knew you could never be too careful.

"Virgil," Valak started.

"No!" Virgil shouted. "No! I'm-I'm a monster! All I do is suck the life out of people! I'm a monster! I'm a monster! I'm a monster!"

Valak sighed. "Fine, okay." Virgil huffed and went back to stewing in his self hatred while Valak floated out of the room to explore the house for a little bit. He really hoped Roman loved Virgil. He didn't want to think of how much damage it would cause Virgil's mental health if he had someone he grew close with running after him with a steak trying to kill him. If only there was someone who would help me convince Virgil that he isn't bad.

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Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws @odette-ssbu

Castle of Devils taglist: @kittycake574 @rainbow-roman @icequeenoriginal @ilovemygaydad @comicsimpson @notalwaysthebadguy @loveyatothemoonandback

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