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yrluvjane · 11 months

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| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 |

Chapter One: The Night it Bled

Warning: Angst, self-hate.

Summary: 8 years after the haunting incident of Lord and Lady Potter on 31st of October 1981, Harry and Jean finally visit their parents, However, Harry's feelings towards the trip are concerning .

Harry and Jean were met with the familiar smell of soaps and cleaners and the triggering scents of — well hospitals; which, ironically, made them feel sick as they walked into St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests.

The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises... Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. Jean noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds.

More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing.

The fourth floor housed the Janus Thickey Ward, which was for the treatment of spell damage. It addressed unliftable jinxes, hexes, curses, incorrectly-applied charms,

"This is our long-term residents' ward. For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement." The nurse introduces. "We usually keep the doors to the door locked to stop patients from wandering about."

"We do, however, allow patients to surround themselves with their personal possessions to make them feel more at home and, in many cases, to help remember who they were." She says, and Harry doubts that anyone other than Remus is listening to her.

His uncle Sirius is busy trying to cheer his sister up with jokes that he doubted was appropriate at a hospital and evidence of that is when a passing nurse gaped at Sirius and immediately rushed to tell another nurse.

Though Harry did appreciate Sirius trying to put a smile on Jean's face, and he was sure she too was grateful. "Mr. Potter, Miss Potter..." The healer calls and faces the siblings with an unsure look, wandering her eyes to the two adults with them before crouching to their level.

Jean crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the Healer.

"This is the first time visiting your parents, no?" The latter asked. Both the ten year old and eight year old nodded. "Your parents were hit with a rather strong charm... when they came here, they were very hurt, and they were missing -"

"We know what happened to them." Jean says with a harsh edge to her tone. "Jean! Don't be rude." Harry stated, looking at his younger sister in disbelief. "Thank you, Mr. Potter, but it's fine. We expect this from everyone. I just want to warn you that they may not recognise you and to ask you not to mention anything related to the events of that night or your relationship with them." The healer asked, and Harry stared confusingly at his uncle Remus, then faced the healer.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sharing a worried look with his sister. Jean finally let her arms down. "Lord and Lady Potter seem to experience an unexplainable surge of pain whenever one brings up that fateful night, and sometimes these surges lead to excruciating mental pain or seizures."

"Why?" It's Jean that asks, her voice is soft and barely audiable with sadness, and Harry can see her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tries to prevent herself from crying. Sirius puts a hand on her shoulder and leans down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was must have worked cause the next thing she did was playfully push Sirius and send him a narrowed look.

Harry doesn't appreciate the pity he sees the mediwitch gives them, but he understands where it's coming from. After a rather long and partially unnecessary pep-talk from Remus and Sirius, Harry pulls his sister aside and takes her in a hug. The younger girl stares at him sadly before poking his face, "You're too emotional, y'know that right."

"Pads says I get it from dad. And you're too quiet. It's okay to hurt every once in a while." Jean only raises her brows, Harry grins they had only been arguing the other week on how he could lift one brow at time and she couldn't.

"Remus says I'm like mum, I'm taking that as a compliment." She says as she pushes his glasses back up his nose and smiles. Harry looks over her shoulder where the mediwitch is talking to their uncles in hushed tones and wary glances. Remus looks up and catches Harry eyes, he sends the raven-haired boy an encouraging smile.

"If you don't want to go in, we can come back some other time." Harry states, scratching mercilessly at his palm, his sweating in his clothes even if though the room they're in is spelled with cooling charms. "I can handle it, I'm not a baby, Harry!" She hisses at him. "I'm not! I– I'm not–" Harry can feel tear stinging in his eyes as he looks at the small creak between the ward's doors.

Behind those are his parents, his parents. Harry doesn't know what’s worse, this or not having parents at all. At some point in his life he forgot he even had those. It doesn't feel like he has parents. Remus and Sirius are his uncle's but Lord and Lady Potter were like fictional characters to him, they were heroes in the eyes in the wizarding world and for some reason everyone need to make it sound as though they were dead. And he has to wait, wait for that wave of emotion to hit when he realises they may not be buried in a coffin but they don't exist anymore, they don't even exist to each other.

He has to go in, he decides, next year he leaves for Hogwarts and he can't have—He can't have not met his parents! And he knows Jean wants to see them, she's stuck on it too. He doesn't blame her but Harry doesn't want go, he—

It's my fault Harry wants to say. The Dark Lord wanted him. Why did his parents and Jean need to suffer. He'd rather die than let his sister go through this. "I'm scared, Jean." He blurts quietly, and it's clear on his face and in his voice. Harry feels as though his under veritaserum. It comes out of him like a secret, and he feels a bit relieved when he says it. Jean's demenor immediately changes.

Despite Harry being the older one, his sister has always been the mature one. There it is, pity and sadness in her eyes, and Harry wants to hit himself against the wall. He can't handle it, not from her.

"Harry, why didn't you say anything?" She asks, pulling him closer and further to the side. She looks at him as though he's a wounded bird as though she might break him if she looks hard enough. "Because I'm not supposed to be scared!" But he is, he's scared they'll blame him. He knows it he's fault he sees every time Remus or Sirius or Jean look at a picture at mum or dad. But to hear it from them, the thought enough makes him feel sick.

He realises he's been for too quiet and Jean turns around towards their uncle's, no doubt about to ask them to leave. Harry manages to get there before her and declares they're ready.

He ignores the look of shock and disbelief from his sister and pulls his hand back when she tries to reach for him. The mediwitch puts an unnecessary hand on their back and whispers in their ear where they are. But Harry doesn't need her, he's already spotted his mum and dad the moment his stepped in.

They're far enough to not notice them but close enough for Harry to make out their faces. His dad is leaning back on a chair, his feet over the table, playing with a Snitch. His mum on the other hand is writing by the looks of it. While his father gives of an air of friendliness and companionship; his mother gives on of solitude, he head is hunched in her book and when Harry concentrates he can see her furrow her brows every once in a while.

He wants to see her and apologise and cry and be held and he wants her to hug him and tell him it's going to be alright. "I'll see dad." He mutters shamefully. It's truly a shameful Jean deserves to choose who to see first after all she was the one who was a baby and missed the chance to make memories with them then but Harry won't dare look at his mum.

He can't act as though he didn't sit there like an idiot that night and watched his mum and dad march to death just to save his useless existence. Jean is pulled by Remus for a hug, his whispering something while kissing her head, and Harry sees Jean nod. "How do you feel? Okay? Sad? Nauseous? We can get you something to eat. There should be a–"

"I'm fine, Pads." Harry whispers tiredly. He's so tired. He can't even bother to raise his glasses back up. He doesn't need to because Sirius does it for him. Harry smiles. It's mostly forced, but Harry can feel a genuiness somewhere. Contrary to popular belief, Sirius is the mum between him and Remus. Sirius kisses him on the head and ruffles his hair before playfully pushing towards his dad.

By the corner of his eyes, he can see Jean narrow her eyes at him with pursed lips and concerned brows. Now that he is getting closer to his dad, enough to make out the lightning shaped scar on his wrist, Harry gasps in a sharp breath before pushing himself forward.

"Hey!" Harry says awkwardly and is now aware of the itchiness of his hair. His dad, James Potter, turns toward him with a grin and suspicious eyes. He pushes his feet of the table and pockets the snitch. "Can I help you kid?" His dad asks.

Harry notes the dark curls they share, the glasses, the facial structure and it's almost like seeing an older version of himself. Everyone always tells him he has his father's look and grandmother eyes. It's Jean who is a complete copy of mum. Harry chokes on air and faces his dad with a worried expression.

"I'm...ahm...I'm Harry, Uncle Sirius' Godson?"

His dad's confused face almost instantly perks up, "Really? He talks a lot about you, y'know. His proud of you!"

"Oh uhm yeah, I guess...He's visiting someone and said I could come and hang out with you." Harry awkwardly lies. He begins to scratch the pad of his thumb in hopes to stop the bubbling sadness in his throat.

"You okay? You seem quite nervous? I promise I don't bite." His dad jokes and Harry misses the flick of an odd expression that sparks in his face. "Harry," James notes with a confused nod and said boy whips his head up in shock. "Yeah?" He asks unsurely.

"That's a really nice name." James says biting his lip and smiling, showing off his dimples. "So, Sirius tells me you're really good at Quidditch, a seeker right?"

"Yeah, my dad used to play." Harry replies with a small smile. Uncomfortable tears begin to burn his eyes and Harry needs to silently scratch at his thighs to prevent them from falling. "Is that why you play? Cause your dad used to?"

"I guess doing the things he used to do makes me feel as though he's doing it with me? It's crazy and weird. Whatever but I just...uhm...I just really make him proud." Harry admits, staring right back at his dad. The older man stares back it him with a soft smile and leans over to ruffle his hair. "You're a good kid, Harry. You're dad should be proud...I know I would."

"Really?" Harry asks and the tears that he's been trying to bury finally surface as James' scared face begins to blur. "No no no, don't cry. Please, don't cry." James' voice comes as Harry hangs his head down, tears falling freely. He feels his dad's hand over his shoulder and on his back; trying to calm him down.

"It's okay buddy. If it makes you feel any better my parents dead too." However, James realized that does not appropriate to say cause Harry let out a louder sob. "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry. I didn't mean too! I didn't know." Harry defends to his dad. He knows he won't understand what his saying or why he's saying it but Harry doesn't care. He wants to apologize, he wants his parents forgiveness, he needs it. He needs this pain, this guilt, to go away.

Harry's vision blurs as James takes of his glasses and wipes his tears with the sleeve of the red sweater his wearing. "Why don't talk about something else?...Remus says you have a younger sister! Why don't we talk about her?" James muses, hoping it will stop the little boy from crying.

Harry hiccups and almost laughs as his dad trips to get him water. "Here!"

Chapter Three: The Calm Before the Storm

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog

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edupunkn00b · 2 months

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Mad Lads, Chapter 4: Wounds

Prev - Wounds - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The Mad Lads return from their battle with Hesper and now Logan really doesn’t know what to think.

Rated: M - WC: - CW: Hospital, non graphic injuries, medication, swearing. Random guy imprisoned in the basement. -

Rhythmic, high-pitched beeping battered his ears. Eyelids blinked open but soon squeezed shut against the hot pain shooting through his skull and down his spine. “Too bright,” he tried to mumble past his dry throat. No sound came out. He was cold, his arms and legs bare, his favorite hoodie… somewhere else.

The boy shivered and tried to sit up. He could barely move. The ear-piercing beeping sped up, growing syncopatic as he thrashed in what he now realized was a narrow bed with bars on either side. A door hissed open and a tight, warbly voice cried out from the hallway. “Code purple! I need help in here, now! Code purple! He’s awake!”

The room exploded in activity. Gloved hands appeared, grabbing his legs, his arms, his head. He fought back, twisting away from one of them only to push closer to someone on his other side. In the struggle, he yanked out the tubes stuck in both arms and another below his ribs. Someone swore. “He’s gonna need a new central line!”

“Where the fuck am I? What are you doing to me?” The boy’s voice doubled and tripled on itself and two of the nurses fell to the floor, hands pressed to their ears.

“Dammit, they weren’t in PPE,” another voice hissed. “Get them out of here.”

He squinted against the lights aimed at his eyes. He could just make out the figures in the room. Eight or nine adults surrounded his bed. Each wore hospital scrubs, bonnets like the ones on the vidscreens. Thick goggles hid most of what little skin poked out above their face masks.

They all wore bright orange earmuffs.

The boy craned his neck and saw two more people in green scrubs sprawled on the floor, unconscious. He shivered. Dead? The others in the room simply stepped over them as they rushed about, toting bags of fluid and instrument trays. One of them wheeled a silver cart next to the bed. The top was covered in shiny metal tools, curved and sharp. They picked up a tool with a long handle and a jagged, glinting tip.

Before he could even think about it, the boy ripped one arm away and out of the restraints. He shoved the nurse with the sharp thing away from him. “Don’t touch me! Don't fucking touch me!" The other staff began to back away as he used his free arm to tug and pull at his other restraints.

“Now, Mr. Morado, calm down. Everything will be fine. We just need you to—”

“Fuck that! ” He leapt out of the bed and was at the door before he finished the first word. How the— He shook his head. It didn’t matter. “I’m getting out of here and you’re not touching me with—”

He ran smack into someone in the hallway. At the speed he was moving, he should’ve knocked him right off his feet. Instead the man stood tall and smiled down at him with firm, gentle, multi-chromatic eyes.

“Hush now, child. Everything’s going to be alright.” Smooth and honey sweet, the man’s voice filled his ears and his mind. It blocked out the sound of the hospital PA system, the frightened shouts coming from behind the nurse’s station, even his own heart thudding in his chest. He looked down, bare feet slipping in the blood pouring from his abdomen where he’d ripped out the tangle of tubes and wires.

The boy’s vision blackened at the edges. He stumbled closer to the man and fell into his arms as the darkness fell over him.

“Everything's going to be alright, child,” Janus promised again. He cradled the boy in his arms close to his chest, then carried him back to his bed.

Janus sat in the last row of the Mad Lads’ transport and put up a low-esper interference field. None of them were happy about the way Hesper had slipped away, but Janus of all people should’ve known it had been little more than a honeypot.

Not a trap meant to hurt them, of course. No, never that. Hesper’s fucking principles meant he’d never stoop so low as to actually harm them.

Harm others, though? Harm anyone who, in his twisted little balance sheet had done enough damage that their death had sufficient… utils? No, that Janus wouldn’t—couldn’t—put past him.

No. No, today’s alarm had merely been Hesper testing out the boundaries of their monitoring, with the CarbonEx board of directors the sticky bait that kept them busy long enough for him to get away. Janus knew that move.

He’d taught him that move.

So Janus kept up the interference field. The rest of the team had no need to bear the weight of his own self-admonishment. In these tight quarters, with everyone’s senses dialed up to eleven with the adrenaline of the fight… Janus’ guilt spilling over into their minds would be inevitable without it.

“Hey, Jan?”

Janus cracked one eye open. Virgil had slid into the seat next to him, a security screen in his hands. “Something wrong at HQ?” Dammit, maybe this wasn’t over yet.

“No, it’s not Hesper.” Virgil was near enough now to hear some of his worries. “We’re safe, it’s…” He frowned and handed him the screen. It was zoomed in to the main room, three different cameras spliced together to show a 280° interior view of the main door. Splashed across the screen was Machina, well, Logan, briefly dangling from his mech before falling to the floor with enough force to jostle one of the cameras.

Janus gasped when the mech fell toward him, letting out a sharp breath when it hit the wall instead. It was eerily reminiscent of the video of his attack at the DC. He could only imagine what it had been like through Logan’s eyes.

It was only then he realized the feed was silent. “Are the sound pick-ups damaged?”

“It’s not live…” He shook his head, eyes fixed on Logan as he clawed his way out from the gap between his mech and the wall. “I… I muted the recording,” he finally explained with a shudder.

They watched him struggle to open his chair and climb up into it. “Pat?” Janus called up to the front of the transport. There was nothing but green-blue sea out the viewport. “How far out are we?”

“About an hour from HQ. All those hops chasing his signal took us a ways out in the boonies.” He swiveled in his seat. “Everything okay?”

The rose growing in Roman’s palm disappeared and his head jerked up at the concern in Patton’s voice. Janus was quick to nod. “Everything’s fine,” he lied. “What’s the delay on this?” he asked Virgil when the others seemed at least temporarily mollified by his answer.

“Twenty minutes,” he shrugged. He tapped at the screen and the video feed replayed at triple speed until it slowed, the camera angles automatically tracking Logan’s movement from the common room to the medbay. “This is live.”

They watched as he cleaned the wound at the back of his head, wincing at the bright red seeping through the gauze. “Pain killers are too high for him to reach like that,” Janus muttered. “Why didn’t he use the mech?”

“It doesn’t fit.” Virgil shook his head. “I saw him try it when I rolled back the recording.”

Janus nodded, eyes fixed on the video feed. Virgil patted his hand and shrugged. “Hold on to that.” He smiled, or at least tried to, and jerked his head toward the front of the transport. “I’ll go keep them company.”

“Thank you, Virge,” Janus murmured as he left, and watched Logan finish up, then roll down the dormitory hall. He tapped the screen to kill the feed. With the base’s impact detection and other internal alarms, they’d be alerted if Logan needed help. Janus didn’t need to spy as he went to his room to rest. They’d be back soon.

Logan had just made it back to the ground level when a bell dinged in the common room. Moving slowly, he rolled down the hall and peered out just as the floor opened and the Mad Lads climbed back up the way they’d left.

No-one appeared to be injured, though they moved slowly, staying close to each other. The Prince leaned in to the little back rub Patton gave him, and Ultraviolet nodded when Silvertongue gripped his shoulder and gave him a tight smile. Faces drawn and stiff, they looked exhausted.

Or dejected.

“How about I make us all something to drink?” Patton said, putting on a smile.

The Prince collapsed face down on the couch with a groan. “That sounds nice, Padre,” he mumbled. Silvertongue settled in a chair near the main door, fingers steepled. He didn’t speak aloud to anyone, but silence could mean anything from him.

Plopping down near The Prince’s head, Ultraviolet played with his hair and smiled up at the last standing Mad Lad. “Yeah, thanks, Pat.”

Patton tilted his head and looked right at Logan, dashing his hope that he might have been unnoticed from his vantage point. “I hope you’ll join us, Machina,” he said with a rapid nod.

Four sets of eyes locked on to him.

“If—if it wouldn’t be an imposition,” he nodded. Until he understood who they’d imprisoned in the basement—and why— he needed to keep up the appearance of a grateful if reluctant guest. “Per—perhaps I may be of service i—in the kitchen?”

“Oh, Kid—Machina, sorry,” Patton winced. “I haven’t finished reorganizing the kitchen… it’s, uh…”

Silvertongue turned to look at him, his eyes lingering briefly at the reddish brown stain near the door. Dammit, he hadn’t noticed the blood. “The kitchen is not yet accessible for you,” Silvertongue murmured. “But perhaps you will allow me to examine your wound?”

“It—it—it’s nothing, I…” he shrugged. Ultraviolet’s eyes darted over to his mech sitting in the corner. They know. How could they know?

“Security cameras,” Silvertongue murmured and rose to his feet.

“Y—you’ve been watch—watching me?”

“No.” Ultraviolet shook his head. “Well, not intentionally. The system noted an impact against the door and pinged me. I checked the feeds and… We saw you get hurt.”

“I turned it off when you went down the hall to your room,” Silvertongue added. “Bedrooms and bathrooms do not have cameras.”

The Prince mumbled something too quiet for him to hear and Logan nodded. “I see.” Silvertongue was still standing, waiting for permission to check his head. “Can I say no?”

“Of course you may,” he purred. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

Logan searched their faces. Patton gave him a little smile then excused himself to the kitchen. A mix of annoyance and guilt flashed over Ultraviolet’s face and he turned away. The Prince… The Prince wouldn’t even look at him.

He nodded. “I suppose it would be wise.”

Silvertongue actually smiled and led him to the medbay.

Thankfully, the medbeds were eminently adjustable and Logan could set it to a comfortable height so he could move himself onto one, sparing him the indignity of Silvertongue picking him up like a child. Or an invalid.

Without your suit, though, isn’t that exactly what you are?

Silvertongue wasted no time and worked quietly, muttering quiet apologies when his probing drew a pained sound from the back of Logan’s throat. “You did a good job cleaning the wound. I apologize we did not have the foresight to properly equip the lower shelves and drawers.” He paused, and Logan stiffened at the light brush against his mind, mental fingers checking if a wire was live the old-fashioned—and dangerous—way.

Silvertongue retreated and spoke his question aloud. “I am… surprised to see you out of your mech. Is the chair more comfortable?”

“Y—well…” Logan shifted on the table, fighting to reconcile the gentleness of Silvertongue’s touch and words with the man imprisoned in the basement. They would be able to see what had happened on the video, might have already seen his aborted exploration in the suit. “It doesn’t fit through the doorways.”

“Ah,” he breathed.

“It’s fine,” Logan muttered. “I’ll make do.”

Silvertongue nodded and continued his examination. When he was done, he moved to the counter and opened two drawers. “We ordinarily keep excess supplies in the lower drawers, but we don’t have any pain killers within reach.” Within your reach, he didn’t speak, but the thought echoed through his mind just the same. “Would moving them here be acceptable to you?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, too surprised to consider his answer. “Than—thank you.”

He tinkered with the contents of the top shelf for a moment and finally pulled down a large kit. “Perhaps there are be other items in here you would find useful.” He unzipped the cover and laid out creams and ointments, tiny bottles of various pills. “Do you take any regular medications?”

“I… I had been prescribed a nerve blocker.” Logan shook his head. “Dialadine. I stopped once the supply from the hospital ran out. It’s… cost prohibitive.”

Nodding, Silvertongue tapped a screen on the inner cabinet door. “Anything else?”

“I—ibuprofen,” he stuttered. Silvertongue pulled a large bottle down from the cabinet. “A—and vitamin D.”

He tapped at the screen again, but when Logan fell silent, Silvertongue frowned. “You weren’t prescribed… psychotropics of any kind? Paroxetine? Zenlat? Not even topiramate?”

Shrinking in his chair, Logan shook his head. Did they want to drug him? Maybe they wanted drugs to keep the prisoner in the basement sedated? But they seemed to have no problem obtaining… anything they wanted.

Silvertongue was staring at him. “Your doctors prescribed you nothing for PTSD?”

“Insurance would only cover what was strictly medically necessary.”

Silvertongue swore and a wave of frustration and outrage crashed and fizzled in Logan’s mind.

Not outrage at him, though. Outrage for him. Outrage on his behalf.

It was over in a moment, the traces dancing along the edges of his perception. Silvertongue had folded his hands behind his back and his face was a placid, calm mask. “I know someone, if you’d be willing to meet with him.” He met Logan’s eyes. “You can trust him.”

“I’ll consider it,” Logan promised. “I…” The Mad Lads had left before they’d had any discussions about the logistics of this arrangement. And what his financial responsibilities would be. He looked down at the floor. “I am uncertain how to… contribute.”

Silvertongue paused, then brought the medicine kit to the medbed. “You literally built yourself a mech single-handedly—” Logan’s head shot up, expecting ridicule or disgust to accompany the near pun. But Silvertongue’s smile was warm. “Even before any of this, you demonstrated you have the heart of a hero, you’re brave, and you keep your head in the heat of the moment.”

Logan’s face warmed and his mouth went dry, unsure how to handle such open praise.

“I am certain your skills will come in handy with the team.”

He worked his mouth for several long seconds before he finally managed to whisper. “Th—thank you. I—” His deeper concern was not yet answered. “I…” He looked around the medbay. “I imagine HQ is expensive to maintain. I… I do not have… financial resources to contribute.”

“Oh.” Silvertongue blinked, confusion painted across his face, then he smiled again. “Oh! Machina, no. No-one expects that of you. Between Patton and I and the occasional income from various missions… we have it covered. We’re a team.”

Logan stared, the praise, the promise of no longer needing to worry about how he’d afford medicine or food… It was dizzying.

It was almost enough to forget his questions about the prisoner in the basement. Was he really allowed to say ‘no?’ Was the man downstairs the last person who turned down a position on their team?

Silvertongue misinterpreted his hesitance. “You’ve had a lot to absorb. Here.” He turned the kit and set a few bins from the drawer next to it. “Put anything you might find useful in these and we’ll move it to the lower drawers. Take your time, I’ll go check on Patton’s progress.”

He nodded dumbly and managed a small smile before he pulled out anything he recognized from the medicine kit, and a few things he’d only heard of, and organized them in the trays.

His questions would have to wait for another day.

#Meus ex Machina #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #Silvertongue #Ultraviolet #Machina #The Prince #Papa Bear #superpowers #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #tss

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naminethewriter · 4 days

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On the Road, Just the Two of Us

Chapter Eight: At Our Destination, Not Just the Two of Us

Masterpost | First | Previous | Ao3

Summary: This was written for @dukeceit-week-2024, @dukeceitweek

Janus and Remus are living in a campervan at the moment. Are they going somewhere? Who knows. The only thing that’s important is that they’re together.

Content Warnings: Flirting, Kissing, Bickering between the twins

🌻🌻🌻🌻

“I don’t want this to end,” Remus admitted quietly.

“I know, darling.” Janus didn’t look over at his boyfriend, too focused on the GPS that told him they were only five minutes away from their destination.

“Can’t we just drive past and keep going?”

“No, dear. It was fun and I loathe to admit I wouldn’t mind if this trip was longer, but we need to go back at some point. I can only take off time from work for so long and we do still need the money. Even if we were to live like this full time. I don’t think I’d enjoy it on a permanent basis, actually.”

Remus sighed, leaning heavily into his seat.

“Yeah, I know. Me too, actually. I can’t sculpt like this. Or paint on the scale I’d like. I know it’s for the best, but still… I don’t wanna deal with the responsibilities again.”

“I cannot relate to that at all.” Janus moved his hand to Remus’ thigh and squeezed. “It’s going to be fine. You focus on your art and let me deal with all the annoying paperwork and bills.”

“You’re gonna be busy again,” Remus accused, though it was in a lighter tone. He was indeed upset at that fact, but he also knew that it was necessary.

“Yes. That’s probably not going to change for a long while.”

“I know. It sucks ass.”

“It does.”

The GPS announced the last turn they would have to make before they’d reach their destination at the end of the road.

“We’ll find the time to do something like this again, promise,” Janus said. “Not every year, not even every other year but we’ll do it again.”

“I’ll cut you if we don’t.”

“Sounds fair.”

They drove the last stretch of their journey in silence, just enjoying each other’s company and reflecting on the past three month on their own.

It had been the most freeing time in Janus’ life.

He was going to miss it.

He pulled the van into a free parking spot outside a lovely, old hotel. The location of the wedding.

“Are you ready?” he asked Remus. His boyfriend huffed.

“One last thing.” Remus pulled Janus over to him, practically lifting him from the driver’s seat and onto his lap, before sealing their lips together. It was unusually sweet for him, no tongue involved.

They parted a few minutes later.

“Now I’m ready,” Remus grinned and Janus chuckled.

“Then let’s go.” He leaned over to grab the keys from the ignition before climbing out of Remus’ lap and out of the passenger door. Remus followed after him, but not without commenting on how good his butt looked.

“There you are! Finally!” The car door wasn’t even closed behind them before Roman was stalking over to them, looking close to furious. “Do you have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be here yesterday!”

“What a nice welcome,” Janus commented dryly, causing Remus to burst out in giggles and Roman to glare at him.

“Sorry, Ro-bro, but we got turned around.”

“Oh, really?” Roman asked, obviously not convinced, his arms crossed.

“No, he saw a flyer for a carnival and begged me to go.”

“It was super fun, I almost puked on one of their rides! So worth it.”

“I cannot believe you two! A carnival, really?! The rehearsal dinner for your wedding is in two hours! Two hours! And you both look like you haven’t showered in a week!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it was only five days.” Roman groaned and Remus smiled at him, delighted by his annoyance.

“I do not know why you didn’t get a better van! One with a shower! Janus is a lawyer for goodness’ sake, you could’ve easily afforded it!”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the aesthetic we were going for!”

“I am so going to strangle you!”

“Oh, look, the grooms finally made it,” a new voice commented, and Janus turned to see that Virgil, his best man, had joined them. “Roman was going up the walls since yesterday, it was hilarious to watch.”

“I can’t imagine that at all.” Janus smirked. “You seem quite calm though. Usually you would be right there with him, worrying your pretty little head off about everything.” Virgil elbowed him in the arm for that and rolled his eyes.

“Why would I stress myself out about your wedding? You already paid for all of this, so it’s not like it would’ve been a loss for me if you didn’t end up showing. Plus, I know the two of you, of course nothing here would go to plan, especially since Roman did most of the planning. I was sure you’re going to turn up late, if just to spite him. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past you to have arrived here like two days ago and you’ve just stayed in the van ten minutes from here until you could be fashionably late. I’m more surprised you showed up for the rehearsal at all. Second plus, Logan’s been weirdly insistent that you’d be here around this time. I think Remus has been texting him updates.”

“Why should we put so much effort into a wedding Roman wanted more than us? We would have been fine with getting an officiant into our backyard during a barbeque. He insisted on something more ‘meaningful.’” Janus rolled his eyes and Virgil snickered.

“He and his high standards. Anyway, let’s get you inside and under a shower. You reek.”

“Why, thank you Virgil, for telling me that so politely.”

“Fuck off and just come along.”

They started off towards the hotel, closely followed by the twins that were still arguing.

“And what the hell was that text about sunflowers in the bouquet?” Roman huffed, still rather worked up. “You can’t expect me to change that on such short notice! And they would have clashed with the other colors, plus they stand for platonic affection, not romantic!”

“The fuck you mean ‘short notice?’ I asked you about that two and a half months ago!”

“Yes, way too late! I added some sunflowers to the decorations but not the bouquet.”

“Wow, thank you for your sacrifice.”

They continued to bicker like that the entire way. When they reached the entrance to the hotel, Virgil pulled the door open and held it for them all to pass. Janus let the twins go first, since Roman seemed about to explode if he didn’t get Remus ready immediately. Janus watched them disappear further into the building when Virgil lightly shoved his shoulder with his own.

“So, you ready to get married?” he asked.

Janus watched Remus laugh loudly and pulling his brother into a hug and he smiled.

“I was ready to marry him years ago.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻

This is the end of the story! Thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, tagging and commenting 💛💚

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fangirlwriting-stories · 8 months

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They Say You Can't Fight Fate (I Say Fucking Watch Me)

Chapter One

Author's Note: And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading this one, it was a tad spontaneous, but I really loved writing it, and I'm glad it got an ending when I wasn't quite sure when I posted it. I hope you enjoyed!

Chapter Eight:

Remus was almost scared to admit it sometimes, but things were good. He’d never expected to have the freedom to work with people he loved, doing something he at least didn’t hate, and not have to worry about stupid soulmates or stupid orderlies or stupid people never believing him.

Roman seemed to be doing much better with the therapist, though Remus was loath to admit it. But he was happy, and that made Remus happy too. Logan was still amazing fun to hang out with, and Remus was definitely not imagining the blushes that were starting to be sent his way. He was going to have to bring them up sooner rather than later. Especially considering Virgil finally got his head out of his ass, realized how stupid waiting for your soulmate was, and decided to kiss Janus about it. The two of them weren’t any less argumentative, but now quite a few of those arguments ended with the break room being mysteriously locked. It annoyed Roman to death, but Remus thought it was hilarious.

Overall, though, life was starting to look up in a very real way, and even if there were still problems, Remus was starting to feel like it was something he might be able to handle.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

It was a quiet Saturday, which was unusual, but it being unusual meant all four of them were scheduled to work, so they were lazing around at the front desk and tossing life stories and quips back and forth (well, with most of the stories coming from people other than Remus).

Remus was sitting on the desk and leaning back on his hands, listening to the others, smiling as he watched them. Roman was arguing with Virgil about what movies to watch when they had a Disney marathon, and Janus was only cutting in to feed the flames of their argument. Remus, on the other hand, was allowing himself a moment to be a sap and think about how much he loved the three of them, and how much he’d appreciated everything they’d done for him.

And then the bell jingled, and a horribly familiar voice yelled “REMUS!”

Remus went stiff immediately, and Roman whirled around from where he was arguing with Virgil and jumped forward in the same motion, surprising everyone except for Remus with how quickly he moved forward and shoved himself in front of him.

“Hey, woah,” Virgil said, moving forward at the same time Janus turned around. “What’s going on?”

Their Mom and Dad both stepped forward, and Remus could see Roman shaking as badly as he was, but he didn’t move from his spot in front of him.

“What on earth are you two doing here?” their dad said, looking back and forth between them both.

“Uh, sorry,” Virgil said, and to Remus’ surprise, he stepped forward and pushed both Roman and Remus further behind him. “But we have a strict policy against serving people who give our employees visible fear responses.”

“Step aside, young man,” their father said, crossing his arms. “We’re here to speak with our sons.”

Virgil exchanged a look with Janus, and Remus could see the exact moment that something processed for the two of them. He felt a little sick, but instead he just grabbed Roman’s arm and squeezed it, and Roman linked their hands and squeezed back.

“Get off of the premises right now,” Janus said lowly, pointing a finger out the door. “Or I am calling the police.”

“No!” Remus screamed, and Janus turned in surprise to him.

Police would be on their parents side as soon as they even started to explain the situation. They’d send Remus back, and who knows what they’d do with Roman, and Remus would never see him or Janus or Virgil ever again.

“Remus,” their mother said, stepping forward and holding her hands out. “We just want to help you—”

“No, get away from me, stay away!” Remus screamed, backing up and pulling Roman with him.

“Fine,” Virgil said, shifting and putting himself firmly in front of Roman and Remus. “Get off the premises right now or I will run into the other room and grab one of our fucking bats. And rest assured I am not afraid to use it.”

“Don’t involve yourself in situations you couldn’t have the slightest hope of understanding,” their father said, crossing his arms and glaring at Virgil.

“I understand enough,” Virgil growled. “I understand you’re scaring the hell out of two of the bravest people I know.”

“You listen here—”

Remus turned, grabbed Roman’s arm, and ran them both into the other room, because Virgil had a good idea there and he was going to take advantage of it. Roman seemed to pick up on his plan after a second and thankfully grabbed a bat too. Before they headed back out, he grabbed Remus’ arm. “How far are you planning on going?” he asked quietly.

“I have no fucking clue,” Remus said, and banged the door open, startling everyone on the other side of it.

“Get out of here,” Remus said, hoisting up the bat behind his head. “Or I am going to fucking kill you.”

Both of his parents stared at him for a minute, and then his father sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking exasperated.

“Remus, don’t be ridiculous,” he started.

Remus screamed and slammed the bat into the wall, putting a hole right through it. “LISTEN TO ME!” he screamed.

Well, now at least his father looked a little frightened.

“Remus,” his mother said, her voice shaking. “Stop it, you’re causing a scene.”

“Good! I want to! Get the fuck out of here or I am going to slam this bat into the space between your eyes, if that is what it takes to get you the fuck out of my life! I am happy here! I have Roman and I have friends and I have someone I might want to actually date sometime, and I am not going to let you fuck it up again!”

“You shouldn’t be dating anyone, they’re not your soulmate—” Remus’ father started.

“No, Roman is my soulmate,” Remus said, taking a couple steps forward until, to his vicious delight, his parents took a couple steps back. “Because I fucking say so! That is my choice, you don’t get a say in it! You don’t get any say in my life anymore, because every time you have one, you fuck it up! You fucked me up and you fucked Roman up too, and I am not going to let you stay here and fuck anyone or anything else up! So I suggest you turn around and run home with your tails between your legs. Because I don’t want to die, but you know something? I’m starting to think I wouldn’t mind so much if you did.”

Neither of his parents said anything, just gaped at him in shock and a still-not-appropriate-enough amount of fear.

Janus and Virgil were both staring at him too, but Remus was trying very hard not to look at them right now. That became a little more difficult however, when after a second Janus shook himself and turned around, glaring at Remus’ parents.

“Bye,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Both of Remus’ parents looked at him again. Remus smacked his bat against his hand. They turned and fled.

As soon as they were out of sight, everything rushed out of Remus at once, and he dropped to his knees and sobbed, the bat clattering to his feet beside him.

A moment later a second bat hit the ground, and Remus felt the familiar arms of his Roman encircling him.

“It’s okay,” Roman whispered. “It’s okay it’s okay.”

Remus turned and buried his head in his chest, trying and mostly failing to breathe in any capacity.

Then, he saw a different person kneel next to him out of the corner of his eye, and Virgil was suddenly there saying something.

“I’m gonna count to four, okay? Try and breathe in.”

Remus listened and tried to do what he said, and eventually his breathing got a little stabler, though he was still crying, and he definitely didn’t want to let go of Roman.

“Okay,” came Janus’ voice, and he knelt down on Remus’ other side. “We’re closed up, no one else is coming in today.”

“‘m sorry,” Remus managed.

“For what?” Virgil said firmly, looking meaningfully at him.

Remus sniffed. “For damaging the wall,” he said with a weak smile. “‘m not supposed to do that.”

Virgil burst into laughter, smiling back at Remus and shaking his head. “I love you, you idiot,” he said.

Remus sniffed again, his smile fading. “You want an explanation?”

“We don’t need one,” Janus said.

Remus turned to stare at him. “You’re telling me you aren’t curious?”

“Remus, I have been desperately curious for months now,” Janus said. “But last time we tried to talk about something before you were ready it went really, really poorly.”

Roman nudged Remus gently from the front, and Remus looked up at him. “I think it’s time,” he said quietly.

Remus looked at him for a minute, and he nodded. “‘Kay,” he mumbled. He blinked a couple times, and then grabbed Roman’s still-shaking arms. “You okay?”

Roman let out a shaky breath and shook his head, some tears slipping past his eyes.

Remus climbed up and wrapped his arms tightly around Roman, and Roman took his turn to cry into Remus’ shoulder.

When they both felt a little more stable, Remus turned to look at Janus, then Virgil, trying to think of how to start. Finally, he sighed.

“Here,” he said, pulling his sleeve up and showing them both his soulmark. Janus raised an eyebrow, and Virgil just looked at it, his face not revealing anything.

“Mom and Dad wouldn’t ever listen when I told them I was okay,” Remus said quietly, pulling his sleeve back down. “And eventually they tossed me into a mental hospital, looking for something to justify their stupid beliefs and insane paranoia.”

“I kinda got the opposite treatment,” Roman said, pulling up his own sleeve and laying it out in front of them, but just leaving it there instead of pulling it back down. “I told them I wasn’t okay, over and over, but they never let me not be.”

“So we ran,” Remus said. “Decided we were soulmates, said each other’s soulmarks, and just ran away.”

Virgil whistled, leaning back on his hands. “Well, shit.”

“I’m so sorry,” Janus said quietly.

Remus let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”

“We kind of lied about being eighteen for the first couple months we were here,” Roman said.

Janus snorted. “Oh, we knew.”

Remus laughed a little, giving him a tired smile.

“I vote we all head back to Janus’ and I’s place,” Virgil said. “We’re taking tomorrow off to watch movies and stuff our faces with junk food.”

“I’m so down with that plan,” Remus said.

“Eventually we’re going to need to figure out a plan to keep you both safe long term,” Janus said. “But I think Remus bought us all some time there. It will also help now that you’re both actually eighteen.”

“I like that plan,” Roman said, giving an exhausted nod.

“For now let’s go home though,” Virgil said, standing. “I’m gonna go pull the car around. Just meet me out front whenever you can manage.”

“Hey,” Remus said, looking between Virgil and Janus. “Thank you. Both of you. So much.”

Janus reached over and gave Remus a squeeze, and then Virgil leaned down and did the same.

“Of course,” Virgil said. “We look out for each other when we work shitty service jobs together.”

Remus laughed and smiled up at him, and Virgil gave him a smirk as he headed out to the car.

Janus helped him and Roman both stand up a second later, and they all headed for the exit at a leisurely pace.

And as they stepped out front to head towards movies and junk foods, and Remus climbed into the car with his brother and two closest friends, he realized maybe the good part of life would last after all.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #creativitwins #platonic dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #platonic prinxiety #platonic roceit #anxceit #my fic

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 6 months

Text

Code Words: Bacon?

Hi, I absolutely loved your CodeWords fic! It had a good conclusion, but if you were to continue that verse I would definitely read it. Like if it was something like Roman and Janus go on a new mission/adventure or just some fluffy bonding with the agents we love in this fic. – creativia10

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: nightmare, sleep paralysis, aliens/monsters

Pairings: none

Word Count: 5008

In an epilogue of sorts to the main story, Janus and Remus show Roman one of the training simulations.

The worst part about waking up from a nightmare is how truly exhausted his body is.

Roman winces, still staring at the ceiling as he struggles to convince the dead weight that should be his limbs to at least move a little bit. But no matter what he tries, they refuse to do so much as twitch, thrumming with the same bone-weary ache that comes from being put through the Blender; when he first started training at the higher agents' level, they introduced him to the obstacle course that would serve as his qualifier. He almost ended up permanently paralyzed the first time something came at him too fast, and spent the next six months in various stages of pain and suffering until he was finally able to put the fucking thing in the rearview mirror.

Come on, you assholes, he bargains with his limbs as he just manages to roll from his side to his back, just let me fucking move!

But they don't, and so he doesn't.

Closing his eyes to muster up the courage to shift again only serves to reinvigorate the horrors living on the insides of his eyelids. He wrenches them open again, trying doggedly to stay awake until he can convince his body to move. The dark of his room presses closer as he tries to move just enough to where he's not actively restrained by his own stupid limbs.

The ball of fear in his chest doesn't deflate.

His fingers wiggle on one hand, then the other. Bit by bit, he reclaims the use of his arms, but that doesn't mean shit if his lower body won't get with the fucking program. He wriggles around for a bit like a truly pathetic worm until he can flop himself over to the bedside table and grope for his phone.

Logan picks up on the third ring.

"Roman? Little one, is everything alright?"

"How the fuck do you sound this 'wake right now?" he slurs against the wave of relief that threatens to send him back to the bed.

"It's a skill, I'm afraid, but what's the matter?"

The obvious concern lacing his words strikes Roman's chest. "I…it's stupid."

"It's gotten you to call me in the middle of the night," Logan corrects gently, "that's not nothing."

"It's just—never mind."

"Roman," Logan says, a touch firmer this time, "tell me what's the matter."

And suddenly he's eight years old again, in a room that's too big and too small, and he mumbles: "I had a nightmare."

"Oh, little one, I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to come over?"

His heart leaps. "You…you would?"

Logan's quiet for a moment before he sighs. "Roman, perhaps I haven't made myself clear over the past few months, but there is very little that I would not do to ensure your comfort. If having me there with you will help in this moment, then that is what I shall do."

"Okay," Roman mumbles around the lump in his throat, "I…um…can you come, please?"

"I'll be right there."

True to his word, it feels like scarcely any time at all before there's a soft knock on his door and Roman's fumbling to pull up the app on his phone to check that it's Logan and let him in. The door swings open with Logan's soft hello, it's only me, and then he's appearing from around the corner—

Roman blinks at the flannel shirt and pants as Logan comes to sit on the edge of the bed. He notices the look and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

"Never thought you'd see me in pajamas, did you?"

"To be honest, I don't think I really believed you sleep."

"Of course not, this is part of my ruse," Logan says immediately, gesturing to himself, "I'm told that most normal humans wear specific 'bed clothes' when they go unconscious, apparently it's quite the intricate ritual."

Roman manages a weak laugh and Logan chuckles too, before his voice gentles and he shifts a little closer.

"What can I do for you, little one," he asks too softly for Roman to keep the whimper inside his chest, "what do you need?"

"Can I have a hug?"

"Of course you can, come here," he murmurs and leans forward to tuck Roman into his arms. The smell of pine and cedar wafts into his nose as he buries his head in Logan's shoulder, clutching the back of his shirt. "There, is that alright?"

He nods and Logan hums, shifting a little bit so there's less of a strain on Roman's still non-functioning legs. The phantom pain still thuds in the back of his brain like a too-loud stereo system, making him whimper again and try to burrow closer to Logan. One of his hands rests at the small of Roman's back as his head turns.

"Are you hurting, little one?"

"'S just phantom pain."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

He shifts a little more. "…yeah, it hurts a little. But I don't want pain meds," he says when Logan goes to pull away, "just—stay?"

Logan stops, to his credit, but he can feel the frown over his shoulder. "Why not, if I may ask?"

"It's more psychological than physical, at least that's what the doctor said. If I try and medicate it away, it makes it…it makes it worse the next time."

"Is there anything that does help?"

"Well, moving them helps, but I'm currently very stuck, so…"

Logan pulls back again, just enough to cup Roman's head so they can look at each other in the half-dark. "Do you want help?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. Something works at Logan's forehead before he makes Roman look at him properly.

"I am offering to help you because I care about you," he says, gently yet firmly, "and you are in pain and I wish to help you. This is not a trap, this is not something I will hold against you in the future. You are my charge and I will care for you as best I can."

"I know," Roman nearly whines, "I do, I promise, I just—my brain just fucking sucks."

"Hush, now," Logan soothes when Roman's fists clench, "it's alright, I know it's hard."

"Why is this so hard?"

"Brains are very good at pattern recognition," he explains, stroking his fingers through the hair at the back of Roman's head, "and it is very difficult for them to unlearn them. The brain acts as a muscle with a reflex; if it gets very used to doing something as a reaction to certain stimuli, it will continue to react in the same way until it is unlearned."

"You're too eloquent for this time of night," Roman mumbles, halfheartedly swatting his shoulder, "small-word me."

"I thought those were small words."

"Smaller words. Two syllables only."

Logan sighs in that fondly exasperated way but nods. "The brain is like a muscle."

"Okay."

"Muscles can have a reflex."

"Okay."

"It's very hard to stop a reflex."

"That's stupid."

"Well, I would argue that having reflexes at all is one of the evolutionary advantages that humans—" Roman glares at him and he cuts himself off with a sheepish cough— "the point I'm trying to make is that it's not your fault that you're having a difficult time, little one. You can be a little kinder to yourself over it."

"But that's hard."

"I know, little one, I know." He chucks Roman lightly under the chin. "But a good way to start is by letting others be kind to you."

"I don't have the brain to keep up with you in a debate right now," he says weakly, to which Logan only chuckles, "okay, okay, fine, you can help me."

Logan leans forward to kiss his forehead, which he swears he did on purpose so that Roman's hands would stutter and let him go long enough to slide further down the bed. "Can I take the covers off?"

"Mhm." Only for him to wince at how cold his legs feel, which only worsens the pain. "It's cold."

"I know, little one, I'm here to help. I'm going to walk you through a few physical therapy exercises that Medical had me do in the past, okay?"

"How are you gonna walk me through them when my legs don't work?"

Logan gives him a look and scribbles his fingers across Roman's right foot. Roman yelps, betrayed, and jerks his foot slightly away.

"Well," Logan says, slightly smug, "I think that's a promising start, don't you?"

"If you're just going to tickle me and call it 'helping,' then—"

"I won't," he says, softening immediately when he sees Roman's shoulders hunch, "I'm sorry, little one, that was mean."

"Yes, it was."

"I'm sorry." He takes Roman's ankle gently in hand. "I'll make it up to you, you have my word."

Slowly, Logan starts to bend and straighten Roman's leg, rotating his foot around his ankle, moving up to stretch out his hip too. He does the same with the other leg, working slowly and carefully so as not to strain his muscles. The ache ebbs and flows as Logan moves, still tingling in the very recesses of his brain as his legs slowly start to feel like legs and not useless sacks attached to him. Still, his breath hitches a few times when the pain decides to throb and Logan always stills, lowering his leg back to bed and waiting for Roman to nod that it's okay again.

"You're doing so well," he murmurs as he works, "so well."

"Thank you," Roman mumbles when he can actually move his legs a little bit again, "that's better."

Logan hums, sitting back near Roman's headboard again. When Roman leans closer, he lifts his arm and gathers him back in for a cuddle, kissing his temple and helping to tug the covers back over him. "Are you still cold?"

"Not really."

"That's good." His fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright."

"Wait, really?"

"I'm here for you, little one, if something I suggest will not help you, there is absolutely no obligation for you to do it."

"Why are you being like this now," Roman can't help but whisper, "you were so—so—so not this for so long, why are you doing this now?"

His head goes up and down as Logan sighs. "Believe me, little one, you have no idea how much I wish I could go back and change some of the things I've done, or how I chose to train you. I—in my own arrogance, I couldn't, or refused to see past yours, to see how hard you really were trying just to keep your head above water."

There's a pause, then Logan turns his head and his breath warms Roman's forehead.

"I thought I knew what was best for you," he says, a tremble in his voice, "and I helped deliver you to the hands of a monster. And for that, I will never forgive myself."

The words shoot a pang through Roman's chest. "Logan, you…you can't blame yourself for that."

"I can and I do, Roman. It was my job to make sure you were safe here, because that is the responsibility of a mentor, and I did not want—or perhaps I was just unwilling to admit that I didn't feel qualified to help you. I am aware," he says when Roman starts to say something, "that Michael was incredibly good at his job. I am aware that I cannot blame myself for the actions of others. But…look at me, little one."

Roman does and balks at the sight of Logan's tears. "Logan—"

"It was my fault that I was not honest with you that I didn't know how to help you," he says, his voice still remarkably clear, "and that I never made any effort to make sure that you knew that I was here to support you, no matter what."

And fuck it, Roman's crying now.

He throws himself at Logan's chest and Logan catches him, holding him as tightly as he can as he murmurs nonsense into Roman's hair. And maybe this really is better than he ever could have hoped for, because as Logan eventually coaxes him to lie back against the headboard, he clings to the flannel shirt with all his might and Logan comes with him, lying partly over him as though he's another blanket to shield him from the world.

There are far worse fates.

But tears have to run dry eventually because the human body has its limits, and when Roman sags against Logan's hold, he moves just enough to ensure Roman can still snuggle into his side and lies next to him. It's a different sort of exhaustion now, one that seeps far more into his chest and stomach than his limbs. He keeps a loose grip on Logan's sleeve as he nuzzles into the crook of his shoulder.

"Better?"

"Mhm."

"I'm glad." His hand cards through his hair again. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

There's a pause. Then: "Can you see if Janus is awake too?"

He can tell he's surprised him by the way Logan's hand falters, but after a moment he murmurs an affirmative and pulls away. Roman lets his eyes slip closed as the bright light from the screen illuminates the side of the bed. After another moment, he hears the telltale buzz of the phone beginning to ring and frowns. Logan shrugs—with the shoulder he isn't leaning on—and answers the call.

"You're on speaker, Janus, and Roman's here."

"Hey, sweetie," comes Janus's voice, "I heard you had a nightmare, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, burying into Logan's side, "just…wanted to see if you were okay too."

"I'm alright, sweetie, I'm fine." They hear a muffled voice and Janus sighs. "Look, I'm going to put you on speaker too so Remus doesn't have to act as a cartoon Greek chorus."

Roman snickers as there's a fumbling from Janus's end of the call and then a clunk as the phone must be set down on the table.

"Can you still hear me?"

"Yeah. Hi, Remus."

"Hey, squirt. Welcome to the cool kid's club of not being able to sleep at night."

"Remus," he hears Janus scold, followed by a soft thwap and a muffled yelp, "ignore him, sweetie, he's a terrible influence."

"Okay, one of us started sneaking out of the dorms way earlier than the other, and I'll have you know that your disciplinary record starts much earlier than mine."

"Yeah, well, one of us had to go figure out how to mop up a bunch of green slime because the other one was laughing too hard to be useful to anyone, so there."

"And you know, I've never once heard you say thank you."

"For dousing me in green slime? No, you haven't, and you won't, because that's not something I would thank you for."

Roman chuckles as the two of them keep bickering, his eyes growing heavier and heavier. Logan sets the phone on the bed so he can still hear them, before coaxing Roman to lie back down properly. He drifts off to sleep with the three voices in his ear, laughing about some prank that had gone hilariously wrong.

***

"I think he's asleep," Logan says over the phone and Janus immediately lowers his voice.

"Is he alright?"

"Exhausted, by the looks of it, and probably more than a little affected by some of the phantom pain still, but he's alright."

Remus grunts, taking another swig of his drink. "Has he had his follow-up with Psych yet?"

"It's at the end of the week."

"They really fucked him over with their booking shit, huh." He drums his fingers on the table. "Is he booked the rest of the week too?"

"No, not as far as I know."

"Might do him some good to get out and moving," Remus suggests, glancing at Janus, "just so he's not sitting in it."

"We have a sim mod coming up," Janus agrees, "it would be nice to do with a team."

"Why don't I see if Roman's up to breakfast with you two again tomorrow," Logan suggests, "then you can ask him?"

"Yeah, that works. Are you going to stay with him?"

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll look after him."

"Thanks, Logan." He hangs up and scrubs a hand over his face. "Well, we should probably get some sleep, then, huh?"

Remus huffs and finishes his drink. "Yeah, probably. Poor kid."

"Yeah."

"Nope," Remus says, pointing a finger at him, "none of that self-deprecating shit. Get that out of here. We've all been over this, now knock it off or I'll come in there with a crowbar."

Janus chuckles and waves him off, getting up slowly from the table and making his way over to the bed. After a moment, he feels the other side of the mattress sag as Remus joins him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he sighs, "just…you know."

"Yeah." The mattress shifts as Remus rolls onto his side. "You should probably change into something more comfortable to sleep in."

"So should you."

And so, neither of them moves, and they wake up the next morning with slightly bizarre marks from sleeping on things that aren't meant to be slept on, but they clean themselves up and go to meet Logan and Roman at the nearby diner. Roman looks a little tired when he sits in the booth, but he visibly brightens when he sees them walk in and scoots over to make room for Remus to sit next to him.

"Hey, squirt," Remus greets, ruffling his hair until Roman squawks, "what're you having?"

"Bacon, hashbrowns, pancakes. You?"

"That sounds great to me, I'll steal your bacon to go with my omelet."

"Hey!"

Remus winks as Janus rolls his eyes. "Ignore him, sweetie, he'll steal mine instead."

"Look, it's your own fault if you leave the plate right next to mine."

"Or you could order your own and we wouldn't have to deal with this." Remus swats a hand dismissively. "Fine, you can have my bacon, then—"

"Deal."

"—if you promise to give me the long-range flashlight in the sim later," he finishes smugly and watches Remus glare at him, "do we have a deal?"

"I'll order my own damn bacon, keep your paws off my flashlight."

"What flashlight?" Roman stage-whispers to Logan who shakes his head.

"They're talking about a combat training simulation. It's meant to help you refine your stealth skills, though from the sounds of it…"

"We don't use it the way you're supposed to use it," Janus confesses, "we use it to goof off and have fun."

Roman's eyes widen and Remus cackles. "Oh, yeah, we use it to practice stealth, alright, just not the kind they wanted us to."

"Wait, wait, wait, what kind is that?"

"Well, there's the leave-no-bodies-for-the-guards-to-notice stealth, and there's the leave-no-guards-to-notice-the-bodies stealth," Remus explains with a grin, "there's also the who-cares-fuck-it-we-ball stealth, which is my personal favorite."

"And also the least stealthy, look at that." Remus sticks his tongue out at him. "It's meant to be done in teams of four, but Remus and I normally do it just by ourselves."

"Since everyone else gets on our asses about 'not doing it right,' whatever that means."

"If you wanted," Janus continues, smiling as Roman laughs at Remus's disgusted expression, "you and Logan could do it with us. It doesn't count for anything, it's not something you're going to be tested on, it's just for fun."

Roman glances at Logan, who shrugs, before looking back at him. "Yeah, sure. Can we, um, can we eat first?"

"Sweetie, I'm not letting Remus near any sim until he's got at least three cups of coffee in him."

"Yeah, yeah, it was one time."

"Wait, what happened?"

Janus raises an eyebrow at Remus who groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, you mistake an old broom handle for a combat shotgun one time…"

They trade ridiculous stories throughout breakfast until Roman's grinning more than he is frowning. They walk back to the base two by two, Janus walking with Roman as Remus and Logan debate the technicalities of one specification that Janus apparently never bothered to look up. About halfway there, Roman shyly asks if he can hold on to Janus's sleeve and Janus simply tucks Roman's hand in his until they're all the way at the sim room.

"Alright," Remus says, snapping into a somewhat professional manner—at least as close as he gets when he's not on mission— "so the way this works is we're going to be dropped into an abandoned complex. There are going to be clickers in there—those are weird alien-looking motherfuckers that react to light and sound. We will be given something to accomplish while we're in there and we have to do and then make it to the extraction point. Very similar to a lot of video games except this one you actually get to fuck around in."

"How do we deal with the clickers?"

"You can bash 'em over the head with a hammer," Remus continues, taking one of the big melee hammers off the wall, "you can stab 'em with a spear or a knife, or you can shoot them. Shooting them will make noise and wake any others up that are in the area, so only do that as a last resort or if a bunch of them are running at you. There will be alarms inside as well, which will wake a bunch of them up, so that is the time to shoot."

"Are those our only choice of weapon?"

Janus catches Logan beaming with pride as Roman asks all the right questions as Remus walks him through gearing up, leaning close when the two of them have a moment.

"He's an incredible agent, Logan."

"I know," Logan murmurs back, "I can't wait for when he gets to run a sim like this solo."

"Oh, those two are going to be insufferable once Roman gets good at this, I know it."

"Oi, you two! Stop gossiping and get over here, we're ready for the drop."

Janus walks over as Remus secures Roman into the first of the drop pods, ruffling his hair again as Roman gives him the okay. He does Janus next, securing him in before making sure Logan's gear is all good to go.

"He's good at this," Roman mumbles and Janus glances over, "is he, like, is this his sim?"

"It might as well be, he runs it a lot even solo, which is meant to be impossible. He has fun with it, but he'll behave since it's your first run." Roman nods and reaches out. Janus squeezes his hand. "And if at any point you decide you're done, we'll end it. I promise."

The corner of Roman's mouth quirks up. "Should we have a code word that means we're done?"

"Sure," Janus chuckles, "what do should it be?"

Roman thinks for a moment, then smiles. "What about 'I want some bacon?'"

Janus laughs so loudly Remus looks over at him with a frown. He waves him off and nods at Roman. "That's perfect, sweetie."

"You have to use it too, if it gets too much."

"I will, don't you worry."

"Alright," Remus calls, clicking himself into a drop pod too, "let's do this shit."

The room's lights turn low and the drop pods begin to lower slowly into the simulation room proper. As soon as they emerge beneath the floor, Janus squints through the musty gloom of an old industrial prison complex, lit with flickering faraway lights and the eerie glow of something not-quite biological growing along some of the walls. The pods land and disengage with a soft hiss and immediately Remus is out, prowling along the floor until he's scanned their immediate area, returning to the group and beckoning them closer.

"Comm check," he says quietly and they all confirm their lines, "alright. On your wrist there's a map that shows how much of the place we've found. It also has the objective in the corner."

"We need to find the…stasis unit?" Roman glances around. "What does it look like?"

"We need to find a terminal and query it to figure out exactly what we're looking for. Janus and I have sentry turrets," he says, motioning to Janus, "those'll be helpful when we have to deal with alarms. Their fire isn't live, per se, but it will hurt you, so stay out of their range as much as possible when the clickers come. Logan, you've got the gooey globby stuff that slows 'em down, so we'll gum up the floors and doors if we need to. Roman? You've got the scanner."

Roman immediately checks the thing on his belt, squinting at the screen and turning slowly to get his bearings. "This says there's one about five meters that way."

"Any others?"

"Not that I can see."

"Alright, keep your eyes on that. We're gonna go look for a terminal first, okay?"

"We're following," Logan says, taking out his knife and a flashlight, "lead the way."

Remus glances at Janus and he nods, taking the rear position behind Logan. Roman follows Remus, calling out markers when they appear on the scanner. Remus navigates them through the dark halls until they come across an intersection where Roman says there's one right in front of them.

"You can see it, be quiet now, over there," Remus mutters, gesturing, "there, see?"

"Oh, fuck, that's horrifying. Wait, what are you doing?" he hisses when Remus flashes his light at it and it burbles. "I thought you said they were attracted to light and sound!"

"It's a duration thing more than a disturbance thing. You can flash and get away with seeing what's in the room without waking them up. If you ever think you're in trouble, crouch, don't move, you'll be fine."

"Okay."

"You wanna kill this one?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, it's on its own, the rest of us are right here, go on, squirt, you got this."

Despite Remus's assurances, Janus feels as nervous as he's sure Roman does, watching him reach for the massive hammer on his back and slowly approaching the clicker. His footsteps are near-silent, his breathing over the comms is a little heavy, but even. The clicker burbles as Roman gets right up next to it, then the hammer swings—

"Nice one, squirt," Remus says as the clicker falls to the ground, limp, "good job."

"That's it?"

"Yep. Now it does make some noise, so you gotta be a little careful, but for the most part, yeah, keep doing that and you're golden."

He catches a glimpse of Roman's proud little smile as they keep going. Sure enough, the rest of the sim runs pretty smoothly. Roman keeps up the work with the scanner, Logan can type faster than literally anyone he's ever run this sim with before, and Remus behaves. For the most part. There is one time where he goes to scout alone without them and they hear him muttering over the comms.

"I should not have committed to walking into this room by myself."

"You need some help?"

"Nah, nah, I got this. Ooh," they hear a moment later, "I have even more friends over here, awesome."

"If they react to light and sound," Roman whispers to Janus even though they're all on the same comms, "why is he talking?"

"Because he's Remus, sweetie, he does that."

"Hah, take that, you absolute pile of ballsacks," they hear a moment later before Remus reemerges, "okay, we're all good, we can go in there now."

Roman just gives him a look before looking down at the scanner and frowning. "Wait, what does a moving orange thing mean?"

Remus doesn't stiffen, but Janus can see the way his hands twitch on his flashlight. "Let me see?"

Roman holds it out and he sighs.

"That's a scout."

"What's a scout?"

"It moves around and has these long tentacle things that can detect stuff. Basically it's a huge fucking headache to deal with because it can sound alarms and draw a whole bunch of stuff to us."

"Uh-huh. Uh, so it's probably a bad thing that it's in the room we have to go in, right?"

"Yeah, it's not great, but we'll make it work. Stay close, everyone," Remus says as they head for the next door, "alright, let's do this."

Janus finds himself agreeing entirely with Roman's noise of disgust when he sees the scout for the first time, tentacles and all. Remus shepherds them around the very edge of the room, out of the way of most of the tentacles, until they're almost as the next door. Which, of course, is when the thing decides to turn and move straight for them.

"Can it see us?"

"No," Remus mutters, "only the light like the others."

"Can we kill it?"

"Not while its tentacles are out. Hey, what are you—"

Janus's heart leaps to his throat as Roman moves straight for it. "Roman!"

"I got this," Roman mutters, before he swings the hammer just as the scout starts to—

His eyes widen when the scout falls over, dead, and the complex is silent.

"Well," Remus says faintly, getting up as Roman scans the rest of the room, "you and I are going to have a lot of fun in some of the later levels."

"There are more levels?"

Janus can feel Remus grin as he claps Roman on the shoulder. "Oh, squirt, you ain't seen nothing yet."

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 9 months

Text

Ribbons and Rainstorms

Chapter 18 : To be a God

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Virgil watched as Patton pulled in a deep breath.

“I’ve… never done this before,” Patton admitted, “I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“I don’t care,” Virgil said, trying to calm his tears, though the wind and rain still howling outside were a testament to his turmoil. “Just— just do it.”

“Okay,” Patton said, shuffling forward just a little, before leaning over to press a kiss to Roman’s forehead, atop the mark that Virgil had placed there all those years ago.

When they pulled back after a moment the mark was glowing a bright, glittering blue that shone for a few moments before dissipating, Patton whimpered.

“I don’t— I don’t think just my magic is enough—" Patton whispered, “Jay, can you—"

“I can,” Janus said, gently nudging Patton aside so that he could repeat the same process, Virgil watched, eyes wide and tears staining his face as Roman shone with yellow for a few seconds before once again the colour seeped into Roman’s skin and dissipated. Janus took a deep breath afterwards, putting a hand to his chest. Virgil gasped softly when Roman’s heartbeat started to pick up again.

“What—" Virgil said, staring at the two older Gods in front of them, “What did you do?”

“We blessed him,” Janus said softly, “Gave him a small portion of our power… I… don’t know if it’s enough, even with mine as well.”

Virgil hesitated for a moment, making sure the colourful wool was still pressed to Roman’s wound. “Can… I do that too?”

“You already have, kiddo,” Patton said softly, “You gave him your mark, didn’t you?”

Looking back at Roman — still unconscious but now Virgil could see even in the dim light that some colour had begun returning to his cheeks — the way his hair was pushed back clearly showed the mark on his forehead, glittering purple as it always did.

“Oh,” Virgil choked out.

“We need to get him somewhere more comfortable,” Janus said, putting a hand on Virgil’s arm, “It’s too cold here, and we can’t leave him on the ground in his own blood.”

“Will he heal?” Virgil asked.

“Our magic should heal him, but— we’ve never done this before, Virgil,” Patton said softly, “I don’t know what else might happen.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, taking a deep breath as he counted to four, he held it for eight counts, and then let it go for six, “We should go back to his house — he— it’s nicer there, and— and Taz should see him, incase anything happens.”

“Would you like us to carry him?” Janus asked, Virgil almost hissed.

“No,” He snapped, “I’ll carry him.”

—-

The rain died down, just a little, as Virgil started to calm. He’d still felt the need to cover Roman as much as he could with the parts of the fabric that weren’t stained with blood as the three of them hurried down the well trodden path back to Roman’s home. Virgil kept Roman safely cradled against their chest the whole way, making sure that one of his hands remained against the wound. Patton had said that he would heal, but Virgil didn’t want to take any chances.

When they reached the house after what felt like hours Virgil stayed back and allowed Janus to knock on the door. He knocked twice, sharp, and stood with Patton by his side to shield the view of Roman and Virgil.

“Hel— hello?” Taz said as she opened the door, doing a double take when she saw Janus and Patton standing there.

“Ma’am,” Patton said, shooting a glance back at Virgil, “I am Patton, God of life and the sun, I ask entrance to your home as a friend.”

“I am… Janus,” Janus introduced, a little slower and more hesitant than Patton had been, Virgil stared with wide eyes over their heads at Taz, who seemed not to be breathing, “God of death and the underworld, I ask entrance to your home as a friend.”

Taz took a long time to answer as she stared, eventually she simply looked back to Virgil, “What happened?” She asked, “What’s going on, the storms — the rain — now there’s Gods at my door—"

“Please let us in,” Virgil said, trying not to burst into tears again as he held Roman tightly.

“We’ll explain everything,” Patton reassured, “I promise you.”

After another moment’s hesitation she stood back, holding open the door. Patton and Janus filed in, but when Taz saw Roman in Virgil’s arms she gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

“He should be okay,” Virgil forced past the lump in his throat, “They— they helped him, he should be okay.”

Taz nodded, tears in her eyes at the sight of her son as she gestured for Virgil to come in.

“Put— you can put him on the couch—" Taz said, rushing them all into the rarely used living room of their cottage, Virgil nodded, carefully lowering Roman onto the plush cushions of the sofa whilst Janus positioned one of the loose cushions underneath his head, “Now— I— I need you to explain what happened, please.”

Virgil took a deep breath, or three, before sitting down next to the couch and taking Roman’s hand as he began to retell the events of that afternoon to fill Taz in. He had to pause a few times, and could barely get through the whole thing before he had to stop so that he wouldn’t cry again. Janus sat down next to him while Patton stayed beside Taz, making sure that she was okay too.

“So… he really will be okay?” Taz asked, reaching over and tucking a lock of hair behind Roman’s ear.

“I do hope so,” Patton said softly, “We don’t… quite know, exactly what’s going to happen.”

“...Meaning?” Taz asked slowly.

“Well um— he won’t die,” Patton said, “But… exactly what will happen when he wakes up… we don’t know. We’ve never— um— we’ve never given parts of our magic to a mortal before.”

“Okay,” Taz nodded, “I suppose we’ll just have to support him with whatever it is, right?”

“Indeed,” Janus agreed.

“Are we late to the pity party?” There was a yell as the back door slammed open, making everyone in the room jump as a figure appeared in the doorway, “Woah— okay that’s bad, is he dead?”

“No, he’s not dead, what are you doing here?” Janus asked as Remus was followed into the room by Logan.

“Deepest apologies,” Logan said, “I tried to keep him away but you know when Remus hears about something he won’t stop.”

“...Remus?” Taz said, voice small.

“Yeahh— ooh… Roman didn’t tell you yet…” Remus said, trailing off as he looked at his mother.

“Oh no,” Virgil said softly.

“How…” Taz said, before gesturing wildly.

“Okay— um—" Remus said, uncharacteristically awkward, “So I thought Roman had told you that I exist.”

“Are you— alive?” Taz asked, hesitantly taking a few steps towards Remus as Logan edged around the room so that he could get to Roman.

“Oh hell no,” Remus waved his hands, “I’m dead as a doornail, have been for a long time Ma, but um? I’m here!”

“Remus is a soul,” Janus explained, stepping away from Roman to deal with the other situation unfurling in the living room right now, “Technically he’s dead, but he is able to be— here, in the mortal plane, with some effort on my part — though apparently he has worked out how to do it himself.”

“Sure did,” Remus grinned, “But uh— is Roman okay?”

“He should be!” Patton called.

“Great, reunion time,” Remus grinned, turning to Taz and jumping her with a hug.

—-

“He should’ve woken up by now…” Patton whispered to Logan and Virgil as Remus and Janus talked to Taz in the background.

“Maybe the magic you three gave him was not enough?” Logan asked quietly, leaning over, “If it helps… I know I haven’t been punctual in coming to his aid, but perhaps I could also lend a little of my power to boost his recovery?”

Virgil looked up at Logan, noting the blue ribbon still tied in their hair, “You would do that?”

“Of course I would,” Logan huffed, “What do you take me for, Virgil?”

“Thank you, Lo,” Virgil said softly as Logan repeated the same motion the others had gone through earlier, pressing a kiss to Roman’s forehead and letting the dark blue dissipate. Mere seconds later, Roman gasped, gripping Virgil’s hand tighter as he shot up into wakefulness.

“Virgil?” Roman said softly, blinking at him, “Am— did-? What… happened-?”

“You almost died,” Virgil said, breathless as tears formed in his eyes again — these of relief, happiness. Roman reached forward and brushed a tear from his cheek, a sad chuckle leaving Roman’s lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry,” Roman said quietly.

Virgil put his hand over Roman’s on their cheek, “It’s okay, you’re okay, right?”

“I think so?”

“Hey!” Patton gasped, “Roman’s awake!”

“Hey— hey guys?” Roman said, sitting up properly and looking around the room, “Ma… Remus?”

Janus walked back over, looking worriedly down at Roman, “How… do you feel?”

“Fuzzy,” Roman said eventually, “But I’m not… hurt— anymore, what is… oh…”

Roman gingerly lifted the fabric that was still partly covering him, a twisted expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, “I needed something to put pressure on your wound, I don’t— I don’t know what this was, but…”

“It was a tapestry,” Roman said sadly as he lifted the fabric, spreading it out so that they could see the picture, “I’ve been working on it since you started teaching me— I wanted— I wanted to replace the one in your temple…”

Roman stood, because the fabric was too big for him to lay out whilst he was still sitting and Virgil stepped back to give him space. Even then he wasn’t able to lay it out properly, but the picture was still clear. Virgil’s image— better represented than it could ever have been on the other one, with his circlet and magenta markings, a peaceful but kind expression on his face — the ribbon Roman had given him depicted clearly as tapestry-virgil looked down and to the left. His flowing outfit seemed to take up the rest of the tapestry, but anything that had been there was soaked now in the dull red of Roman’s blood, as were the edges of the fabric from where they’d soaked it up from the ground.

“Oh,” Virgil said, hand over their mouth in shock, “It’s beautiful, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, “I’d rather be alive, I think.”

“It still looks lovely,” Janus said softly, Patton nodded.

“The blood just adds flavour,” Remus said, a little too cheerfully, “Y’know, spice! Every good picture is better with a bit of blood.”

Virgil was glad that Roman laughed, if still a little subdued.

“That’s what you’ve been working on this whole time?” Taz asked, “Up in your room?”

“Mhm,” Roman said, “Since Virgil first taught me to embroider. It’s fine, though, I’m alive, which means I can make another one.”

He stepped forward as the others watched, reaching out to brush his fingers over the centre of the quickly drying bloodstain, as he did so there was a spark of red where his fingers met fabric which blossomed into a pale red glow that engulfed Roman’s hand.

Everyone in the room watched in shocked silence as the bloodstain started to glitter, and then move in swirls until a new image was formed of glittering sparkles that overtook the whole tapestry, giving the whole thing a magical sheen.

When it was done, Roman stepped back, covering his mouth with a still faintly glowing hand, stunned to silence.

“Woah,” Remus said, breaking the air of silence that had fallen over all of them.

“Well that was unexpected,” Janus said, humming.

“Is that— you?” Patton asked, looking at the tapestry with narrowed eyes. Virgil looked too, and found that whilst his own image had remained much the same, the bottom left half of the tapestry was now entirely changed, inhabited now by a figure wearing white, adorned with a red cloak and sash with a broadsword strapped to their back with a winged hilt. His hair was tied up elaborately and there was a smile on his face, emerald green eyes that seemed to sparkle as he looked up at Virgil. On the tapestry their hands were intertwined, the second figure’s tan skin a neat contrast to Virgil’s paper white. His face broke into a hesitant smile as he started to piece together what this must mean.

“I… do believe so,” Roman said eventually, “did— did I do that?”

“Yeah you did, kiddo,” Patton laughed.

Roman laughed, “I didn’t know I could do that?”

“It’s almost certainly a result of the magic we all bestowed on you in order to heal you,” Logan said, “Not once have I seen a joint tapestry before, not even for Em and Remy.”

“What… does it mean?” Roman asked, turning to Logan with a look of surprise as though he hadn’t even realised they were there.

“It means you’re a God,” Taz whispered, looking around for confirmation from the others.

“What,” Roman yelped, slightly choked as he looked back at the tapestry and then his own hands.

“It’s true,” Patton said, “The Gods are bestowed tapestries, just like this, it’s… magic more ancient than even us, though the symbols have changed as mortals evolved. For the tapestry to respond to you and change like that…”

“So— so let me get this straight—" Roman said, looking around the room with wide eyes. Virgil stepped forward and put a grounding hand on Roman’s shoulder, he took a deep breath.

“Good luck with that,” Remus quipped from across the room. Taz shot him a look that could only be given by a mother and he shut up.

“So— I nearly died, you three— four?” Roman asked, glancing around, Patton nodded, “You four gave me magic, I… touched the tapestry I made and it— changed? To show me too and that means… I’m a God?”

“Basically, yes,” Logan said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I expected you to perhaps gain some magical ability from the blessing, but I didn’t expect…”

“I don’t know what we expected,” Patton admitted, shaking her head, “We’ve never done this before.”

“Not even once?” Roman asked, Janus shrugged and Logan shook their head, “So… what happens now? Do I… have to leave?”

“Skies no,” Virgil said immediately, reaching for Roman’s hand, “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to go, I assure you.”

Roman breathed a sigh of relief, linking his fingers with Virgil, “So… what do I do?”

“Well…” Patton said slowly, “Since no-one knows about you, you won’t have any duties, and we don’t even know what powers you have yet, so until that comes to light there’s really not much to do.”

“What Pat is saying—"

“Call me Patton,” Patton interrupted Logan, “I already gave my name to Taz, it would be unfair if I didn’t give it to you too, Roman.”

“What Patton is saying,” Logan said, crossing their arms and glaring at Patton for the interruption, “is that there is not much you can do until we figure out what you can do.”

“And in the meantime…?” Roman asked.

“We continue as normal,” Janus said, “And you let Virgil know if anything weird happens.”

Roman turned to look at them, Virgil smiled in response, “Okay, I can do that, what about the temple— oh! The temple! Did the thieves get away?”

Everyone shared a glance, before Virgil sighed, squeezing Roman’s hand, “I dealt with them.”

“Well that’s… foreboding,” Roman laughed, “What exactly did you do?”

Virgil hesitated, long enough for Taz to speak up instead.

“Caused a storm strong enough to nearly blow the house off its foundation,” Taz said, “And with enough rain to almost wash us away.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil immediately apologised, looking back at Roman, “my emotions got the better of me.”

“Virgil I nearly died— I don’t fault you for being upset,” Roman said, gently tugging Virgil into an embrace. Virgil melted into it, burying his face in Roman’s hair and taking a deep breath, finally letting all the tension from that afternoon leave him, “I’m sorry for getting blood on your steps.”

Virgil couldn’t help how that made him laugh — cackle almost — as he squeezed Roman a little tighter, “We’ll have to clean that up at some point.”

“Think about that later,” Taz said, grabbing their attention from across the room. She stood up a little straighter, though she was by far the shortest person in the room, so it didn’t have much of an affect, “For now, a lot has happened today, to all of us, I think, so… despite how I’m definitely not prepared mentally to host five Gods including my son apparently, how would you all like to stay for dinner?”

“As long as I can help you with cooking!” Patton said immediately, almost jumping at the chance. Taz looked them over skeptically

“Have you touched a stove before?” She asked slowly.

“Oh, yes!” Patton nodded, “I cook a lot, actually.”

“Thank goodness,” Taz muttered, “Then yes, you’re welcome to help— if you really want to!”

—-

Roman sat — with the group of people he’d acquired over the last four years — at his own dining table. Beside him sat his partner on one side and his twin brother on the other, at the head of the table sat his mother, and on the opposite the Sun God, whilst across from him sat the Gods of Knowledge and Death. Together they ate a hearty meal his mother had prepared with help from the head of their pantheon, together they talked and told stories and laughed, like they were just a normal group of friends.

As the years came and went afterwards, Roman discovered the powers that he had — the power to create art, the power to help mortals fall in love, the power to bring his imagination to life in the astral plane. With Virgil’s help he honed those powers at the temple and became Ro: God of Passion and Love.

Centuries passed and the world changed. When everyone Roman knew from the mortal world had moved on without him — not to be lost forever, of course, their souls still lived on and Roman watched with pride as Taz and Pryce and everyone he had known reincarnated again and again, living wonderful lives every time. Patton grew the forest for them — him and Virgil — to protect the temple that became theirs. He made such a place impassable to the human’s new machines now that people had widely ceased to believe in the divine, and the tapestry that Roman had made hung proud behind the altar the whole time.

The world may change around them, but Roman and Virgil would have their happily ever after despite it all.

----

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greenninjagal-blog · 1 year

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Space Time Equations

Hello its a lovely day and I’m here to make it lovelier with a new installment of the Space and Everything In It series (aka my Alien au staring human Virgil and Janus)

Summary: As the two resident Deathworlders on the ship, Virgil and Janus have to make a decision. Although its not much of one at all. Both of them seem to be on the same page about what they want to their future to be like.... right?

Word Count: 9364

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“Erso.”

“No.”

“Amidala.”

“No.”

“Skywalker?”

“Virgil,” Janus said without even bothering to open his eyes. “So help me, if you say one more word I am going to smother you with this pillow.”

Virgil gently dragged his fingers through Janus’s blond curls for another moment, humming softly to himself as he had been doing for a good portion of the phisannu that they had been laying here together. Janus smelled like lavender, soft and calming and Virgil breathed in the scent, with every inhale, feeling hazy and soft in a way that he couldn’t remember being before.

“Organa?”

And Janus, who was not a liar, who did not joke about this sort of thing, who did not pull punches or know the meaning of the word mercy, jerked around and slammed the heaviest, thickest pillow they had into Virigl’s face as hard as he could.

Admittedly, it did hurt. Just a little. He hadn’t quite gotten around to asking which of the numerous thousands of alien animals out there went into creating a pillow like the ones one the Mindscape, but their fur-feathers-fluff-whatever could get dense when it was packed together, which is how Janus liked his pillows for some reason, even back on Earth: weaponizable.

Virgil has found that the longer he spent around Janus, the more he remembered these little memories too: laying on Janus’s bed staring up at the ceiling because he was on the softest bed in the world, with a rock hard pillow under his head, and his brain wouldn’t stop whispering about how there was really only a handful of inches between them, that if he really wanted to he could roll over and drape himself over Janus’s arm and if Janus freaked out he could pretend he was asleep and hadn’t realized what he was doing, that if he was lucky, Janus wouldn’t wake up and Virgil would get to spend a few hours listening to his heartbeat and imagining they lived in a world where Virgil was a little braver and capable of actually asking Janus out and not scared to death of what would happen if he said "yes".

Of course, Virgil wouldn’t dare admit that he had these thoughts to Janus now, but he held onto those memories that kept coming back like they were life preservers in the middle of the ocean that he somehow found himself drowning in. Patton, Logan, and Roman had done so well holding him afloat for so long, but now he could roll over and stare at Janus and he could thread the waves himself--

The pillow missed his head by a scant few inches.

“Solo?” Virgil gasped out ducking as another pillow reared back again.

“Go! To! Sleep!” Janus said, punctuating each word with a hit from his pillow shaped boulder. “Asshole!”

Or at least that was what Virgil assumed he was saying. Virgil really was laughing too hard to make it out. He blocked a hit of the pillow with his left arm, and quickly flung another pillow into Janus’s stomach while he was distracted.

Janus’s laughter reminded Virgil of the sunlight streaming in through the windows of Janus’s room back on earth, of the surprising warmth of the pool water after Janus pushed him in at two thirty eight in the morning, of the electrifying feel of Janus’s hand over his mouth as Janus’s mother walked by the closet they were hiding in on her way to deal with some important emergency at her rich person job, unaware that Janus and Virgil just finished cleaning the dishes from the cookies they baked that were all wrapped in napkins and stuffed in Virgil’s pockets, nearly burning his hands--

Virgil’s own lips curled up at the sound, feeling his own (much more dumb sounding) laugh bubbling up his throat in the most disgusting display of absolute smitteness. It would be embarrassing; Virgil was embarrassed about it. Janus could be shoving a knife into his ribcage and Virgil would be entirely okay with it so long as he continued to look at Virgil the way that he was doing it right now. He couldn’t even imagine what type of grief Roman would give him if he knew that Virgil was capable of such smittenness. Logan had already made his concerns very well known, and look how well that had gone!

Janus snatched Virgil’s sole pillow away and tossed it somewhere behind him in the nest of blankets the two of them had made in the common area and waved his own threateningly in the air over Virgil’s prone body.

“I’m armed and dangerous! Surrender!” he commanded, panting slightly as he fixed his golden hair back into a semi presentable state, trying to press away his smile by sheer force of will.

“Has anyone ever told you you're a complete bully?” Virgil asked with a teasing smile, even when Janus smacked him again in the face. “This is a breach of my human rights! Freedom of speech!”

“We’re in SPACE!”

“I’m still a human!”

“You’re going to be a corpse if you don’t shut up!”

“I love when you threaten me,” Virgil said and watched the glorious red blush take over Janus’s face from behind the pillow being smacked into his face again. “I love you.”

“Shut Up,” Janus said back, and Virgil almost thought he might be begging, if begging was ever a thing that those pesky Ekans were taught.

Without giving Janus much more than a second to prepare himself, Virgil sat up and snatched the pillow from Janus's already distracted hands. Janus let it go without too much of a struggle, content to catch his breath as Virgil reached through the infinite inches between them and cupped the side of Janus's face, as gently as he would hold a thunderstorm in a glass ornament. His fingers had memorized Janus’s cheek, his strangely cool skin, the way that a single touch sent electric shivers through Virgil, but there was always something invigorating about doing it, about Janus allowing him to do it, about how at least one of young-Virgil’s dreams had come true.

The faint scar lines on his cheek were barely visible now, far more distant than the actual memories of the Pol’tur ship and Janus’s previous crew. In certain lights, Virgil had noted that it looked almost like golden cracks on his seamless skin, like elaborate stage makeup that could be brushed away to reveal that picture perfect memory of that boy that had been Virgil’s entire world, as if with a careless movement Virgil would erase everything that had happened between Earth and now.

Something in his chest twisted and Virgil shoved it down as hard and sharply as he could.

Janus had missed a few wisps of hair that floated lightly in an invisible wind out of his tidy hair cut, and his breaths came out in undignified huffs that would have been unbecoming and unthinkable if they were still back on Earth. He was wearing another one of Virgil's Quitan-cut shirts that promotes some…retail resort or something in Quintarian, something so cheap that the dye was likely to bleed onto his skin. He's staring at Virgil with a lightness in those eyes of his that he couldn't have learned from his parents, his friends, Earth itself.

He wasn’t the same as he was back then. Virgil wasn’t the same and he didn’t want either of them to be.

Janus’s lips were soft pink, like sparkling rosé wine, a hint of his tongue as he licked to wet them in a suddenly shy manner. Virgil suddenly couldn’t look away from them, from the curve of Janus’s jaw and the soft skin of his neck that Virgil suddenly had a very stupid thought to start kissing.

Super stupid. The most stupid.

So extremely stupid, in fact that Janus leaned forward, muscles rolling until he was in Virgil's lap, and each and every one of their atoms were singing about it and Virgil still almost thought that he had slipped into dreamland and started hallucinating this whole thigh.

Thing. Not thigh. Though that was 100% Janus’s thigh right there.

"This okay?" Janus whispered cautiously, as if a single hitch if Virgil’s breath would be enough to scare him to the other side of the room, straight through the walls and into the void around them.

There could be galaxies exploding around them, and Virgil wouldn't have even noticed.

“More than,” he whispered back, his lungs traitorously out of breath, mouth strangely dry, the urge to say so many stupid things-- “You… you are very pretty.”

“So I’ve been told,” Janus said, half teasing. His arms snaked around Virgil’s torso, coming to a rest on the waistband of Virgil’s pajamas. The whole world breathed for an eternity, in and out, in and out and in and--

“You’re not so bad looking yourself,” Janus hummed, barely a hair’s breadth away from Virgil’s lips himself. Virgil could turn his head and kiss him and Janus would probably be really into that.

“I think we were supposed to be sleeping,” and why did he say that.

Janus laughed, warm and flattering and it does not make Virgil’s brain do anything other than short circuit like one of his dumb robots.

“I seem to recall,” Janus said. “That I was sleeping, and that there was someone else here who was not sleeping.”

“Sounds like a dumbass.” please someone just shoot him with a blaster right now.

“I still like him,” Janus said. His fingers tapped on his waist, slowly and methodically and very dangerously. Virgil’s chest froze, his heart beating so rapidly that he was pretty sure that Janus could hear it, based on that smirk that followed. Avenged Sevenfold could probably make a bomb ass song with just his heartbeat as the drums.

“Do you?”

He didn’t even realize he’d spoken until Janus’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly Virgil wanted to melt into a puddle of Deathworlder goo and pretend he didn’t exist at all. It was pathetic, his voice breaking without warning like he really cared all that much about Janus liking him. He did care. He cared so much.

Being the center of Janus’s care, being the object of his affection was something that younger-Virgil would have scoffed about, but now that he had it, now that he was it, Virgil could see exactly why so many people let the Ekans family stomp over them for it.

((“Don’t you have somewhere to be little Cikery? Go back to sleep. In your bed or Janus’s. I don’t care.”

“Something tells me you actually do.”))

Why so many people lost their fucking minds over Janus’s addictive attention.

“I do,” Janus said in that tone of his that spoke laws of physics into the world, that made people stop to listen, that made Virgil almost believe him all the time. “Nothing he can do can really make me stop liking him. Not even him disrupting the best chance of sleep that I’ve had since Remus knocked me out with his toxin, oh when was that? Three days ago? Speaking of, are you going to tell me what the two of you talked about?”

((“You just turn right around, get into that escape pod, and eject yourself into space.”))

“What?” Virgil stuttered, blinking away the sudden onslaught of Remus’s stupid face peering out from the darkness. “I didn’t-- we didn’t--”

“Virgil.”

“Just a totally friendly conversation!” Virgil said. “I don’t even remember what we talked about!”

It wasn’t entirely a lie and Virgil wasn’t entirely a coward; Remus was several layers of conversation stacked on each other with a knife shaped core that cut anything that got close and every time Virgil thought about their late night rendezvous he got a worse feeling in his chest about it.

After Remus had gone to bed, Virgil had somehow stumbled back to his own room and spent the rest of the night staring at the little lights of his glowing plants and thinking far too much about nothing at all. He thought that when the morning broke, he would tell everyone that Remus was… and that was as far as he had gotten because he wasn’t sure what Remus was at all.

He was insane, except not really. He was dangerous, except not exactly? He was a captain, except not anymore.

So in the end… Virgil hadn’t said anything about Remus nearly killing him and Remus hadn’t said anything about Virgil almost killing him in turn, and Roman had complained something terrible about a hangover at breakfast and everyone else had acted as if they hadn’t noticed anything unusual. To Virgil’s knowledge no one had been into the Transporter Room since then and no one had asked after things that were mysteriously missing from around the ship, and no one had pointed out that Virgil had some form of PTSD that was diagnosable by alien standards.

But Janus was staring at him like he could see the bruising around Virgil’s neck that he had been religiously using a skrad healing pad to get rid of since the other night.

“Remus doesn’t do “friendly” conversations,” Janus said, like someone with a very long list of examples in his back pocket.

“Exactly!” Virgil said. “He was looking for tips on how to do it! And asked me. The expert on friendly, completely normal, non-fighting conversations that do not involve nearly killing each other at all.”

Janus was silent for a whole minute, letting Virgil come to terms with every word that he just spewed into the air. Virgil almost thought that maybe he would let him get away with it too, just for the sheer audacity of the attempt; the same way that some of Virgil’s teacher’s used to let him get away with doing only a fourth of their homework for the full completion grade just so he wouldn’t be completely failing their classes.

“You are a terrible liar,” Janus’s lips pressed together in that way that read as both amusement and annoyance and Virgil offered his best approximation of mental regret and apologies via telepathy that he doesn’t have.

“Can we get back to kissing?”

Janus leaned forward just enough to peck his cheek, short, sharp, and definitely too quick for Virgil to catch with his own lips. It was horribly unfair that Janus could use such a tactic with the ease of a master magician, and yet Virgil somehow always ended up the fool for him.

“You’ll get more when you tell me what’s up with you and Remus.”

As far as cruel and unusual punishments, Virgil thought that this might have been the cruelest. Of course, Janus wouldn’t know anything about that though, tap, tap, tapping his fingers on Virgil’s waist teasingly, and lording the scent of lavender over Virgil’s head. He was used to how his own silva tasted and didn’t know that Virgil was finding himself with a horrible, terrible shortage of Janus silva in his mouth.

Jesus Christ what is wrong with him; what was that fucking sentence--?

“How did you even know we talked?” Virgil whined.

Janus huffed another laugh, running one of his fingers in a circle on Virgil’s hip. “Well, first of all, I have eyes, Virgil.”

Okay, so what? He probably noticed that Virgil had been very quick to evacuate locations where Remus suddenly appeared. That wasn’t totally unusual; before the other night Virgil’s run-ins with Remus had been non-existent and neither of them had even been trying to avoid one another.

Or well Virgil hadn’t been trying to avoid Remus. He wasn’t sure if Remus had been avoiding him, avoiding what he represented, avoiding the urge to rip out Virgil’s spine and sell it to his Black Market Alien Friends Who Might Not Have Actually Been Friends Because Remus Wasn’t Actually All That Bad And Now Remus Was Crewless And Virgil Is Intimately Aware Of How Horrible It Can Be To Be Alone.

Fuck.

“Can we talk about something else? Please. Or even go back to not talking at all! I won’t say anything and you can sleep.”

Janus hummed in that way that sounded exactly like his mother and Virgil (remembered the Robotics Competition, the Police Investigation, the TV Interviews--) used all his will power to suppress his flinch.

“Virgil,” Janus said.

“It wasn’t important. Just a talk between two guys! Nothing’s going to come of it. You can trust me about that, right?”

Janus hesitated, and Virgil felt very much like he had taken a cheap shot on him, even though trust hadn’t really ever been a question between them. Their relationship had started with Janus trusting Virgil with the most dangerous secret he had, and Virgil had taken it right to Janus’s grave with him, lips sealed even when Janus’s parents had painted him into the monster that suited their needs.

Not that Janus knew that. Not that Janus had any reason to suspect that Virgil had been the sole inheritor of blame for every bad thing on Earth. Not that Virgil was ever going to tell Janus if he could help it.

Virgil was a coward by nature, born and bred, and running away from conversations was just something wired into him intuitively.

“Okay,” Janus said finally, voice low and rumbling and still somehow clearly enunciated. He rolled his tongue over the Common Word, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth when he said it. “Okay, Virgil, I trust you.”

Virgil delicately brings his hand back up to Janus’s face, rubbing his thumb over the corner of his lips. Janus let a smile flick over himself at the touch, showing off the hints of teeth under those pretty kissable pink lips. Virgil tilted his head up slightly as if he could entice Janus to let the conversation fall out of his mind entirely.

Janus surged forward in the next breath and their lips collided, bringing with him a tidal wave of warmth, warmth, warmth. Virgil breathed in lavender, and breathed out a series of nonsensical delighted noises that his younger self would have been utterly horrified to hear him making about Janus Ekans.

Virgil hadn’t exactly ever felt like a soft person: his parents had molded him into something with jagged edges and a distrust of everyone and everything; Mr. and Mrs. Ekans had sharpened those edges into something that looked like they could cut, even though Virgil had never hurt someone before. When he was on the Weslor Fighting Rings, he had forced those blades into reality to keep himself alive, to survive, to continue breathing even when he couldn’t think of a reason to want to.

And even though those blades had shattered against Logan’s rock exterior, dulled to something less effective, less dangerous, less… less under the buzzing, welcoming, all accepting blanket that was the Mindscape, they were still there and Virgil’s habit of grabbing for them when he stressed was hard to unlearn. He’d let himself loosen his hold on those jagged edges, although they still fit in his hands, although his mind still remembered how to hold them, although he felt like he needed to look over his shoulder a lot of the time. He could stop being Virgil Storm, but he would have to be Virgil the Deathworlder for the rest of his life, and there wasn’t a single alien that would look at a Deathworlder and not attack first.

So he didn’t consider himself soft, but under Janus’s hands he became malleable to whatever his golden haired half desired. He didn’t think about losing the steel plated spine he’d grown that had helped him stand when the whole world was against him, but Janus’s body warmth made it melt into the pillows around them. He wasn’t squishy, he wasn’t kind; he was barely even polite.

But Janus’s tongue made him want to practice his pleases and thank yous.

Janus pulled back, and Virgil wondered what type of will power one had to have to get that much strength. Virgil’s lungs gasped and panted, baying for air, and Janus was smiling at him in that stupid, very kissable way of his that should have been illegal. He was a menace, a Problem with a capital P, a warning sign that was one day going to be the death of Virgil.

And Virgil wouldn’t look away for the ending of the universe, his mind a strangely static version of calmness that only comes from having one single thought on repeat:

“So… what are we doing now?”

“Depends,” Janus said dangerously. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

And if Virgil were in any other state of mind, he might have been embarrassed by how fast and fervently he replied, “Yes.”

Janus ghosted a kiss over Virgil’s lips and Virgil would chase him if there weren't those hands on his waist reminding him to stay still. Janus smiled at him, so pretty and amazing and wonderful and he leaned in close to Virgil cheek, pressing light soft imprints up his cheek bone and back towards his ear. Virgil’s chest hummed in the charged silence, his heart thumping with a giddy hope, absolutely ready for whatever Janus wanted him to do.

There was a breath. Janus hovered just to the left of his face, pressing a kiss to the tip of Virgil’s ear.

And then.

“Apologize for keeping me awake,” Janus whispered about as delicately as a fucking moon crashing into their spaceship.

“Are you kidding me?!” Virgil moaned. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m waiting….”

Virgil threatened to wriggle but Janus’s hands were a very strong reminder of why he didn’t want to, of the things he was going to get if he just did it, of how much he was in love with Janus.

“You are actually an asshole,” Virgil said, tilting his head up. “Such an asshole. I’m sorry for talking. I’m sorry that I interrupted your sleep. I’m sorry that your stupid face likes mine. Now please kiss me again, you fucker.”

Janus laughed and all at once pushed forward. Their lips matched up, like puzzle pieces, like perfectly cut metal plates, like missing pieces of code that suddenly made the incredibly sappy part of his brain start to function all over again. Virgil’s back grinded into the floor; one of their bunched up blankets was tangled under his spine like a knot that definitely was going to hurt later but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to care as Janus helped himself to laying completely on top of him. There were sparks in Virgil’s mind, lighting up his whole existence brighter than any light that Logan might have been able to produce.

Janus kissed deep and fierce, his hands glided up under Virgil’s shirt tracing whatever muscles that he could find and everything in Virgil was at risk to actually, physically explode. He tasted like that sweet tea that Patton liked, and Virgil grinned at the thought of him slipping the tea bags into one of the mugs that Patton had once bought for Virgil when Logan had explained that Virgil would be staying (with them, on their ship, in Space That Was As Far From Earth As He Could Get).

Virgil’s fingers threaded through Janus’s hair, ruffling it the way that Mrs. Ekans would have hated with a passion. Virgil kissed her son the way that she would have hated too: messy and sweet and imperfect. Their teeth knocked, their noses seem to suddenly be in the wrong position on their faces, the fact that they have to breathe through their faces seems to be an epic design flaw that Virgil needs to talk to some godly entity about--

“Fuck--” Virgil gasped.

“That’s the idea,” Janus heaved, far too pleased with himself.

“Did you put a sock on the door?”

“Remus takes that as an invitation to come in. But if you’re nice and quiet we don’t have to worry about--”

“THAT’S FUNDAMENTALLY FLAWED!” A voice yelled from the doorway, and all at once Virgil remembered that there are four other aliens on the ship and there aren’t actually doors to the living room area that they all come to hang out in when they finish their duties around the ship.

Janus jumped off him, practically to the other side of the room, face so red that he could have been mistaken for Roman if he had a bit more spikes. Virgil, himself, wasn’t sure he was any better: his lungs were still recovering and his brain was screeching with a sudden emptiness that made focusing on damage control nearly impossible. His heart was beating in his throat strangling all the oxygen molecules that might possibly come through.

"Oh, hey… Pat…Lo," Virgil said. "It's… uh…not what it looks like?"

Neither Patton nor Logan look like they believed that, but to be fair Virgil guessed that if he walked in on two of the deadliest creatures in existence tossing around on the floor, with those words coming from them, he also wouldn't believe that they were being Family Friendly and Safe for Work. Logan had his upper two arms covering Patton’s very large, emotion-radar eyes as if he could block out the most-likely very bright silhouettes that were Virgil and Janus. Patton himself was flushed, hanging upside down from the rafters of the ship per his usual method of traveling around and despite him being the oldest being Virgil knows, he was seeming to try to look anywhere else other than at them.

“Virgil,” Logan said clinically. “I respect that you both are consenting creatures and while I am extremely curious about Deathworlder biology and mating rituals--”

“I already regret this more than you could possibly know,” Virgil yelped out. “Please just kill me.”

“It was a joke! We were not actually going…to….” Janus said at the same time. “That would be… completely disrespectful to the hospitality you have already provided me--”

“Totally disrespectful!” Virgil agreed. “We would never!”

“And honestly the fact that you think we would!” Janus added. “What sort of Cikeriy do you take us for? In fact, I think I am insulted by the insinuation!”

Virgil frowned, squinting. “Wait, what is a Cikeriy?”

Janus shook his head in a way that means he’ll explain later, although just from the context Virgil got the impression that he owed Remus some massive dental work.

"Do you kiddos have a moment?" Patton asked carefully.

And it was then that Virgil clocked how…nervous Patton looked. Immediately he felt his shoulders tense, glancing beyond the Reytin and Tenekarie towards the door as if he would spy some secret alien stow away pointing a blaster at their backs. But the doorway was empty and Janus tapped two fingers onto Virgil's side without a trace of his previous amusement in those pretty brown eyes.

“Yeah, uh, yeah we do,” Virgil said.

“Not a lot of time,” Janus said, still not looking anywhere in their direction. “We were quite busy. Being respectful guests on your ship and nothing else, of course.”

Of course, he said. Of course nothing else, especially not when Janus was fluttering his eyes, making them look large and wet and arguably innocent, because he was an actor long before he was Virgil’s crush and his favorite pastime was seeing what sort of trouble he could get Virgil in.

“Oh-kay,” Patton said, flipping around and hanging with his legs from the rafter, so he was a bit closer to their heights. It didn’t help with how nervous he looked, although Virgil wouldn’t exactly describe any of his mannerisms as nervous if he hadn’t been basically family with the guy: there was something about his aura that was a little to the left, the chittering noise that he usually added to the end of his sentences was diluted, nearly non existent (Virgil assumed it was left over from the Reytin language, like when someone continued to roll their “r’s” in English, but Virgil hadn’t really heard any Reytin at all; Patton didn’t like talking in it.) There was a seriousness to him, to his expression, to how he very obviously wanted Logan in there for this conversation that made Virgil’s own hackles rise with impending panic.

((“Oh kiddo,” Patton said, between cracked and drying lips and taking a step back from him. “What did you do?”))

“There’s not really an easy way to talk about this,” Patton--real, actual, alive-and-not-dying Patton from a dream that meant absolutely nothing to Virgil’s mental state-- said, wringing his three-fingered hands together, kneading his knuckles in a self-soothing motion and Virgil didn’t exactly bite his tongue hard enough to bleed, but the pain forced him to focus. “Uhm, Logie and I were talking and we think that you both might need to, uhm…”

Patton glanced towards Logan for help in his wording and Virgil’s lungs shrivel up and die in his chest because this is it, Virgil’s finally outstayed his welcome, they don’t have the supplies to keep hosting Virgil and Janus, and their means of getting money are exponentially higher when they don’t have to worry about their clients freaking out about there being a Deathworlder, not to mention two of them involved in the action, honestly Virgil should just be happy they dealt with him for this long, he has always been nothing but a murde--

“What Patton means,” Logan cut in, a variety of purple lights trailing down his arms. “Is that we are unsure of how advanced Deathworlder education is about Space.”

“Pardon?” Janus said.

“Rationally speaking, and with no attempted insult here,” Logan said with a tone that usually suggested he was about to be horribly insulting in the way that only Tenekarie can be. “It’s a known fact that Deathworlders aren’t the most tech savvy. Despite theoretically having the resources, the advancements of space travel for your kind is extremely lacking. Coupled with our own experiences in how truly infantile Virgil’s knowledge about the basics of ship navigation and survival on different planets-- both of which are taught before any proper school for my and Patton’s races, and left us rather horrified to acknowledge that you were practically an unfortunately tall toddler--”

“I’m beginning to feel very insulted,” Virgil muttered.

“--It has been brought to our collective attention that the two of you might be completely unaware of Space Time,” Logan finished. The lights around his wrists pulsed a worried tempo of blue yellow and purple. Patton fidgeted at his post, his usual pleasant expression giving way to a more upset one when Virgil and Janus didn’t immediately jump up to reassure them that the words “Space” and “Time” meant something more than what they meant individually.

Janus shifted, uncomfortable in both his skin and in the idea that he might not know everything there is to know in the universe. “What is… Space Time?”

“I attempted to explain this to you, Virgil, but I had the feeling that your Common wasn’t advanced yet for you to grasp the whole meaning,” Logan said. “I will attempt again with small words. Essentially, on the planet TS-001 in the year of Emperor Xiso, there was a Slewcuriz, who discovered that Xiyl based components could be run through a Joznu reduction and then mixed with Lerak, in a one to three Vogin, and Santel in a--”

“I can already tell you that if we had this conversation before I did not understand it,” Virgil said, blandly. “I don’t understand it now.”

“Just the basics,” Janus suggested. “I would love to listen to the full history lesson at a later point, but it seems your Reytin is about to flee into the vents from nerves.”

Patton let out a chittering squeak when both Virgil and Logan glance towards him. “I’m fine! Really! It’s just….” He sighed, drooping. “Reytins explained Space Time as the concept that Distance is unavoidably linked to Time. Because of this, objects in motion feel time at a slower rate than those that are standing still.”

“What?” Janus asked because he only won a Robotics Competition because his parents paid for the trophy to be handed to him, much like all his other science related achievements.

Virgil, who actually won a Robotics Competition, tilted his head and nodded. “No wait, uh I do know about that. It’s a physics thing; uh… specific relativity? No that’s not right… Special Relativity?” He hummed for a moment before noticing that Janus still looked confused. “It’s like… time travel, kinda. How do I explain this to a non-science person….okay imagine you are on a train, alright? I’m outside the train, by the train tracks, perfectly distanced between two trees. Your train is moving at the speed of light, but at the moment that your train passes by me lightning strikes both trees.”

Virgil mimicked the trees being blown up and Logan looked oddly fascinated by the explanation, as if he were listening to a child's attempt at explaining brain surgery.

“Okay?” Janus said warily.

“Okay, so I am outside the tracks. I would observe the trees both going up in flames at the same time. Simultaneously. But you, on your totally-real, not-a-safety-hazard train would be moving at light speed towards one tree and away from the other; as a result you would see lightning striking the tree ahead of you first and the one behind you second, with a noticeable difference in time.”

“W-why would that--?”

“Because time is relative, but the speed of light is always the same,” Virgil said.

“That makes no sense to me,” Janus said. “It’s happening at the same time.”

“For me it would. But you would be moving, and therefore your perception of time is super out of whack.”

Janus crossed his arms. “If this is such a big thing why don’t I observe it when I wave to you from down the street? Or when I’m driving a car?”

“The time dilation has to be at literal light speed. I don’t know about you but people who don’t have a silver spoon up their ass usually don’t have cars that go at light speeds.”

Janus’s expression slipped into something far less amused and he pursed his lips.

“That’s not all there is to it,” Logan cut in before Janus could retort. “But at the very basic level I would assume that is close enough to Space Time. What had Patton and I concerned, is the manner of aging that comes associated with space travel.”

He straightened his spine and stood slightly taller, like a teacher about to give a lecture. His lower two hands folded behind himself and the upper two brightly flashed yellow and purple twice as if intoning Look at me! Pay attention! There might be a Pop Quiz on this Tomorrow!

“As you might have figured, part of traveling the vacuum of space is that our ships maintain a speed parallel to that of light. I believe you called it light speed? As such we are on a constant motion that largely outperforms that of any habitable planet. Because of this, we on this ship will experience time at the same rate, but we will be completely isolated from how anyone outside of this ship experiences time.” Logan gave them both a look. “Objects in motion experience time slower than those at a stand still.”

Janus squinted at him. “I feel like you are trying to tell me something.”

“We experience time much slower than those on any planet.”

Janus turned to Virgil, hands raised in a question. Virgil wondered for a moment if this was how Janus always felt when Virgil was asking him to play translator for their notes in Spanish II back before everything ended. Perhaps he should have been paying Janus for his services as both a tutor and the sole reason Virgil didn’t flunk out of his language courses before his junior year with something more than the promise to hold on to a secret and longing dreams he never told anyone about.

“One more time, Lo,” Virgil asked.

Logan frowned and opened his mouth again, but instead of answering, Patton flipped down from the rafters and landed just a foot away from Virgil.

“Time passing for the people on your planet will stay the same, Virgil,” Patton said. “But you aren’t there anymore. The time that you and Janus have spent in space, planet hopping at light speed, you think it’s been, like two of your Earth kliansannu, right?”

“Years?” Janus echoed in English.

“Three, actually,” Virgil said, very much not liking where this was headed.

“Three?” Janus said.

“For all we know of your Earth, it could have already been sixteen kliansannu,” Logan explained. “Or larger. Twenty eight? Thirty Two?”

Virgil didn’t know where the sudden sick feeling in his chest came from but he became aware suddenly that it had settled in the hollow of his throat, bloated and twisted and gnarled around his vocal chords. Flashes of Earth flicked in his head: of his parents, of the town, of Earth as he knew it. It hadn’t taken more than a year for the community council to agree to tear down the park playground he liked to hang out at night when he was fifteen; in sixteen years what would be left of the place he knew? Who would be left?

“We can’t possibly have been that lucky,” Janus said, bulldozing straight through the tangled web of realization that caught Virgil with his politician’s son voice. He stood his ground, glaring at Logan as if daring him to fight on this. “You truly believe that so much time has passed on Earth? We were already experimenting with deep space travel before I was abducted; they would have definitely branched out far enough to come in contact with a legitimate alien race by now.”

Logan frowned. “Legitimate?”

“We aren’t bringing this up to start a fight about Deathworlders!” Patton interrupted. “Or to freak either of you out! It’s just…I… didn’t get this option. To go back.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “I wanted to make sure you both have it.”

((Virgil has three plants in his room that glow in the dark, plants that Patton once gave him, plants that make Patton teary-eyed and quiet because they came from a planet that no longer existed.))

“TS-517 got blown up,” Patton said. “I was in a bar with Logan and Roman celebrating one of our first jobs together. I had lost track of Space Time; it was my mother’s birthday and she was waiting for me to come home and I was in a bar thinking I still had three more disannu.” Patton took a deep breath, horribly pained and hurting and telling.

“My entire race, my planet, my home disappeared in an instant. If there is anything,” the Reytin stressed, “that you can think of that you wouldn’t be able to live without ever seeing again…then believe me that’s reason enough to go back to Earth.”

“I have everything I need right here,” Janus said resolutely, confidently, proudly. He took their hands and intertwined their fingers like he was making a promise and Virgil’s inner organs should not have been turning to mush at something so small.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Patton,” Janus said. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, and that you have to carry that with you now. But there is nothing on the Deathworld that is worth going back for, much less worth having you break the interstellar space codes for.”

“Virgil?” Logan said, with a curiously blank tone that made Virgil feel like both of them just failed a test they hadn’t known they were taking. His lower left hand rested on his belt where his interstellar nook was placed, ready for the next time he needed to do a SpaceGoogle search to figure out what laws they were breaking and figure out how to explain it away to possible Space Cops.

Virgil squeezed Janus’s fingers in his own hand.

“I mean,” Virgil said, with a shrug. “I’m sure there’s a version of Roman’s Shishdouble that tastes like a Wendy’s chicken sandwich if I’m in denial enough?”

That at least got a part of a laugh out of Patton, something sad and a little twisted and mourning people that Virgil would never get to know. Logan was still looking at him, though, his expression a flat slate that made him look more rock-like than normal. The visor over his eyes blocked most of the expression on his face, but Virgil still wasn’t sure what he was searching for.

“I don’t want to go back to Earth,” Virgil said. “Neither of us want to go back to Earth.”

Logan waited another moment, lips pressed together, before he nodded. Whatever decision he had come to, it settled his lights as well, letting them flutter once again with the steady pulsing beat and he let his arm drop away from his nook. “Well, of course, it was just a concern from your crewmates. I had a theory that neither of you were particularly inclined to return, nor did I particularly want to say a definitive goodbye at some point to people who are family to me. Thank you for taking the time to assuage our fears.”

“Aw,” Janus said. “He likes us!”

“You are not hard to like,” Logan said good naturedly. “I look forward to our conversations about Deathworlder culture. They are very enlightening.”

And if that wasn’t a concerning thing to hear, Virgil wasn’t sure what was. He knew Janus well enough to know that he could very maliciously be pixie-leading Logan down the worst pieces of humanity.

But Patton was still uncharacteristically quiet, so Virgil let go of Janus’s hand and knelt down to his height, offering a folded fist, palm up in the familiar motion that Roman often gave Patton.

“Thanks for looking out for us, Pat,” Virgil said. “But if you dropped us off on Earth again, I wouldn’t be able to see you again, and that is something I wouldn’t be able to live without.”

Patton’s large bulging eyes blinked, tearing up slightly and he lunged forward into a hug. Virgil wobbled to keep his balance, but accepted the hug gratefully.

Sixteen years, twenty eight, thirty two… what did it really matter to him when he had his family right there? Janus was right. There was no reason to go back, there was no reason to want to go back.

If they magically showed back up on Earth, Virgil would still have to fight the accusation that he murdered someone, Janus would have to face the fact that his own parents buried him. Even if they were dropped in like… Turkey or Libya or Nigeria or something, and all they had were each other and the will to start over, Virgil didn’t think he could look up to the sky and not ache to see the warp core of the Mindscape’s engines, the weird fauna on hundreds of different planets, the way a planet with seven moons or three suns looks from the surface.

Patton squeezed him gently again, and Virgil was careful that he kept his Deathworlder strength in check for the return. Patton stepped back, making another chittering noise that sounded much more like him.

“Well!” He said far brighter and much more like himself. “I’m glad you kiddos have everything figured out! I didn’t have nearly the same focus when I was first starting out on my journey!”

“Deathworlder perks,” Janus said, with a smile even though that was not even remotely true and by the look on Logan’s face he knew that as well and was baffled by his Deathworlder expert blatantly lying.

“So….if that’s all figured out,” Virgil said, innocently, running the edge of a half bitten nail against his other finger. He turned towards Janus again, half of a crooked grin on his face.

"Kenobi?"

And faster than any space storm, than any meteorite crashing into earth, any star exploding, or blackhole imploding, Janus's face twisted into one of rage and he snatched a pillow from the ground and threw it at Virgil.

It was a matter of mere luck that Virgil managed to duck in time; the force of it alone as it tore past Virgil told him that he would have been sporting bruises for at least a solid day. Patton on the other hand yelped and jumped up, clearing easily overwhere the pillow landed at his feet, and clung upside down to the rafters.

"Patton!" Janus snapped. "Be a dear and shove that down his throat will you?"

"HEY, whoa!" Virgil said, backing up. "That's two against one and that's not fair!"

"Were you not the one who called me a bully? Since when do bullies fight fair?"

"Did someone say fair fight?" Roman asked in what is possibly the best timing the Erefren has ever had. He appeared in the doorway from the main hall, hair still wet from the shower he’d been taking, but otherwise looking pleased to see them all. "Who are we fighting?"

"Virgil!"

"Janus!"

Roman grinned in a way that Virgil suspected he picked up solely from hanging around Virgil too much-- curved and pleasant where Erefren customs were mostly teeth barring-- and Virgil knew that he was in trouble. The red spiky tail curled around the pillow and tossed it into his hands and Roman stared down Virgil with all the vengeance of a pissed off stegosaurus.

"For my shishbouble!" He said.

Virgil yelped, scooting out of the way of Roman's attack just to be brained by Janus's. His fingers wrapped around the pillow before Janus could yank it back again and with a sharp tug he freed it from its commander and held it up to block the shot from Patton.

“This is in no way fair!” Virgil cried out. “Logan!”

“Do not involve me in this,” Logan suggested. “I believe this is the figurative “reaping of what you’ve sown”. Janus, did I use that phrase correctly?”

“Perfectly!” Janus said right before he slammed another pillow at Virgil’s face.

“Fucking Disney,” another voice called from the doorway. “You fucks better be actually killing each other with all this fucking noise!”

The battle slowed for a moment, enough that Virgil was able to actually form a single coherent thought in the space between where Janus had aborted his attack and Roman had ditched his plan to swipe Virgil’s feet from under him and put him in a blanket coated, pillow shaped coffin.

Remus stood in the doorway, looking very much like he’d been through every other room in the ship searching for alcohol and been unsuccessful. His hair was a mess in the way that suggested he did not care about it at all, his outfit ruffled from being the only thing he’s been seen wearing since he arrived on this ship (despite Roman having offered him other clothes). The dark circle under his eyes spoke in volumes to the amount of sleep that he’d had recently which Virgil has the sneaking suspicion was equal to the amount that Virgil has had since their “talk” in the Transporter Room.

“Remus is on my team!” Virgil yelled out and he slammed a pillow into Roman’s spluttering surprised face.

“He is?” Roman asked.

“I am?” Remus echoed possibly more confused than he should have been.

But Janus shrugged and took a swing at Remus with his pillow and the next moment was a flurry of pillows flying around the room. Patton swung up to the rafters again and dropped his pillows like bombs from the sky, and Virgil managed to get Roman tangled in a blanket, but it left him open for Janus knocking him on the back of the head. Remus laughed when Virgil hit the ground, dazed and confused and unsure what day of the alien week it was, but the Erefren did at least throw a pillow at Janus’s stomach.

Remus and Janus exchanged blows like a complicated dance until Virgil tossed Roman’s pillow at Janus’s feet to trip him up and he ended up caught directly in Remus’s arms.

“Hostage!” Remus declared, swinging Janus in front of him like a human shield against Patton and Roman. Virgil took the opening as an invitation and skidded behind Remus and his very beautiful meat shield. “You wouldn’t hit your teammate!”

Roman looked righteously scandalized by the suggestion. “You bastard! He’s just a child!”

“Coward!” Janus called. “Also I’m eighteen!”

“Is that not a child for Deathworlders?” Logan asked pleasantly, from his spot on the couch, unbothered by the mess they had created in the warzone around him.

"Technically it's an adult," Virgil said.

"A baby!" Roman said again, distressed in the way that came only from being aware of the type of shit Virgil would get into if left to his own devices in his lab for too long. Virgil suspected that they drew straws every time one of them needed to come remind him that he needed to eat, considering that the last time he’d gotten involved in a project he’d nearly shish-kabobed Logan coming into the room at the wrong moment.

Remus rolled his eyes. "We are barely older than him! Even Happy Pappy Pancake over there is basically the same age in Reytin klainsannu!"

Virgil sat up suddenly turning towards Logan with a dawning realization in his mind. "Wait, wait-- you guys are like barely teenagers?"

"He means teenagers," Janus cut in.

Virgil frowned. "That's what I said."

Janus gave him a look that sends Virgil directly back in time to Spanish II, without passing go or collecting the 200 apologies from various parties that he's owed because Janus is alive and well and still an asshole and Virgil is very much in love with him and still can't pronounce things correctly. Apparently.

Logan pondered the question for another moment. "I suppose…yes I believe that is accurate. For all our species we are considered the hypothetical ages between being a child that needs a guardian to look after them and being a guardian capable of looking after themselves. Although Patton undoubtedly has been alive for more kliansannu than all of us put together."

"And we're just…. roaming around the galaxies?" Virgil said.

Patton laughed with his eyes glowing as if he hadn’t almost been in tears just a little bit ago. He flipped from a rafter to Roman’s back, and the Erefren caught him easily before he impaled himself on the spikes. It never failed to amaze Virgil at how well they knew each other’s movements; Roman didn’t even so much as have to shift his weight at the sudden frog-like creature clinging to him.

"Okay hear me out: We are essentially a bunch of kids on a road trip across the country," Virgil started and Janus groaned so loudly Remus loosened his hold slightly.

“Do not start on that!”

“This is a Coming Of Age story, gross! We swore we were not going to do that--”

“I do not understand the nuance here,” Logan commented, ever curious and his two lower hands reaching for his nook to document this new information. “Is this a Deathworlder cultural rite?”

“Who cares,” Remus cut in boredly. “Are we fighting or not? I have things to do!”

Roman huffed. “What do you have to do? You’re a guest on my ship!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Not forever, bitch. I’m off when we touch down on TS-625. I’ve got business with some… people in the city.”

((“They-- They trusted me and… I got my entire fucking crew killed brutually and I have to find and inform their families that they won’t be returning. Ever.”))

Virgil didn’t exactly drop like a solid bowling ball had slammed into him obliterating at least three of his internal organs, but it was a near thing. Remus’s expression didn’t betray a single bit of what his business with people in the city might be, or how terrible it was going to be to be alone again. Virgil didn’t doubt that Remus had dipped his hands into the worst things that could be done out in Space, that Remus hadn’t perpetuated half of the terrible things that left most other races terrified of Erefrens, but for all his resources, all his brutal fighting, all his ship maintenance knowledge, Virgil was struck by the sudden feeling that if Remus walked off this ship when they landed alone, none of them would ever see him again.

Oath of Brothers or not, Remus would not call out again if he needed help. Past crewmate or not, Remus would not ask Janus to join him. Hatred for Virgil or not, Remus would not come back to haunt them like a vengeful ghoul.

He’d disappear entirely, without even a goodbye.

Virgil wasn’t sure why that thought suddenly made him feel so incredibly wrong.

“The offer still stands,” Virgil blurted out, and Remus blinked as if he had forgotten Virgil was next to him.

“Offer?” Patton asked, tilting his head and blinking his bug eyes. Virgil wasn’t sure what emotions exactly Patton would be seeing off the two of them, or if Patton could see any with Janus blocking most of Remus’s body. He was sure they would probably be concerning at the very least; Virgil’s could be chalked up to something like badbadbadreallybad and Remus was…. Remus.

The Erefren looked at him, up and down, as if mentally trying to calculate how much money he could get for Virgil’s corpse on the Black Market. “I don’t need your help, Viagra.”

“I didn’t teach him that one!” Janus said, but honestly….Virgil had been called worse before by people he respected far more.

“I know you don’t need it,” Virgil shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it couldn’t help to have help anyway.”

(He pretended like he didn’t see Logan, Roman, and Patton exchange a very obvious, very flabbergasted look between the three of them.)

“Alright,” Remus said, part of his lips curling into a begrudging sharpened grin and his tail swaying dangerously close to where Virgil was hovering, ever a threat. “Your funeral, Deathworlder.”

“I’m so happy for both of you making friends,” Janus said in that tone of voice of his that usually meant he was about to remind the teacher of the homework that they were supposed to do the night before, that only he actually completed. Remus’s face flickered with panic, but he was a second too late reacting to it before Janus drove his heel directly into the Erefren’s shin hard enough to cause him to lose what remained of his grip on his hostage.

Remus cursed in at least three languages and drowned out Patton’s responding chastisement with a particularly loud shout of where Patton could shove his manners. Janus laughed, grabbing a pillow from next to Logan while Roman declared his brother free Pillow Beatdown Real Estate.

Virgil yelped when Janus locked his eyes on him with a vicious gaze. He raised a blanket as a shield to block the pillow, but Janus just tackled him to the ground instead. They twisted around for a minsannu before Virgil found himself pinned right under Janus with no escape.

“I win,” Janus declared and the two of them paused to catch their breath as they watched Remus flatten Roman’s face with his own pillow that was concerningly close to an actual smothering attempt. Logan attempted to break it up, only to have both the Erefrens smack him with their pillows at the same time, hard enough to knock him back onto the couch, dazed. Patton swung down from the rafters and knocked Remus actually onto the ground with a pillow to the stomach, and his string of apologies was lost under the sound of Roman’s laughter.

“So,” Janus said quietly, almost lost under the chaos of all the noise if he wasn’t curled up right on top of Virgil. “You guys didn’t talk about anything important at all?”

“Friendly conversation, between friendly people,” Virgil repeated. “Besides, it’s just TS-625. What’s the worst that could happen?”

#virgil sanders #janus sanders #Logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #alien au #aw look a one shot with all of the boys in it!#and only a little angst #Rip Patton's backstory #You thought this was Aliens? No this is Physics #The author is crying but its not from angst #its from physics #why did I do this #Space and Everything in It #Buckle up the next installment and where things get...messy #anxceit #sanders sides

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candied-peach · 2 years

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ao3: “but promise me this” rating: T warnings: platonic dukeceit, crying genre: hurt/comfort description: Remus doesn't want Janus to leave. (day 7: “Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. I would write the words a thousand times if they’d be strong enough to hold you here.” — Victoria Schwab, Gallant @tsshipmonth2020 )

He's going to leave.

Remus knows that. He knows that Janus doesn't belong down here. Doesn't belong in the dark, in the shadows, in the rot. He belongs with Virgil. With the others. He belongs with the light. He is self preservation. He is good.

Remus is not.

Remus is selfish.

Remus is greedy.

Remus doesn't want Janus to leave.

Which is why Remus is currently breaking Janus's door down, board by board, while Janus sleeps. Or at least, he was sleeping. Now he is awake and standing just a few inches from Remus, his face screwed up and tired and annoyed, and Remus can't make sense of the words spilling from his lips. He sounds like a Peanuts character, and it frightens him, because normally, Janus is the only one he understands when he feels this way.

He's managed to fuck up even this.

A tap on his wrist brings him back to himself, at least a little bit, and he looks up with startled, wet eyes to find Janus's ungloved hand tapping a familiar rhythm on his wrist. Four, seven, eight. Four, seven, eight. Remus falls into the rhythm, his chest hitching.

"-Remus?"

"I understand you," Remus whispers, and bursts into tears. Janus's arms wind around him as they stand, separated by the jagged bottom half of Janus's broken door, and if that isn't symbolism, Remus doesn't know what is.

"Remus, what's wrong?" Janus asks, gently wiping away his tears as he starts to wind down. He is snotty and weepy and gross, but Janus pulls a handkerchief out of nowhere, dabbing at his face with soft hands.

"I don't want you to leave," Remus says, tiny and choked and miserable. "Stay. Stay with me. Please." He knows it's futile. Expects Janus to step away. For his face to shutter closed, for the gloves to return.

Instead, Janus presses him to the front of his pajamas.

"I'm not leaving you behind," Janus murmurs. "Never, Remus. I might- I think I'm going to end up moving up there. But I'm taking you with me. Everyone else can deal. I know Thomas has started to accept you more."

"He thinks I'm gross," Remus says. He sounds a little proud.

"You are," Janus agrees. "But that's okay. You're allowed to be gross. Gross and loud and messy and- and you, Remus. And I'm not going to leave you."

Remus thinks he can be forgiven for the fresh tears blotted into the fabric of Janus's pajamas after that. It's Janus's fault, after all.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #eotp2022 #tsshipmonth2022 #dukeceit #platonic dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #janus #remus #sanders sides fic #📚#ok to rb #peach writes

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badatthingsbuttrying289 · 1 year

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Mociet fusion

This is my very poorly drawn mociet fusion whom I have named Salus which is latin for safety or welfare, which I think fits well.

He's got three eyes two of which come from Patton and the third from Janus. He also technically has eight arms, but he hides four of them, and if he could he'd hide the extra two. But he can't.

His appearance leans more towards Janus than Patton, though it is easy to tell that Patton has some influence on Salus' appearance even if it is subtle, like the flower on his sun hat being the same flower used to represent Patton in some of the merch.

Salus has patches of snake and frog skin all over his body, though due to the fact that Patton has not accepted that part of himself yet, Salus is rather self-conscious about it and has a habit of covering his frog-like features up.

When it came to his outfit I wanted to keep a balance between Janus' style and Pattons, although, I'm not sure I did it right and I may have to redraw him sometime. When searching for a 'balance' outfit I took inspiration from the Mad Hatter, Mary Poppins and Eclipsa from svtfoe, so instead of Janus' shepherds crook thing that he has, I gave him an umbrella cause I feel like it fits better with Patton's personality. The umbrella works kinda like Mary Poppins umbrella and is sometimes used as a shield to protect the others. Also, he does have glasses I just forgot to draw them.

I had a lot of different ideas for his emblem thing, including a frog and a snake forming a heart, or a snake wrapped around a heart shaped lily pad but I wasn't really sure how to draw that, plus it wouldn't really fit until Patton learns to accept and embrace his frog traits. So for now Salus' emblem is a two headed snake shaped like a heart.

Once the other side's learn of his existence I believe his relationship with each of them would be strained at best seeing as the others are still angry at his two halves for a lot of reasons. Except for Remus who thinks he's cool, Salus is both deeply disturbed by and incredibly fond of him. I think Roman would feel betrayed by the fact that Patton trusts Janus enough to fuse with him, Logan would try not to let his emotions get in the way and attempt to study him (though he would be quite bitter towards him) and Virgil, despite his anger and frustrations towards Patton, would see their fusion as Janus manipulating Patton or as an abusive relationship of sorts and would try to defuse the two of them in the hopes of helping Patton.

For his personality I want him to be a mix between his two halves but still be his own person. I know he'd be good at puns and that he'd be the type of person to drink apple juice from a wine glass to make himself feel fancy, he's also the type of person who just knows when people are sad so he leaves cookies outside their door but denies his involvement when questioned. He has an unfortunate habit of not being able to ask for help because he feels he can fix whatever it is himself and he doesn't want to bother the others. He wants to be acknowledged as his own person rather then an extension of Patton or Janus. I feel like his morals are somewhere along the line of 'Do no harm, take no shit' he does truly care about Thomas's friend but if he feels they're hurting him or are toxic in any way he will advise them to change their behaviour but if they don't he'll attempt to cut them off. He care more about Thomas's wellbeing them the wellbeing of those around him(Thomas) and will advise Thomas to take a break to take care of himself and to set healthy boundaries rather then helping everyone who asks him. He does feel bad about having such 'selfish' motives but at the end of the day he feels that this is what's best for Thomas.

He's also an empath.

#mociet #sanders sides #janus sanders #patton sanders #fusion #my fanart #fanart

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transfemlogan · 2 years

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Sanders Sides requests from my Instagram! (@incrediblyundead)

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Under cut are the image descriptions because it is very long

[ID: screenshots of Instagram stories. Image one is a sketchy and coloured drawing of Logan Sanders. Logan is a black man with dark brown curly hair tied up into a ponytail with curly strands on his forehead and down the side of his face. He is wearing circle framed glasses and his usual outfit, except his tie is loosened. He has an angry expression on his face and there is blood splattered on his cheeks and glasses. The request reads, "insane logan, make him go feral, do with this what you will." Image two is of Logan again, but this time not coloured. He is smiling with his eyes closed. The request reads, "logan being happy." Image three is of Patton Sanders. It is sketched and coloured. Patton is a white man with his light brown hair with light blue dyed tips tied into a braid and bangs. He is wearing square framed glasses and an uncoloured t-shirt. Patton is holding his left hand under his chin with his right shoulder facing the camera. He is winking and making a cat mouth. He has uncoloured stickers on his face and a speech bubble next to him making an angry cat face. The request reads, "OOOHHHHH... Patton w a braid." Image four is a sketchy coloured drawing of Janus and Remus. Janus and Remus are both white men, though Remus has much paler skin than Janus. Janus has his brown hair tied up into a loose ponytail with loose strands. He is wearing a yellow turtle neck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an apron that says "kiss the snake". He is closing one eye and sticking out his tongue at Remus. He is holding a bowl in his hands with his body turned away from Remus. Remus has a grey-ish brown mullet and a million piercings on his ears and face. He has some facial hair on his chin and a curly mustache. He is wearing a ripped up green shirt and grey sweat pants. There is a happy trail poking out from under his shirt and he has a lot of arm hair. He is smiling wide and looking at Janusm in one hand he is holding a bottle of neon green liquid with smoke coming out that has a skeleton inside. The requests reads, "demus (/p or not) attempting 2 bake." Image five are two traditional drawings of Virgil Sanders side by side. The first drawing is Virgil wearing a cat spirit hood with an oversized hoodie and choker. His hair is covering one eye and he is wearing makeup that looks like he's been crying. He has freckles and a bunch of piercings. In the second drawing, it is a smaller full body drawing of him. He is wearing the same outfit with tripp pants. The request reads, "Virgil being the emo he is." Image six is a traditional drawing of Patton Sanders. He is smiling and sticking his tongue out eith both eyes closed. In onr hand he is holding a tiny frog that is also smiling. The request reads, "Patton with a frog?" Image seven is a traditional drawing of Logan Sanders in a Crofters costume with a pin that reads 'she'. She is standing awkwardly with a neutral facial expression. The request reads, "Logan but like shes in a crofters costume. Image eight is of Remus Sanders standing with his hands on his hips. He is looking off to the side with a wide smile and sticking out one tongue. He is wearing a shirt that says, "This Grandpa is a goth boy enthusiast, HATES THE COPS, was born in July, has osteoporosis, is a Korn groupie, and hates egg salad, and you do NOT want to test my patience." The request reads, "remus wearing one of those that are weirdly specific." /end ID]

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #dukeceit #demus #blood #blog tags ->#revys art!#logan #patton #virgil #janus #remus

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

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if you’re going my way, i’ll go with you - chapter 11

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, minor/background OCs Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, platonic/parental Prinxiety and Logince, Dukeceit, Creativitwins Warnings: Language, mention of suicidality, discussion of child abuse (including serious injury and the denial of medical care), something like survivor's guilt relating to the child abuse, accidental misgendering of Roman from a few different parties, some suggestive stuff between Janus and Remus, Virgil making a bunch of vague threats to a minor OC. Word count: 6953

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Chapter 11

“Good morning,” Virgil murmured, running his thumb lightly along Logan’s cheekbone.

Logan’s face wrinkled up, and he leaned into Virgil’s hand where it cupped the side of his face. “No,” he mumbled.

Virgil laughed. “I’ll give you kisses,” he bartered.

There was a beat, and Logan’s eyes opened. “Acceptable,” he agreed.

Virgil grinned, sat up, and held out his arms. “C’mere, then.”

Logan groaned. “No, come back.”

“I’ve got your kisses right here,” Virgil teased, taking Logan’s hands in his own and lightly tugging. “C’mon, babe.”

“You changed the circumstances and I no longer appreciate this plan,” Logan said poutily.

“Aww, you poor darling. However will you survive such hardship?” Virgil tugged again, urging his partner to sit up. “We’ve got to get the kid up soon. C’mon.”

Logan let out a long, drawn-out sigh, but allowed Virgil to help him sit up. He then promptly crawled into Virgil’s lap, where he wrapped his arms about Virgil and buried his face in Virgil’s chest.

Virgil smiled, scratching lightly at the back of his partner’s neck. “There you go,” he encouraged.

“Evil man,” Logan said grumpily, squirming further into Virgil’s hold.

“I mean.” Virgil stifled a chuckle. “That is kind of my thing, yes.”

Logan groaned in the tone of voice he reserved exclusively for puns, which was enough to make Virgil stop stifling his chuckle, so Logan reached up and vaguely swatted at Virgil’s face. Virgil simply caught his partner’s hand in his own and pressed a brief kiss to its palm. “Kisses?” he inquired.

“Mm. Yes.” Logan raised his face and presented it to Virgil.

“Look at you,” Virgil murmured in admiration, leaning in and kissing him tenderly. He felt Logan smile against his lips, and they traded a few more kisses.

Virgil pulled back. “Alright. We should get up for real.”

Logan scrunched his face up disapprovingly, but yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”

“I dunno. A little after eight?” Virgil disentangled himself from Logan and got out of bed. “If Roman’s not awake, he will be soon. I’m going to start breakfast.”

“Alright. I will check on Roman momentarily.” Logan made as if to lie down again.

“Ah ah ah.” Virgil snatched the comforter and dragged it entirely off the bed, eluding Logan’s desperate grasp by a hair. “Do not go back to sleep.”

“You are really living up to the nemesis title right now,” Logan informed him, crossing his arms and fighting to keep a smile off his face.

“I aim to please.” Virgil gave his boyfriend a two-fingered salute and headed to the kitchen.

As Virgil worked on preparing rice pudding for breakfast, he heard Logan getting up, and a few moments later crossing the hall; there was a light knock on a door, and then the murmur of voices that he couldn’t make out the individual words of. This kept up for a few moments, the murmurs turning into a lively conversation, and then at last there were footsteps in the hall and the voices grew louder.

Logan stepped into the kitchen, Roman in his arms with all the child’s little limbs wrapped about him, a smile on his face as he continued speaking to the little boy. “—which in turn makes the air below push the wing up and thereby sustain flight.”

“Wait, really?” Roman said, sounding absolutely enthralled.

“Indeed. Does that make sense?” Logan set Roman down on one of the bar stools, unclasping the child’s hands from about his neck.

Roman nodded. “Mmhm!” He looked over at Virgil, who was standing at the stove, stirring at the pot he was tending but watching Logan and Roman with a delightful warm fondness in his chest. “How come he’s so smart?” Roman asked, pointing at Logan.

“It’s his job,” Virgil said, amused. “And his power.” He glanced at Logan fondly. “He’s the smartest person you’ll ever meet, actually,” he informed the little boy.

“Almost certainly,” Logan agreed, crossing to Virgil’s coffee maker and beginning to mess with it. (Virgil only ever used the default settings, but the machine could do lots of things, mainly for Logan’s benefit.) “There are currently one hundred and seventy two registered supergeniuses alive. The odds of the average layperson, or even the average super, meeting two of us are incredibly slim. Never zero, though.” With the push of a button, the coffee machine beeped and began whirring. Logan turned his back to it to lean against the counter and tossed Roman another fond smile. “After all, you did meet me, and the odds of that were also slim.”

“How slim?” Roman asked, kicking his feet against the rung of the bar stool and clearly drinking in Logan’s every word.

Logan tilted his head to the side, clearly considering this. “That is a calculation that is almost impossible to make with accuracy, considering the amount of variables that go into it. However, given that I have lived in this city since before you were born, it becomes exponentially more likely than it would had we lived in different areas.”

Roman stared, face wrinkling up as he clearly tried to process this.

“As in, the likelihood that you would have met me is at least three thousand times more likely than someone even a county or two away from us meeting me, even should they have powers,” Logan clarified.

“Wow,” Roman said, eyes huge.

The pot Virgil was stirring bubbled especially loudly, drawing Roman’s attention. He hopped down from the stool and ran to Virgil’s side, standing on tiptoe and peeking into the pot. “What is that?” he asked, sounding fascinated. “Is it oatmeal?”

“Nope. Rice pudding.” Virgil ruffled his hair. “With coconut milk. It’s pretty similar to oatmeal, though. It’s good, want to try?”

“Yes please.” Roman bounced on his toes. “Can I help?”

“Of course. Want to get out some spoons?” Virgil pointed him towards the silverware drawer.

As Roman, eyes wide and focused, selected three spoons and carried them carefully to the section of the island meant for eating at, Virgil got down bowls and filled them with the rice pudding, then went about pulling out toppings—cinnamon, honey, sliced almonds, and whatever fruit he had on hand, which turned out to be blueberries and raspberries. Roman’s eyes zeroed in on the honey from all the way across the kitchen; Virgil only laughed and passed the sweetener to the boy, setting a bowl of the porridge in front of him before bringing the rest of the toppings over.

“It’s good!” Roman announced through a large, sticky mouthful moments later, having swamped his breakfast in a truly obscene amount of honey, a cautious shake of cinnamon, and exactly three raspberries, which he had mixed together vigorously.

“Glad to hear it,” Virgil said, sprinkling sliced almonds onto his own bowl. “You coming, babe?” he inquired of Logan, who was still doing something with the coffee. The machine itself seemed to have been shut off by now, but Logan was busily adding things together in a couple of mugs.

“Just a moment,” Logan said absently, and sure enough, less than a moment later he came over to the island, mugs in hand. “Here, try this,” he instructed, leaning over Virgil’s shoulder to place one of the mugs in front of him and plant a kiss on his lips. “And Roman, this is for you.” At Virgil’s raised eyebrows, he clarified, “It is uncaffeinated, obviously. It is steamed milk with hazelnut syrup.”

“I have hazelnut syrup?” Virgil asked, eyebrows raising higher.

“You do now. I had some delivered yesterday morning, and Thomas appears to have stored it where I instructed.” Logan sounded very pleased with himself as he went back and retrieved whatever his own concoction was. “I have been meaning to do that for a while.” He sat down beside Virgil and reached for the cinnamon.

“It tastes really nice, too,” Roman reported, licking his newly acquired milk mustache away.

“Good,” Logan said, sounding for all the world like he was receiving the desired results from one of his experiments. He glanced at Virgil expectantly.

Virgil snorted, amused, and obligingly lifted his own mug to take a sip. It was, of course, delectable. “It’s fantastic, babe. What is it?”

Logan gave him a disappointed stare. “A cappuccino,” he said, sounding put-upon. “How did you not know that?”

“L, I know what one of the buttons on my coffee maker does. I’m not a fancy coffee guy.”

Logan pressed his fingers overdramatically to his temples. “But a cappuccino—”

“Is not something I ever make or order, so how would I recognize it by taste?” Virgil countered. “It’s really good, though. You did a good job.”

“I know,” Logan said, sounding mollified.

Virgil laughed, leaned over, and kissed his temple. “What did you make yourself?”

Logan brightened, and between bites of breakfast he began telling Virgil in detail about the recipe he’d used, Roman listening in with the utmost attention and fascination.

When breakfast, and seconds, were eaten, and the dishes were cleaned—which Roman also asked to help with—Virgil got out his laptop and sat on the couch with Roman and Logan at his sides. “Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking we’ll do today,” he said, mainly addressing Roman, since he and Logan had already gone over this last night. “First we’ll get your school stuff all set up—enroll you in Brennan and update your records with your current school—and then after that, we can go shopping and get some stuff for your room. You and I will do the school stuff, and then we’ll pick Logan up before shopping.” This was for the sake of Logan’s secret identity, since Virgil intended to use his super persona for the school forms. “How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds cool.” Roman fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Logan said, reaching over and opening a tab on Virgil’s laptop for him.

“Of course,” Virgil assured the child, handing the whole laptop over to Logan and allowing him to pull up the website for Brennan. “If you’re going to stay here, of course I’m going to make sure you have everything you need. Plus things just for fun.”

“Happiness and mental wellbeing are needs,” Logan put in, busily typing.

“Exactly,” Virgil agreed, glancing at the screen to ascertain that Logan was filling out the application form on Roman’s behalf. “How about you two work on that while I suit up?”

By the time he returned, fully clad in the Nightmare’s outfit, the form had evidently been filled out. The laptop was set to the side on the coffee table, Roman was dressed and buckling the velcro on his shoes, and Logan was explaining, for some reason, the physics behind plumbing. Roman was a rapt audience, not even looking up as Virgil entered the room.

“Having fun?” Virgil inquired, picking up the laptop and examining it. A confirmation notice was displayed on the webpage, saying that the application form had been successfully submitted and that he could expect to hear back soon to schedule a meeting with the head of the school.

“Yes,” Logan and Roman said in unison.

“Glad to hear it.” Virgil set the laptop back down. “You used my contact info, I assume?” he asked Logan, who nodded.

“To my understanding, usually they process applications on the same day, but they ask for up to three in case there’s an unexpected influx,” Logan informed him. “And since they hold classes on Saturdays and are therefore open today, I would be unsurprised if they respond before you return.”

“Delightful. Roman, are you ready to go set up your regular school stuff, or do you need more time?”

“I’m ready,” Roman said quickly, hopping to his feet.

“Cool. Let’s drive. See you soon, babe.” Virgil leaned down to kiss Logan goodbye, then offered Roman his hand and led the little boy out of the living quarters.

“Do you just have, like, a regular car?” Roman inquired doubtfully in the elevator.

Virgil laughed. “I do, actually. But we’re not taking that one, it’s boring. We’re taking my work car, it has tons of cool gadgets and stuff.”

“Can it shoot lasers?” Roman asked at once, sounding decidedly more interested.

“Yes, actually. Although usually I don’t need those. Today I just want its intimidation factor.” As the elevator doors opened and Virgil led Roman towards the garage, he went on, “But about your school—give me the lay of the land. If you don’t know, that’s fine, but do you have an idea of how your teachers and the school administration are about the LGBTQ community?” He was trying to mentally prepare the appropriate level of threatening aura to bring to the table.

Roman hesitated, brow wrinkling. “I think…” he began slowly. “I think some of them are fine. One teacher has a really little rainbow heart on his desk. I—there’s not a gay club, though. Mom and Dad checked when I started going there. They don’t think I know they checked. They don’t think I know about gay stuff. But I do know. And they did check. And there’s not a club.” He hesitated again. “I think some kids maybe want to start one. But I wasn’t allowed to talk to them before, so I don’t know much about that.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, nodding. “You can hang out with whoever you want, now. Whoever makes you feel happy to be around. There are no rules about who you can and can’t be friends with.”

“None?” Roman said, sounding disbelieving.

“None,” Virgil said firmly. “Now let’s go get your teachers up to scratch.” He paused by the door to the garage and considered—it was probably best to give the kid a heads-up. “And—just so you know—I might get a little villainous about it. Especially if they’re rude to you.”

Roman stifled a giggle, nodded, and followed Virgil out to the car.

***

“Mama!” Patton shouted. “Mama! Mama!” He was running across the playground and up the little grassy slope to the picnic blanket Remus and Janus were resting on. “This is for you!” He crouched before Janus and offered something to them that Remus couldn’t quite see in his little cupped hands.

It was Saturday, so though Patton had superschool, it got out earlier than on the weekdays, and Janus and Patton had met Remus at the local park to while away the afternoon until dinnertime.

Janus wasn’t wearing his usual androgynous body, with its mix of distinctly masculine and feminine features that he told Remus made Vortex incredibly annoyed. The body he was currently wearing was feminine—pointedly so, aggressively so, even—small, with delicate features and soft curves and round lips touched with pink gloss. His hair was still brown, but it was long and straight and done up in a ponytail. But his eyes were still the same hazel as Patton’s, and he wore the same freckles that decorated Patton’s face—he was still very recognizably Patton’s parent.

He wore this body around Remus sometimes. Always in public. Especially in places like this playground, where most of the other adults around them were older and straighter than either Janus or Remus, and were already casting disapproving looks at Janus over how young he looked compared to his child. It made Remus’s insides squirm that Janus would change how they looked because he was there.

They’d tried, back at the very beginning of their relationship, to get him to pick out a whole new look for them.

“What do you like?” they asked, some time into a heavy makeout session with them straddling his lap.

“What d’you mean?” he asked, distracted, focused on the way their hands were running up and down his arms and chest and toying with the collar of his shirt, and half considering just taking his shirt off to make it as easy as possible for them to keep touching him.

“Like—in a person. Your type, I guess.” She gasped as he squeezed her ass and leaned in for another kiss, tongues sliding together in a way that already felt natural and familiar even after only a week or two.

He let out a sigh of content when their lips parted from each other a moment later. It took him a few seconds to remember they’d asked him a question. “I dunno. A little of everything? Most people are hella pretty. You’re especially pretty. How come?”

Janus frowned. “Can you give me something more specific to work with?”

“I—baby, I’m really fucking pan, there’s a whole range of shit I’m attracted to.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t like ranking my types.” He was still confused why they were having this conversation, and wanted to get back to the making out and the pretty breathy noises Janus made against his mouth and the possessive way they kept feeling him up.

“Well, I can’t make a new body for you if you won’t give me at least a few pointers!” Janus sounded exasperated and far too casual.

Ice crystalized inside Remus’s stomach, turning his insides from warm gooey happiness to worried discomfort. “A—what?” He pulled back, putting his hands on Janus’s shoulders and keeping her from leaning back in. “What do you mean, make a new body?” The ice crystals got bigger and sharper inside him. “What do you mean, for me?”

Janus blinked, seeming to be caught off-guard by Remus’s sudden discomfort. “I—I mean, I do this for all my boyfriends,” he said, sounding confused now. “You can pick out how you want me to look.”

“No,” Remus said, recoiling at the idea and feeling sick inside. “No, I—holy shit, no, baby. I’m not gonna do that.”

Janus’s brows drew together. “Why?” He seemed baffled.

“I—Janus, I don’t care about shit like that—I mean, you’re hot, but—no. You’re saying dudes usually just—go along with this?”

“They like it,” Janus said, sounding uncertain and worried now. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You don’t have to be weird about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, because he was sorry they were upset, and he was sorry that enough people had treated them like this that they thought it was okay. He touched their cheek. “I’m not gonna do that, baby. I’m never gonna tell you what to look like or do with your body. I just—I’m not.”

Janus searched his face, brows wrinkled. “I don’t understand,” he said after a minute, voice small and lost. “I—I can be whatever you want most. Why won’t you let me?”

Remus felt like crying. “Sugar—” He tugged them close once more, wrapping his arms around them and tilting his head up to press his forehead to hers. “You already are,” he said brokenly.

They’d revisited the conversation a few times, those first few months, before Janus properly got it through his head that Remus meant it and wasn’t going to treat them like some kind of fucking Barbie doll for his own pleasure. So noticing that sometimes Janus would go so drastically fem, just because he was holding Remus’s hand in public—it made Remus feel all kinds of wrong and sad inside. But all the same, he could hardly fault them for wanting to avoid being harassed by strangers. So he never brought up his distress over it to them; it wasn’t his choice to make.

“Thank you, baby,” Janus told Patton, accepting the gift—which turned out to be a dandelion—and tucking it behind their ear.

“Mmhm! You’re welcome.” Patton leaned in and pressed a clumsy smack of a kiss to Janus’s cheek. “I’m gonna go play more!” He looked at Remus, who was lying along the side of the blanket with his head resting near Janus. “Do you wanna come play with me?”

“Maybe later, kiddo,” Remus said, giving Patton an automatic grin.

Patton frowned at him. “Playing makes you less sad, though. You should play.”

Right. Stupid of Remus to try and cover it up around the kid. Patton’s second main power was sensing emotion. “I’ll be fine,” he assured Patton, not breaking the smile even though they both knew it was fake—it was just so much easier to keep the act up once he’d started than it was to drop it. “I’ll play with you later, okay? I want to hang out with your mama a little more first.”

“Okay,” Patton said doubtfully. “I’m more fun, though.”

“Ouch.” Janus put one hand over his heart and the other draped on his forehead, casting himself backwards in a dramatic swoon.

“I am,” Patton insisted, giggling. “I mean, you’re really fun usually, but all you do with him is talking and kissing, and that’s boring. I have fun games.”

“You are both very delightful to me,” Remus assured the child as Janus sat back up, brushing themself off. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to play, okay?”

“Okay,” Patton gave in.

Remus propped himself up on one elbow and watched, slowly letting his grin fade, as Patton ran back to the playground, scampering up the steps of the play structure and all but tumbling headlong down the tallest slide, then whooping and hopping to his feet to run back to the start and do it all again.

Patton, of course, had caught him out on the feelings he’d been doing such a good job hiding from Janus all afternoon, though “sad” was perhaps too broad a descriptor. But Remus was definitely feeling… weird inside. Wobbly. Melancholy, he was pretty sure was a word Emile might suggest in one of those exercises he had Remus do about practicing naming his feelings instead of just having them.

And he knew why. He knew perfectly well why. He just didn’t like to think about it. There was no good conclusion to come to.

“Hey,” Janus murmured, nudging his shoulder.

Remus startled and looked up at her, dragging his grin back on reflexively.

Janus gave him an unimpressed look, and Remus made an effort and dropped the grin, shoulders sagging. “Hey, yourself,” he responded limply.

“So. What’s up?” Janus inquired, taking the dandelion from behind his own ear and tucking it into Remus’s brown curls instead.

Remus was quiet for a moment. He pushed himself up off his elbows and sat up. “He’s just—” He nodded at Patton. “He’s getting so big. And he’s still so little. Big and little all at once.” His throat closed up as he spoke, making his voice choke.

Janus nodded, his face pensive as he watched Remus carefully, waiting to see where he was going with this.

Remus hiked his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “’N it got me thinking about how Ro’s gotta be that size too, by now,” he mumbled.

Janus let out a soft, pained breath of understanding and put a hand on Remus’s arm.

“It—next week—” Remus struggled for a moment. “Next week it’ll be five years since I tried to go—” He choked on the word home. “—Go back and get Ro out. And they were just gone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Janus said quietly.

“Would you say that if someone took Patty away to hurt him and you couldn’t stop them?” Remus countered.

“I—”

“Would you believe it?” Remus interrupted, challenging.

Janus didn’t reply, a guilty look on her face, which was more than enough of an answer.

Remus sighed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Janus only tugged at his arm and guided him to lay down again, this time resting his head in her lap where she could stroke his hair. “You didn’t have a choice,” they said quietly.

“I should’ve done something,” Remus mumbled. “Should’ve—should’ve taken her and run away. Or—I could have figured something out, I know I—”

“Honey,” Janus interrupted. “You were a kid.”

“So is Ro.” Remus’s fist clenched in the picnic blanket.

“That’s not my poi—” Janus paused and drew in a breath. “Sorry,” he said, more gently. “I know. But you still should never have been in that situation. Taking care of a little kid when you were so young yourself should never have been your responsibility.”

“Pot, kettle?” Remus countered.

“I—well, yeah. So you should fucking listen to me, because I know.”

“Fuck,” Remus mumbled after a moment, when he couldn’t think of a good argument against that.

Janus reached over, uncurled his hand where it was still clutching the blanket, and began tracing gentle shapes on his palm. “I still got to be a kid. Even after Patton. My parents weren’t great, but they still took care of me. I had Lo—Logic. I was never”—their voice hitched—“ever hit or thrown out. I was always safe. And it was still so exhausting. I could never have taken care of Patton without all the support I had. And you were younger, and did it for longer, in far worse conditions, without anyone taking care of you or protecting you.”

Remus stared hard at the leaves of the tree above Janus’s head, trying to will back the anger enough to speak. “I know,” he managed at last. “I just—I don’t care. That doesn’t matter.”

“Remus Kingsley—” Janus began in a horrified, angry snap, then caught himself and cut off with a sharp inhale of breath. But even with how quickly they’d caught themself, Remus had already tensed up at their tone, his pulse racing.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said quickly, hands running soft and gentle through Remus’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Remus nodded an acknowledgement of the apology. “Kiss me?” he asked, his voice coming out quiet and a little bit trembly. Kisses were safe and reassuring, something fully unassociated with his parents.

Janus leaned down at once, pressing his lips to Remus’s, tender and soft. Remus focused on the sensation and kissed back, reaching up to clasp his arms about Janus’s neck. His heart rate slowly began to return to normal.

“Of course it matters what they did to you,” Janus told him as they separated from the kiss. “You matter. It matters.”

Remus frowned, frustrated all over again. “It doesn’t,” he insisted.

“Honey, you told me your dad broke your arm and then refused to take you to the ER.” Janus’s voice shook. “For hours.”

“Yeah, well—” Remus struggled with words for a moment. “He only did that once.” He twitched one shoulder, a bad taste in his mouth. “And I pushed him first,” he added in a mumble. It had been the one time he’d made a real effort to fight back when hit—he hadn’t anticipated just how far his dad would escalate it in response.

“The number of okay times to do that to someone is zero, actually,” Janus informed him. “No matter what you did. And the amount it matters is a lot.” They frowned at him, cupping his cheek in their hand. “You were just a kid, sweetie.”

“Okay, but—you don’t get what I’m saying,” Remus insisted. “It’s over! I got out. I’m safe and I can work on, like, therapy and shit now, because I got out.” His breathing was ragged and harsh now. “I fucking survived just because of Ro, you know? The only reason I never tried to kill myself was because if I was gone, there’d be no one to protect her.”

“Remus—” Janus began.

Remus ignored him and kept talking. “And I got out, yeah? I got out, but I left Ro behind. They’ve still got her and there’s nobody left to keep her safe. It doesn’t matter what happened to me. It only matters that it’s still happening to Ro.”

There was a momentary pause, Remus’s breathing loud in the silence.

“You’re making it sound like you chose to leave,” Janus said, squeezing Remus’s hand in both his own. Remus could tell he was putting a lot of effort into keeping his tone even.

Remus shook his head. “I knew they were going to kick me out for good the second I turned eighteen. I should have planned better—”

“Do you think they wouldn’t have gone after you if you’d tried to run away with her?” Janus countered.

Remus shut his mouth.

“And you did have a plan, didn’t you?” Janus went on, running a gentle finger down the side of his face. “You went back for her as soon as you could.”

“It was a shit plan,” he mumbled. It hadn’t worked, so it didn’t matter how long he’d spent on it or how carefully he’d prepared. He’d failed.

“It was a smart plan,” Janus countered. “A better plan than I’d have come up with in your place. It would hold up if you presented it to the Guild for a mission.” They placed the back of their hand against his cheek. “It’s not your fault.”

“Fuck you.”

“Later, darling. But I mean it. It’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing they’d be gone when you came back.”

“Stop it.” Remus glared up at them.

Janus gave him an arch look. “Stop what?”

“…Saying things I told you,” he admitted after a moment, looking away.

Janus bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I just think that things that are your parents’ fault should be blamed on them. Not on you. Because they absolutely deserve it. Just a suggestion.” He returned his hands to Remus’s hair.

Remus huffed out a single, humorless laugh and closed his eyes. “I guess.”

There was a brief silence. Janus’s fingers carded through his hair, twining his curls around their fingers. “Have you talked with Emile about Ro?” she asked.

Remus wrinkled his nose. “Not really,” he answered, with some effort. “I keep—freaking out. Bad. Every time I try. Have to spend the rest of the session doing grounding exercises and shit until I can act like a normal person again.”

“Remus…” Janus said, in a voice that suggested he thought Remus was being self-deprecating and should reword.

“Neither of us are fucking normal, Jan, don’t start.” Remus sighed. “He says it’s fine that I can’t talk about it yet and we can work our way up to it whenever I’m ready. Says I should try journaling about it in the meantime.” He scrunched up his face. “He knows it’s about when I got out. That’s all I’ve managed to actually say.” He drew in a long breath and let it out. “I’ve barely managed to talk about Ro with him at all, even from before that.”

He had been seeing Emile for a little over seven months now; Dr. Logic had referred Remus to him after Remus had trusted him enough to open up about his childhood. (He’d hoped that maybe Dr. Logic could figure out where his parents had gone—where they’d taken Ro. He’d been wrong. The Doc’s most detailed and most widespread searches had turned up nothing. Remus wasn’t even sure his parents were still in the country at this point.) But even without talking about his baby sister or how he’d lost her, he had plenty of material for Emile to help him unpack.

“Okay.” Janus was quiet, continuing to coil Remus’s ringlets around her fingers, an unhappy look on her face. “…Maybe it will be okay someday?” they suggested after a minute or two of silence.

It felt too much like a meaningless platitude. Remus shook his head. “The Doc couldn’t find them. They could have taken her anywhere. And it’s been years, Jan,” he mumbled, turning his head to hide his face against her stomach. “I—Ro might not even remember me.” The words felt like bile in his mouth, a terrifying prospect that was all too possible.

Janus let out a small, pained breath. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, scratching soothingly at Remus’s scalp. “Oh, honey,” he repeated, and though it was pity it wasn’t a bad kind of pity, and it was far better than further trying to comfort Remus would have felt.

Remus closed his eyes against the prickle of helpless, guilty tears and leaned into Janus’s touch, focusing on the feeling of their fingers in his hair.

***

“Mr…” Roman’s principal, Mr. Maddox, began, trailing off helplessly and looking at Virgil.

“Nightmare,” Virgil supplied, tone and voice absolutely blank and giving the man nothing to work with, as he took a seat across from him without being asked. Roman sat in the other chair beside Virgil, swinging his legs, and watched, curious what was going to happen and kind of nervous. Virgil had said he might be villainous, and that definitely seemed to be what was going on, from how scared Mr. Maddox seemed. Roman was pretty sure Virgil wouldn’t do anything too bad, but also he didn’t know.

“…Mr Nightmare,” Mr. Maddox went on with a fixed smile. “May I be so bold as to enquire why you, ah, requested to meet with me?” He attempted to draw himself up. “I must warn you, I am committed to maintaining a safe learning environment for my students, and will not hesitate to contact the Heroes’ Guild should the—”

“It’s nothing like that,” Virgil interrupted, sounding bored. “Your students are in no danger from me.” He tilted his head. “Although I do find that bit about how you prioritize the safety of your students very interesting, and I will be discussing an example of past student safety, that should have been on your radar, in detail with you later.”

Mr. Maddox visibly swallowed.

“But,” Virgil went on, sounding satisfied at the clear terror the man across from them was experiencing, “that’s not our first order of business. I’d like to enroll this young man at your school.”

Mr. Maddox actually looked at Roman for what Roman was pretty sure was the first time this whole meeting; he’d been far too busy staring at Virgil and being terrified before. Roman saw recognition flash across Mr. Maddox’s face, and his heart sank with dread. He’d been in this office plenty of times, and a haircut and new outfit evidently wasn’t enough to disguise himself.

“This…” Mr. Maddox’s brow wrinkled. He looked back and forth between Roman and Virgil several times. “This is clearly Miss—”

“No,” Virgil interrupted, loud and threatening and half rising out of his seat even as Roman flinched and his shoulders crawled up about his ears. Virgil’s hands, gripping the edge of the desk, clenched as he rose, and the wood crunched as it gave easily under his fingers.

The principal shut his mouth immediately, shrinking back, eyes bugging almost out of his head.

“I’m going to repeat myself,” Virgil said coldly, standing the rest of the way up and removing his hands from the desk, leaving deep indentations where his fingers had been. He crossed his arms, shadows crawling from the edges of the room to curl around him and make him loom even more scarily. “I am going to enroll this young man, whose name is Roman, and who you will refer to as such at all times, at your school. You are not going to ask questions, and you are going to comply. You are not going to communicate in any way, shape, or form with the individuals formerly on record as his parents, and you are not going to allow anyone else employed at this establishment of education to make any communications to them, either. I will be extremely angry if I ever discover that any of these expectations have not been fulfilled. The only people you may communicate information about this child to moving forward are myself and the bodyguards who will escort him here.”

Roman put a hand on Virgil’s elbow and tugged.

Virgil dropped the shadows on the side between himself and Roman at once and looked down at him, his face opening up into an expression that was no longer threatening at all. “Yeah, kid?” he inquired, voice suddenly much more casual.

“Guards?” Roman asked, wrinkling his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later.” Virgil gave Roman a reassuring look and a nod. “You don’t need to worry about it for now.”

Roman accepted this, watching with curiosity as Virgil turned back to Mr. Maddox, expression once more going scary and threatening and the shadows looming big once again. “I want to enroll him. And I want to do it here and now. Make it happen.”

There was a brief pause as Mr. Maddox clearly considered his options, then opened a drawer and pulled out some papers. “This is the information we generally ask for,” he said, pushing them towards Virgil. “If you’ll be so kind as to fill it out, we can enter it into the system.” His eyes darted to Roman as Virgil picked up a pen. “Are you… alright?” he asked in what was clearly meant to be an undertone, glancing to Virgil and then back at Roman.

Roman could see Virgil stifling an amused smile as he nodded. “I’m fine,” he assured Mr. Maddox, swinging his legs.

“Funny you would start caring about that now,” Virgil said coolly, his head bent over the papers and pen scratching against them.

“I—what are you talking about?” The principal seemed truly baffled.

Virgil frowned. “We’ll discuss that momentarily, don’t worry,” he said darkly. He paused, pen hovering over one of the blanks on the paper. “Hey, kid?”

“Yeah?” Roman leaned over to peek at the paper.

“What’s your last name?”

“Princeton,” Roman supplied, watching Virgil fill it into the little box. His name looked nice in Virgil’s handwriting.

“Perfect,” Virgil murmured absently. A moment later he pushed the form, now filled out, back to Mr. Maddox. “Get this processed,” he ordered.

“I—don’t usually handle that kind of paperwork myself—”

“Do I look like I care?” Virgil inquired. “Get it processed. And remove his former guardians’ contact information and any authority they have to access his files.” He watched with a stony face as Mr. Maddox complied, his hands trembling. “Good,” he said coolly when the man had finished and Virgil had double checked to see that he approved. “Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to see me being scary?”

Roman thought about this. “Um. No thank you.”

“That’s fine. Would you step outside and give us a minute alone, then?” Virgil asked calmly.

Roman hesitated. “Um…”

“Yes?” Virgil gave him his full attention.

“You’re not—are you gonna hurt him?” Roman asked, feeling kind of bad about asking it of Virgil at all.

“No,” Virgil said. He gave Mr. Maddox a look that was probably the exact opposite of reassuring, but to Roman he still spoke gently. “I don’t do that, remember? I’ve got plenty of other ways to be scary.”

Roman nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait outside.” He didn’t want anyone to get hurt—that would be unheroic, and he was pretty sure he still wanted to be a hero even with how great Virgil actually was—but even so, he maybe, possibly, would be okay with Mr. Maddox getting really scared for a few minutes more. Mr. Maddox had told him, several times, things like that Roman needed to “stop making excuses” and that “crying wouldn’t get him out of anything” and had told Roman’s parents things like that Roman wasn’t trying hard enough at school, which had always made things go really badly the minute Roman got home. So Roman would be a tiny bit okay with Mr. Maddox feeling bad, after all that.

“Cool. Call if you need me.” Virgil gestured at the logo on his chest. “Like, call super me.”

“Got it,” Roman assured him. He knew not to use the wrong name in the wrong situation. He was really good at that. He hopped off his chair and headed out to wait in the hallway, leaning against one wall and staring at the art on the other one.

From inside the office, he could hear Virgil’s voice snarling at Mr. Maddox, sounding absolutely furious. He could only catch a few words and phrases of what sounded like a much longer tirade: “abuse,” “protect,” “literally your job,” “transphobia,” and finally, a loud and threatening, “You should be grateful he likes it here.”

Mr. Maddox made some kind of trembling reply, which got a loud snap in Virgil’s scary supervoice about “excuses” and “failed.”

Then Virgil got quiet, and Roman couldn’t make out his words at all anymore, only that his voice was still very angry and that he was doing most of the talking.

“Good,” he heard Virgil say at last. “I’m glad you understand.” The door opened; Virgil paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at Mr. Maddox, who was looking super worried. “I’m hoping there will be no need to repeat this conversation,” he said, “but that is entirely up to you and your future conduct. Understood?”

“Yes,” the man gulped out, and Virgil nodded.

“Good.” He closed the door firmly and looked over at Roman. “Well.” He drew in a big breath and let it out in a sigh, his shoulders relaxing. “I think we’re all good here, buddy. Want to swing by Brennan next? That should be a lot more fun. We can check out the campus and everything.”

Roman drew in a sharp, eager breath. He wanted to see the super school very much. “Yes please,” he said, following Virgil towards the exit. “Am I going to be able to start going there soon?”

“Absolutely,” Virgil said. “I mean, depending on what exactly the requirements are, it could be as soon as Monday.”

Roman couldn’t help but do a little hop of excitement. “Cool!”

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld @the-sympathetic-villain @just-a-little-anxious @your-local-crackhead-gremlin @remy-the-lemon-berry @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @crazydemigod666 @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @virgil-is-verge @simplestoryteller @oblivionartworks @so-youre-a-rock-with-issues @emoprincey @theblackcatscratchpost @biwithapie @poettheythem

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logarhythm-bees · 8 months

Text

To Unearth and Back Again; ⛅Chapter 9

Chapter Eight | Table of Contents | Chapter Ten

A very merry unbirthday to you! Who, me? Yes, you! Oh, me! Let's all congratulate us With another cup of tea A very merry unbirthday to me!

-The Unbirthday Song, Alice in Wonderland

See ronithesnail's absolutely wonderful art for this story!

Janus groaned, lifting his head up. Ugh, he had a headache. What happened? He was definitely sitting up, and he didn’t usually sleep sitting up unless he was extremely tired, which was entirely possible considering he didn’t remember falling asleep, but he didn’t feel particularly rested despite his evidently deep sleep, which was rare.

He realized also that he felt rather cold, which was definitely out of the ordinary, because any time he fell so deeply into slumber it was because he was being held by one or both of his partners, and he didn’t feel any sort of warmth around him- not even the residual warmth of someone who had gotten up for coffee or to go to the bathroom.

Scrunching his face up, Janus blinked his eyes open to a dark room, faintly lit by the small scratch of sunlight that was making it through the blackout curtains. All he could see in the din was a plastic table in front of him and his own arms on the chair’s armrests, which he noted, resignedly, had been tied to the chair with cooked spaghetti.

To anyone else, this would have been an insane hostage situation. To Janus, this was just one of the many unfortunate side effects of sharing a mindscape with Remus.

“It’s rather dark in here, if you wouldn’t mind opening the window,” Janus called, because he did enjoy being able to see.

In the quiet, a sharp blast of confetti took him off guard, leaning back and blinking rapidly in his chair. The curtains shot open, overviewing a rather beautiful landscape, especially considering Remus’s standards. The side himself stood on a chair across the room, wearing a party hat and doing jazz hands in front of a banner that seemed to have once read ‘Congratulations, It’s a Boy!’ but now said the words ‘Congratulations, It’s A Kidnapping!’

“Surprise!” Remus grinned, jumping off of the chair and blowing a party horn at Janus. “Did it work? Did I surprise you?”

“Everything you do manages to surprise me, Remus,” Janus said sarcastically, lifting his arms experimentally. The spaghetti came off unceremoniously, splitting into pieces of limp noodle as Janus shook them off of his hands and sleeves. He rubbed at his wrists, more for drama than anything else, as one cannot be restrained to a chair particularly tightly when said restraints are made of boiled strands of wet flour dough. “Any particular reason for kidnapping me this time, or am I just here for the fun of it?”

“Oh!” Remus exclaimed, beaming at him semi-maniacally. “Yes! I’ll be right back!”

Janus watched as Remus darted out of the room, which he now saw was made of marble brick, polished into a clean, round space. The door and window were bracketed with wood, almost medieval, and Janus realized that they must have been in a castle. Another glance out the window confirmed his suspicions, and judging by the view, they were in a rather high tower.

The twins had always liked those stories of prisoners held in high castle turrets, he thought distantly. Rarely for the same reasons, but the same fairytales nonetheless.

His train of thought was interrupted by a clatter of plastic and ceramic as Remus rushed back into the room with a plate holding a teapot and various cups stacked on top of saucers. He placed it almost gingerly on top of the table and set a mug in front of Janus, pouring the tea in before Janus managed to even speak.

“I- ah.” Janus exclaimed. “Tea party?”

“Tea party!” Remus confirmed extremely enthusiastically, setting the rest of the saucers and mismatched cups around the table, which Janus realized was encircled by various inanimate objects sitting on chairs. Remus quickly placed and poured a cup of tea for each, before slowing to a stop and carefully picking up the one matching ceramic teacup and saucer and setting it before a bucket with googly eyes glued to it.

“Your tea, Your Highness,” Remus said, tilting the teapot’s contents elegantly into the cup, which shocked Janus the most out of the whole scene. Before this moment, he hadn’t known Remus was even capable of being elegant.

“Hey, how come the bucket gets the matching set?” Janus asked, trying to get past the bafflement of seeing Remus doing something gracefully.

Remus gasped in offense, drawing his hands to his chest. “How dare you! That is the queen you’re talking about here, and you are a mere peasant in her realm! Of course she gets the matching set over you!” Remus huffed indignantly, leveling Janus with a stare that implied what he’d just said made any sense whatsoever.

“Right.” Janus said. He was still utterly astonished by whatever was happening here, but he could deal with the astonishment of Remus naming a bucket the rightful queen of his land more than he could deal with Remus showing genuine elegance, so he let it be.

Remus huffed in affirmational agreement, pulling his own chair up to the party and across the table from Janus. He picked up his own plastic neon green cup of tea and took a sip, smacking his lips dramatically and making an exaggerated “Aah~” noise.

Janus lifted his own ‘Don’t talk to me until I’ve eaten this mug’ cup cautiously, sniffing at the liquid inside. He flicked his tongue out, snake side showing through his senses. It didn’t smell weird– it just smelled like normal green tea, in fact– but that didn’t mean anything when it came around to Remus. He squinted at Remus suspiciously, gesturing towards the tea, and Remus rolled his eyes, drinking the rest of his tea down with a grotesque slurping noise.

“It’s normal tea,” Remus said. “How am I supposed to get you to stay and chat if I serve you anything else?”

That gave Janus pause. “You want to…chat?”

Remus rolled his eyes again, even more exaggerated than the first time. “Well duh. What else are tea parties for?”

Janus blinked at him, thinking. “I…suppose you’re right.”

Janus leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. He hummed as warm green tea flooded his tongue, considering the flavor of the leaves. Considering what else it could have been, it wasn’t half bad. It was rather good, actually.

“I think you should introduce me to your friends,” Janus said, gesturing around the table.

Remus beamed.

#lomoceit #logicaliciet #prinxiety #qpp prinxiety #to unearth and back again

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edupunkn00b · 10 months

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Overruled, Ch. 5: Philosophy of Love Meets The Science of Attraction

Prev - The Philosophy of Love Meets the Science of Attraction - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

You got peanut butter Intrulogical in my chocolate Loceit. You got chocolate Dukeceit in my peanut butter Loceit. Oh, no wait, we've just discovered peanut butter cups Intruloceit. For Day 5 of @loceitweek, Philosophy/Science. Yes, this is still a Loceit story. :)

WC: 3237 - Rated T - cw: suggestive, alcohol, swearing, unhealthy coping mechanisms ---

“You have to check your calendar?” Janus blurted out, staring incredulously at him. “No, he’s free,” he said to Remus. “What time can he pick you up?”

“Janus, really, I—”

Janus cut him off with a look.

“You can pick me up at eight.” Remus’ voice wasn’t as confident as it had been a moment ago, and his eyes danced nervously between them even as he smiled. “My brother’ll be busy with some tech break down shit tomorrow night…” Warm fingers played at the edges of his hair, ostensibly clearing his vision. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Logan tugged at the label on his water bottle and tried to catch Janus’ eye. He understood his reluctance, didn’t he? “I… I merely need to be certain I have not committed to anything else before I said yes,” he finally said to Remus.

“You haven’t,” Janus insisted and stood, offering a hand first to Remus and then to Logan. The finality of his answer echoed against the fitness room walls and suddenly Logan was a lot less warm.

Janus gripped his hand for a moment longer than necessary and Logan again tried to catch his gaze. Despite his smile, he steadfastly avoided his eyes. Finally, Logan nodded and turned to Remus, smiling. Bright green eyes stared back at his, their earlier nervousness burned away. “I’ll pick you up at eight, Remus,” he said. “Wear something casual.” Janus left with a little wave and Logan followed, calling back over his shoulder. “And warm.”

At eight o’clock sharp, Logan knocked at the door number Remus had text him, a picnic basket and plaid blanket tucked under one arm.

“Hmm, don’t you look delectable,” Remus purred, looking him up and down. “Punctual, too.” He closer and trailed two fingers over the constellation pattern on his tie. “You smell tasty, too.”

“That is more than likely the fruit tray and sparkling cider,” he said, giving him a crooked grin.

“Sparkling cider? As in Martinelli’s or,” he made exaggerated air quotes.“‘Sparkling cider?’”

“It’s a berry apple blend, and yes,” Logan nodded. “It is nonalcoholic. You are under twenty-one, are you not?”

Remus waggled his eyebrows, hand resting on his chest. “Are you this exacting in bed?”

“That remains to be seen,” Logan said smoothly and offered his arm free arm. Remus was dressed in low-slung ripped jeans and newly polished combat boots, laces undone but not dragging on the floor. His sleeveless teelooked cropped, the edges curled and revealing his navel and a faint trail of auburn hair. “Do you have a jacket?” he asked, not at all convinced Remus had been listening when Logan had said to dress warmly .

“Got it,” he grinned, grabbing a heavy leather jacket from behind the door and draping it over one shoulder. He took Logan’s arm and followed him out to the hall and toward the elevators, letting his dorm door slam behind him. “So, where to, hot Daddy?”

“I am not a father,” he said, eyebrow raised. “‘Logan’ will suffice for tonight.”

“Yes, Sir,” Remus laughed, drawing closer as they stepped into the elevator.

Once outside, Logan set a brisk pace across the quad. “We are going there,” he pointed to the clock tower on top of the library.

“Oooo,” Remus cooed, tightening his grip on Logan’s arm with a little shiver. “Are we off for a ‘study’ session?” Head tilted to rest on his shoulder, they walked in tandem and he shivered again. “Care to study me?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Logan murmured. Dropping his arm, he unbuttoned his pea coat and threaded Remus’ hand between the back of it and his waist, his own arm draped around the sophomore’s. “You are cold. If you insist on not wearing your jacket, at least stay close.”

“Oh,” Remus began, voice sultry as he shimmied closer. With nothing but his linen shirt between them, Remus’ hand and arm felt cold. “Hmm…” Whatever he’d been about to say melted into a pleased hum. “You’re warm,” he finally said. “Thanks, Professor.”

Arm curled around his waist, Logan nodded as he felt the cold from Remus’ skin disipate with his body heat “You’re more than welcome, Remus.”

They approached the door and Remus frowned at the sign announcing the library closed at 7:30 on Sundays. “Are we breaking in?”

“Not quite,” Logan murmured, producing his school ID and tapping it against the reader. The door buzzed and popped right open. “The law library has extended hours. This will grant us… certain access.”

“Holy fuck, Logan!” he laughed, face blooming in a giddy grin. He bowed dramatically as Logan held the door for him and practically skipped inside the darkened library.

The warmth filling Logan’s chest had nothing to do with his wool pea coat or the blast from the library’s HVAC system. He gestured to a winding staircase to the left. “Ready for a bit of a climb?”

The library was glorious. It was near silent, none of that seemingly ever-present hum and buzz of machines and people doing their best to be quiet, no clacking keyboards or the random dropped book. Even the self-checkout machines near the door were powered down, only the red lasers flickering against empty tabletops.

Most of the lights were turned off, with only a strip of exit lights illuminating the aisles between the sections and stars and streetlights streaming in through the skylights over the reading room’s atrium. A series of lights lined the spiral stairs Logan led them up, and their legs cast long shadows across the main floor below.

Logan had let go of his hand as they walked, slowing his pace and waiting patiently while Remus peered over the railing at the darkened stacks below. “How do you not just come here all the time?” he whispered, his voice deafening in the silent space.

“Who says I don’t?” he smirked back, not in a whisper, but low and rumbly and delicious. Remus could listen to him talk all night. “It’s just a bit further, when you’re ready,” he murmured, gesturing to the top of the stairs and a bright green EXIT ONLY sign.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Remus followed him through the door, smiling at the bit of duct tape covering the latch. “Maybe you do come here often,” he said with a little shoulder dance.

“I like to be prepared,” he answered and let the door close slowly behind them. He gave it a tug to demonstrate to Remus they were not locked outside, then pointed to an open area just to the right of the clock tower. “Let’s spread the blanket there.”

He set down the basket and flipped open the blanket, one of those heavy flannel ones with the plastic cores to protect against the wet ground. Fuck, he really did like to be prepared. Remus eyed the picnic basket and wondered what else he’d prepared for.

“Please have a seat,” he murmured and they sat, looking out over the campus.

“Oh,” Remus breathed. They could see the entire campus from here, the bright yellow ginkgo trees lining the paths, the ornate street lamps dotting the edges and casting thin, warm light against the darkened buildings. To the West was the Sound, big barges looking magical in the dark, just floating lights reflecting off the water. To the South was Mount Rainier, her snowy top illuminated by the full moon.

His fingers itched, wishing he had brought his sketch pad and charcoals. He glanced at Logan, busily organizing two glasses and a platter of strawberries, grapes, and pineapple in front of them. He pulled out the promised bottle—chilled, no less—of Martinelli’s and—

“I noticed how you’d been drawing at the fitness center,” Logan said, passing him a blank sketchbook and a small box of charcoals. The exact fucking brand he’d used before their sexy little law school smack down. “I’ve always enjoyed the view here and I thought perhaps…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Remus grinned, reaching for the sketchbook and pastels. They were brand new, still wrapped in the plastic film. “Thank… thank you, Logan. D—do you really not mind if I…” He gestured to the sketchbook and the water in front of them. He knew this was a date, right?

Smiling, Logan moved closer to him and draped his jacket over his shoulders, then handed him a glass. “I was rather hoping you would.”

~~~

As the evening wore on, the pair finished their drinks and most of the platter. Remus sketched quickly, filling page after page. He and Ro had made it out to Seattle just before the start of freshman year and he’d never… never seen the sky quite like this. Most nights were cloudy and even he hadn’t yet dared to climb up to the clock tower just for a look around.

He turned to a fresh page again and shifted, keeping the very southern tip of the Sound in his field of vision along with the mountains. Logan moved behind him and, as he drew, Remus leaned back, resting against his chest. A gust of wind whipped at his hair and Remus blew up sharply, hands busy with the pastels.

Humming quietly, more a rumble against his back than anything Remus could hear, Logan tucked his hair back behind his ear. The warmth from his hand sent a little shiver down his back and Remus tore his eyes away from Mt. Rainier and grinned up at him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“My pleasure.” Logan smiled and Remus shivered again. Moonlight sparkled in his eyes and, before he really thought about it, Remus turned to a fresh page and started sketching him.

“The mountain is back there,” he murmured, tilting his chin toward Rainier. Logan sat with one knee bent and Remus settled between his legs, leaning against him as he sketched a close-up of his face.

Remus grinned. “The view from here is even better.” He started with broad strokes, then tentatively reached for Logan’s jaw. “May I?” he asked, surprising even himself.

“Of course.”

He adjusted the angle of Logan’s chin and nodded rapidly. “Hold just there for a moment,” he muttered before returning to his work.

When he finished the sketch, he closed the book. “No peeking,” he laughed. “I’ll show you after I’ve colored it.”

Logan laughed back, a low chuckle that sent vibrations up and down Remus body. He was practically seated in his lap, with his own legs draped over one of Logan’s. Leaning in, he traced the edge of Logan’s jaw. It was just as smooth and firm under his fingertips as he’d imagined it. “I’ve got lots of things you can peek at in the meantime.”

“Is that so?” he asked, wrapping his arms around him and drawing closer. One more inch and their lips would touch.

“Please kiss me,” Remus blurted out.

“My pleasure,” he murmured and finally—fucking finally—pulled him into a kiss.

Logan’s kiss started gently, tasting his lips as one hand moved up to cradle the back of his head. Fingers gently curling through his hair, he slowly deepened their kiss.

Remus hummed into his mouth, lips parted, and pushed against him, following him as he lay back onto the blanket. When he broke away for breath, Remus mouthed along his jaw and down his neck before sitting up, straddling his hips.

“How do you like it?” he asked, dragging his hands down Logan’s chest and playing at the top of his belt buckle.

“Remus,” Logan shook his head, just a little, then pulled Remus’ hands from his belt and brought them up to his lips. He kissed his knuckles and shook his head again. “Remus, I’m not going to fuck you on a rooftop.”

“Oh!” he said, climbing off. Logan sat up immediately. His face was tricky to read in the dark. But they way Remus had been sitting had made it easy to feel just how interested Logan was. “Why didn’t you just say so? There are…” He waggled his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Other things I can do or we could go back to your place…”

Logan knelt in front of him and cradled his face with both hands. Steel blue eyes stared right into him, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “It is quite late,” he said after a long moment. “Perhaps it’s time I walked you home.”

“I had a wonderful time with you tonight,” Logan murmured at his door. He brushed back the curls from his eyes and then his hand lingered, carding gently through his hair.

Remus turned and rubbed his cheek against Logan’s palm, then nipped lightly at the fleshy part of his thumb. “No need for our wonderful night to already end.” He looked over his shoulder at the empty dorm room. “My brother won’t be home tonight. He’s crashing with the rest of the tech crew. Stepping forward, he pressed close, close enough to know what Logan’s body wanted. He looped one arm around Logan’s back, then took a small step backwards. “We have the room all to ourselves.”

His cheeks and lips were flushed a deep pink and, even under the bright hallway lights, Logan’s pupils were big and black, a copy of the night sky they’d just seen. He swallowed hard, then pulled Remus’ hand away from his back and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. “I’d like to take you out again sometime,” he said and Remus’ stomach sank to the floor.

He opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. If he didn’t want him, then…

“May I call you tomorrow and we can make plans?” Logan continued in that same low, smooth voice.

“Yeah,” Remus finally managed, heart twisting in his chest. Everything had been going so well. What did he do wrong to get this whole ‘I’ll call you’ bullshit? “Yeah, of course,” he grinned, giving his shoulders a little shimmy. Ro wasn’t the only actor between them.

“Sleep well, Remus,” Logan said, cupping his cheek as he kissed him again, soft and sweet.

It felt like a send-off.

“Yeah, you, too, Logan,” he said and watched him head for the stairs, escaping his view as quickly as he could.

Remus closed the door behind him and sank down onto the beanbag chairs to figure out what the fuck had gone wrong.

An hour later, Remus was no closer to figuring out how he’d fucked everything up and he’d taken to pacing the tiny room in an effort to work it out. Why didn’t he want him? He’d made it really obvious he was ready, willing, and able, and Logan was clearly into it. Had he just revved him up to go be with someone he really wanted?

The scars on his arm itched like a motherfucker and Remus knew if he spent another minute in here alone, he was not going to be able to keep his promise to Ro. He needed some air. While he'd paced, he’d thrown his jacket on the floor. He tooped to pick it up on his way to the door, but then straightened, hand empty.

Fuck it. It’s not that cold out.

He’d thrown out all his clove cigarettes after that fucking party, part of another promise to Ro to try harder. But he didn’t toss his gum, so he shoved his last two pieces in his mouth and chomped hard, then opened the door and fled from his thoughts.

Janus sat in his armchair, half-empty glass of scotch on the table next to him. The room was dark, the diffuse light spilling in from the streetlamp across the road doing little to illuminate the space. The sun had still been shining when Janus had come home from the grocery store and he’d taken out the bottle Glenlivet and shoved the rest of the bag into the fridge to deal with later. He sat down in the living room and poured his first glass.

That was a half a bottle ago.

‘I merely need to be certain I have not committed to anything else before I said yes…’

Logan’s eyes had pleaded with him, explaining with a look what he couldn’t—wouldn’t—with words in front of Remus. Janus knew what he’d been trying to say.

‘You have not.’

What else could he say? What else should he have said? He’d literally told Logan to find someone else to pursue. He’d told him he wasn’t interested in a relationship, he’d told him he didn’t love people. He’d told him he didn’t want to love anyone, that he didn’t want more of that soft warm touch, of those kind eyes looking back at him. That he didn’t want to know more, to learn if his kisses tasted as good as he smelled and to discover what it meant for his heart to leap out of its chest each time Logan smiled.

He’d lied.

Janus tipped back his glass and discovered it was, in fact, completely empty. Fumbling with the bottle cap, he set down the glass and tried again. Just before he got it, the bottle leapt from his hands and hit the hardwood floor, shattering and soaking the area rug with the last of his scotch. Fuck.

It took him far too long to clean it all up and by the time he was done, Janus was more than ready for another glass. He looked up at the microwave clock. If he left now, he could make it to Safeway before they closed.

The only open grocery story was only a block from campus, but the fresh air made the hike shorter than it usually felt. Before long, he was sauntering inside, walking carefully to ensure they wouldn’t turn him away. The cashier hadn’t even looked up to ring him out.

Moments later he strode through the doors, bottle in hand—and right into Remus.

“Oh, fuck, Janus, sorry,” he muttered, grabbing him with those strong, callused hands before he could stumble. Remus had been drawing, charcoal dust under his fingernails and a bit by his jaw.

“No ‘pologies needed,” Janus said slowly, annoyed at the slight slurring in his words. Remus didn’t release him and Janus stared back. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and jeans, no jacket. Before Janus could form the words to ask if he was cold, he shivered.

“What are you doing out?” He clutched his bottle to his chest, head tilted to the side. “I thought you’d still be with Logan by now.”

Drunk, standing in the middle of a poorly lit street, Janus couldn’t miss the hurt in Remus’ eyes. He shrugged but didn’t explain.

Janus couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could Logan have possibly rejected him? He reached out and tapped the edge of Remus’ jaw. “You know what?”

“What?” he huffed out a little laugh, leaning in to his touch like a lost puppy.

“You look like you could use a drink. And I know I sure as hell could use one,” Janus nodded, holding up the bagged bottle. “I live twenty blocks that way,” he said, pointing with one end and offering his arm. “Would you like to join me tonight?”

Remus stared down at the bottle, then lifted his eyes and met Janus’. A shaky smile pulled up one corner of his mouth and hooked his hand into the crook of Janus’ elbow. “Lead the way.”

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naminethewriter · 2 years

Text

And I’ll Strike ‘Cause I’m a Monster

Day 3 and this time the two are kids with superpowers. Hope you enjoy 💛💚

@dukeceitweek

Here on Ao3

Masterpost | Dukeceit Week 2022 Masterpost

Summary: Janus' scales were a sign of his powers but they cause him to get bullied constantly. Some older kids are beating him up when finally someone stands up for him.

Janus hadn’t asked to be born with scales on his face. It was a sign that he had powers, which is said to be a gift but in actuality it caused him nothing but pain. He didn’t mind his powers, even if he couldn’t control them yet, he was only eight after all, but he didn’t understand why they had to come with the scales. They didn’t serve a purpose other than announcing to everyone that he was different and being different was not something you want to be.

He'd been bullied his entire school life so far. The other kids say he’s scary, that he’ll curse them if they look into his eyes or that he is an omen for bad luck. He didn’t have friends, the few kids that were willing to speak to him were pressured into stopping lest they’d be bullied as well.

Janus had learned to live with it, he could ignore their words most of the time and his mother always reassured him that he was a good kid and that one day he would do great things with his powers and then all the others would love to be his friends. But one day wasn’t now, so Janus waited alone until then.

No, the words weren’t the problem. The fights on the other hand were.

None of his powers were helpful in fights. He could tell when they were lying, he could attempt to shapeshift but he wasn’t good enough to make himself stronger that way, he could grow more arms to protect himself with but most of the time that just made them hit him more.

It was all he could do though, so he made himself as small as possible, one pair of arms shielding his head, the other pulling his legs tight against his belly. They kicked him in the back and he whimpered. He could only pray that they’d get bored soon and leave.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” a voice suddenly called from nearby. Someone came to his rescue? No, that couldn’t be, they probably hadn’t seen him clearly and as soon as they did they would join in or leave.

“Piss off, squib!” the leader of his attackers called, a boy around thirteen years old, much bigger than Janus. His friends stopped hitting him for the moment but he didn’t dare move.

“You piss off! I won’t let you hurt him more!”

“And what will you do to stop us, huh? One little squib against all of us. We’ll take you apart along with him!”

“You can try but I’ll wipe the floor with you!”

“Cocky little shit!”

The guys walked away from him and Janus waited with bated breath for the sounds of the other kid getting punched but instead there was a weird slurping sound and the older kids screamed.

“What the fuck?!”

“He’s also one! A monster!”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s still a squib, just kick ‘im!”

Janus risked lowering his arms just enough to get a glimpse of the scene in front of him. The other kid was surrounded by the bullies but he was grinning at them with confidence. Above his shoulders was something that wriggled and Janus guessed that’s what made the guys call him a monster.

A monster, just like him.

The attackers moved to strike him, the wriggling things did the same and Janus couldn’t look, so he shut his eyes tight and covered his ears as best as he could. He could still hear the yelling and something hitting something else but he couldn’t distinguish who did what.

He stayed still and waited, and after a few minutes he could feel many feet hitting the pavement, moving away from him. He slowly uncovered his ears and opened his eyes.

“You’ll pay for this, you monster!”

“You better run! And don’t bother him again, you fucks!”

The bullies were leaving and the other kid yelled after them, flipping them the bird. Janus couldn’t believe his eyes. The boy couldn’t be much older than him, the guys must’ve been bigger than him and there’d been at least five of them. How had he managed to fight them off?

“Bunch of assholes,” the kid said when the bullies weren’t in sight anymore and then he turned to Janus. “You okay?” Only then could Janus see that his nose was bleeding and his cheek was swelling.

“Me?! What about you?!”

“Huh? I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“Am I?” He touched his nose and looked at the blood staining his fingers. “I guess I am.”

“’I guess’? Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Not really. I’ve had worse.” Janus stared at him in disbelief. “What about you? Can you get up?”

Right, he was still sitting on the floor. Carefully, he moved his legs to see if they were hurt but they only stung a bit so he tried to stand. He was almost back on his feet as he stumbled forward, only to be caught by one of those wriggly things.

“Careful! Can you stand or do I need to help you?”

Janus shook himself out of the shock and straightened, pushing the thing away. It was slimy. He grimaced.

“Ew.” The other kid started giggling.

“I guess you’re fine then.” He held out a hand. “My name’s Remus, I’m an octopus.”

Janus blinked at him. “An octopus?”

“Yeah! See my arms?” He moved one of the wriggly things in between them. “I’ve got four of them and I can turn my human arms and feet into them too! And if I try really hard, I can shift the rest of my body into an octopus, too, but I’m not good at that yet.” He grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Janus.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Janny! Especially since you’re a monster like me! I haven’t met many other monsters yet.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing to be a monster.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Why?”

“’Cause the other kids are mean about it.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Huh?”

“Why does it matter what the other kids say? Being a monster is cool! You can do lots of stuff they can’t and no monster is the same as another, we’re unique!”

“But blending in is better, right?” Janus asked, confused. “If you blend in, other kids won’t bully you.”

“Bullies always find a reason to be mean, just don’t let them get to you.”

“Easy for you to say. You can fight.”

“You can fight, too. You just need to learn how. I could teach you if you want.”

“You would?”

“Sure! Monsters should stick together!” He grinned again and Janus couldn’t help mirroring him.

“Okay.”

“Great! How about you come over to my house? My brother and his friends are there and one of them can heal us a bit. Do you know your house’s phone number?”

“I do.”

“Awesome. Then my mom can call yours, so she doesn’t worry. Let’s go!”

Remus grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along and Janus let him. Maybe he finally found a friend that would stay with him, even if others were being mean.

#namiswriting #dukeceitweek2022 #day 3: monster #platonic dukeceit #kid fic #bullying #janus sanders #ts janus #kid!janus #remus sanders #ts remus #kid!remus #fighting but nothing graphic #hurt/comfort #superpowers #sanders sides #fanfiction #reblogs are appreciated

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fangirlwriting-stories · 10 months

Text

Protector

Chapter One

Chapter Thirty-Eight:

Virgil woke up with Remus already right above him, and the relief in his chest was palpable. His arms were aching, but nothing was going to keep him from his baby brother right now, so he reached up and managed to weakly pull Remus towards him.

Remus immediately squeezed him tightly, and Virgil rested his head against his shoulder.

He happened to glance over at the door, though, and standing there was Janus, looking for all the world like he couldn’t imagine being more miserable than he was right then.

Before Virgil could call out, though, Janus turned and walked away, shutting the door after him.

Virgil didn’t really have the strength to go after him, and on top of that he wanted nothing more than to be here with Remus, so he let it go for now.

Remus heard the door shut and glanced up as it did, then gave a harsh sigh before turning back to Virgil with a smile.

“How you doin’ then, Snake Charmer?”

Virgil snorted. “Snake Charmer?”

“I’m trying to branch out a bit with my nicknames,” Remus said with a shrug. “There’s only so many ways to mess with your actual name.”

Virgil’s chest swelled, and he squeezed the part of Remus’ arm he could reach in pride. “I’m alive,” he said to respond to Remus’ question.

Remus smiled at him, though it looked slightly strained. Virgil narrowed his eyes, but before he could ask what was wrong, Remus spun around.

“Here, let me help with your legs!” he called, and started massaging some feeling back into them.

“Remus, do we need to talk?” Virgil asked, straining his neck to see Remus, since he was too weak to actually sit up.

“No, of course not, what are you talking about?” Remus said, moving on to Virgil’s other leg.

“Re,” Virgil said. “Weren’t we trying not to do this anymore? What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t tell me about Logan offering to talk about what happened,” Remus said weakly, an obvious deflection.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I did mention Logan and Roman both tried to talk to me,” he said. “I’d say that pretty much counts. And stop trying to avoid the question, Remus.”

But a second later Virgil almost regretted pushing him, because all the fight rushed out of Remus in a single breath. He hunched over on himself and looked small, and Virgil decided it was the worst thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered, which was now in the running for the worst thing he’d ever heard.

“What— sorry, why are you—” Virgil tried to push himself up, which predictably did not work very well, and he ended up flat on his back again.

“Cause you— you got hurt and— and they used my idea,” Remus said, ducking his head down and looking away from Virgil.

“What? Remus, you— hey, come here.” Virgil reached weakly out for him, and thankfully Remus moved closer, because Virgil definitely wouldn’t have been able to reach him otherwise.

“Look at me,” Virgil said, and Remus did, looking like he expected Virgil to yell at him.

“It is not in the slightest of ways your fault,” he said. “You’re right, they used your idea. One you didn’t give them willingly. And it’s not like Malice would have gone easy on me if you hadn’t given it to him.”

Remus sniffed. “That’s what Janus said.”

Virgil blinked in surprise. “You talked to Janus?”

“Not by choice,” Remus muttered. “I… Virgil, I walked in and they’d done something I’d suggested to you, I can’t—”

“I know,” Virgil murmured, pulling Remus closer by his arm until he could weakly hug him properly. “I know, Re. And that had to have been awful, and I’m so sorry.” He gave Remus a serious look. “But it is not your fault.”

Remus looked down. “Really?”

“Really. I promise.”

Remus leaned down and pressed his forehead against Virgil’s. “Okay,” he whispered.

They both stayed there for another second, and then Remus moved back to massage Virgil’s muscles again. Things went uninterrupted this time, and by the time he finished, Virgil was feeling well enough to wrap his arms around Remus.

“Hey Para-nerd?” Remus said after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah?”

“I think I should apologize to Janus.”

Virgil turned to him in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Cause… cause I was madder at me than I was at him, but I was still really shitty to him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still hate him and I’m still never going to forgive him, but… I kinda told him to pretend like he was okay when he wasn’t.” Remus turned to look Virgil very seriously in the eye. “And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say, so eventually he just nodded. “I think that’s a good idea, Re,” he murmured.

Remus nodded too, mostly to himself.

Then he turned back to Virgil. “Not tonight though. Tonight I’m staying in here with you and not letting you go ever ever ever.”

Virgil smiled. “I like that plan,” he murmured, and tucked himself in between Remus’ arms.

They fell asleep that way.

…

The first thing Virgil wanted to do as soon as he could stand was check on Thomas. And after a night of sleep, he was feeling much better, though he still needed Remus to sink them both out, and he leaned on Remus when they appeared.

He normally wouldn’t be caught dead showing weakness around Thomas, but making sure he was okay trumped Virgil’s pride, at least for right now.

When they appeared, Thomas had his back to them and was making breakfast, or at least shaking cereal out into a bowl with a jug of milk next to it implying that was the next step.

“Thomas?” Virgil called.

Thomas jumped, spilling some of the cereal, and spun around, spilling more of the cereal. He let out a breath and pressed a hand to his chest, and then set the box down. “Anxiety, Remus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Virgil said. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“And I’m a walking cane!” Remus said brightly.

Thomas smiled weakly at him. “I… I’m alright, Anxiety,” he said. “Honestly I’m more worried about you.”

Virgil blinked. “Oh. Oh, you don’t need to worry about me Thomas, it’s not like I haven’t died before. I know what I’m doing.”

For some reason, that did not seem to help. If anything, Thomas just seemed more distressed.

“Anxiety, that’s not something you should have had to get used to,” he said.

“It’s… not that big of a deal,” Virgil said. “I mean the hardest part is over at this point. I’ll probably be resting most of this week, and then I’ll be good. You know,” Virgil cleared his throat. “Physically speaking.”

Thomas still looked upset, but he nodded. “I still think it’s a big deal,” he said. “But… okay. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“We’ve got it handled,” Remus said casually. If Virgil hadn’t been looking for it, he wouldn’t have been able to read the tension in his tone. He squeezed Remus’ hand.

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked.

“Well, we’ve managed without you until now,” Remus said. His eye was starting to twitch a little bit.

“Re,” Virgil said warningly.

“I know that,” Thomas said quietly. “But now I know what you’ve been dealing with. So continuing to not offer to help just seems… far more cruel.”

Remus made some kind of hum of acknowledgement, though it didn’t sound particularly pleased.

“Do you want to come sit down?” Thomas said, gesturing at the couch over in the living room. “I don’t want to make you stand if it hurts you.”

“Wonderful idea,” Remus said before Virgil could even think about it, scooping him up and walking them both into the living room to plop them down on the couch.

Thomas followed a minute later after cleaning up the cereal that fell and putting milk in his bowl.

They all ended up sitting on the couch, though Remus was dangling over the arm, because he knew it was annoying, and Virgil was perched on top of it, because it was a surface that wasn’t technically meant to be sat on. So in actuality, Thomas was sitting normally in between them both and looking a little exasperated by the situation. He didn’t, however, look like there was much that would make him move.

“So,” he said after a second. “I feel like we need to discuss this a little further.”

“Which part?” Remus said, grinning at Thomas from upside down.

“The obvious part, Remus,” Thomas said quietly.

“Ugh, fine, if you want to be boring.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Virgil asked in slight confusion. “We’re done now, aren’t we? I mean, the barrier’s back up, isn’t it?”

“Even if it wasn’t, Janus locked all the others up in their rooms,” Remus said.

Virgil turned to him in surprise. “He did?”

“Yep,” Remus said, popping the ‘p.’ “Told me all about it.”

Virgil blinked, taking a minute to try and figure out how he felt about that. He didn’t really come up with anything.

“None of that is the point, though,” Thomas said. “Because it’s not going to stop what’s already happened. And that stuff is going to… linger. I mean, you guys know that, right?”

Remus huffed and flipped himself the other way around. “Well you don’t have to say it out loud, dork.”

“Actually, I think we’re going to need to talk about it—”

“Did you know that dork means whale penis Thomas?”

Thomas sighed. “Thanks for that lovely bit of info, Remus. Look, I’m just saying—”

“I called you a whale penis, is what I’m saying.”

“Remus,” Virgil said quietly. He may not have known why Remus was trying to avoid talking about it, but Thomas didn’t seem like he was going to let it go, and Virgil honestly just wanted to get it over with.

Remus gave a disgruntled whine, but crossed his arms and slumped downwards.

Thomas blinked, seeming startled by it, but then took a deep breath and seemed to move on.

“I really don’t understand why we have to talk about it, though,” Virgil said. “If everyone’s locked up, aren’t we done?”

Thomas turned to stare at him. “Anxiety,” he said. “You two were in danger, for… for years. For most of your lives.”

“Yeah, and now we’re not,” Virgil said. “That… Thomas, I’m not sure you get how amazing that is. That’s enough, okay? I… mean, I guess I can’t speak for Remus, but I just wanted everyone to be safe. And now everyone is. And that’s enough.”

Thomas shook his head, and for some reason he looked sad. “Anxiety,” he said. “That’s completely unfair to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re supposed to suffer in silence for years, then when you finally don’t have to anymore, be quietly grateful for the bare minimum of a safe environment?”

Remus snorted. “Why not? That’s what you all seem to expect from us.”

“No, Remus,” Thomas said firmly, turning to him. “That is not what I expect from you.”

Remus blinked, and pushed himself up with his arms. “What?”

“I don’t know if someone told you that, or if you came to that conclusion yourself,” Thomas said. “But I do not expect you to be grateful for anything.”

Remus stared at him for a long moment. “…Oh.”

“But you don’t owe us anything,” Virgil said, trying to push past the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

“Anxiety, what are you talking about, yes we do,” Thomas said, turning to Virgil. “We owed you in the past, and we failed you in that. At the very least, we owe you space now. Or support. Or whatever it is that you want.”

“I… I want you all to be okay,” Virgil said.

“I want a bigger part to play,” Remus said instantly, and Virgil looked over in surprise. “And for you all to not instantly shoot down everything I say just because you may not like it.”

Virgil nodded instantly, not having considered that aspect at all. “Oh, I want that too,” he said, looking back over at Thomas. “There you go. Let’s do that.”

But for some reason, that did not seem to satisfy Thomas. “Okay,” he said anyway. “We can do that, Remus. I’ll be happy to sit down and look at ideas with you and Roman both from now on.” He bit his lip and turned back to Virgil.

“Now what is it that you want, then?”

Virgil blinked. “I just told you.”

“No, that’s something you wanted for Remus.”

“I… that’s the same thing.”

“No dummy, it’s not,” Remus said from Thomas’ other side.

“You don’t want a single thing for yourself?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms.

Virgil shifted uncomfortably, looking away. For as long as he could remember, the only thing he wanted was for Remus to be safe. Or, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. In his most distant fantasies, he’d wanted Remus to be safe and appreciated. And then he’d met the others, and he started wanting them to be okay, around the same time that he’d started understanding that they weren’t okay, not mentally at least. But even in the end, that had just evolved into wanting the people he loved to be okay mentally and physically. After that… there was no after that. That was it.

“Say we’re all okay,” Thomas said, pulling him from his thoughts. “Say we get to a point where we’re all doing great. We’re soaring along with high mental health and in tip top shape and just ate our favorite meals and we’re cuddling puppies 24/7. What would you want then?”

Virgil stared at him. “I… I don’t know,” he said. “I… stop it. Stop asking me.”

“Hey,” Remus said, leaning over across Thomas’ face and ending up looking right in Virgil’s. “If you’re allowed to want stuff for me I get to want things for you, too. And what I want is for you to want things for yourself.”

Virgil looked away again.

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you want right now,” Thomas said softly. “You’re going to have time to figure it out, and no one’s going to rush you.”

Virgil didn’t move, not sure how to respond to that.

“Hey, Anxiety, can you look at me?”

Virgil did, though it took way more effort than it should have.

“You’ve been doing your job very well for a very long time,” Thomas said. “You’ve been doing other things that aren’t your job very well for a very long time. And now you get to rest. Because what I want is for you to take it easy for a while. Okay?”

Virgil looked down, finding it impossible to keep meeting Thomas’ gaze.

“Anxiety?”

Virgil wasn’t sure he could find it in him to give Thomas the exact answer he wanted. It was too much to think about right now, what he was saying. He didn’t think he could explain to Thomas the enormity of what he was telling Virgil he got to have. But right now what he wanted was to try.

So he looked up at Thomas, steeled his nerves, and whispered, “Virgil.”

Thomas blinked. “What?”

“That’s my name. It’s Virgil.”

Thomas blinked again, which made perfect sense because clearly Virgil was an awful name, and now he was going to go around being ashamed of it just like he deserved because—

Thomas leaned over and pulled him into his arms. “Okay. Virgil,” he whispered. “That’s an awesome name. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

Virgil let out a tiny sob and buried his head in Thomas’ shoulder. Remus wrapped him in a hug from the other side, and the three of them ended up curled up together in a pile on the couch.

“You—” Virgil said weakly. “Thomas, I need to know if you’re okay.”

“Virgil—”

“It’s still my job,” Virgil said. “I can’t turn it off. And you just learned a lot of shitty stuff really fast. I need to know how you’re doing.”

Thomas was quiet for a minute. “I’m not doing good, in all honesty,” he admitted. “But I’m talking to Patton and Logan and Roman about it. And I can take care of you guys too, Virgil.”

“It’s really weird hearing you say that,” Virgil muttered. Then he leaned against Thomas’ shoulder.

“I’ve got another idea,” he said quietly.

“What’s that?”

“We can all be not good together?”

Thomas laughed a little. “Okay,” he murmured, squeezing Virgil tighter. Remus squeezed tighter from the other side, and eventually they all ended up shifting into a miserable pile on the couch.

But it was a little less miserable together.

...

Chapter Thirty-Nine

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #character thomas sanders #platonic dukexiety #platonic thvi #my fic

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