#the old curse on Virgil was never meant to keep him from the whole world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justactsupernatural · 3 years

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We’ll Never Leave You Alone Allie

Warnings: mental health issues, possesive behavior and implied murder

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He was their baby, their mother’s last gift before dying.

How could the world expect them to give him up?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan was three years old when their mother had died, having survived the avalanche that had threatened to take them both because of their mother’s protective embrace, taking the brunt of the snow to save the child.

After the accident, their father went MIA on them and focused solely on his work, leaving the five brothers to fend for themselves. This had a major effect on their whole dynamic, starting with the fact that the youngest Tracy needed constant care.

Scott grew up too fast for a boy his age, running himself ragged in his attempt to take care of his younger brothers. He helped with homework, with getting dressed, making dinner and breakfast, and keeping everyone alive. At only 13 this certainly wasn’t something he should be worried about, but with their father practically living at the office someone had to keep what was left of their family going.

Even though he was raising four younger brothers, he could always feel a deep connection with Alan. Granted, he had a connection with all of his brothers, but the youngest Tracy was different; the three-year-old was innocence itself and the little firework kept them all going during that dark time.

Which was probably why they all freaked out when the world threatened to take him away for the first time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The mystery car arrived at their around nine months after the funeral, it was a Saturday, and all the boys were in the house. Scott, John and Virgil were awake and picking up the discarded toys and dirty dishes of the night before while Alan and Gordon slept upstairs. Their father never got home the night before.

Scott had just finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher when Virgil called his name near the front door. Going to see what was up with his brother, the brunette left the kitchen and approached his nine-year-old sibling, John at his heels.

“There’s a car outside” said Virgil when the older boys got to him, pointing out the window to their front lawn where a car with that blasted symbol was parked. The woman coming out of the car had a folder on her arms and was making their way to the door, the sound of her heels unheard because of the distance but each step marking the beat of Scott’s heart.

Child Protective Services.

The lump in his throat was making it almost impossible to breathe. They were going to take his brothers away, tearing apart his family and giving them away like some kind of sick fair prize.

The curse that left John’s mouth told the oldest Tracy that he knew what the symbol in the car meant, even if Virgil didn’t. After telling the dark-haired kid to go to Alan and Gordon’s room and stay there until he was summoned, he turned to his other brother and told him to go unmake their dad’s bed.

John didn’t question him, he was smart and knew that if that woman thought their father wasn’t home enough they would be in big trouble. Someone looking at their private mess of a life wasn’t ideal, but Tracys aren´t stupid, nor are they weak and the threat to their brothers and what could happen to them if they failed was enough to motivate the both of them into action.

Going to the kitchen, Scott mentally steeled himself for what was to come and waited the few seconds it took for the woman to reach their door. Making his way to open it, only one thought was going through his mind: ‘I’m not letting them take my brothers away’.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything had been going just fine, the woman looked around the first floor and asked some questions that both Scott and John handled perfectly, using the excuse that their brothers were sleeping to explain their absence. Creating scenarios where their father had been present in the last five months was easy when they were memories already existent, only slightly altered; the CPS lady seemed to be buying it and was about to leave when it all went wrong.

After spinning tales and asking well hidden questions, the brothers found out that a neighbor had called to make sure they were all right, out of worry that their father was neglecting them. While it was true, the anger Scott felt was indescribable and he thanked God that John had spoken some bullshit story about the person responsible for the call only wanting fame for “saving” the kids from their “evil, rich father”, because he would have yelled his heart out and probably would have blown the interview if he so much as opened his mouth to breathe.

She said her goodbyes and that they probably wouldn’t have to hear from her again, a blessing that Scott was willing to take and forget the moment she crossed the threshold.

But then Alan, sweet, innocent and blissfully ignorant to all the bad in the world Alan, came running down the stairs asking for Scott and came to a full stop in front of him, holding his pijama clad arms up, demanding to be held. Never one to deny his baby brother anything, Scott complied and picked the blonde up, letting him rest on his hips and turning to slam the door on the CPS agent’s face to get her to leave.

That was, until she decided to smile at Alan and turning to look at Scott with a questioning glance before asking if she could ask Alan some questions. Without any other option, the brunette gave a forced smile and nodded turning to go back into the living room, thanking that Virgil had listened to him and stayed upstairs with Gordon.

Sitting down in the couch with John at his side and Alan on his lap, Scott waited for the woman to sit down only to have her phone ring and her excusing herself to the kitchen to talk. But she was talking loudly, and Scott could clearly hear her saying words like “only a kid”, “taking him away” and “the Johnsons”.

By the tension in his redheaded brother’s shoulders Scott figured he heard it too. The Johnson family lived three houses down from theirs and had always been way too interested in the lives of others instead of their own. If they had been the ones to call CPS and Alan got taken away, he would make sure they paid.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the end, Alan fell asleep after only a few questions and the woman left, repeating that there were no problems and that she wouldn’t bother them again. With his heart trying to beat out of his heart, Scott closed the door and hugged the sleeping Alan closer.

And when he saw the Johnsons standing in front of their house, he talked with John and planned. They would pay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Four days later the Johnson house burned down, a gas leak caused a fire, according to the firemen. No survivors.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were many times when others tried to hurt or take Alan from them.

That one psycho nanny that their dad had hired, who though she could get rough with Alan and they wouldn’t find out. She tripped on the street and fell in front of a bus a week after they found out, Virgil telling the police what he saw before going home with news for their father that they would need a new sitter.

A business partner of their father’s who came to eat dinner at their house and made Alan cry after calling him stupid and pushing him out of his way. He had a heart attack that night; apparently, he had an allergic reaction to the piece of pie he had eaten in his house after dinner, the rat poison that had been on their kitchen in their neighbor’s trashcan.

The old man who cat-called Alan on the street when he and Gordon were on the mainland, getting some supplies for the Island. He was mugged and stabbed in an ally three hours later.

CPS again, saying that a nineteen-year-old could not be Alan’s guardian after their dad’s death. Tracy Industries had the best lawyers money could buy and the CPS agent in charge of their case had a newfound habit of driving drunk, according to the police after the car crash.

Their father, who tried to send Alan to school on the mainland and keep him away from them and the protection they could give him. His plane had crashed on its way to a meeting on New York, no survivors found.

Many others had tried, no one ever succeeded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sixteen-year-old Alan was lying in bed, shivering and covered in blankets despite the fever running through his body. His brothers by his side, doing different things to keep entertained but keeping him company.

John was sitting on the beanbag at the right side of the bed, typing away at his laptop, probably working on his new book. Virgil and Gordon were playing Go Fish on the floor in front of the bed, making as little noise as possible as to keep from disturbing their sick brother.

Scott was on his left side, sitting next to him on the bed and putting a wet towel on his forehead. Standing up, he went to fetch the medicine when a hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” asked Alan, looking up at his brother with scared eyes. His heart clenching at the sight of his miserable brother, Scott sat back down and ran a hand through the blonde’s soaked hair. ”I’m just going to fetch your medicine Sprout”.

“But you’ll be back right?” asked the teenager, looking up hopefully at his brother. Scott gave a soft chuckle and smiled at his baby brother before stroking his hair again.

“Of course I’ll come back” he answered, voice soft and reassuring “We’ll never leave you alone Allie”.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was their baby, their mother’s last gift before dying.

Did the world really expect them to give him up?

#alan tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015

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death-himself · 3 years

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I don't know if you do prompts, but if you do, I was wondering if you'd ever consider adding a part in the Bogeyman!Virgil verse where the family has a fight.

Kids at that age are so temperamental, and they say things they don't mean to their family when they're so young, expressing hatred a lot. It's bound to happen, and siblings especially fight so often.

I could imagine one of the kids screaming at Virgil that he's a monster, not their real brother, that they hate him, that they hope they never see him again. It's pretty standard for a child, but I doubt Virgil would know that, and with his past of being unloved, I could see him immediately being heartbroken and devastated.

Love your work!

Sorry it took so long to get to this anon! The one-shot I wrote for this one actually ended up being like twice as long as usual :) I can imagine all of the kids, especially Roman or Patton getting upset with him pretty easily. And maybe this would also work for Thomas, I mean a single father of four kids would probably end up getting mad at them and hurting their feelings unintentionally every once in a while.

Anyway here’s the fic, I added Remus and Emile in just because (warnings for angst, fear, and Roman being an asshole at the beginning)

It was an accident. He didn’t mean to break it. He would’ve never broken one of their toys on purpose. He stared blankly at Roman’s plastic sword, the blade bent at a very noticeable angle. Roman’s eyes widened as he gazed at the damage, snatching the sword from Virgil’s hands to get a closer look. His eyes filled with tears instantly, big drops falling onto his broken weapon.

Virgil bit at his lip, guilt filling his stomach as he crouched down in front of him. He put a hand on Roman’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “I’m sorry Ro, I didn’t mean—” Roman shoved his hand away with a whimper, smacking him as hard as he could with his sword. Virgil flinched, despite the kid’s blow not causing him any pain. “I’m sorry, okay? We can get you a new one.”

“No! I liked this one!”

“Well...then maybe we could—”

“No!” Roman shrieked. “Go away! I hate you!” Virgil’s heart sunk into his stomach.

“Y-You don’t mean that Ro.” Virgil tried to put his hand back on Roman’s shoulder, but only got another smack from his toy sword.

“My sword was broken by a meanie monster.” Roman muttered angrily. As he stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Virgil stayed crouched, watching him leave with glazed over eyes. It had been so long since he had been called a monster, he had forgotten how much it stung. And now it hurt much, much more.

He took a shaky breath, gaze shifting to the ground. Roman did tell him to go away...

Okay. He’ll go away.

Thomas had heard Roman screaming and ran to the stairs, just in time to see the kid in question storming down with tearful eyes, and Virgil melting into the shadows and leaving. In Roman’s hands was his favorite toy sword, now bent beyond usable. “Oh Roman, what happened?”

“Virgil broke it! He’s a big meanie!” Thomas glanced up the stairs, where Virgil had disappeared. Not hearing Patton talking to him in the living room or Logan asking him questions in Virgil’s room meant he probably wasn’t anywhere in the house. Of course of all the sons to disappear after an emotional outburst it just had to be the one who could teleport.

“Were you two playing and it broke, or was he mad and broke it?”

“We were playing, and he was holdin’ it, and then he smacked it against the wall and it broke!”

“Do you think he meant to break it?” Roman huffed, wiping at his eyes before crossing his arms.

“...No, but he still broke it.” A bit of relief filled Thomas at that, but he would never tell Roman. Son or not, he wasn’t sure if we would know how to calm down an angry bogeyman that intentionally breaks his adopted brother’s toys.

“Do you know where Virgil went?” Roman blinked, the question breaking him out of his anger for a moment. He looked back up the stairs, eyes glancing around for a moment, surprised at Virgil’s absence, before huffing and turning back around.

“...No, but good riddance! He broke my sword!” Thomas took a deep breath. Okay, so Virgil could be anywhere. Now he just had to hope he was somewhere with a stable connection; maybe he could call him. If not, he might’ve just lost a son. His heart began to pound at that, but he hid his worry before Roman could see.

Right, he had to deal with Roman first. He slowly took the broken sword from Roman’s hands, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I’ll see if I can fix this. If it can bend without breaking, I might be able to bend it back. Why don’t you watch some cartoons with Patton while I give that a try?”

“But what if you end up breaking it more?”

“Then I can get you a new one. We might even be able to get you a new one today if you want.”

Roman whimpered. “But I like mine.”

“I know you do, bud. But sometimes...things break and have to be replaced. Nothing lasts forever.” Thomas glanced up the stairs, hoping to see Virgil returning. Still missing. “I’ll need you to apologize to Virgil later, okay? You said a lot of mean things to him, and probably made him feel really bad. And he’ll have to apologize for breaking your toy. Sound good?”

Roman was still clearly upset, but he nodded anyway, staring down at his feet as he thought. Thomas ushered him into the living room to distract him with the TV, then sent a text to Virgil’s phone, hoping he would get it.

Virgil had gone back to his cave. After officially moving in with his dad and brothers, he had expected to never want to—or feel the need to—come back here. But it was just as cold as he remembered. He sat with his back against the wall, staring through unfocused eyes as the shadows on the other side of the cave seemed to taunt him.

Maybe they were. Maybe they were thinking “what an idiot, caring for humans. It’d never work out in the end. Something always goes wrong.” At least that was what he was thinking. He knew how quickly humans could turn on other humans, it would make sense for them to turn on him much quicker.

His body was still weighed down by guilt. He broke Roman’s favorite toy, of course he would be mad. Virgil knew if one of them had broken something of his, he would probably be pretty upset. His words still rang in his ears, though.

He’d stay in the cave until things might have settled down. Then maybe he’d go back and talk to Dad.

Virgil was gone for two days by the time Roman felt just as much guilt and fear as the bogeyman himself was feeling. Thomas was trying his best to stay calm, knowing Virgil was fully capable of taking care of himself, but that fatherly panic was beginning to take over.

Virgil had told him about the cave he used to live in, and Thomas assumed that he had gone to stay there. But he had no clue where it was. As far as he knew, Virgil could be in some sort of Floridian cave less than a mile away or a cave all the way in Australia. He kept texting and calling in hopes that he would answer, but the chances of him having wi-fi in a cave was slim to nil.

He told Remus about Virgil’s disappearance, hoping that the only other person with demon children would know where his cave was. What he got as his answer was Remus putting him on hold for a whole hour, then coming back to say a terrifyingly serious “I’m on the case” before being hung up on. Whatever Remus was up to only made him more worried.

Virgil hadn’t expected to start his third day in his cave being tackled by two other bogeymen. He let out a startled curse as the two slammed into him and shoved him into the shadows, taking him with them back to their home. He growled, glaring at the two kids and preparing to fight back, before realizing where he was.

Remus bopped his head with a rolled-up newspaper, Emile grinning eagerly behind him. “Hey there Vee!” Virgil sighed, his heart rate beginning to drop back to normal.

“Hey...”

“Uncle Thomas has been real worried about you.” Remus spoke, looking the newspaper over in his hands as if it were a weapon.

“He has?” Virgil tried to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

“Well fuckin’ duh! He wouldn’t have called me of all people if he wasn’t!”

“Did he ask you to get your kids to kidnap me?”

“No, that was my idea.” Emile responded happily, bringing Virgil over to the couch and giving him a cup of hot chocolate. “I thought it’d be funny. Sorry if it scared you.”

“It’s fine, I guess.” Virgil watched as Janus stuck his tongue out at him, a grin on his face as he ran off down to his bedroom, Remy following soon after. Remus kicked his feet up on the coffee table, looking at him expectantly.

“So you gonna teleport back home, or do ya want one of us to drive you there like a human?” Virgil couldn’t answer. It was nice to hear that Dad was worried, but he was more concerned about how Roman felt. Emile seemed to sense his unease, ruffling his hair a bit.

“Thomas told us what happened, and Roman’s really sorry. This sort of thing just sort of happens with kids. Kids as old as your brothers get upset really easily and say things they don’t mean.” A warm smile spread across his face, slowing Virgil’s skipping heart and steadying his constantly anxious mind.

“Roman doesn’t actually hate you, especially not because of just one mess-up. Kids’ brains aren’t exactly developed enough to properly respond to things that upset them, anyway, so this is pretty normal.” Virgil nodded slowly, staring down at the hot chocolate in his hands.

Remus giggled excitedly, saying in the most affectionate voice Virgil had ever heard “I bet you could destroy the world with those smarts, Lilo and Switch.” Emile’s cheeks turned red, and his smile was redirected at his boyfriend.

“It’s just basic developmental psychology, nothing but fifteen minutes of googling will tell you this much.” Remus just hummed happily. Emile turned his attention back to Virgil. “So what do you say? You wanna go back now, or wait a bit?” Virgil pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He did miss the house...and his room...and his family.

He sighed, his anxiety failing as he placed down the cup of hot chocolate, stood up, and without another word dropped into the shadows.

Virgil appeared in his room, relieved (and for whatever reason a bit upset) that no one was there. He gulped, debating whether it would be more awkward to walk out and find the others or just wait there until someone comes in. But Dad decided that for him, singing a song from a musical he hadn’t shown Virgil yet as he went about cleaning the house.

Dad stared up at him, expression blank as his brain tried to figure out what was going on. The memory of their first time seeing each other face-to-face played in Virgil’s head—and wow, he looked just as confused as he did back then.

The lightbulb went off in his brain and his eyes widened, dropping his cleaning supplies and pulling him into a hug, letting out a relieved, almost delirious laugh. “Oh thank goodness you’re okay!” Warmth filled Virgil’s heart as he hugged back as best he could, his arms pinned to his sides by Dad’s tight grip. “You were at your cave, right? I really need to figure out where that place is.”

“Janus and Remy know, Emile sent them to kidnap me and bring me to their place.”

Dad pulled away, eyes wide. “They kidnapped—” He stumbled over his words, sounding both alarmed and confused, before going silent. “You know what, I’m not even surprised.”

“Yeah, those guys are weird.”

“How did those kids know where the cave was, though?” Virgil shrugged.

“I think all three of us were formed there, they just never actually lived there. That’s my best guess at least.”

“Well...I’m just glad they found you. We’ve all been really worried.” Virgil heard four small feet running up the stairs and over to his door, two faces peering in. Smiles spread across Logan and Patton’s faces as they practically tackled Virgil to the ground, clinging onto him as if he’d disappear if they let go. Virgil hugged them back, just happy to see them again.

Then he heard another pair of feet run up the stairs, and Roman appeared in the doorway. Virgil gave him an uneasy smile. “I’m...sorry for breaking your toy, Ro, I didn’t mean—”

Roman’s lip began to quiver and tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran to hug Virgil, clinging on tightly as he babbled out apologies until his words were completely unintelligible. Virgil awkwardly hushed him, running a hand through his hair as his incoherent babbling began to die down. “It’s fine, Ro, I’m okay.”

“It’s not fine!” Roman whined. “You disappeared for two days and I was really mean to you and I thought you’d never come back and I’m sorry!” Virgil looked to Dad, hoping he would be able to help. Dad came over and gently shushed Roman, saying “Virgil’s here now, he’s not gonna leave, we’re all gonna be okay, bud.”

Roman slowly calmed down, tears no longer falling from his eyes and breathing beginning to steady. Dad asked Logan and Patton to go back downstairs while he talked with Roman and Virgil. He had to make sure his two oldest kids would be okay.

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aster-aspera · 3 years

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In the darkness I found you

CW: character being kept in captivity, descriptions of injury, blindness, mentions of being tortured, unsympathetic Remus.

Relationship: roceit

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Read on ao3

The dark pressed down on Roman’s eyes like a tangible thing, a thing that threatened to choke him.

He tried to swallow the sobs that ripped itself from his chest, but it was futile.

God, he couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t know where he was.

He was so, so scared. Scared of his brother, of the fact that he had him totally at his mercy. He couldn’t fight back, he wouldn’t even be able to see the blows coming.

His brother knew exactly how to make him feel weak.

He just wanted to go home.

Wanted to feel his friends’ arms around him.

Wanted their silent comfort.

Noise echoed around him and Roman curled up tighter into the corner, taking comfort from the solid walls behind him.

God, he felt pathetic.

He heard the door slam open and he flinched. Whoever was standing in the doorway paused and then took slow steps towards him.

Roman raised his head and set his shoulders, preparing himself for whatever sick tortures his brother had devised.

The person who had entered the room stopped in front of him and a whoosh of air told him they had sat down. For a long moment, they didn’t move and Roman assumed they were staring at him.

“Like what you see?” He croaked, because he had never learnt how to think things through.

They didn’t reply, merely shifted audibly.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly, you know I’m not a very patient person.”

He realized this really wasn’t helping his situation but he couldn’t stop. His words were the only weapon he had left in this situation.

The faint rustle of fabric betrayed the movements of the other person and Roman shrunk back, but instead of a blow or anything of that sort, a gentle hand circled his wrist.

They pulled his hand towards them and traced their thumb in soft circles over his palm.

The motion was so jarringly comforting, such a contrast to the cruel blows he had already experienced and had been expecting.

His breath hitched and he couldn’t help but lean in a little closer.

The person shifted forward and they encircled Roman’s other wrist in their hand. They pulled his hand against their chest and took deep breaths.

Roman understood the meaning behind the gesture well enough and he made an effort to follow their breathing.

The iron vice that had seemed wrapped around his chest loosened gradually.

He knew it was stupid to trust this person, whoever they may be, but they hadn’t made any move to hurt him yet.

Maybe, his family had found him, maybe it was Logan or Virgil or Patton comforting him right now. But why weren’t they speaking?

“Who are you?” He asked.

They stiffened and pulled away slightly.

Roman couldn’t help the pitiful sound that escaped him. They couldn’t leave, they were the only solid thing in this terrifyingly dark world.

The person seemed to understand and tightened their grip once more.

“Why won’t you tell me? Can’t you speak?”

They tapped his hand twice and made a movement that Roman assumed was them nodding their head.

“Oh, sorry.”

They squeezed his hand.

“Do I know you?”

His certainty that it was one of his friends was growing, they might not be able to speak to him, but their actions were clear enough. Their gentleness and silent comfort so achingly familiar to him.

They tapped his hand twice.

“Pat?” He asked. Almost entirely sure now.

They tapped his hand again, twice.

Roman breathed a sigh of relief, feeling safer at once.

He started shaking, the fear he had felt the last few days hitting him all at once.

He launched himself forward into Patton’s arms. Bumping into him awkwardly, courtesy of his missing eyesight.

Patton fumbled a moment to catch him but then wrapped his arms securely around Roman.

Janus was furious, his anger was a tangible thing, rising in his throat like an all consuming fire.

In front of him, curled up on the filthy floor was the prince himself. The superhero he had spent months fighting. Who had thwarted his plans and generally made his life hell.

And he looked so… small. So young and scared and vulnerable and Janus knew he should enjoy this. Enjoy seeing his enemy so thoroughly beaten. But all he could feel was rage.

This was so, so wrong. The prince wasn’t supposed to be so quiet. He was all brash words and brazen pride.

Janus enjoyed the verbal sparring matches the hero always invited him to. He enjoyed twisting his words and making him crumble but never had he wanted to break him so completely.

He cursed Remus. How could he do something like that to his own brother?

Janus knew better than anyone blood didn’t mean loyalty, but still, this was needlessly cruel.

The prince looked up at him, the chemical burns on his face a ghastly sight. His eyes rolled around, sightless.

Janus walked forward and gently sat down, painfully aware of how the hero flinched.

A lie was already on his lips. ‘You’re alright, you’re safe now, he can’t hurt you anymore, I’ll protect you .’ But he couldn’t promise that, and more importantly, those words coming from him would be no comfort. The prince knew his voice, had heard its menacing rasp so many times before.

“Like what you see?” The hero rasped and it almost startled a laugh out of Janus. Of course he would make a stupid comment like that. This particular hero never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly, you know I’m not a very patient person.” Janus released a silent sigh. He wondered how the prince had managed not to get himself killed yet.

A full body shiver ran through the other boy and Janus felt sympathy well up in him. The hero was still twitching his head around nervously, his façade of fake bravado rapidly crumbling in the face of the darkness that must be pressing down on him.

Janus reached out a hand, hoping he could offer even the faintest speck of light in the darkness the hero faced.

The prince froze for a moment, clearly not expecting the gentle touch. Then, his breath hitched and he leaned in closer, straining for a gentle touch.

Janus’s mouth twitched up in a fond smile and he took his other hand and pressed them against his chest.

Taking slow, exaggerated breaths, he calmed the hero down. His quick, gasping breaths slowing to sobs and eventually ragged breaths.

“Who are you?” The prince asked suddenly.

Janus pulled back slightly. He couldn’t tell him. Janus figured the knowledge a villain was holding your hand would not provide much comfort, even if they had not made any move to hurt you.

He should leave. Tell one of the other heroes where to find their friend and make sure Remus would regret ever hurting the Prince like this. But the Prince made a small, pitiful noise and Janus felt his heart break.

He couldn’t leave him all alone in the dark.

“Why won’t you tell me? Can’t you speak?”

Janus felt relieved, that was a good excuse. He nodded and, realizing the hero couldn’t see, tapped his hand twice.

“Oh, sorry.” Janus wanted to laugh. The hero was blinded and yet he was still concerned about him? It was vaguely heartbreaking, really.

“Do I know you?”

Well, in a way, yes, but that’s probably not what he meant. Janus figured a lie would be best in this situation. The hero would feel much more at ease if he thought it was one of his friends comforting him.

He tapped his hand twice.

“Pat?” He asked, sounding so hopeful.

Janus was pretty sure Pat was the light blue hero. The kind, bubbly one. He must really be doing the supervillain thing wrong if he gets mistaken for the most lawful good hero out there. Well, if it brought this one comfort, he guessed he could play the part. He was an actor after all.

He tapped the hero’s hand twice and before he realized what was happening, he had his arms full with a shaking superhero.

He fumbled for a moment, not usually one for hugs, but he quickly got his arms securely round him.

The hero started crying, deep, shuddering sobs that shook his whole frame. Janus wrapped his arms around him tighter, forming a protective layer around him.

He carded a hand through his matted, sweat soaked curls and smiled when the Prince pressed his head against his hand, savouring the touch.

Finally, the prince seemed all cried out and his sobs faded into pathetic hiccups.

Janus realized he should probably treat some of his wounds or at least send a message to one of his superhero friends. They couldn’t stay like this forever, after all.

Janus gently maneuvered the superhero so he could get an arm under his knees and behind his back.

The prince made a small noise of confusion and Janus squeezed his arm comfortingly.

With a grunt, Janus managed to stand up, the hero gathered in his arms. He staggered for a moment before regaining his balance.

Dammit, this guy was heavy. It was probably all the muscles Janus could feel under the suit. He shook that thought away.

The hero buried his face in Janus’s neck, trusting him completely. Janus felt a lump well up in his throat.

How he wished the hero trusted him for who he was, not who he was pretending to be. It was his own fault really. He had cast himself as the villain, he couldn’t resent the heroes for hating him, even though he had only been trying to help.

He slipped out of the building, avoiding the places he knew his henchmen would be hanging around, cleaning up Remus’s mess.

He relaxed when he left the building and the dank, stuffy air was replaced with the cool night air of the city.

The hero seemed to have sensed the change in the air too, because he perked up.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

And then immediately stiffened.

“Oh yeah, shit. I’m sorry.”

Janus just squeezed him reassuringly and kept walking.

There was a safe house at the end of this alley. It wasn’t much, but it was stocked with food and medical supplies. And more importantly, the only person who knew of its existence was Janus.

He entered the safe house and gently deposited the hero in his arms on the old couch.

The prince shouldered himself upright and whipped his head around nervously.

“Where are we? Are we home?”

Janus tapped his arm once.

“Does that mean no?” He asked.

Janus tapped his arm twice.

The hero seemed to understand and curled up deeper on the couch.

“We’re safe, right?” He asked.

Janus tapped his arm twice and the hero breathed a sigh of relief.

Janus made to move away, intent on grabbing the medical supplies from the cupboard, but the prince whined and tightened his grip on his arm.

“No, Pat. Don’t go.”

Janus crouched in front of the hero and cupped his jaw in his free hand. He gently ran his thumb over the skin there, trying to signal to the hero that he was safe and Janus had no intention of leaving him.

“You’ll come back, right?” The hero asked shakely and Janus tapped his jaw twice, lightly.

The hero loosened his vice like grip on Janus’s arm and he quickly bustled over to the cupboard, purposefully making his steps loud so the hero could hear where he was.

Janus grabbed the supplies and a bowl of water and kneeled down in front of the hero. He wetted the cloth and pulled the hero’s face towards him gently. With slow, careful movements, he began washing the burn.

Janus cringed as the full damage to the hero’s face was unveiled. A large part of his face was covered in chemical burns and his eyes were almost completely sightless. Janus wasn’t sure he would ever be able to see again.

He shone a light into the hero’s eyes and he startled slightly. Good, at least he could still detect changes in light.

“Pat?” The hero whispered tremulously.

Janus squeezed his arm to signal he was listening.

“Will I… Will I ever be able to see again?”

Janus blew out a sad sigh. He felt so much sympathy for the poor hero. To have something you relied on so heavily be creully ripped away from you. By your own blood, no less.

He would probably never be able to go out and be a superhero again. Janus felt the loss ache in his own chest.

He squeezed the hero’s hand, not wanting to give a solid no.

The hero just curled up even tighter, seemingly drawing his own conclusions from Janus’s non-committal answer.

Janus wished that he could speak to him, give him even the slightest bit of comfort, even if it was false.

He gently applied bandages to the hero’s head and went to set the medical supplies away and get something to eat, leaving the hero with a reassuring squeeze.

Janus returned with some crackers and a glass of water. He had no idea how long the hero had been in the duke’s captivity and he didn’t want to upset his stomach.

When he was done, Janus put away the plate and sat down on the couch. Far enough that he wasn’t touching the hero but close enough he could feel his presence.

The prince didn’t seem to agree with that position and shifted over to him, plopping his head down in Janus’s lap.

Janus carded a hand through his messy hair, smoothing it away from the bandages on his face. He curled the other arm protectively round the hero’s shoulders.

Soon, the prince’s breathing deepened and his coiled muscles relaxed. Janus breathed a sigh of relief once he was fully asleep.

He knew there was much he needed to do. He needed to contact the hero’s friends and get him medical help. He needed to figure out how he would explain or cover up the fact that he had helped the hero.

But for a moment he let himself relax. The prince was safe, asleep and comforted and while that comfort may be false, Janus was happy he had at least been able to help a little.

He wondered how the hero would react once he found out it had been Janus taking care of him and not the blue hero.

#sander sides #Janus Sanders #ts janus #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides fic #roceit #roman/janus #superhero au #ts superhero au #tw unsympathetic Remus #u!remus #my writing

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its-pronounced-quoassoint · 3 years

Text

Logan!!! On Ice

Did I actually make a Yoi!sanders sides au? Yes. This is purely self indulgent and like I don’t really know if I like it that much. I’m gonna post the first chapter on ao3 too and maybe I’ll keep going if I have the time but just consider this a tentative WIP for now. I kinda want to see if people actually care about this idea and if I can write figure skating scenes well. (I’m trying to broaden my writing abilities) This is like stretching my brain power today but heck it’s gotta happen. Anway!

Chapter 1 - A Man that Surprises

Chapter warnings: Past unhealthy behavior, mentions of depression, crying, swearing, food mention, slight panic attack, minor character death(it’s late so if there are more warnings I should add please yell at me to do so)

Ao3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27851718/chapters/68190586

I hope this is well recieved I kinda like this concept.

Logan Katsuki wouldn’t admit it to anyone but those who knew him well that his inspiration was rather basic. He loved to skate yes, but his reasons for continuing to every time it got difficult? That was something he preferred to keep to himself. Not because it was all too special, it wasn’t and he would admit that if you asked. He kept it to himself because it was more embarrassing than anything else. In interviews he would say that his family, specifically his mother, inspired him to continue his career in figure skating, and while that wasn’t entirely wrong, it wasn’t the whole truth either. Since Logan was young, younger than he can remember, his true inspiration was one person and one person alone. Patton Nikiforov.

The Russian skater was first shown to him by his friend Yuuko when the two had had a sleepover. She was very invested in skating at the time and wanted to show him her favorite. Patton Nikiforov was a man who surprised the figure skating scene with his ambition. He was sociable, passionate, and had found a way to capture a crowd’s attention with a single smile. Patton was everything a skater could dream of being. He worked hard and always kept a smile, you could simply tell he loved doing what he did. Logan couldn’t tell which part of that he envied most. It was after one of Patton’s performances where he won gold that Logan knew what he wanted. He wanted to be the best damn figure skater he could possibly be.

However, you don’t always get what you want and Logan had learned that many times throughout his career. His dreams started getting smaller. From winning gold, to silver, to being on the podium, to just simply making it in the same rink as Patton. And now, he just wanted to hide.

A terrible set and a terrible performance was the push that Logan needed to go over the edge. He was done. He was ending his career as a 23 year old skater with little to his name. He didn’t know what he was going to do, maybe he’d work at his mom’s bathhouse, or maybe he’d do ice skating lessons for the kids in his town, but whatever it was, he was going to do it at home. Surrounded by his family and friends. The past year had been the most difficult for him when it came to his mental and physical health, and Logan knew he couldn’t go on in those habits. Skating was no longer fun, he could no longer smile while he performed unless he forced it and Logan had to stop before it hurt him to the point of no return.

It was the night before his flight home and he was supposed to be resting, but his friend Phichit was going on the ice and Logan wanted to be there to cheer him on, no matter how much it hurt. Phichit and him had met in Detroit where they trained and eventually got the same coach. Phichit was the only fellow skater that Logan had ever really considered a true friend, on or off the ice. His caring Thai friend had done his best to keep Logan from retiring, but he could see what it was putting him through.

Logan knew he was going to miss some things about skating, but his decision was final. When Phichit’s performance was over Logan made his way as fast as he could to meet him. He’d made a few mistakes but his jumps were wonderful and he’d picked himself up, never losing his momentum.

“You did an excellent job!” Logan told his friend. “I’m proud of you Phichit, really.”

“Thanks Logan.” Phichit laughed. Logan handed his friend a small bundle of daisies, his favorite. “Lo, are you sure I can’t get you to stay? I-I know that it’s been tough but you're still so young, you can do so much.”

“I don’t wanna talk about that Phichit. I just, I don’t have much left for me here.” Logan sighed. “But you on the other hand! You’re full of talent and potential. I can’t wait to see you do so much more.”

“Oh come on.” Phichit looked away, embarrassed.

“I’m serious. And now that I’m out, well, expect my mother to send you all sorts of gifts. She was texting me during your entire performance, she loved it.” Logan said, pulling out his phone. “Just read, if you thought I knew how to flatter you should learn where I get it from.”

Phichit took the phone with a smile and began reading the messages eagerly. He wasn’t much younger than Logan, but he sure acted like a little kid whenever he was praised. While Logan Looked around the room of skaters exiting the Detroit rink and crowds outside awaiting their favorites he couldn’t help but smile. This was something he hadn’t quite decided whether he missed or not. Logan was never a sociable person, so after he’d almost dropped off the grid he was unsurprised to find he hadn’t made that much of a mark. No matter what he did he would never have the impact on the world like Patton Nikiforov had. Still, that fact simply didn’t sit right with him.

“You did good I don’t understand why you’re sulking.” A voice said to Logan’s right. A voice that was familiar to Logan, but now, in a sort of bitter way.

“Whatever.” A different person replied.

Both had russian accents and Logan knew he had not mistaken what he’d heard. Sure enough Patton himself was walking beside a fellow skater. Logan couldn’t really help himself, he just stared. He’d seen Patton a myriad of times before, but it never meant Logan got used to him. Tall, pale, silver hair, bright electrifying blue eyes, shapely jaw, perfect lips, oh Logan had always been terrible at playing straight and Patton Nikiforov certainly had never made it easier.

“Your steps could use some work but I think that comes with strength training-”

“Oh my god who cares? I know what I did wrong, it's already over.” The other russain beside him groaned. “Could you quit nagging me, you’re not my dad.”

“Virgil shut it!” The coach that they’d been walking towards bellowed. “You are an ungrateful brat, don’t you dare talk to-”

Logan wasn’t listening anymore. He’d spaced out, no longer really knowing what his surroundings were, just that he was standing, that everything felt heavy. His feet were like cinder blocks and his legs couldn’t hold the rest of his body up. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this. Found himself removed from the rest of the world. In fact he’d been doing it a lot lately.

“Lo?” Phichit’s voice pulled him out of his stupor. “Uh, here’s your phone back.”

“Oh,” Logan finally pulled his eyes away from Patton, just as he thought his gaze had been met. But no, he must have imagined it. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” Phichit asked.

“Sorry, did you want a picture?”

Logan turned around, and found yes indeed he had been right. Patton Nikiforov had caught him staring and asked him if he wanted a picture, whether it was a habit he’d picked up from years in the spotlight or whether it was to save Logan the embarrassment. Logan stepped back, he’d always wanted to meet Patton, talk to him, but something about this felt wrong. It felt so very wrong and Logan hesitated for one moment more before stalking forward, past Patton, past the moody kid, past the yelling coach, and past Phichit who was calling his name.

He didn’t stop until he was in the bathroom, the red stalls seemed so tall once he’d entered one. It almost felt like they were growing, surrounding him, overwhelming his senses. This wasn’t the first time Logan had cried, in fact it was one of many times that he’d sat and cried his eyes out. It was familiar to him. Too familiar. His eyes burned as his tears fell and he tried wiping at his face but Logan’s soft cheeks only felt raw under his hands. He hissed from the pain and ran a hand through his hair instead. Pulling at it harshly. Logan had never understood when people talked about ‘crying so hard no sound comes out’ but in this past year he felt that phrase ring true, deep in his bones.

“Logan?” Phichit had followed him, he was walking through the bathroom before stopping at Logan’s stall. “Hey are you okay?”

Logan knew if he tried to respond no sound other than pathetic cries would come out so he clamped his mouth shut.

“Okay uhm, you really shouldn’t drink the water in here so I’m gonna go get you some and then we’re gonna get out of here. Don’t worry it’ll be okay.” And with that he was gone. Logan flinched a little when the door slammed shut and he cursed himself for doing so.

He had never liked feeling so fragile, so insecure. It was something he had buried long ago and since his tremendous failure last season it had been let loose, left to encompass Logan’s being. As he began rocking back and forth, Logan’s stomach clenched in a torturous way. He heard the door squeak open once again and he covered his mouth, attempting to stifle any indication that he was crying. However when the pair of shoes stopped in front of his stall Logan knew he’d been caught. He just wasn’t sure who was there. Those were in no way Pichit’s shoes and he didn’t recognize them as anyone he knew who was there. He didn’t have too much time to figure out who they were however because one of the feet had apparently decided to kick Logan’s stall door aggressively. Logan was startled back and had to take several deep breaths before standing up tentatively and opening the door inward, facing this angry person-Logan all but hoped he wouldn’t kick Logan the way he had that door.

“Sorry I-” Logan stopped.

It was a kid. Well not a kid kid. But now that Logan had a good view of his face he knew who he was. Virgil Plistesky, the junior grand prix gold medalist. The junior grand prix had been earlier in the evening and it didn’t shock Logan that many of the competitors stayed to watch the older group as their season came to a close. This kid though, Logan couldn’t stop hearing about. Like his fellow russain skater he was an outright prodigy. He was aggressive and had a distinct style, not to mention the huge fanbase of young girls that fawned over him with more ferocity than Logan could comprehend. He wasn’t exactly intimidating, he was short, skinny, almost unnaturally pale, and had blonde chin length hair that did nothing but make him look young. The expression he held however, was nothing short of a placid face masking petty unadulterated rage.

“I’ll be competing in the senior division next year.” He said, practically snarling. He pointed a harsh finger at Logan’s face. “I’d rather not have to waste time watching your fat ass perform. So I came here to thank you for retiring.”

Virgil moved his hand back, swishing his hair out of place just in time for Logan to see his bright green eye glint before being covered again. The other eye, a pale brown color, looked at Logan similarly. No matter how bland a look he tried to leave Logan with, his eyes revealed just how angry he was. Everyone’s eyes did.

“Loser.” Virgil whipped around, the bottom of his sweatshirt flying around to hit Logan in the stomach before he walked out. Something about his pace had changed, like he’d let a little weight off his shoulders.

Logan didn’t know what to do. He was stunned for sure, no one had really spoken to him like that, let alone a teenager. Though he supposed he deserved it, he was rather easy to make fun of and teenagers weren’t entirely known for their compassion and empathy. Still, Logan had stopped crying, you’d expect those words to cut someone deep, ruin them even, all it did though was make Logan curious. Then it hit him.

“That poor kid.” Logan said to himself. “He just won the international junior grand prix and neither of his parents were here to see him.”

It was no wonder he was so upset. He’d simply needed to get frustration out, and as stated earlier Logan was easy to poke fun at.

“Lo?”

“Phichit?” Logan turned to see his friend carrying a water bottle and pretzels.

“You-you’re okay?” He asked, heading toward Logan and offering him the water.

“Yeah.” Logan said.

. . . 1 . . .

“Logan is that you?!”

Oh how Logen wanted to run.

“I’d recognize those square-ass glasses anywhere!” Okukawa Minako, Logan’s former dance teacher and now close friend greeted him happily.

Logan walked toward her though every instinct told him to book it in the other direction. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, it was just that explaining to his biggest supporter that he was the most depressed he’d ever been wasn’t exactly a conversation he wanted to have.

“Oh come on, give your aunty Minako a hug dammit!” She didn’t wait before pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Even with all the weight he’d gained her hug still felt like he was being squeezed to his limit.

“It’s good to see you again Minako.” Logan said with a little difficulty.

“You bet it is! God it’s been forever! Since you’ve been gone so much has happened.” She pulled back finally and stood in front of him, posing a little. “Yuki had her third kid, that one bathhouse closed, and I got even hotter!”

Logan laughed with her and the two began making their way out of the airport and to her car.

“Everyone is so excited to see you Lolo.” She told him. “Your mom’s been making herself sick with all the worrying she’s doing over you.”

Logan didn’t say anything. One of the worst parts of this past year was knowing just how terribly his family must have been feeling during this time. That had been one of Logan’s main reasons for coming home at all, he didn’t want his family to worry over him any longer. And if he were with them more surely they’d know he was fine.

“You know Yuuko hasn’t stopped talking about you coming back today. You should go see her some time.” Minako said softly.

“I’m really tired Minako, I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” Minako sighed. “Just, ya know, try. I know it’s a lot right now and you’re probably nervous about your appointment coming up but if you can, please, just go see her. She’s giving you space cause we all know you need it, but she can’t wait for you to meet her girls.”

Logan nodded. He knew he’d try. Yuuko might as well be his sister at this point. Going to see her would probably make him happy, he just had to think of what he could possibly say. He was never the most eloquent of talkers. Thinkers yes, but translating his thoughts into words, no longer his specialty.

“How’s mom and dad been?” Logan asked.

“Well.” She said, flipping on her blinker and making a right turn. “As well as they can be anyway. With all the bathhouses closing around town it makes sense that they’re a little worried. I think they’re the only one left.”

“So it’s the bathhouses that are worrying them?” Logan asked, full well knowing the answer.

“No.” Minako’s hands fidgeted just a bit on the wheel before she sighed and stared forward.

Logan never liked this. A year and half ago Logan’s younger brother Itsuki had died in a car accident. While Logan’s father was left paralyzed from the waist down, his brother had been taken from their family and his name had become almost taboo. Logan wished he could just say his brother’s name without it bringing his father or his mother to tears. Itsuki had been the most wonderful supporter through his skating career despite having no interest in the sport and when he died while Logan was in the middle of his season it broke him. Logan however didn’t like to blame his failures on his brother’s death. That felt wrong, dishonest even.Logan didn’t want to excuse his behavior on a tragedy, he wanted to pretend like it had never happened at all. Though that wasn’t exactly the right answer either, it certainly hurt less.

When they arrived at Logan’s parents’ home Minako and Logan hopped out, heading to the front door. Logan thought perhaps his own tentative behavior may have rubbed off on his friend.

“Momma Lo your son is home!” Minako shouted with a smile.

“Oh my baby!!”

“Mother” Logan greeted

Logan and his mother embraced each other. Her hugs were always the same. Always warm, always welcoming, never overwhelming.

“Oh my dearest how I’ve missed you.” She cooed, fluffing his hair. “I made your favorite food to eat tonight and your room is all ready for you to move back in.”

“Thanks momma.” Logan smiled at her.

“Oh don’t thank me, you thank your father when he gets home. Now I want my boy to go rest up, take the rest of the day to say hi to your friends and eat and sleep. I want you to do nothing more so tomorrow you’re all ready for your appointment and you can put all this sadness behind you.” She said simply.

“I love you.” Logan said, not really knowing what else to say.

“I love you too. Now head to bed you must be so jet lagged.” She pulled back and started hurrying him off. “And you missy! You look wonderful!”

“Oh thank you momma!” Minako laughed, giving Logan’s mother a kiss on the hand.

“I thought you’d be so much more bloated considering how much you’ve been drinking.” Logan could still hear his mother smiling as she said that and he hurried off, not wanting to know Minako’s reaction.

Logan made his way to his bedroom and placed his bags down at the foot of his bed before heading back down the hallway. When he entered the small room Logan wasted no time sitting on the pillow that had been placed in the center. He looked forward at the picture on the mantle. Itsuki, he was fifteen and he was smiling so widely as he held Patton, their family’s brown poodle. Logan lit the tall candles that surrounded the picture and sat back on his heels.

You would hate me if you knew me now, Logan thought, you would never listen to an older brother like me. I just want to make you proud. How do I make you proud?

“So you came home eh?”

“I did Mari.” Logan replied. He could smell the smoke of her cigarette and turned to see her leaning against the doorframe.

“Good. It was getting real shitty without you around. No matter how depressed you are.” Mari gave him a wry smile. Logan’s sister was always blunt with him. Never surprising. Logan needed that right now. “Want a smoke?”

“No, I shouldn’t.” Logan shook his head.

“C’mon, you and I used to smoke all the time as kids, you didn’t get addicted then, I think you can have a puff.” She gestured to him with her cigarette.

“That stuff kills you Mari.” Logan told her.

“Hey, grandma Ami lived to be 103.” She rolled her eyes.

“She smoked?” Logan asked.

“No she minded her own business.” Mari chuckled.

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes, but he got up and walked toward his sister anyway.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone, I should’ve come home the second he-”

“No.” Mari stopped Logan. “You should have come home when you decided to quit. But you didn’t. And it’s painful to see what this past year has done to you.”

Logan looked away in guilt.

“But that doesn’t matter.” Mari gave him a sideways smile. “You’re here now aren’t you. Even if a piece of you is still on that ice, you’re here. And you’re getting better. All that matters now, is that you’re getting better. You should jump in the hotsprings before dinner, trust me you need it.”

Logan let the room be silent. He looked back at the picture of his brother, he was so young, and could have done so much more than Logan would ever dream of achieving. Logan had asked himself why it wasn’t him, why his brother was gone and he was still there. Asking the question again almost felt normal to him. He wanted to ask his sister if that was supposed to feel normal. He didn’t.

“I think I’ll have that smoke now.” Logan said instead.

. . . 1 . . .

Hasetsu Kyushu was an island town, mostly a tourist destination nowadays but it was a nice place to grow up nonetheless. The castle town was surrounded by beautiful waters and while the castle itself was no longer home to royals, it was still a marvelous sight to behold. Now with Logan’s family being the only ones to offer a hot springs stay Logan hoped his family would start making a lot more money.

As it turned out, sitting in the hot springs to think was exactly what Logan had needed. Not only was he ready for the rest of the day, he knew what he was going to say to Yuuko once he saw her again, and he was finally relaxed enough to head into the common area, though it was just for a bit.

“With group two now finished skating we look at the scores and see-”

“Oh Logan, Logan, Logan,” Minako slurred her words just a bit as she watched the figure skating championship. “I wanted to go to this grand prix so bad, if only you’d kept at it! You could give me all their room numbers!”

“So you support me cause it makes it easy for you to hit on hot boys?” Logan asked as he was passing through.

“Hey now! Just cause it’s one of the reasons I support you, it’s not all the reasons!” She thrust her drink at him before pulling it back to sip.

Logan watched on the tv as the skaters were preparing themselves for the upcoming finale. Of course they were mostly focused on Patton. He hadn’t even put his skates on yet, he was just running through the top half of his routine but he looked so graceful doing it, it was hard to look away. Logan pulled himself out of the trance however, and left the room, Minako still rambling on about all the hot boys and other patrons getting thoroughly uncomfortable with it.

Logann stepped outside into the cold air, night was just beginning to set and buses weren’t still running. That didn’t matter however, it had been a long time since Logan had walked to the ice rink, he wanted to know what had changed.

“Leaving already? I thought you wanted to be home.” Logan’s mother gave him a smile, she was carrying boxes in through the back door and Logan put his bag down to help her.

“I’m just going to see Yuuko mom don’t worry.” Logan told her, lifting one of the boxes and walking it toward the others.

“I don’t worry about you. I worry for you.” She told him softly. “I just want you to be happy baby, and I know what makes you happy. I’m just afraid that you don’t.”

“I guess I’m still trying to figure that out.” Logan offered. He thought he’d found what made him happy, but he must not have, afterall here he was.

They were finished with the boxes and Logan grabbed his bag, waving goodbye to his mother and beginning his trek to the rink. Maybe figure skating wasn’t making him happy anymore, but he knew seeing Yuuko again like this would. As he jogged he found not much had really changed. Some of the trees were newly planted, there was a restaurant where Logan remembered a general store being, but he was sure the restaurant was nice. When Logan was little he’d always thought his home was one of the most beautiful places ever, and even with all his travelling he still thought it was truly a sight to behold. Even when it wasn’t.

Logan reached the rink as it seemed the last of its guests were leaving. He went inside with a smile, he couldn’t wait to show her.

“Hello?” Logan called when he couldn’t find anyone at the desk.

“Sorry we’re closed for today! We open at eight am tomorrow though so-” Yuuko stepped in from her office holding a pair of skates. “Logan!”

“Hey Yuuko.” Logan chuckled as she practically launched herself across the counter to give him a hug.

“Oh how’ve you been?!” Yuuko asked excitedly.

“Alright.”

Yuuko gave him a look but didn’t press any further instead stepping back and searching for something. “You wanna skate right? I’m guessing no audience is sorta your thing right now. Go on!” She finally found what she was looking for and started leading him toward the rink, though he already knew.

Yuuko had been the figure skater of the town ever since they were little. She was the one who’d helped get Logan into it in the first place. He remembered being a little boy trying out his skates for the first time, watching Yuuko as she danced across the ice, he wanted to be just as beautiful as her one day. She was very invested in Patton’s career when they were younger, she’d even shown him an article about Patton’s dog that inspired Logan to ask for a brown poodle nonstop until he and Itsuki got one. Logan laced up his skates quickly and hopped out on the ice. Yuuko standing on the other side with an encouraging smile. He handed her his glasses and gave her a small smile in return.

“I’ve been practicing this routine a lot.” Logan told her.

Yuuko nodded, she had a careful smile.

Logan skated swiftly to the center of the ice, taking his beginning stance and breathing in one fast breath before letting his arms up and bringing them down gracefully around his head as he turned. Yuuko’s gasp told him that she recognized the set. He knew she would. Logan pushed himself forward, following his arm as it reached out, before he turned to his left and wrapped his arms around himself again. When he reached towards the sky once more he let himself drop to one knee and then fall a little to his side, using the momentum to pick himself up and swing his legs around, he went forward and back again in a figure eight motion before pushing himself up and spinning as many times as he could, it was supposed to be a quad but Logan wasn’t sure he’d gotten enough rotation, no matter, he landed wonderfully and spread his arms out skating back before turning 180 degrees and pushing off again. His arms once again taking a grateful place around him, following his movements with freedom. As he pushed his leg out a little behind him, Logan used that force to push himself up into a quadruple flip. This time he knew he’d made it.

Logan reached his arms out in front of him as if to embrace someone as he skated back before turning once more and performing another jump and a series of ballerina like spins. When the beat came Logan let his arm down and spun himself in place, right let out making a perfect 90 degree angle, he held that for one more beat before dropping slowly down and then putting himself back up, his arms behind his back, still spinning in place when he let up one final time he used that motion to go back on his skate. When he went forward once more he was following his arms, reaching for something the music in his head was calling for, something the music told him he couldn’t have. He skated softly a little bit longer before leaping from one skate to another, then doing it again before falling into a sit-spin that lasted for a couple seconds before standing back up again and turning.

This song had always been a somber one, Logan had never been fond of somber songs until he performed this one. As he did more graceful spins around the rink before once again attempting a quad. As he came back down Logan let his arms guide him, let his longing guide him. Then finally he propelled himself forward gaining enough speed to hop up and spin in the air, then dropping back down only to hop up once more and spin again. He pulled his arms back to his sides as he came down, and spun a bit before lifting them up and stretching out, spinning like a ballerina once again. He continued spinning forward and back, letting himself get wrapped up in the music only he could hear. After repeating his motions a few times he hopped up into a triple lutz and then a triple flip. Now he stood before Yuuko, he reached his hands out and smiled at her before pulling himself back and into a quadruple toe loop and then a triple toe loop right after.

Logan had done it, he finished his quads and now all that was left was his graceful spin that led him up into a few jumps before he spun with his arms above him one last time, bringing them down and crossing them, his head up in the air and his arms triumphant by his chin. The music ended. Logan could now only hear his intense breathing as he held his pose. He felt his cheeks growing hotter and hotter the longer he stood like that. From the side he could hear Yuuko breathing a little hard as well. Logan let his arms down and looked at her, he saw his friend with her hands covering her mouth as small tears pricked her eyes.

“That was,” Yuuko slammed her hands down. “Incredible!! Oh my god you’re amazing Logan!! That was practically a perfect copy of Patton’s routine!!”

Logan skated toward her and smiled.

“I thought you’d be too upset to skate again.”

“I was.” Logan admitted. “But I don’t know. My mother said she wants me to find what makes me happy, maybe I can get back the happiness that skating used to bring me. Remember copying all of his routines in the past? It had been so much fun for the two of us, I just wonder if I can find that again.”

“I know you will Logan, even if you think you won’t.” Yuuko told him, her hand softly rested on his.

“Wow you got really fat!”

Logan was startled, he hopped back a bit at the aggressive voice before seeing Yuuko’s annoyed expression.

“You’re retiring?!”

“Have you really never had a girlfriend?!”

Logan didn’t know who on Earth was asking him these questions but when he saw three little faces try to poke above the barrier he rolled his eyes and skated back over to them.

“Logan, my girls, Axel, Lutz, and Loop.” Yuuko said, her exhaustion came back quickly. “They’ve grown quite a bit since you’ve been gone.”

“They sure have.” Logan said, looking down at them.

“They’re getting rude.” Yuuko pouted a bit. “They’re sort of groupies now though.”

“They’re your biggest fans.” Logan recognized that voice. Nishigori, Yuuko’s husband, walked over to the group and gave Logan a pat on the head. “You can come by the rink any time to practice!”

“I think I might take you up on that.” Logan said.

“Yay!” One of the triplets giggled.

“You got this Logan come on you can’t quit now!” Another told him forcefully.

. . . 1 . . .

“Ugh!” Logan was awakened by a rather gruff voice at his bedroom door, the light had barely shown through his windows. “Logan you were out late last night I didn’t get to see you!”

“Go away Minako I need to sleep!” Logan shouted at his door.

“Nooooo!” She yelled back. “Let me in!”

“If I don’t get the optimal amount of sleep I will be distrubed all day now please leave me alone!”

“You didn’t even see who the winner of the grand prix was! Ya know, the winner of the season you didn’t qualify for!” Minako said through the small crack between his door and its frame.

“Minako please go away.” Logan begged.

“It was your boyfriend Patton!” She cooed.

“Yeah no shit! That’s kind of how he works!” Logan yelled. “Winner of everything.”

“You know sometimes,” Logan heard Minako slump against his door. “I can’t tell if you have a crush on him or you hate him!”

Logan didn’t give that a response. He knew the answer. And sober Minako did too. Well, he supposed if he let Minako in his room and she saw all of his posters of Patton she might know, but that wasn’t about to happen.

“Maybe you just really wanna hate-fuck him ya know?”

“Minako! Please I will do anything if you just go away!” Logan sat up in his bed and yelled at the door.

“Become a skater again!”

“Anything but that!”

“Boooooo!” She shouted. He could hear her continuing to boo him from the other side of the door until the sound faded and was replaced with a small snoring.

She’s asleep. Logan realized, laying back down in his bed. He didn’t get back to his state of sleep from before, but he did spend a nice relaxing time staring around at his posters. Maybe he was never going to see Patton again, and he knew that was perfectly fine. He just didn’t know why on Earth that lump in his throat was aching so bad at the thought.

When Logan’s alarm stirred him he finally got out of bed and started getting himself ready for the day. He’d promised his father he’d help around the bathhouse, and one look out the window told him it had snowed-strange but not completely insane-and shovelling was going to be his main priority. After bundling himself up well Logan opened the door and was surprised when Minako’s body slammed into the floor, until he remembered earlier that morning.

“Ow! That really hurt!” She complained.

“That’s what you get for waking me up so early.” Logan told her.

“Hey I have a hangover too.” She said, rubbing her head.

“Oh who could have guessed that would happen?” Logan said in mock surprise.

“Ha ha, whatever.” She crossed her arms. “You look like a character in a disney original Christmas movie so shut up.”

“For your information I’m dressed like this because it snowed and someone needs to do work around here.”

“For your information,” She mimicked Logan terribly. “I don’t care. Get me an aspirin please?”

“Maybe.” Logan said, walking past her.

“Ooo wait, change that to an orange soda with crushed aspirin around the rim of the glass.”

“Definitely not.” Logan gave her a little wave and continued walking into the main area.

The snow had piled high against the doors and Logan had to tromp through it to get to the shack where the shovels were stored. Once he retrieved it he started shovelling along the path from the shack to his home and then made it halfway to the door that led the family into the bathhouse when he was summoned by his friend yet again.

“Logan Katsuki get your ass over here now!!! What the hell is this!?!” She screeched.

Logan turned to Minako who was racing toward him, her phone out.

“What’s what?” Logan asked.

Minako stopped in front of him, shoving the phone to his face and pressing the center of the screen. Logan watched with wide, startled eyes as he saw himself from yesterday, skating at the rink for Yuuko. He watched himself move for a second longer in shock before snatching the phone from Minako and scrolling through all the media she had.

“You thought you could go viral without me you shit weasel!?! She shouted. “You said you were done skating what the hell!!”

“I-I am!! I don’t know how this happened!! I didn’t do this!!”

“What do you mean you didn’t do this! That’s you skating right there! Getting millions of likes and shares!”

“I know that Minako, I mean I didn’t post this-wait did you say millions?” Logan deadpanned.

“Yes! Can’t you read smart ass? That right there says millions.”

“In a few hours?” Logan asked, startled.

“I’m sorry do you not know how insane the people that watch figure skating are?!”

“It’s been a while okay!”

“Arghhh!” She huffed in frustration. “I can’t believe you!! How on Earth did you even manage this!? Oh wait, hang on I’m getting a call.”

Logan watched as Minako plucked the phone out of his hand before he could read the caller ID. She answered it and listened for a few seconds before sighing and handing the phone to Logan.

“I’m so sorry!!” Yuuko’s voice could be heard over the phone.

“What?” Logan asked.

“I didn’t know the girls had taken a video and when I woke up this morning my twitter had blown up! They posted the video they took of you skating last night! I had no idea!” She said apologetically.

“Well that’s one of my questions answered.” Logan sighed.

“Logan!!”

Oh what is it now, he thought, exhaustion already setting in and the day had barely started.

“C’mere baby I need you to help me with this.” His mother yelled from the bath house.

“Coming!” Logan said.

“Lo I swear we’re gonna take it down!” Yuuko assured him.

“As if! I bet there’s already been like fifty fancams of him made!” Minako cackled. “Hold on.” She grabbed her phone back again and said a goodbye to Yuuko before typing away quickly.

Logan shuddered as he made his way to his mom. Once inside the warm bath house he took his large coat off and walked to his mother at the front desk.

“Oh dear I need you to read this amount for me.”

“Mom just get reader’s glasses.” Logan sighed.

“No! Unlike you, glasses make me look old.” She snapped.

“They do not.”

“Yes they do! You look fetching in glasses baby, but I just look like a grandma!”

“You could be a grandma.” Logan told her.

“Please, your sister smokes and you’re gay and hate kids. I could never be a grandma.” She said, moving aside so Logan could punch in the numbers.

“I don’t hate kids.” Logan defended.

“The only small thing that you would ever take care of is a dog! And dogs do not count as kids.” His mother told him. “Logan do you remember telling me when you were a teenager that you would drop-kick a baby?”

“Mom that was one time and I never actually did it.”

“No but you thought about it! I could see it in your eyes!” She said, waving her hands spookily. “You were also going through your emo phase. Remember that?”

“Yes, yes I do.” Logan sighed.

He stepped out of the way of his mom and walked to the other side of the counter, looking at the newspaper until he heard a dog’s barking to his right.

“Oh speaking of which!” She laughed.

Logan turned to see a brown poodle bounding its way toward him until it knocked Logan on his but and placed its paws on his chest, licking Logan’s face excitedly.

“There’s a man here with a dog! He’s going to be staying with us for a while now.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Logan said, finally getting the dog to stop licking him and sitting up. “You look so familiar.”

“He looks just like our old Patty don’t he!” Logan’s dad yelled from his place at the table, his dad’s friends also sat around, all of them appeared to be playing a card game. Logan always thought it strange that these old men bet so early.

“Yeah.” Logan said, grabbing the sides of the dog’s face and looking at it. “But, it’s something else. Wait a minute!”

“Now you’ll find this funny,” Logan’s mom started up again. “Her owner looks just like that man on the posters you have in your room.”

“Wha-what?!” Logan exclaimed.

“Yes yes, he’s in the hot springs now if you’d like to go see for yourself.”

Logan had never bolted up so fast in his life. The blood rushed to his head painfully but he found he didn’t quite care. His legs moved him through the men’s shower area, though he slipped quite a bit on the wet floors, and Logan threw open the doors to the hot spring so fast he was momentarily worried he’d broken something. When Logan’s face hit the crisp cold he whipped at his glasses trying his hardest to get the fog off, and when he looked over, he swore he was still dreaming. This wasn’t happening.

“Pa-Patton?” Logan stammered. “What?”

“Hello Logan.” The man stood, his half-naked body came out of the water and he extended an arm in Logan’s direction. “Starting today, I’ll be your new coach. You’re going to get to the Grand Prix final. And you’re going to win gold.”

“What!?!”

Patton Nikiforov, the man of a million surprises, had just done it once again. And possibly broken Logan in the process.

#yuri on ice au #yoi au #sanders sides #logicality #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil

18 notes · View notes

98prilla · 4 years

Text

Seeking Oblivion

AO3

...

It was midday when Janus came thundering up the stairs, startling Virgil, who was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, trying to get rid of the final vestiges of jitters from the unbelievable, endless, panic attack from the day before.

“Jesus, Jan. Warn a side.” That was enough to freeze him in place, the casualness with which Virgil addressed him, using not only his name but his old nickname.

“you… are we… what?” He stammered, not sure if he’d just wandered into the twilight zone or some alternate reality.

“look. You… helped me out, yesterday, and I appreciated you checking in, knowing how anxious I must be. Especially… especially since nobody else did.” Virgil’s lips twisted in a small, bitter smile, as he looked away, pulling on his hoodie strings.

“Virgil-“

“It’s fine. Everyone… everyone else was busy with their own meltdowns, and it sounded like I wouldn’t have wanted to be there, anyway. Giant frog monster Pat? Yeah, no thanks.” Virgil shuddered, a small smile flashing across Janus’s face.

“so. Thanks. I guess. Both for helping me, and… and protecting Thomas. You’re really… helpful, when you’re not being an arrogant ass.” Virgil mumbled, and Janus let out a small laugh, softening, accepting Virgil’s olive branch for what it was.

“We didn’t leave things on the best of terms, so, I get it if we’re not cool. But, um, can we try? To… work together?” Virgil’s voice was a squeak, and Janus smiled, just a bit.

“Yes. I would like that. You can start with this.” He said, sitting on the couch next to Virgil, seriousness coming back as he remembered why he came up here in the first place, passing the note to Virgil.

“What… is this from Princey?” Virgil mumbled, reading it slowly, eyes widening as he came to the end.

“What does he mean? Janus, what does he mean ‘I’m sorry and tell Remus I know he’ll be more than I ever was?’ What…” His hands were gripping the paper hard, face paling.

“It was left on my desk. Roman… he apologizes, for making fun of my name, for calling me the villain and his general attitude towards me, for siding against me with Patton, telling me I was right about all the self care I was preaching, that he hopes everyone takes my advice and takes some time. And he hopes,” his voice cracks for a second, his worry clogging his throat, “he hopes he gets to see everyone once again. I was hoping any of you had seen him since yesterday’s events, I’m… worried.” Virgil shook his head.

“No, no, we haven’t, we thought… I thought, he was just in his room, cooling down, or upset, or off in the imagination, beating shit up. But that… that doesn’t sound like him. Not ok him. Patton! Lo!”

Logan rose up first, adjusting his glasses, Patton following shortly after, though he looked slightly more disheveled than Logan, smiling weakly at Janus.

“Has anyone seen Roman?” Virgil asked, Logan shaking his head, Patton frowning.

“No, I thought we should give the kiddo some space.” Virgil muttered a curse under his breath, looking to Janus for permission, before passing the note to Logan. He read it with a furrowed brow, Patton peeking over his shoulder, hand flying to cover his mouth as he got to the end.

“We should check on him. Immediately. I… the tone of this letter is extremely concerning.” Logan, voice shaking just a tad. Without further encouragement, Patton nodded, taking off down the hallway towards Roman’s room, the others not far behind.

“Roman? Kiddo, you in there?” Patton called, knocking on the door, frowning as he heard nothing in response. “I know you might not wanna talk right now, but can you just let me know you’re ok in there?” He tried again, met once more with only silence. He took a deep breath before trying the handle, a bit relieved to find the room unlocked.

“Roman?” Logan called hesitantly, stepping past Patton and into the room, eyes widening at the state of it.

It should have been messy. There should have been playbills from every show they'd been in or attended framed on the walls, a myriad of posters interspersed amongst them. Light should have been shining down from the large, stained glass ceiling, notebooks and loose papers filled with sketches and ideas should have been scattered about every inch of the floor. It should be a chaotic, colorful, clashing, mess.

Instead…

Instead it was clean, tidy… empty. Nothing on the pale cream walls, the posters gone, presumably packed into the neat pile of boxes stacked against one wall, each one labeled. Posters, notebooks, clothes, art supplies, all packed away, as if Roman was moving.

“what the…” Patton passed Logan, pulling the white sheet off the standing mirror, Roman's portal to the imagination, blanching instantly.

Usually, the portal showed the other side, green fields or a distant castle, magical forests, whatever Roman had conjured. Now it reflected nothing but a light, swirling mist. Carefully, he reached out, gasping as he laid a palm flat against the glass, instead of simply passing through it. His portal was… broken?

Virgil inhaled sharply, face paling suddenly, and Janus had to wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady as he stumbled.

“Vee?” he asked.

“It’s cracked. H-his mirror. It’s breaking. Roman's… roman's fading.”

“No. No he can’t… he hasn’t ducked out! We would know, if he’d ducked out.” Patton answered, unable to take his eyes off the glass, seeing now the small, hairline breaks in the surface, tracing them lightly with his finger.

“That's not the only thing that could lead to him fading. If he isn’t here, he must be in the imagination.” Janus replied.

“And given that his portal is no longer working, that leaves us with one option. Remus!” Logan called, not flinching as he instantly popped into existence, so close to his face their noses were touching.

“Lolo! I’m surprised you called. Finally letting loose? Time for some roleplay? I've always wanted to be the school girl. I’ve been bad professor, surely there's some way I could earn extra credit?” Remus asked in a high falsetto that was also somehow husky. Patton winced, and Logan heard Virgil's faint ‘gross', but he didn’t back away or back down.

“Fortunately, no. We need passage through the imagination. You are the side to call, are you not?” He asked evenly, Remus backing away with a scowl. He never could get a rise out of Logan.

“Of course. But you don’t need me for that. You’ve got goody two shoes disney prince. You don’t need me." Remus pouted sourly, pacing away, hands fidgeting wildly.

“Remus. Look around. Where do you think we are right now?” Logan asked. Remus spun around, glaring at the plain walls, plain floors, plain ceiling, a few hours and some blood, he could make a masterpiece!

Then his gaze drifted, and he shoved past Logan, barely noticing Patton letting out a squeak and just barely avoiding getting barreled through as his eyes flitted over the mirror.

He let out a low growl, pressing his palm to the surface, demanding to see, demanding to be let in, demanding it show him.

Gray. Nothing. Silence.

He stumbled back, clutching at his chest, eyes wide as he stared at the glass, the cracks ever so slightly longer.

“oh no no no no. That’s not right. That’s not right at all.”

“Remus? What is it?” Patton, hesitant.

“Nothing. It… there was nothing.” Remus gathered himself, spinning on his heel, passing Virgil and Janus as he stalked out the door. “Well? Are you coming or not?” The group glanced at each other, before following Remus back down the stairs.

He was muttering and mumbling to himself the whole time as he walked, hand clenching and unclenching as he stalked to his own room, shoving open the door, not caring if the others had followed or not as he strode through his mirror, aiming for the border of the kingdom closest to Roman's.

“are… are we sure about this?” Patton squeaked outside of Remus's room, more than a little intimidated by whatever would be inside his imagination.

“Yes. If we wish to stop whatever is happening from developing further, we need to follow." Logan replied, not hesitating as he, too, vanished through the mirror.

“It’ll be ok, Pat. He's… wild, but he’d never do any lasting damage to one of us.” Virgil reassured lowly, taking a breath before stepping through himself.

“Patton?” Janus slipped his hand into Patton's, summoning all his sincerity as he met the moral side's eyes.

“you can do this." Patton took a shaky breath, shooting Janus a small, lopsided smile.

“Ok. Let's go.” Patton whispered, squeezing his hand once before squaring his shoulders and walking through the glass, hand in hand with Janus.

…

Remus stopped in his tracks as soon as he looked up after crossing the mirror, frozen to the spot.

This… this was wrong. This was wrong.

It had let him out on a crag, overlooking Roman's side. Usually it was magical forests and herds of unicorns far as the eye could see, Roman's colorful story book castle rising up in the distance. Maybe a few sparkling gem colored dragons circling the air. The sun gently shining, fluffy white clouds, the perfect image of the perfect day.

Now, all of that was gone.

It was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that meant all life had fled, the kind of quiet that stilled the air, the entire world holding its breath.

A light, gray mist covered the entire plain, though it didn’t smell like rain, like wet earth, like mist should. It was just… there, slowly covering everything. Huge, twisting vines covered in sharp thorns grew from the ground like trees, twisting over and across each other in arches and knots.

And there, far in the distance, a gray spire of stone, the only thing breaking the monotony of the endless vines, a tower.

That’s where Roman was. He could feel it. But he couldn’t feel anything else. Him and Roman were linked, to an almost telepathic level at times, and at some level he always knew vaguely what Roman was feeling, the more he concentrated, the more precise he became.

He was using all his focus now, trying to pull at that link, trying to pull anything from Roman, only to be met again and again by that terrifying blankness of nothing.

He was barely aware that the other sides had joined him in staring out into the distance, he felt ten degrees removed from his body as he realized what, exactly, was happening. The mist wasn’t just covering everything, it wasn’t a conscious aesthetic choice on Roman’s part, and neither were the vines. They were taking over. They were all that was left, they were slowly but surely destroying Roman’s imagination. And he was in the middle of it.

He heard sharp inhales and shocked gasps, dimly realizing he must have spoken aloud, cotton still filling his ears as he refused to take his eyes off the tower.

Roman.

He hated Roman.

He loved Roman.

He couldn’t live without Roman.

“Remus.” Suddenly Janus was before him, close, and he snapped his attention to him, despair filling him as he met those gold and brown eyes. “Breathe. We will get him back.”

“promise?” He whispered, feeling tears pricking his eyes, and god, if Roman did come back from this, he was going to murder him all over again.

“promise. We need you to show us the way.” He shook his head.

“I don’t know. I can still conjure over there, sure, but I can’t change the landscape, I can’t get us any closer than this! We’d have to walk it and that would take days, and by that time, the mist will have swallowed up everything, and there’ll be nothing left, including us, and then Thomas will be no better than a potato!” He yelled, arms flailing above his head as he ranted, pacing restlessly, everything in him screaming to move.

“We have longer than you are estimating, Remus. Roman has been a central part of Thomas for nigh on three decades. It is therefore unlikely that he would fade quite so quickly, especially since he has not ducked out. He is in the imagination, where he is arguably strongest. And… he is not trying to fade, based on his letter. We have time, as much as it feels otherwise. We have time to fix this.” Logan interjected, his science tempered with his nervous tone, though his eyes, too, were fixed on the horizon.

“We won’t fix anything just standing around here all day. Are we going, or not?” Virgil asked, glaring out at the vines, a glare nearly strong enough to make them wilt on his face, as he turned to Remus.

“You can at least make stairs to get us down there, right?” Remus nodded, a snap of his fingers and a winding stairway was cut into the stone. Virgil gave a sharp nod in thanks, starting down the pathway, down towards the mist, down towards Roman.

Logan gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed, a small sign of reassurance and solidarity. Janus softly bumped his shoulder as he made his way to the stairs. And Patton… Patton slipped his hand into his, nearly making him jump at the sign of affection, from Patton, of all people.

“come on, kiddo. Let’s go.”

71 notes · View notes

snowdice · 4 years

Text

Something Left (Part 1 of the series Is There Anything Left of Patton?)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton(?)

Summary: Virgil has been living in Logan’s house for 3 months and they get along pretty good. Their abilities seem to balance each other out making them a good team for the apocalyptic world outside their door.

Then he finds the secret in Logan’s basement... He almost wishes that secret was as simple as he first thought it was.

In which I set up a world where Logan is probably crying like 85% of the time.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton.

Three months. It had been what passed for a normal three months, a good three months even. Especially when compared to the three months before it and even more to the three months before that. Don’t even get him started on the three months before that; those months had been the shittiest months. Those three months had started out with him working at a coffee shop trying to pay rent while look for a better job and ended with him almost dying because he had to jump off a bridge into running water to save himself from a pack of zombies.

These last three months had been good comparatively. This was mostly because he’d been living in Logan’s house for almost the entire time. Logan’s house had actually been his (as far as Virgil could tell) from before. That or he’d bothered to lug cases of old college textbooks with his handwriting scribbled in the margins and boxes of photographs with him in them through the zombie apocalypse.

It was a nice house even now and sat on the outskirts of what used to be a town. Virgil had no idea how he’d managed to hold down the fort during the outbreak or how he’d managed to not get overrun after it. He imagined that the population of the dead in the vicinity of his house was a lot smaller now than it had been at onset, but it was still sizable enough that Virgil had almost gotten eaten while scavenging in a neighboring house. That is how his met Logan.

Virgil had been certain he’d been about to die since he’d just barely been holding back teeth from chomping his face, when a single bullet had gone through the zombie’s head and embedded itself right to the left of Virgil’s own skull. Even just the one gunshot, of course, alerted every mindless carnivore in the area of their location, so they’d scrambled into his house to wait it out.

Virgil had just… not left. He’d never really been invited, but he’d also never been asked to leave so he’d just stayed. He contributed of course. Virgil was pretty good with the little garden out back while Logan seemed to have… whatever the opposite of a green thumb was. He seemed to appreciate Virgil taking it over. Virgil was pretty sure the plants themselves cried in relief.

Despite his lack of skill in the gardening department, Logan was pretty good at things like hunting (managing to only kill the zombie and not also shoot Virgil had not been a lucky shot) and keeping the house structurally sound. They both were okay at scavenging which was much easier with two of them and they worked well together.

Also, Logan was nice to talk to, especially since Virgil had been alone for a long time during the last year. He was a good guy if a bit eccentric. He’d disappear for hours into the maze that was his house and Virgil often found him reading in odd places, but he was chill and smart.

Well.

At least, that’s what Virgil had thought.

“God dammit. You’re one of those people. Fuck.” Virgil said.

“It,” he said standing in his secret, fucking, dead body prison basement, “It isn’t like that.”

“You know, Logan,” Virgil said. “That’s what they all say.” He gestured at the thing in the cage. Even though he knew there was nothing going on in its head, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for it all trussed up like that in the corner, squirming and making horrible sounds behind a gag. “So, what? Huh? Is it someone you think you care about too much to put out of its misery even though it might kill anything it comes into contact with? Are you keeping it for some sort of last-minute defense for your house? Do you do science experiments on it out of some perverted need to know more about them? Tell me, because I’ve honestly run the gambit of crazy assholes in the last year.”

“No,” Logan said. “I…” he sighed. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I don’t understand?” Virgil scoffed. “Why don’t you explain it to me? Why do you have a zombie in the basement of your house. The house I lived in for the past three months without you thinking to tell me about this?”

Logan looked at him for a moment. “Very well.” He grabbed a set of keys on the wall and moved over to the enclosure.

Virgil lunged forward to grab his arm when he moved to put the key in the lock. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Logan didn’t try to pull away from his hold. He just spoke calmly, face neutral. “He is restrained well on the other side of this cell. I will lock the door behind me. You won’t be in danger.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” Virgil spat. “What am I supposed to do. Just stand on the other side of the bars and watch you get ripped to shreds by that thing?”

“I will not get ripped to shreds,” Logan promised. “I’ve been in that cell many times. I know how to deal with him. Please let me explain myself.”

Virgil cursed, but released him. He took a few long steps back while Logan unlocked the cage. His warry eyes went to the creature who was stirring at the noise, but it did seem well restrained. As he had promised, Logan locked the door behind himself.

The thing grew more agitated as Logan approached, straining against its bonds and making sickening noises behind the gag. Logan went to his knees in front of it, a sad smile on his face. “Hello Patton.” Logan reached for the handcuff locks.

“You’re so fucking nuts!” Virgil said, but it did not deter the other man and it was not like Virgil could stop him from the other side of the bars. He didn’t even have the keys if he wanted to enter the cage. When Logan released the thing’s arms, it reached forward, its fingers grazing Logan’s cheeks in a move Virgil recognized. He’d seen people get pulled in with motions like that. Mindless dead fingers grabbed and grabbed, pulling you toward deadly teeth so they could tear you apart. The only thing keeping Logan from being a snack was the gag in the things mouth, but as Virgil watched, he reached up a hand to take that out. From experience, Virgil expected it to lunge directly towards Logan’s neck, but it… but it didn’t.

It continued to reach for him, and the raspy moans got even more haunting without the gag smothering them, but it did not attack. Despite all rational thought, Virgil felt himself draw closer to the bars of the cell to watch. Logan calmly set the gag to the side as though he was not being clawed at by a mindless dead thing and then, he reached up to press the inside of his wrist to the creature’s mouth. “I don’t know why,” Logan said, very much not being bitten. The creature seemed discontented with this new thing covering its mouth and titled its face to get away. “Perhaps it is a different strain of the virus or something went wrong with the turning. Maybe it’s just him. He was a good man in his life. He wouldn’t even let me kill bugs he found in the house. Perhaps there is an echo of that leftover that keeps him from hurting people. Or maybe it’s just me; I wouldn’t risk anyone else to test out if he’d attack another. That’s why I keep him restrained here.”

“I…” Virgil said. “Fuck.”

Logan looked up and Virgil was shocked to see that despite the level tone he’d been using the whole time, there were tears leaking from his eyes. “You can see why I can’t just finish him off though. Even if perhaps I should. I just…” and his voice finally wavered as he gave an aborted sob. The creature reached and reached mindlessly for him, brushing his face again and again with its fingertips. Logan grabbed its hands and held them between his own. “I-I don’t know what you want, dear,” he whispered. The creature wiggled and pulled against the grip. Logan cleared his throat. “Virgil would you perhaps mind sliding me the first aid kit on the table over there?”

Virgil obeyed, grabbing it and sliding it through the bars to him. He took it and opened it with practiced ease. “You’ve hurt yourself again,” Logan said at a volume that made Virgil sure it was not meant for him. “Here, I’ll fix you right up. It’s okay.” There was a minute pause in the sounds it made. A reaction to the words? To the tone of them? Or did it just finally need a breath? Virgil could not be sure. It did not pause in the reaching, and the moaning started full force again right after. Logan rubbed some sort of cream into a mark near the creature’s elbow.

“Does that work?” Virgil asked. Most zombies he’d seen didn’t appear like they ever healed. They were often rotted and limping.

“He’s still living in some sense of the word. He heals if wounds are properly treated and he has enough nutrition. In fact, he seems to heal faster than before.”

Nutrition. “And uh, what do you feed him?”

“Meat. He doesn’t seem to have a preference for cooked or raw. He won’t eat anything else. Well, except for baked potatoes for some reason.”

“Backed potatoes?”

“He won’t eat mashed or fried.”

The creature stopped reaching for Logan in favor of attempted to get at the cream on its skin with its mouth. “No,” Logan scolded. It did not respond. He pushed its head back and picked up bandages to start wrapping the area.

“You know this is crazy, right?” Virgil asked.

“I do, but what do you expect me to do when there is something left of him?”

“I. Fuck,” was Virgil’s response. “Fuck.”

Want to read more? This is now part of a series! Click below for the next part of this story.

Someone You’ll Never Meet

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #adriana writes #zombie au #past major character death #angst #italop

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

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Kiss and Tell pt3

And a stunning conclusion! If you miss the beginning, you can find it [here] and if you need a refresher pt2 is [here]! Are we ready for some happy endgame Analoceit?

Summary: The number Three is a tricky concept to learn. Virgil walks into a party and tries anyway.

Words: 4778

TW: Cursing

Quick Taglist: @cerberusisspot @never-end1ng-suffering @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

It feels like the start to a joke: Virgil Storm walks into a party and asks to kiss his ex boyfriend. Except that the punchline is Virgil, himself, and its not supposed to be metaphorical.

He picked up a few things from Wit Protect: crippling anxiety, a willpower to hold grudges far longer than an average person, and a healthy dose of masochism.

Because he just had to ask didn’t he? Couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself, couldn’t keep his tongue in his head and the words in his throat and the smile off his own stupid fucking face. There’s something wrong with him, that much is obvious. Because he asked and expected Logan to punch him, expected Dee to kick him, expected all their friends to jump between them and shout at Virgil to get out and go away and never to come back again.

And he still had asked. And waited for that pain that tore deep into his chest and ripped apart his fragile little unlovable heart.

He had asked.

Virgil Storm walks into a party, forgets, for a moment, how to count and asks to kiss his ex boyfriend.

1 + 1 = 2

Logan + Dee = a happy couple

And Virgil had no right to be coming in and ruining that.

(Like he ruined everything else too: ruined Mom and Dad’s marriage as a happy little accident, ruined Dee’s life by just up and leaving without an explanation, ruined the first and second safe locations because he couldn’t remember a stupid name, ruined, ruined, ruined.)

Virgil had come back to town a week before school started. He had been sick the entire week, feeling feverish every time he stepped out of the house. The park had been updated, so the swings that he and Dee had played on as kids were replaced with new ones that didn’t screech when someone used them. The bakery his mom and him used to visit before school was now a coffee shop and the pastries weren’t as good. The old man who ran the grocer in town had a stroke and so his nephew ran the place now.

The Watertower was a new color. The library had a new statue outfront. The paint studio was boarded up.

Their treehouse was decrypted.

Virgil had walked alone with his hood up and he had been terrified of running into someone who remembered him.

He felt like a kid again: keeping his curtains drawn because that meant that no one would come peeking at him to see what he was. Keeping his curtains drawn because he didn’t need any friends.

Keeping his curtains drawn and wishing someone would come anyway.

Last time it had been Dee.

(Dee’s house is different too. Looks like his mother gave up on that vegetable garden.)

Dee who should hate him, Dee who would hate him, Dee who had a perfectly good and fine life without Virgil in it again.

Which Virgil knew, because he had a heart attack when he heard that laughter outside the library, that unforgettable laughter that preened and danced in the air like some kind of fairy to enchant all that heard it. Because he’s heart had stopped when he saw Dee standing there, amidst a group of people, of friends that Virgil didn’t recognize, smiling so very brightly, arms linked together with the others to prove that he belonged with them. Because his heart shattered when he watched Dee lean over and kiss another boy right on the lips.

Virgil Storm walks into a party and wishes he could hate Logan Ackroyd.

But the guy is just...fucking perfect. Its a different kind of perfect than Dee is. Dee is a magician who could make the sadness disappear, who could pull reasons to keep fighting out of his sleeves, who could turn a sniveling pathetic little kid into a lovesick teenager who thought he knew what the hell “forever” meant.

Logan’s not like that. He’s cold hard facts, with no time for those who don’t want to listen. He’s a preacher and Virgil didn’t realize he wanted to be at the front of the audience until its too late. He’s the teacher that makes him write an essay in class and then gives him a fucking gold star because he managed not to fuck it up too bad and somehow Virgil still thinks about it late at night, guiltily enjoying the pleased feeling in his chest.

Virgil wants to hate him, because Logan was everything he wanted to be: smart, collected, happy, with Dee.

He shouldn’t have come back. When Agent DW placed the folders in front of him after his dad’s trail was completed and all the guys trying to kill them had been jailed, and when she had asked him if he wanted to stay in Bumfuck, Wherever with the name Andy, or go back home as Virgil…

Virgil Storm walks into a party and thinks that if he’s ever called Andy again he’ll commit murder and join his father in jail.

Isn’t it strange? Isn’t it awful?

Logan and Dee should hate him. He breaks everything he touches.

Why had he asked to kiss Dee?

Because he knows he doesn’t have a place here, doesn’t deserve a place there. He doesn’t want a place there.

He doesn’t want-- not like this.

Not where Logan has look from the sidelines, or Dee has to watch Virgil take this good, happy thing him and Logan have and crush it. He doesn’t want something like this, if it means one of them ends up in tears.

1 + 1 = 2

That’s what his teachers told him.

Virgil already left once. Virgil already took himself out of a relationship once, removed himself from the problem, erased his own existence from the variables.

Its a word problem and Virgil knows this one well: Logan is the oranges and Dee is the apples and Virgil can pick one, or the other, or none. And even though he’s a Starving African Orphan he knows picking one is going to leave the other to rot away and he won’t-- doesn’t-- fucking can’t--

Maybe it was supposed to be a goodbye kiss? Its a reach, Virgil knows because he’s never been good at goodbyes and he fucked up the only ones he got: a paper note really? A roll of his eyes as his dad was carted away? A two fingered salute to Toby who had still be reeling from the idea that Andy was a work of fiction that he had been hanging out with for seven years?

Dee had deserved a goodbye.

Virgil had put his tongue in his mouth instead.

He’s a masochist (who liked ripping his own heart out again and again and again).

Virgil Storm walks into a party and now he’s still sitting there as reality comes careening back on him, a tsunami to drown him, a bag to suffocate him, a guillotine to decapitate him.

Because Virgil hadn’t thought about consequences and Dee had pushed him away before fleeing the scene and Logan had to sit there and watch. And the world feels like its too small, and the air feels like its too thin and Virgil feels like he just threw himself through a glass window into a freefall waiting for the ground to smash the rest of him to bits.

Dee ran off.

And Virgil is staring at Logan.

Roman is punch drunk out of his mind, laughing as he stares at the billions of pictures he just took. Remus is slung right over Patton wheezing with his joy. Patton has tears streaming down his face and pink cheeks and happiness glowing off him. Emile is trying to spin that stupid bottle and Remy is fighting over it with him.

And not one of them seem to be aware of what just happened. Virgil’s not sure a single one of them could tell him where they are, what their names are, who he just kissed.

But Dee ran off.

And Logan is staring at Virgil.

“I--”

He means this. He means this more than anything. Why can’t he say it? Apologize, damnit.

“Go,” he whispers, not even sure that he can be heard over Remy’s stupid music.

Because Dee ran off and Virgil is here and Virgil isn’t going to make Logan choose like this. In a decision between his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s colossal fuck up of an ex, there isn’t even a choice to be made.

Shouldn’t be a choice to be made.

Logan is blinking at him.

Logan is walking towards him.

Logan is grabbing his hand.

“Come on,” Logan says.

Virgil Storm walks into a party and he’s still trying to figure out how to do math.

Because 1 +1 = 2 and Virgil learned that when he was six fucking years old when Dee had knocked on his door and demanded at Virgil come out and play with him, and then again when he was ten when he was so scared of graduating elementary school and Dee held his hand the whole time, then again when they were twelve and Virgil slammed their lips together while they were in the back of that Movie Theater before he could chicken out.

Dee + Logan + Virgil does not equal 2.

Virgil knows this. He knows that Logan knows this, because he and Logan share their Calculus class and have cursed out their homework together many times. If Logan can do three digit multiplication while drunk, he should be able to see that 3 is more than 2 and one of them needs to go.

Its pick and choose and and and

And Logan’s hand is tight around his, warm like an open flame, and strong like someone who knows what he is doing. Because it is Logan Ackroyd and Virgil’s only known him for a handful of months but he’s the most put together person he’s ever met, the person that never lost sight of what he wanted before, the person who always had a solution.

The person who had invited Virgil to sit with them at lunch and then refused to let it be awkward when everyone else had whispered was that a smart idea, Logan, don’t you know who this is? Don’t you know what he did? Don’t you know what he is to Dee?

Virgil Storm walks into a party and wishes he could tell anyone why he kissed his ex.

But he doesn't know why. The bottle had landed on him and Dee had just looked so smug about getting Logan out of the game and someone had to take him down a notch, didn't they? Someone had to defend Logan's honor?

But wait thats not right, because this was a game and it was fun until Virgil forgot that he left Dee without a warning and then showed back up just to threaten this relationship that he and Logan have. He doesn't have a right to kiss anyone, not Dee, not Logan.

He tries to dig his heels into the carpet, tries to wretch his hand from Logan's, tries to stop the world from spinning so much.

He thinks that maybe the universe is laughing at him. What a ridiculous notion, thinking that Virgil can stop ruination before it comes.

Logan drags him down the halls of Remy's house right after Dee, and finds the bathroom empty with the lights on and the door open and the toilet filled with vomit.

And the window open.

And, oh.

Dee jumped out a window to get away from Virgil, didn’t he?

"Come on," Logan says.

Virgil stumbles after him: back out the bathroom, back down the hall, right past the party and straight for the front door.

"Be Safe!" Patton yells after them (followed by a delighted shriek when Remus presses a multitude of cursory kisses into his neck).

Virgil Storm walks into a party and Logan Ackroyd drags him right out of it.

It seems so stupid, doesn’t it? Logan taking Virgil with him, holding his hand, being a steady center of calm while Virgil just wants to cover his ears hunch his shoulders and scream until the memories of Dee are gone and he stops….fucking… trying to… fucking ruin… This. Them. Here. Now. Whatever.

The city is so big now, bigger than when they were kids: Virgil doesn’t know where Dee would have gone in a disgusted panic, in a horrified frenzy, in whatever it was that Virgil had made him feel. At one point it might have been their fucking treehouse, the movie theater backlot, the icecream aisle of the grocer staring at the stupid fucking popsicles. But Virgil doesn’t know Dee anymore, doesn’t know this town, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Dee could have gone anywhere to get away from him.

Except that he’s just on the ground next to Remy’s mailbox, one hand clutching the grass, the other a fistfull of hair and shaking like all of his bones were trying to leave his skin at once.

Its cold, Virgil realizes a second later. Its cold because its December and they’re outside wearing jeans and T-shirts and not a single coat between the three of them and its night so of course its fucking cold--

Logan plops onto the ground next to Dee, narrowly missing the mailbox and Virgil tumbles down after him.

There are over seven billion people in the world, Virgil knows this, but somehow all he can do is count the ones in front of him.

1, 2, 3.

Dee, Logan, Virgil.

It doesn’t equal 2. Can’t equal 2.

And Virgil still loves the feeling of pain, loves tearing his heart apart, loves watching Logan be soft and Dee be happy because he’s not and won’t ever be necessary for them--

“I--” Virgil says just as Logan cups Dee’s face with one hand. The other is still weaved between Virgil’s fingers like some sort of knot project. Virgil tries to let go-- he does-- but Logan just tightens and squeezes and does not let him let go.

Dee is shaking and crying and Virgil thinks that anyone who ever said that someone is beautiful when they cry is a fucking idiot. There was nothing pretty about see him in the moonlight leaking tears like a garden hose and covered in snot and curling on himself like his own arms are the only things stopping him from shattering apart on the lawn right now. There’s nothing gorgeous about the way his eyes are puffing up and his make up is smearing and his breaths are short and fleeting and fully of incoherent apologies.

There’s nothing heart warming about seeing him sobbing.

“Breathe with me,” Logan commands. “Dee, Inhale with me. One… Two… Three--”

Dee shudders. And tries and tries and tries but every breath is choked and wet and rattling.

And Virgil.

Virgil has no right to be doing this, but he flings his chest against Dee’s back and presses against him because pressure had always been one of the things that Dee liked when he was not-okay. How could Virgil forget, when so many of their days in that treehouse included him and Dee lying on one another musing with each other’s hair or scrolling on their phones or soaking in the silence?

Dee’s breath shudders, stops, and then he inhales. Logan counts steady as a metronome, steady as a time passing, steady as the Earth turning.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2

Dee stops sobbing and his shaking decreases and his hand loosens on his hair just enough for Logan to reach up and untangle his fingers.

“You’re doing good,” Virgil whispers in Dee’s ear, because that’s what he needs to hear isn’t it? That’s what Virgil wished someone would say every time he crammed himself in his closet and willed his lungs to just fucking work when his Mother didn’t know or care or understand what was going on.

Logan counts. Virgil whispers. Dee breathes.

1, 2, 3

Logan’s hands are holding them both. Dee is leaning back against Virgil like he’s the shield between Dee and insanity and Virgil isn’t sure why he’s still there and can’t remember how to leave.

“I think…” Logan starts which is almost comical because when doesn’t he think? “I think we need to talk.”

“Talk,” Dee repeats, hoarsely. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says.

They don’t say anything.

Virgil knows what he needs to do. He knows that he needs to pull back, needs to untangle himself from Logan and stop draping himself over Logan’s boyfriend and go back into the house to get his coat and shoes and maybe a blanket for the other two before he starts that trek back to his apartment. He knows that he needs to go because he doesn’t belong and he needs to call Agent DW and get her to find him another place to live again because-- surprise-- he ruined this one too.

Virgil tries to shift back, but Dee follows him.

“Don’t--” Dee croaks.

Virgil stops moving. Because Dee sounds so fragile, because he never sounds fragile, because its was Dee.

“Please…” Dee whispers, “Please don’t.”

And, well, Virgil is a masochist who hates himself. What other option does he have than to stay and await for the speech of telling off that Logan is preparing?

Virgil’s seen Logan tear into people, he’s seen Logan put people straight, he’s seen Logan stand on tables and slaughter the morons who dared go against him. He and Dee had that in common: their words were weapons and they knew how to use them.

“I--” Virgil says, “I’m--”

Sorry? Not Sorry? Sad? A fuck up?

“Did you mean it?” Logan asks.

And Virgil’s chin is on Dee’s shoulder and the cold breeze blows straight through him.

“Virgil,” Logan says patiently impatient, “Did you mean it when you kissed Dee?”

Virgil knows what he has to say. What he’s supposed to say. What he needs to say.

“It was a goodbye kiss.” “It was an apology.” “It was part of the game.” “It wasn’t meant as anything.” “No, I didn’t.”

“You fucking liar.” Dee growls at him, miserably. (Aren’t they all miserable right now?)

And really what did he expect? Dee knew him better than he knew himself.

“Virgil.” Logan says.

“God, Fucking Shut Up!” Virgil snarls, “Both of you! Shut Up! Stop Asking Me if I Liked Kissing My Ex!”

“Did you?”

“SHUT UP!”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Fuck Your Answer!” Virgil throws back, and maybe its the hysteria talking because his voice is louder than he meant, louder than it should be with the three of them so close they are touching to keep warm. How can Virgil cover his ears and block out the sound of Logan’s accusing voice without pulling away from Dee or letting go of Logan’s hand?

“Why Does Anyone Need an Answer?” Virgil snarls, “What Does it Matter At All? You’ve Got--” He chokes because of course he does. And isn’t that an answer all by itself? “You’ve Got--”

Seven years ago, Virgil had entered Witness Protection with his mother when his father agreed to testify against the “shady organization that promised him big money to help put Virgil through college”. Seven years ago, Agent DW showed up on his doorstep ten minutes before he was set to meet Dee at the bus stop and took his phone from him. Seven whole fucking years ago, Virgil Storm was ripped out of time.

And things are different now: Dee is different, the town is different, life is different.

And Virgil feels like he’s playing the longest game of Catch-Up since Captain America himself. How can he belong when everyone around him is years and miles beyond what he remembers?

“You’ve got each other,” Virgil says, finally, miserably.

Dee can’t turn to look at him, but Virgil can feel the way he’s tensing and closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see the way that Logan is staring at him.

1 + 1 = 2

“What’s wrong with three?”

Three? Its a prime number, its an odd number, its one more than 2? And bad things come in threes don't they? A man, a woman, and the son they didn't want; a treehouse, grape popsicles, and a movie theater that sells overpriced candy; a party, a bottle, and a kiss that's still tingling on Virgil's lips.

So Virg startles a laugh. What else can he do?

(Leave, let go and leave and never come back.)

He blinks back a sting behind his eyes, one he's familiar with-- dontcrydontcrydontcry-- and suddenly right in front of him is Logan.

Logan, whos eyes swim with galaxies in them, who's pale skin drinks in the moonlight and glows like a lighthouse to bring him home, who's voice is a tremor in the night, a general with the power to raze countries. Logan, who's so close Virgil can see through the fog of their breaths and feel his warm exhales on his nose and cheeks.

Virgil breath catches in his throat. He can see each individual eyelash on Logan's face. Surely that must be because Virgil is still clinging to his boyfriend--

"I want to run an experiment," Logan's lips move smoothly, softly, barely more than necessary and Virgil can see his tongue flicking around the alphabet soup of syllables.

Logan leans closer. Virgil stays still, transfixed on those lips, and pressed against Dee's shoulder. This is a mistake, isn't it? Maybe Logan hit his head on the Mailbox and now he thinks Virgil is Dee and he doesn't really mean this at all and they need to take him to the hospital before he dies of bloodlo--

Logan's nose is touching his. "May I?"

And whatever sound Virgil makes is pitiful, and pathetic, and embarrassing, and a "yes, please."

Logan kisses him, is kissing, kissed him. Virgil finds a new meaning in the term "seeing stars" because right then his eyes are dazzled with sparkling diamonds and bursts of colors. It does something to him, makes his heart race and leap into his throat, makes him lurch forward because its not enough, he's not close enough. Logan’s fingers twists around him and Virgil thinks that he should be freezing but his palm is clammy. And his other arm snakes around Dee’s waist before he can even think about what he's doing (does he ever think?).

Logan kissing him, and Dee leaning into his touch and Virgil thinks he died and somehow ended up in heaven.

This--

Oh.

This is 3.

One more than 2.

Virgil Storm walks into a party and somehow ends up kissing his ex’s new boyfriend, too.

Logan's pulls away slowly, like a hesitance, like a regret. Virgil thinks he licks his lips, breathing so warmly, looking so flushed-- flushed? Logan's flushed and shy and soft in a way that Virgil’s never blessed enough to see before.

He coughs, weakly, fakely, and Virgil distantly thinks thats his attempt to regain some form of control. "Well. I believe my hypothesis was correct."

"Nerd," Virgil croaks. "God fucking ner--"

Dee's lips are on his by some magic-like contortion because Dee's back is still pressed into Virgil's chest squeezing all the air from his lungs and last time Virgil checked humans weren't supposed to be able to do that.

"Do shut up," Dee whispers into Virgil's mouth.

Virgil thinks that if he died this isn’t such a bad way to spend his whatever’s-next.

(Dee’s learned new things, Virgil realizes, because he kisses differently now than he had back when they were twelve and so fucking stupid.)

Dee’s mouth moves off Virgil’s lips, dashing across his cheeks and peppering him with featherlight kisses. If Virgil wasn’t so absolutely out of it he might have been annoyed because that was Dee, kissing his fucking freckles and Virgil had worked to hard to cover them with concealer--

Then Dee turns around and drags Logan by his fucking tie into a kiss of their own with Virgil in a front row seat. Virgil’s always enjoyed theater but this is something more: being this close, feelings both of them just inches away-- thats a show he thinks he wants to come back to again and again and again and--

Isn’t that ridiculous? Isn’t that insane?

A week ago, a day ago, twenty minutes ago, this sight would have Virgil’s heart shattering right down the middle and stomping on the pieces and crying because even though it hurt like fucking hell this is what he wanted for them: he wanted Dee and Logan to be happy and safe and, and, and yeah he wanted them to be together too.

But right here, right now? He’s a part of this, and his heart does this stupid- fucking- jump thing when he watches them and his jaw hurts because he’s smiling so damn wide.

God, when was the last time he smiled like this?

He’s feeling some stupid emotion and its so nice and warm and safe that he doesn’t think he can even describe it with actual words (he’s always been a math person anyway). How does anyone describe this feather-fragile feeling, this cocktail of emotions, this atomic bomb of Need that causes him to hold on to all of this when he knows every other person he knows would tell him to let go?

This is something breakable.

And Virgil doesn’t know if it will be him that breaks or if it will be this… thing that he thinks came out of nowhere.

But he’s a masochist and he wants to find out.

“So,” Logan says between gasps for air, “Three?”

Dee laughs and blows a column of white condensation into the air. “Three, definitely.”

1 + 1 + 1 =/= 2

Virgil always thought that math was overrated anyway.

“Three,” Virgil says and it tastes like grape popsicles. Isn’t that weird? Virgil hasn’t had grape popsicles since that summer seven years ago. He misses that taste.

He sends a squeeze to Logan’s hand and Logan squeezes back. He hums into Dee’s neck and Dee laughs like he’s going to cry. Its the three of them together and who would have thought this day would come?

“Uh…” A fourth voice speaks up and Virgil squints up into the yellowed flashlight that’s rolling over the three of them. Its a guy-- must be one of the neighbors, though who knows why he’s out so late at night. “You three okay? I heard some yelling earlier....”

Virgil laughs at him, at them, at the universe. Dee’s shaking, too, something wonderful to learn and feel next to his heart.

“Should I take that as a no?” The man asks.

“Uh, no, Mr. Sanders,” Logan says but he’s grinning like he just achieved immortality. “I mean, yes! But not like--”

“I kissed two boys,” Virgil says, “And I really like them both.”

“Moron,” Dee laughs again.

The man, Concerned Neighbor, Mr. Sanders, looks somewhere between amused and confused. He shifts his weight, glancing beyond them, towards the house. (And Virgil doesn’t need to turn to know that fucking Remy is watching them from the windows.)

"Well you three should get back inside," the Concerned Neighbor says and Virgil gets the feeling he should be embarrassed, but honestly? Who gives a fuck? "Its cold out here."

Right.

Because its the end of December and its nearly ten oclock and jackets were quite literally the last thing on any of their minds.

Oh god what if they got pneumonia from this?

“Unlikely,” Logan says, straightening his tie. “Most likely one of us will contract a common head cold and then transmit it to the other two through an abundance of close proximity to each other.”

“Yes and that sounds completely awful,” Dee says wriggling around as he tries to get up. Virgil lets him go briefly, but snags the back of Dee’s neck before he can go too far. Dee squeaks in a way that is adorable.

“STORM! You fucker! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” Dee bucks away and punches him in the shoulder before sprinting toward the door with a sharp little smile on his face.

And Virgil runs after him, pulling Logan along because he doesn’t want to let go at all. Its ridiculous. Its silly and hilarious and laughable and, and, and.

And they catch up to Dee right on the door step, bathed in the multicolored lights of the party where Logan gets a chance to snag Dee in a hug and Virgil--

Virgil Storm walks into a party and gets to tell everyone how he kissed both his boyfriends.

#analoceit #sanders sides #Kiss and Tell #virgil sanders #symapthetic deceit #Deceit Sanders #logan sanders #tw cursing #anxceit #loceit #analogical #kissing #Just let the boys be happy #Hmmm might make more for this au #stay tuned #happy ending

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until-the-sun-rises · 5 years

Text

Virgil’s Promise

AU Intro Post

AU Creators: @a-valorous-choice and @ironwoman359

Summary: Virgil, his mother, and his little brother Thomas have been living in the woods since a virus outbreak wiped out most of the population, including Virgil’s father. Life can be bleak, but they make the most of what they have. However, when Virgil’s world is turned upside down again, will he have what it takes to keep his little brother safe?

Content Warnings: Apocalypse AU, angst, character death, death of a parent, guns, knives, violence, mentions of blood, zombies (called terminals in universe), mentions of eating people (in a zombie sense, not a cannibal sense), crying, grief, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, cursing, bittersweet ending. PLEASE let us know if you need anything else tagged, and stay safe! There are moments of comfort sprinkled throughout but this is mostly an angst piece with, again, a bittersweet ending. Do what you need to do to protect yourselves <3

Word Count: 5,464

Read on AO3 Here

Author’s Notes: Here it is, the first installment of the AU! I had such a fantastic time writing this, I’m really really proud of it, and can’t wait to hear what you guys think! Looking ahead, you can expect more introduction fics like this for our other main players, then we’ll get into other details of the main plotline! In the meantime, asks are open if you’d like to scream at us about the AU, we’d love to scream back! Love you guys, thanks so much for the support! -Taylor ☕️

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“Mom, I found more berries!”

Virgil looked up to see his eight-year-old brother holding out a handful of dark purple berries with a wide grin stretched across his face.

“Thomas, put those down!” their mother Emma cried, rushing over to Thomas’s side. “Those are pokeweed berries, honey, you can’t eat those. They’ll make you very very sick if you eat them, okay?”

“Oh...okay. Sorry.”

Thomas’s lip wobbled a little, and Emma smiled, smoothing back Thomas’s hair.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you didn’t know. They’re very pretty berries, aren’t they?”

“Uh huh,” Thomas agreed, nodding. “That’s why I thought they were fine to eat.”

“There’s lots of things in the woods that look pretty, but not all of them are safe, okay? Pokeweed berries are never fine to eat, they make you really sick. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good boy.” Emma smiled, and pointed over his shoulder. “Now, see those white flowers behind you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Those are Queen Anne’s lace flowers. And their roots are actually wild carrots! Why don’t you go over and dig some up for us, okay?”

Thomas nodded eagerly and skipped over to the patch of flowers. Emma sighed in relief, and sat back on her heels, smiling fondly as she watched her son.

“I thought pokeweed was okay sometimes?” Virgil asked, coming up behind her, causing her to jump a little.

“Virgil! You startled me, who taught you to move so quietly?”

Virgil grinned.

“You did. When you insisted you take me paintballing for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Fair’s fair,” Emma laughed. “What did you ask me just now?”

“Pokeweed,” Virgil repeated. “I thought you could eat it sometimes?”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Well, that’s true, but never the berries, or the roots. You can eat the leaves sometimes, but only if the plant is young. If you see the berries start to form, even if they’re still green, you shouldn’t even try. And you should boil the leaves first too. If you’re not careful, you could get vomiting or diarrhea...and that’s something we want to avoid when we’re fighting for our lives, isn’t it?”

She said it in an upbeat tone, but the sombering nature of their reality couldn’t help but settle over Virgil’s shoulders anyway. He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, gripping the soft fabric tightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Emma said softly, and Virgil shrugged.

“S’not your fault. The whole world is kinda upsetting right now.”

It had been three months since the outbreak, three months since Virgil’s father had died and he’d been on the run with his mom and brother, trying to stay alive. Fortunately, Emma was an avid camper and lover of the outdoors, so the three of them had been able to avoid towns for the most part. Sure, staying away from civilization meant that they were living off of mostly foraged plants and birds eggs, and it’d been ages since Virgil had taken a real shower, but those were small prices to pay for being able to mostly avoid the terminals. Thy tended to be in larger groups closer to towns and cities, so sticking to the country meant fewer encounters with the deadly infected creatures.

People, Virgil thought grimly. They may be like monsters now, but they used to be people.

“I know it is, sweetheart,” his mother said, pulling him from his thoughts. “And it’s not fair, how fast you’ve had to grow up now.” Emma sighed, looking over to where Thomas was eagerly digging up roots for their supper. “You should be enjoying your summer, deciding on a college or a career...not this.”

Virgil shrugged.

“I didn’t really know what I wanted to do anyway.”

“I know that,” Emma said, giving him a sad smile. “But you had time to figure it out, to explore the world and decide what kind of man you’re going to become. Now that’s a luxury you don’t have anymore.”

Virgil looked down at his shoes, swallowing nervously. It wasn’t like his mom to be so openly melancholy; if anything, since they’d gone on the run she’d become even more upbeat and cheerful than usual. He had a feeling that she was trying to keep a brave face up for him and Thomas, but just because he knew it was partly an act didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate it. Some days he could almost pretend that this whole thing was just an extended summer camping trip, and then they’d go home and their dad would greet them at the door and they’d tell him all about it while sitting on the sofa in front of the TV.

That illusion shattered every time they came across a terminal.

“Virgil, listen to me,” Emma said, and there was an urgency to her voice that made Virgil look up. “Right now, the only thing we can be certain of, the only thing we can rely on, is each other. It’s my job to look out for the both of you, and it’s your job to look out for Thomas. Protecting him has to be the top priority, alright?”

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I...I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Oh, honey, come here,” she said, and Virgil let her wrap her arms around him.

He felt exceptionally small in his mother’s embrace, but not the bad kind of small where he felt powerless and afraid. He felt safe, protected, shielded from all the horrors of the world. Her grip tightened, and Virgil realized with a start that she was trembling.

“Mom?”

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “You’re so strong, and so brave. Thomas is lucky to have you for a big brother.”

Virgil didn’t feel strong most days, and he certainly didn’t feel brave. Most of the time he just felt scared; strength and bravery were attributes he’d be more likely to apply to his mother than himself. But the way she held onto him now, as though he’d disappear if she let go for one second made him realize that she was also scared. Scared for herself, but scared for him, too, and for Thomas; scared that she couldn’t keep them safe in this new world full of dangers.

Virgil may not have had much faith in himself, but he had faith in his mother. And she was putting her faith into him, and he’d be damned if he let her down.

“I won’t let anything happen to him, Mom,” he repeated, hugging her back tightly. “I promise.”

--- --- ---

Virgil’s heart was pounding so heavily he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest. Wouldn’t that just be his luck, he’d escape being eaten by terminals only to fall over dead from a heart attack. His lungs were on fire, and his legs threatened to buckle underneath him more and more with every step. But then Thomas whimpered in his ear, burying his face deeper into Virgil’s neck, and Virgil took a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on Thomas’s legs and pressed forward, his mother’s instructions echoing in his ears and urging him onward.

The old cabin had seemed deserted enough, with no trace of the previous inhabitants anywhere, so they’d gotten a little too relaxed as they searched the building for supplies. But it turned out the area wasn’t as deserted as they thought, and the sound of his little brother screaming had brought Virgil barreling out of the bathroom and into the main room to see three terminals bearing down on his family. Virgil’s mother was gripping a tire iron like a baseball bat and standing between Thomas and the advancing creatures.

“Virgil,” she’d said in a low voice. “Take Thomas and get out of here, now.”

Virgil hadn’t wanted to leave her, but the look in her eyes had left no room for argument, so he’d scooped his brother up piggyback style and fled towards the back door, wincing as he heard his mother let out a primal roar, followed by a sickening *thwack*.

Virgil didn’t stop running until he stumbled back into the clearing where they’d made camp, collapsing to his knees and letting Thomas climb off his back. Every muscle in his body ached, and for a moment he just stayed on the ground, gasping as he fought to get his breath back.

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, voice wobbling, and Virgil looked up to meet his brother’s tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil gasped, managing to give his brother a small smile. “I’m...I’m okay...just...just catching my breath.”

“Is Mom okay?”

Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it again. Part of him wanted to lie, to promise that their mother would be just fine and would come and get them when the scary monsters were all gone. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and he met his brother’s gaze with a grim expression.

“I...I don’t know, Thomas.”

Thomas fell silent, and for a moment neither of them moved, Virgil still gulping down breaths of air, trying to get his wind back. Then, so suddenly that it made Virgil jump, Thomas crawled forward and nestled himself into Virgil’s lap, wrapping his arms around his middle and laying his head on Virgil’s chest.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” he said, and Virgil nodded, wrapping his arms around Thomas and drawing him closer.

“Yeah, it is, buddy,” he said quietly.

“You should count your breaths like Mom says to do. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea,” Virgil said, grateful for something that could distract them both. “How about we do it together? Remind me how it starts again?”

Thomas scrunched up his nose as he thought.

“You breathe in for four counts, right?”

“That’s right, good job. Let’s do that together, okay? In, two, three, four…”

Virgil led them through the rest of the breathing exercise over and over again until Thomas drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the stress of the day. Virgil wanted nothing more than to join him in a nap, but he couldn’t sleep now, he had to stay up and keep watch, to see if their mother...or anything else, would approach the camp.

He waited for what felt like hours, every sense straining for any sign that somebody was coming. Finally, just as the sun was starting to dip in the sky, he caught sight of someone slowly walking towards the campsite. His heart leapt as he recognized his mother’s silhouette, short but strong with hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Thomas?” he murmured, giving his brother a small shake. “Wake up, Mom’s here.”

“Hmm?” Thomas asked blearily, still half asleep.

“Mom is…” Virgil trailed off as he looked back towards where their mom was walking.

Something was wrong.

Oh no...oh god, no, not this, please not this…

“What about Mom?” Thomas asked again rubbing at his eyes.

Oh god, I can’t do this, I can’t deal with this, please…

Virgil’s grip tightened on Thomas, and he scrambled to his feet, backing away while keeping his eyes trained forward.

“Virgil, what’s–”

“Thomas, listen,” Virgil said urgently, setting his little brother down. “I need you to hug this tree here and close your eyes, okay? Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t open them until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Virgil, is Mom–”

“Do you understand?” Virgil asked desperately, and after a beat, Thomas nodded. “Good,” Virgil breathed, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s for a moment and taking a deep breath. “Close your eyes now,” he whispered, and he stood back up, turning back towards his mom.

No. That’s not Mom. Not anymore.

The woman that was lumbering towards him moved her limbs in broken, jerky motions, as though she was a poorly controlled marionette. Her eyes were bloodshot and empty, and saliva drooled out of her open mouth. A low moan escaped her lips as she came closer, and Virgil’s heart tightened in his chest. He’d seen terminals before, knew how they worked and how to kill them. But this...this was different.

This was his mother, and now she was a monster.

Virgil scrambled towards the log at the edge of their campsite where they’d stashed their supplies. There wasn’t much there, just one change of clothes, a few handfuls of food, the last of their bandages, and...there. His mom’s .22 rifle.

“We only have one bullet left, Virgil. So until we can find some more ammo, we’re not going to hunt or travel with this anymore, okay? We’ll keep it here in case there’s an emergency.”

Virgil’s hands shook as he pulled out the gun and checked to see that their last bullet was properly loaded. He’d never cared much for shooting, but after they’d made a run for the woods, his mom had insisted he learn to use it, teaching him how to hunt rabbits, possums, and other small animals that she’d then showed him how to clean and skin before cooking.

He’d never shot a terminal before.

Realistically, one of three things would happen. One, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would die, leaving their mother to feast on their remains. Two, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would turn terminal themselves, which basically boiled down to being brain dead while your body shuffled around in search of food. Or three...

Virgil raised the rifle up, tucking the butt to his shoulder and blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then he squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the forest, and though Virgil’s ears were instantly ringing, he could still hear the sound of Thomas’s scream from behind him. Everything seemed to slow down as Emma’s body dropped to the floor of their campsite, instantly going still. A blur flew past Virgil, and he just barely dropped the rifle in time to catch Thomas as he rushed towards their mother.

Thomas struggled desperately against Virgl’s grip, sobbing as he tried to get free and run towards her. Virgil just held him tighter, ignoring his own tears as he pulled Thomas away.

“Thomas,” he choked out as Thomas kicked and struggled. “T-thomas, no, it’s not safe...th-they can still turn you when they’re dead if you’re not careful…”

Thomas just kept kicking and sobbing, and Virgil could do nothing but hold him back, even as his own tears fell. Eventually, Thomas went limp against him again, though his little body still quivered with sobs, making Virgil’s heart ache even more. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball with his baby brother and sleep, sleep until all the anguish bled away and left him empty.

But a steely voice inside him insisted that no, he couldn’t do that. The terminals were drawn to loud noises, and the gunshot was sure to attract more of the creatures to this spot. They needed to move, and quickly, if they wanted to avoid any more confrontations with the creatures, and with only his hunting knife left to defend themselves with, Virgil would rather avoid running into more of the terminals.

“Thomas,” he said, drawing away to look his brother in the eyes. “Thomas, look at me.”

Thomas looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears trailing down his cheeks, and Virgil had to resist pulling him close for another hug. There would be time for grief later.

“I need you to go to the log and gather up all our things, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“M-mo...M-mom–” Thomas choked out, and Virgil cupped the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“I know, Thomas, I know,” he said, more tears pooling in his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, but it’s not safe for us here. More of them will be coming, and Mom would want us to get far, far away so that we can be safe. Okay?”

Thomas sniffled, but nodded, and Virgil smiled at him through his tears.

“There’s a brave boy. Now go gather up our things, we need to move.”

Thomas stumbled over to the log, and Virgil took a deep breath before turning towards his mother’s body in the clearing. His stomach churned as he approached, and he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. It wasn’t pretty, but he knew what he had to do.

Virgil pointedly kept his gaze away from his mother’s face and carefully knelt down, sliding the straps of her knapsack off her shoulders. He took care not to touch anywhere near her now foam filled mouth, remembering what the news reports had said about the creatures when the outbreak had first occurred...back when they were still running news reports.

The virus is transmitted via bodily fluids; even if the infected subject is deceased, their corpse may still infect others if their blood or saliva comes into contact with open wounds.

Virgil tugged the bag out from under her, stepping away as she fell back against the ground. A quick rifle through its contents revealed most of the supplies that they’d gathered from the cabin, and his heart twisted again in his chest. By the looks of things, she’d managed to fight off the three terminals from the cabin and had stayed herself long enough to gather up their supplies and head back towards their camp. She probably hadn’t even realized she’d been infected until it was too late.

Virgil took one last look at his mother’s body, and paused as he saw a glint of gold around her neck. He looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was packing up their bag, then bent down and quickly pulled a heart-shaped locket from around his mother’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, allowing himself one brief look at her face. “I’ll look after him, Mom, I promise.”

He slipped the locket into his pocket, then turned and walked over to Thomas.

“Hey, buddy. Got everything?”

Thomas looked up at him and nodded solemnly.

“Good. It’s time for us to leave then, okay?”

Thomas looked over at their mother one last time, then back up at Virgil.

“Can you carry me?” he asked.

Virgil could already feel exhaustion creeping over him, and his limbs still ached from their earlier escape, but right now? There was no way he could say no to his little brother.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll need you to carry the backpack though, okay?”

Thomas nodded, and after Virgil had helped slide it over his shoulders, Thomas climbed up and linked his arms around Virgil’s neck. Virgil gripped Thomas’s legs and stood up with a grunt, taking a moment to readjust his hold now that he was standing.

“Ready?” he asked, and he felt Thomas turn his head to look behind them again. His chest ached, and he reached up and gave Thomas’s hands a squeeze.

“Yeah,” Thomas said eventually, laying his cheek against Virgil’s back.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured, grabbing hold of Thomas’s legs again and stepping away from their campsite, one thought repeating over and over again in his mind as he walked.

I’ll keep you safe, Thomas. I promise.

--- --- ---

Keeping an eight-year-old alive and safe in the woods during the apocalypse turned out to be harder than Virgil had anticipated, and it wasn’t long before he was completely desperate. He’d tried to replicate the traps his mother had set, and tried to fish using makeshift spears or reels, but he was either doing something wrong or had horrible luck, because the traps remained empty, and he was unable to catch more than one or two tiny fish per attempt. It wasn’t long before their meager food supplies ran out, and eating roots and leaves could only satisfy a growing boy for so long. Virgil was out of options.

So he found himself here, gripping Thomas’s hand and standing on the outskirts of a small town at the edge of the woods.

For most of their time living wild with their mother, they’d avoided towns. Areas that were once populated may have meant more supplies, but they also meant more chances of running into terminals, and Emma had wanted to avoid that at all costs, choosing instead to rely on her history of camping rough with her family as a child for survival.

But Virgil simply wasn’t good enough to scrounge up enough to feed the two of them from the forest alone, so here they were.

“Okay, buddy, remember what we’re looking for?” he asked, looking down at Thomas.

“Canned food, clean clothes, blankets, and medicine,” Thomas rattled off, and Virgil smiled.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “Now, anything you find, you bring to me first to check the expiration date first, okay? We don’t want you eating something and getting sick.”

“I can read the dates myself, you know,” Thomas muttered, kicking at the pavement. “I’m not a baby.”

“Right, of course,” Virgil agreed with a smirk. “You’re not a baby, you’re just a pipsqueak.”

He reached down to ruffle Thomas’s hair, but his brother ducked away.

“I am not!” he huffed, glaring up at Virgil, and Virgil held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Just let me look at the food before eating it anyhow, okay?”

“Fine,” Thomas grumbled, and Virgil held back a sigh.

The two of them had been on their own for just about three weeks now, and while some days were perfectly fine, other days there was an unmistakable tension between the two. It was worse when they were hungry, and with nothing but flower roots to eat for the past three days, it was fair to say they were pretty hungry now.

“Thomas?” Virgil said, kneeling down so that he was eye level with his brother. “Can you look at me?”

Thomas glanced over at him, and Virgil offered up a small smile.

“I’m sorry if I seem too...overbearing. You know why that is, don’t you?”

Thomas shrugged, and Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s because I want to make sure that nothing bad happens to you. I know I’m not always the best big brother to have, but all we’ve got is each other now. So if I...make some mistakes along the way, just know it’s because I want to keep you safe, okay?”

Virgil was expecting Thomas to nod and move on, so he grunted in surprise when instead Thomas threw his arms around Virgil’s neck in a suffocating hug.

“Okay,” he whispered, and Virgil didn’t care that he could barely breathe, he hugged his brother back just as tightly. “You were wrong about something though,” Thomas added, his breath tickling Virgil’s ear as he spoke.

“Oh? What’s that, buddy?”

“You’re the very best big brother to have,” Thomas mumbled into Virgil’s shoulder, and suddenly Virgil was blinking back tears.

“Thanks, Thomas,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling Thomas closer.

He was about to let go when suddenly Thomas gasped, his whole body tensing up. Virgil’s eyes flew open in an instant and he stood up on instinct, gathering Thomas into his arms as he did so. There, barely a hundred feet away ambling into the street from behind one of the houses, were two terminals. It didn’t seem like they’d noticed the two brothers just yet, but searching the houses on this street had just become last on Virgil’s list of things to try that day.

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed in Thomas’s ear as he slowly stepped away.

He tried to turn back the way they’d come, but froze as he saw three more staggering towards them from that direction. He spun around, his eyes scanning the street, and his heart slowly sank into his stomach. There was no way out of this neighborhood that wasn’t blocked off by private fencing or didn’t involve going past the growing number terminals.

Well.

Not for him anyway.

“Thomas?” he said quietly. “Listen very carefully, okay?”

Thomas nodded, his cheek brushing against Virgil’s, and Virgil held his breath for seven seconds.

“I’m going to put you down,” he said slowly. “Then when I tell you, you're going to run straight down the street back the way we came, do you understand?”

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil pried him off his neck, setting him on the ground and staring at him intently.

“Do you understand?” he asked, and Thomas’s wide eyes filled with tears, but he nodded. “Good,” Virgil whispered, squeezing Thomas’s hand.

The terminals were ambling closer now, and he straightened up. He allowed himself one more squeeze of Thomas’s hand, then he let go and opened his mouth to scream.

All of a sudden there was a *thwap!* sound that came from between the houses, and then the terminal closest to Virgil and Thomas had an arrowhead sticking out between its eyes. The creature fell forward and Virgil froze, too stunned to move.

“Woo hooooooo!” a voice yelled from the direction the arrow had flown from, and the terminals turned towards the new source of sound. “Perfect headshot!”

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil dropped to the ground again, gathering his arms around Thomas and pulling him close.

Another arrow flew into a nearby terminal’s chest, accompanied by more cheers, then a wild looking man in a dirty green t-shirt with a white streak in his hair burst out onto the street, a machete gripped in his hand.

Virgil barely had time to wonder where on earth that maniac had gotten a machete before he was charging the terminals with it, squealing with delight every time his blade connected with a creature’s neck or head. It wasn’t long before every last one of them was no more than a bleeding corpse on the ground.

“Coast is clear!” he called over his shoulder, wiping his blade off on his already filthy pants. “Oh, no...wait,” he added as his gaze found Virgil and Thomas crouching beside a house. “Looks like we’ve got a live one, Dee!”

Another man emerged from across the road, a yellow beanie on his head and a bow and quiver strapped to his back, though Virgil’s eyes were first drawn to the large burn scar covering the right side of his face.

He approached calmly, ignoring the way Virgil scrambled to his feet and shoved Thomas behind him. He stared at the two of them for a moment, at Virgil’s narrowed eyes and Thomas’s hand clutching at Virgil’s leg before turning to his companion.

“Remus, put your blade away, you’re scaring them.”

The wild man, Remus, apparently, rolled his eyes but slid the machete into a sheath on his back and gave the pair of brothers a toothy grin.

“Whoopsy! Wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, as long as you’re not a terminal or about to turn terminal or about to steal our stuff or hurt our friends or just be a dick in general!”

“Forgive Remus, that’s just how he greets new people,” the man with the burn said, rolling his eyes in a fond sort of way. “He really does mean no harm...as long as you don’t fall into any of the aforementioned categories.” He raised an eyebrow at the pair. “Do you fall into any of those categories?”

“We’re not thieves, if that’s what you mean,” Virgil growled, and the man raised his hands.

“No need for the hostility, how about a ‘thank you for saving me and my…’” he raised a questioning eyebrow at Thomas, and after another moment of silence, Virgil mumbled,

“Brother. I’m Virgil, and this is my brother.”

“I see,” the man said, then he surprised Virgil by squatting down so he was at Thomas’s eye level.

“What’s your name, little man?”

Thomas looked up at Virgil, who placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod.

“Thomas,” he whispered, and the man smiled.

“Thomas? That’s a wonderful name. How old are you?”

“Eight,” Thomas said, then he puffed out his chest a little. “Almost nine.”

“Almost nine, my my! So grown up!” he smiled, then glanced up at Virgil. “And what about big brother?” he asked, standing up.

Virgil frowned, and pulled Thomas a little closer to his side.

“What’s it to you?” he growled, and the man quirked an eyebrow.

“Just wondering if big brother is grown up enough to take care of an almost nine-year-old all by himself.”

Virgil should have found the question insulting, but oddly enough, meeting the stranger’s eyes, Virgil didn’t sense any malice from him.

“I’m eighteen,” he admitted quietly, and the man nodded.

“Got anyone else in your party?” he asked, and Virgil clenched his fist at his side.

“No,” he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes dry. “Wouldn’t be trying to scavenge alone with an eight-year-old if I did.”

“Almost nine!” Thomas insisted, tugging on Virgil’s pants, and Virgil allowed a small smile to pull at his lips.

“Okay buddy, almost nine,” he said quietly.

“Right,” the man said, a smile flitting across his face as he looked down at Thomas. “Well, if scavenging alone on the streets with an almost-nine-year-old is getting a bit much to handle...I may have somewhere you two could stay for awhile.”

“You’re offering them a space at Eden?” Remus asked behind them, shaking his head. “Wade’s not gonna like that much, Dee.”

“Fuck Wade,” the burned man grumbled. “If he doesn’t like it, he can leave and they can take his bed. They’re just kids, Remus.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I had a problem with it,” Remus said shrugging. “And I’ll take any opportunity to fuck Wade. Not the fun kind of fucking, mind you, the violent kind.”

“Virgil, they said a bad word,” Thomas whispered, tugging on Virgil’s pants again, and Virgil didn’t know whether to attempt scolding the strangers or to laugh.

“Seriously, though,” the man called Dee said, turning back to Virgil. “We have a place out in the woods. Nice and secluded, hardly any terminals around, and plenty of people to fight them off in case a few do show up. We don’t have much, but we can offer you a warm bed and a roof over your head.”

It sounded tempting, Virgil had to admit. He could barely remember what it felt like to sleep under a roof, let alone in a bed, but he was skeptical.

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “What do you have to gain by taking two strangers in?”

Dee shrugged.

“We’re not a charity, if that’s what you mean. You’ll be expected to pull your weight around the place. But if you’re up for that, then you’re welcome to join.”

Virgil thought it over, but it didn’t take him long to come to a decision, really. He couldn’t ensure Thomas would be safe and fed every day if he stayed on his own. If there was even a chance that what these men were saying was true, Virgil would have to take it. He leaned forward, fixing Dee with a glare.

“Anything happens to him and I’ll kill you, you got that?” he asked in a low enough voice that Thomas didn’t hear.

Dee grinned, not unkindly.

“Got it.”

“Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath, then looked down at Thomas. “What do you say buddy, do you want to go somewhere safe with these, uh, gentlemen?”

Thomas seemed to consider it, staring up at Remus and Dee, then his stomach growled audibly.

“You have food?” he asked, and Dee chuckled.

“Yes little man, we have lots of food.”

“I wanna go then,” Thomas said, and Virgil smiled.

“Okay then,” he said, holding out a hand to Dee, who shook it. “We’re in.”

“Yay, new friends!” Remus said cheerily, bouncing on his heels. “This is gonna be fun, it’s been way too long since anyone interesting joined the camp, it’s no fun having only stinky Wade to share patrols with…”

Remus continued rambling on, about what exactly Virgil wasn’t sure, but he didn’t really care. He looked down at Thomas’s hand in his, then up at Dee who was watching the two of them with an unreadable expression, though it morphed into a smile when he saw Thomas looking up at him.

“Thank you,” Virgil mouthed at Dee, and the man nodded back.

Virgil couldn’t say exactly what he was getting himself into with these two, but he hoped that whatever it was, it would mean he could keep his promise. He slipped his free hand into his pocket, fingering his mother’s locket.

I’ll keep him safe, Mom. No matter what.

--- --- ---

Until the Sun Rises Taglist:

@the-permanent-fixture @maybe-i-like-the-misery @paint-in-flames @antisocialdragonenby @certified-demon @nonasidesstuff @idiot-annonymous @weird-spooky-broody-dude @ao-koshka @viana-dascolli @snail-giggles

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides apocalypse au #sanders sides au #ts fanfic #until the sun rises #story #blood #character death #minor character death #violence #apocalypse au #zombies #zombie au

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sonicrainicorn · 4 years

Text

Runaway

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 4107 Desc.: Logan finds a friend in an unlikely place. She may not hold the key to fixing all his problems, but she might just fix his heart. TW: Implied past infidelity, implied past attempted rape, implied discussion of sex

This one is mostly fluff I swear

///

Logan sat at his desk with his head in his hand. His students were working on their projects so he didn’t exactly need to be busying himself. He kept an ear and an eye out in case someone asked something, but other than that, he flicked a balled-up piece of torn paper back and forth.

Under normal circumstances, he would have made an effort to not look so gloomy but these weren’t normal circumstances for him. Today was just one of those days where the brutal reminder of Patton’s little escapade hit him a bit harder than necessary, and he felt the need to apologize for even existing in such an unsatisfactory way. The downside to letting go of his anger was that he was now back to his initial response: inadequacy. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t enough period. Because if he had been enough then Patton would have been satisfied. But he wasn’t. So clearly, Logan did something wrong.

Well, not something. Logan knew exactly what it was. And it wasn’t what he could provide as frequently as Patton wanted it.

It wasn’t as if they never had before, it was just something Logan wasn’t fond of. Even before his time with Percy it hadn’t been something that interested him. But after it became an issue on its own. The first time he and Patton ever tried anything he had a panic attack and couldn’t speak for twenty minutes after. The second time, Logan insisted it was something he could handle. Ironically, Patton was the one who tried to stop it, saying it was okay if he wasn’t ready, but he felt as if he needed to prove himself.

It wasn’t a bad experience -- quite the opposite, as it turned out -- though it still wasn’t what he liked to do. Throughout all their time together it didn’t happen much; Patton always made it Logan’s decision. And Logan opted not to ninety-eight percent of the time. Most of the time, the thought of it made him panicky -- like he needed to get out and run as fast as possible. (Which he figured was an appropriate response considering his very first experience wasn’t consensual.)

The door to the classroom opened. He looked up to see Mx. Kasey McNiven. They taught world history in the classroom next door. They were a rather masculine-looking person; stubble, tall, well-built, the whole nine yards. They might have looked intimidating but they were rather gentle and kind.

“It’s about that time, isn’t it?” They asked in that calming deep voice of theirs. Anytime they spoke it sounded like they were reading a bedtime story. They could be telling you the most horrible news of the day and you would thank them for the honor of listening.

Logan checked the clock, even though he was sure he didn’t have to. Kasey had impeccable timing. “It appears so.” He gathered all his things and stood up.

“You would think after all these years they’d just let you have your free period at the end of the day.” They took his spot at the desk with a toothy grin.

“It’s much too difficult to change schedules.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that it’ll matter next year.”

“Ooh, your kids’ll be in middle school, right? Are you ready for that?”

“Not sure if I’m ready for the teen years, to be honest. They’re already little monsters.” He caught sight of a few students smirking at that. “Hey -- you’re all little monsters, too. Don’t think you’re special.” A few of them started to defend themselves. “Oh, sorry, can’t hear. I’m off the clock. Stopped being a teacher for today.” He started to walk out the door. “Take your complaints to Mx. McNiven.”

Kasey threw their arms out in exasperation. “Why do you always make a scene when you leave?”

He smirked a little.

The day had been rather gloomy with on and off rain since early in the morning. As Logan walked out, it seemed as if at least one thing was on his side today. The rain had let up. Sure it was still sprinkling, but at least it wasn’t pouring.

Rainy days rather sucked on this particular campus. Everything was outside. It wasn’t some huge building with all the classes down different hallways, every subject had its own building (it isn’t as big as it sounds, trust him). Which meant that students came in soaking wet just walking down the two feet from Spanish class. Plus, there was no cafeteria building, so there was nowhere for students to take refuge unless they found a teacher who would let them in. Logan always let them in. Even if he wasn’t feeling up to much of anything, he wasn’t going to let that interfere with how he cares for his students.

A strong gust of wind caused Logan to shiver. He pulled his coat tighter around him and ducked his head to try to avoid getting more droplets on his glasses that he could help. Roman hated being out in this weather, so he hurried his way down the familiar path to get to the twins’ school on time.

It never changed much. Some days there was more trash than usual, but other than that it stayed the same. The same cracked concrete and the same determined grass.

So it was no wonder that Logan didn’t think to look up as he passed by the old chainlink fence. It never changed. Why would he need to observe something he had done a hundred times before? Which is why it came as a shock when he heard the whimpering.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around.

Stuck underneath the fence was a little brown dog. It looked as if it had tried to burrow underneath the fence but got stuck. It was small with a black muzzle. Logan wasn’t quite familiar with breeds, but he was sure this was just a puppy.

Logan glanced around, trying to see if someone was looking for it, but they were alone. The puppy continued to whimper and yap for help. Logan looked around one last time before going to help it.

It cowered a bit as Logan walked toward it, making him stop. The poor thing must have been trapped here for a while. Logan continued cautiously. He knelt down in front of it at a distance that wouldn’t seem too threatening. He recalled the one time Patton showed him how to greet a dog and ignored the painful sting it came with. Now wasn’t the time. He slowly held out his hand so that the back of his palm would be near the nose of the dog.

It hesitated for a brief moment before sniffing his hand. It didn’t pull away or try to bite him so that was a good sign. At least something could go right today.

Logan then lifted the chainlink enough for the little creature to wriggle through. Once free, he expected it to run away. But it didn’t. It stood there and looked at him. As if it expected something else to happen now.

“What?” Logan said to it. “Don’t you belong to anyone?” Though a quick once over proved it had no collar, that didn’t mean it didn’t have an owner.

It yipped and bonked its head on Logan’s hand.

“I didn’t really expect you to answer,” Logan mumbled. Regardless, he rubbed the top of the little dog’s head. “You must belong to someone.” He jumped when a particularly large drop of rain hit him. It would start pouring soon. “Come on, then,” he scooped up the dog into his arms, “let’s get somewhere warm.”

~~~

When Patton got home he didn’t expect to find what he did. The first thing he heard upon opening the door was laughter. Laughter had become a rarity in the house. Confused, Patton stepped through the doorway.

Roman and Virgil were playing with a little brown dog. They chased it around and competed for its attention.

Then there was Logan. He sat on the couch with a smile on his face. Patton couldn’t recall the last time he saw Logan smile. His clothes appeared to be a bit muddied, but he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed content with watching his sons’ shenanigans.

Patton mentally cursed himself at being unable to close the door without a sound.

For when the door shut, Logan’s smile fell. The twins paused for a moment to see who had come in, and even the dog stopped to look. Its tail swished back and forth.

“I’m not sure what question I should be asking first,” Patton joked.

“Daddy found a dog,” Roman chirped.

“Uh-huh.” Patton didn’t know how to respond to that information. Logan didn’t have much of a preference for dogs. Or any animal in general. “Logan, can I talk to you for a second?”

Logan hesitated, glancing at the dog before following Patton into the kitchen without a word.

Patton tried not to feel awkward about it. There were very few times he and Logan were alone together anymore. “We’re not going to... keep it. Are we?” He wouldn’t mind owning a dog, but that might not have been the best idea. They were still in a weird spot.

Logan hesitated once more. “I told the twins that you would take her tomorrow to see if she has a chip and we could, possibly, keep her if she didn’t belong to anyone.” He didn’t maintain eye contact. Almost as if he was embarrassed about it.

Patton couldn’t hold back his smile. He missed this side of Logan. Not to mention that he didn’t refer to the dog as an ‘it’ as he might have in the past. “She?”

“Anyway,” Logan’s ears turned pink. “I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re on board with this.”

“Of course. One problem, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t work tomorrow.”

Logan stared at him. “You... don’t?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “There was a change, so now I get the day off tomorrow, but an evening shift Friday.”

“Alright. Well, I suppose we have to wait until then.” His eyes darted to the doorway when the puppy scampered in with Virgil and Roman following behind her.

Roman grabbed her. “Got her!” She squirmed, not very secure or comfortable with Roman’s awkward hug. “I win.” He stuck his tongue out at Virgil.

She freed herself from Roman’s grasp. She stumbled a little but regained her stance and ran to Logan, circling at his feet and jumping up to get his attention.

“What’re we gonna name her?” Virgil asked. He kneeled down to look at her better.

Roman’s eyes brightened. “It’s gotta be something cool. Like, like --”

“No. No naming.” Logan scooped up the little dog into his arms. She already seemed a lot more comfortable there than with Roman, though perhaps part of that had to do with Logan holding her better. “She isn’t ours. We don’t get to name her.”

They sighed in disappointment.

Patton sort of hoped she could be theirs. She didn’t shy away from the twins’ antics or games and she seemed to be very comfortable with Logan. It was like she already fit right in. And they all looked so happy to have her around. They needed that. They needed her.

The next morning -- much earlier than he would have liked -- Patton was alone with the dog. Logan had work and the twins had school (though they tried to make up excuses on why they should stay home) so he was the sole person left. Once everyone was gone, she circled around the house and started whining. She only stopped when she noticed Patton was still there.

He couldn’t lie, having a creature overjoyed to see him felt pretty good. This little pup was full of innocence and ignorant of the things he had done. She wouldn’t ever look at him differently because she wouldn’t ever understand. Maybe that was a little selfish, but he hadn’t had someone be happy around him in a while. It was just nice to see.

“Alright little lady,” Patton addressed the dog, who had been following him around since he got up. “Are you ready for some breakfast?”

Since they didn’t know if they could keep her or not, they didn’t go out to buy dog food. Instead, Patton whipped up something from the food they had at home. Probably not the most nutritious thing for a dog, it was somewhat akin to eating fast food, but it would have to do for now. If they kept her they would have to get proper food. If was the important word, however. If they kept her.

Patton set her plate on the floor. “You’re a spoiled dog, aren’t you?” She started eating in that sloppy way all puppies do. He rubbed her little noggin and went to make his own breakfast.

Throughout the day, while Patton did mundane chores, the dog followed him around. She made sure to lay down or sit next to him wherever he went. He had conversations with her, pretending to hear responses on her end and continuing appropriately. It was a fun way to pass the time.

“Oh shoot,” Patton stopped mid fold on the shirt in front of him, “I have to pick the boys up.” He peered down at the dog at his feet. He couldn’t leave her here. This was still a new environment for her; she could make a huge mess. “Yeah, you’re coming with me.” He scooped her up.

She was a lot heavier than he initially thought. She weighed as much as a baby, which made sense considering the breed he suspected she was. Adult mastiffs weighed as much as a full-grown human. It only made sense for their puppies to be on the heavier side as well.

“You’re definitely going to be a giant dog,” Patton said as he struggled to hold her in one arm while he locked the door with his free hand. He set her down in the passenger seat, but she seemed more interested sitting in his lap. No matter how many times he nudged her off she tried to sneak her way back on. Eventually, he gave up and let her sit where she wanted.

When the twins approached the car, their faces lit up as they saw the dog. They clambered inside and leaned toward the front to compete for her attention. Her tail swished back and forth in excitement. She jumped to the back, crashing into both boys.

Patton smiled at their giggles. “Alright. You two have to buckle up before you keep playing with the dog.”

They tried to be as fast as they could so they could be the first one to play with her more. Unfortunately, their seat belt skills were equally matched so they finished at the exact same time. The dog didn’t seem to mind at all. She sat between them and let them shower her in affection.

“Can we please keep her?” Roman asked. “I have, like, a million names we could use.”

“You heard what your daddy said,” Patton put the car in drive, “we have to see if she belongs to anyone first. We don’t want to steal her from anybody.”

“But she ran away,” Virgil said, rubbing her tummy. “Maybe she wanted to find a new home.”

Patton could have come up with another reason for her running away. He could have said she got out through a gap or chased something and got lost or someone walked her without a leash. But he didn’t. Because maybe Virgil was right.

Once Logan got home, the dog stayed at his side the most. She walked wherever he did and curled up on his lap whenever he sat down. And since she hung out with Logan the most, that meant the twins were constantly by him as well. Patton thought it was kind of cute to see them all like that. Full of smiles and joy. It was much needed for sure.

The next morning, Patton woke up early again. Not by his own volition but rather the puppy that licked his face. There was a moment of confusion mixed with partial disgust before the realization kicked in. They had a dog in their house, it was the morning, and Logan’s alarm was going off in the next room. That last one must have been why she was in his face.

“Okay. Down. Down.” He pushed her away. She walked in a circle, tail wagging, and stood there. Like she waited for him to get up and follow her. He sighed, fumbling for his glasses. “You don’t like me getting sleep, do you?” He walked toward the bedroom but she sprinted in front of him, almost tripping him in the process.

She paced in front of the door.

“If you had hands I could be sleeping right now.” He shook his head at her but opened the door anyway. Almost as soon as he did so, she ran in. She leaped onto the bench to jump on the bed. Patton rushed into the room. “Oh, no, no --”

She jumped right on Logan.

Logan shot up with a sharp gasp. He calmed down when he saw the dog. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Sorry.” Patton tried not to cringe at his own awkwardness. He didn’t spend a lot of time in here anymore. “I couldn’t stop her.”

“It’s fine.” He adjusted himself so he could reach for his phone. The dog took that as an opportunity to crawl onto his lap. He turned off his alarm, which had no doubt been going on for several minutes already. “Crap.” He turned to Patton. There was always a specific look he had in the morning after just waking up. And though this morning, in particular, started off a bit panicked, he still had it. The way his bangs fell in front of his face. The way his eyes sparked with purpose despite still being sleepy. The way his cheeks and the tips of his ears were a little rosy because he always fell asleep curled in a ball with multiple blankets. Patton really missed seeing that. “Could you...?”

He didn’t even have to finish the sentence for Patton to understand what he meant. “Got it.” He left to go wake up the twins. Before he got there, he heard something that made him pause.

“Look, I’m sorry I locked you out, but you were sleeping with the boys,” Logan spoke in that tone that people always reserved for pets. “I thought you were going to stay there.”

Patton couldn’t help but grin. He got the twins up and ready while Logan raced to do his own things (with the dog following his every step). They were running late today so it was all a bit rushed.

“You two have everything?” Logan slipped his shoes on while putting papers in his bag. The dog circled around him. “Homework? Backpacks? Lunches?”

“Yes,” Roman answered, on the verge of falling asleep standing up.

Virgil rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Glasses?” Patton added. Nowadays he tried not to interrupt their morning system so much, but it seemed pretty frantic today and Logan could use the help.

Logan paused. “Glasses?” He put a hand to his face. “You’re right, I need those.” He pointed at the dog. “You’re making me forget things.” She wagged her tail with more force. He hurried to the bedroom with her following close behind. “Okay, now we’re ready.” He ushered the kids out the door and they were gone.

The dog stared at the door, her tail still for the first time this morning.

“It looks like it’s just you and me again.”

She turned to look at him. Her tail started wagging again.

The day passed very much like the one prior. Patton did chores with the dog and then he went to pick up the boys. By the time Logan got home, Patton started to get ready for work. The dog broke away from playing with the boys to follow Logan closely. She stayed right on his heels as he went about his routine.

“You’re going to trip me.” Logan picked her up so they would be face to face. “I don’t need an added element of danger to my life, miss.”

She licked his nose.

“Fine. You get a free pass today.” He held her properly.

Patton smiled at the interaction. He stood at the doorway, trying to give Logan a few more precious seconds with the dog. They all loved her, but tonight would be the night that determined what happened to her. He knew deep down somewhere that she had an owner. She appeared to be a purebred puppy -- those don’t exactly go unowned for too long. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell his family that. They wanted to keep her. Heck, even he wanted to believe they could keep her, but he had to be realistic. She wouldn’t be theirs.

“Alright. I gotta get to work.” Patton held his arms out for the dog.

Logan hesitated. He held the dog a little closer. “I... suppose you do.” He stared at Patton’s arms as if the dog would vanish if she was placed there. Patton could almost tell how fast his mind was spinning to come up with something that would lead to the dog staying. But in the end, he knew he couldn’t come up with anything without admitting he was attached to her already. He handed her over.

Patton wasn’t sure how Logan made her seem so easy to hold; she was like a baby with all the wrong limbs.

“Is she leaving now?” Roman asked quietly from behind them. The twins always had an affinity for just... appearing.

“Yeah.” Patton sent them a little smile even though he didn’t really feel like smiling. He felt bad. He was taking away his family’s happiness. Again. “I’ll be back later.” He left before their frowning faces could upset him any further.

He came back sometime around ten. The house was quiet, which wasn’t unusual considering the, uh, Unfortunate Event and the late hour, but it still felt a bit odd. Whenever there wasn’t anyone to greet him or some noise somewhere in the house, it sort of felt like he was sneaking in. He didn’t like it very much but thems the breaks or what have you. If he wanted to have Logan wait up for him then he shouldn’t have done certain things that he did.

He navigated the dark house toward the bedroom. The door wasn’t closed all the way, so he could see the light streaming out. Logan was awake. Good. He poked his head in, making sure to keep his arms out of sight. “I’m home.”

Logan looked up from the book he was reading. He sat cross-legged on the bed, but it didn’t look like he planned to sleep soon. “What did you find out?”

“Well, as it turns out, she did belong to somebody.” Breeders, specifically. Apparently, the day Patton was out was the day they came by with a lost dog poster. She got out before the buyers could come by to look at all the pups.

“Oh.” He tried not to seem disappointed.

“But I managed to convince them there was someone else who needed her more.” If ‘convince’ meant offer to pay more than the original buyer. He was just lucky those guys weren’t too big on customer loyalty, yet it was worth it to see Logan’s face light up when he saw the dog again. He set her down on the bed and she bolted straight for Logan.

Logan set his book to the side and let her jump on him to lick his face. And he laughed. He actually laughed. Patton hadn’t heard that in so long.

“Are we keeping her?” The twins asked from the doorway.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Patton raised a brow.

“Not when we have a dog.” Roman ran into the room and jumped on the bed. Virgil followed in a much more restrained manner.

Patton smiled. He decided to join them on the bed.

“What should we name her?” Logan asked. He made her settle down a bit so she wouldn’t slobber all over his face.

“Princess,” Roman answered.

Almost at the same time, Virgil said a quiet, “Leia.”

They glanced at each other for only a moment before responding together, “Princess Leia.”

Logan smiled. One of those rare big smiles Patton loved to see. “I think that’s a perfect name.”

~~~

@actitus-hypoleucos

#fun fact: this has been in my drafts for two years #its been a while apparently #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sibling prinxiety #past attempted rape tw #past infidelity tw #berry done au

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tss-grimmverse · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: Clematis

i walk a lonely road

the only one that i have ever known

Virgil stepped into the strange apartment.

It was quiet. Not a mere absence of sound, but a quiet that breathed deep and blanketed the senses like a nighttime pillow. It was a quiet that examined every scuff and rustle and soft exhalation with cool curiosity. It listened, with the hush of trees in the night.

It watched, with the perilous regard of faeries.

Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding; probably had been holding since leaving Ohio two days before. After multiple bus rides across multiple states and hours and hours of strangers and suitcases and stress…despite how it put his paranoid senses on edge, he was glad of the quiet, away from open spaces and curious eyes.

But the apartment was also dark, and a little cold, and its owner was painfully conspicuous by his absence.

The place belonged to a half-faery named Logan Ursae: who, according to the Youngstown Grimms, was a friend of the organization that they trusted to provide pursued changelings a place to run to and start over.

Changelings like Virgil.

Virgil, who would rather be with his Ren Faire troupe back in Ohio. The reappearance of his old faery master had brought his scarce two years of freedom to an abrupt end.

The Grimms were a loose organization of former faery thralls; humans kidnapped as children, who’d lived in Arcadia for so long that their bodies had absorbed faery magic and made them something not quite fae, but more than human. Blessed…or cursed, depending on who you asked…with strange and erratic and often dangerous powers. Those that joined the Grimms used those powers to help other humans escape and integrate, as best they could, back into the human world.

And, occasionally, they worked to protect said thralls when their former faery masters came looking for them.

Now here Virgil stood, in some ordinary human apartment, owned by an absent half-blood with a human name, in some middle-of-nowhere city in hot, muggy Florida, a thousand miles from everyone he knew.

Figures, the guy isn’t even here when I show up. He tugged his oversized black plaid hoodie tighter around himself. It’s not like I’m ever anyone’s top priority.

“Uh, hey?” he called, flipping a light switch. “Anyone home?”

Silence.

Virgil rolled his eyes.

Despite his relief at not having to answer questions or make small talk with a stranger, Logan’s absence unsettled him. What kind of person apparently regularly took in changelings on the run, but couldn’t be arsed to actually be around when they turned up on his doorstep? If Virgil’d had any other place to go, he’d have turned around and walked right back out the door on principle.

Instead he huffed out a sigh and let his ratty duffle bag slide to the floor. He’d meet this mysterious Logan eventually; assuming, of course, that his pursuer didn’t track him down in the night and finish what he’d begun years ago in Arcadia.

It would be no more than I deserve.

Logan Ursae’s apartment was spacious and clean, making Virgil uncomfortably aware of his own travel-mussed, unwashed state. Hopefully the half-faery wouldn’t care if he used the shower…well, if he wanted to lay down rules, he should’ve been here to do it.

The foyer spilled into a modest living room, with a navy sectional couch and a low coffee table, several standing lamps, a hallway presumably leading to the bedrooms, and the dining space off in its own niche to the right. Practically every wall in the place housed a heavily-laden bookshelf or three; an inconceivable number of books to Virgil, who’d lived either on the road or on the run his whole life. He wandered to the oval dining table, trailing fingerpads across classy pale wood and a dark blue runner.

A half empty water dish with ‘Nic’ spelled out in neat cursive sat against the far wall…but there were no other signs of pets. If Logan did have a dog or something, it was as absent as its owner.

A low counter separated a small galley kitchen from the rest of the apartment, navy towels hanging evenly from the oven handle and blue, galaxy-themed pot holders hanging under the cabinets.

The guy clearly had a thing for the color blue.

Even the curious scent that hung in the air smelled blue to Virgil’s changeling-sensitive nose, tickling at his senses in an explosion of color. Dark teal skies and rich bronze bark against a background of earthy brown, a combination that made his mind hazy in a pleasant way. Subtle and masculine, but more middle-note than the patchouli oil Virgil himself liked to wear.

He inhaled slowly, unconsciously imagining that scent against a warm masculine neck, and wondered where the hell that thought came from.

Maybe you’re just gay, Virgil, he groused to himself.

In place of a television, Logan’s living room held a large, intricately carved wooden cabinet; the antique kind, waist-high, with drawers and two swinging doors. On top of this sat an old fashioned record player with a huge brass horn. The setup could have easily graced a 50s movie set; both cabinet and player were heavy and solid and gleamed with care.

Virgil idly pawed through the impressive vinyl collection on the shelf above, recognizing a few artists, and then knelt to see if there were any more inside the cabinet.

“I’ll thank ye not to touch that,” a voice said.

Virgil’s heart skittered up into his throat. He whirled.

A creature no more than two feet tall leaned against the coffee table, tiny brown arms folded over a sturdy brown chest, covered by a tunic that looked to be messily stitched from several colored hand towels. Their feet were bare and covered in brown wispy hair. Gender was impossible to determine.

Their face was framed by a mop of more wispy hair and a tall hat that, weirdly, looked like it had been made from burlap and a Starbucks cup. A pair of black sunglasses sat on a red, upturned nose, nearly obscuring a pair of black, beady, glaring eyes under expressive eyebrows.

Fae, Virgil’s mind whispered. Fae, Fae, there’s a Fae in the house they’ll tell Deceit where I am what do I do…?

No. He was overreacting. It was just a house brownie. A solitary. Generally harmless.

Virgil took a breath and relaxed his shoulders, which had tensed up at being startled.

“You always sneak up on people?” he asked, mirroring the small faery’s crossed-arm stance.

“You always go poking about in people’s houses?” the brownie countered in a high, sassy voice, the faintest hint of a baroque staining the syllables.

“I’m not poking; I have a key. S’not my fault Logan’s not here—”

“I meant what’s behind you,” the brownie nodded toward the cabinet, “ye daft changeling. I know the Bear is expecting company. Do what ye want in the rest of the apartment, but keep clear of my house.”

Oh.

Virgil shuffled away from the cabinet, trying to recall what little he knew about domestic Fae. Don’t insult them. Leave gifts; never leave them payment. Don’t watch them do chores. Don’t give them clothes.

Nothing about trying to make conversation with one; unfortunate, since Virgil sucked at making conversation in general.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. “Just…don’t like being surprised.”

The brownie peeked over their sunglasses…why would a Fae wear sunglasses?…and ran beady eyes over Virgil’s faded purple hair and messy eyeshadow, his ripped jeans and faded black hoodie, seemingly content to let him squirm under the scrutiny.

“Um, no offense,” Virgil muttered, rubbing his neck. “But your kind don’t usually show themselves to humans.”

The brownie plopped onto the coffee table.

“Well, I see no humans here,” they quipped, leaning forward. “Do you, changeling?”

Virgil instinctively ducked his head, letting his bangs obscure his eyes…eyes that, like all changelings, held a narrow ring of color around each pupil. Worse, Virgil’s changeling eyes were heterochromatic, setting him apart even from his own kind. Besides his natural dark brown, he bore a dark green ring around his left pupil, and a striking purple one around his right.

Wearing his hair long in the front helped, but they still drew attention.

He hated attention.

If there was one thing Fae were good at, it was needling at your insecurities. Brownies and hobgoblins and other solitaries, like all faeries, enjoyed their little games.

“Technically changelings are human,” Virgil grumbled. “We’re just kept in Arcadia for so long that the magic just kind of—”

“Bleeds into ye?” The brownie swung their legs, making their mop of hair sway. “Soaks into your teeth and sinew until ye can alter the Contracts same as they can?”

Virgil frowned. “If that means ‘do magic’, then yeah.”

“I live with a half-blood, lad,” the brownie pointed out, still in that sassy tone, licking their knobby teeth. “I know of your Grimms. I know you’re here for the Bear to keep safe, because your master tried to snatch ye back up. What’re you called, then, eh?”

“Um,” Virgil stalled, swallowing.

It was never a good idea to give a Fae one’s real name, but if Logan and the little Fae had a close relationship, Virgil didn’t dare insult the brownie by lying to them. He suspected if this one knew why he was here, they knew his name already.

“Virgil,” he admitted softly.

The brownie smiled, removing their sunglasses to bare their face properly.

“Mmm. Then you may call me Remy,” they said with a small nod, flourishing the glasses and parking them back on their nose. “He/him pronouns.”

Virgil nodded, guessing he’d passed some test.

Remy folded his arms again.

Neither spoke for a long, uncomfortable minute…long enough for Virgil’s skin to crawl. Logan’s brownie seemed friendly enough, but Virgil wasn’t too keen to start befriending every faery he happened across. He also despised awkward silences, and small talk, and making nice with a stranger when he was worn down and grimy from travel and ready to curl up somewhere and just sleep.

“Look, uh, Remy,” Virgil said at last, picking at his sleeves. “Did Logan know I was coming tonight?”

“You want to know why he’s not here to meet ye?” Remy shrugged. “I could explain, or,” and he gestured to a neatly folded sheet of paper on the coffee table, “you could hear it from the Bear himself.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and snatched up the note.

He could’ve have led with that, the little bastard. He ignored Remy’s knowing chuckle and unfolded the note with a little more force than necessary. Delicate, slanted script covered the paper, the lines so straight they looked like they’d been made with a ruler.

‘Salutations,’

Virgil raised an eyebrow. Really? We’re leading with that?

‘If you are reading this, Virgil, then I extend my sincerest apologies for my absence upon your arrival. An emergency has called me away. Though I advised your Grimm sponsors of this as soon as I could, you had already begun your journey, and, as you have no phone, there was no way to inform you.

Remy was right about this note being enlightening. Virgil hoped the guy didn’t actually talk like this.

‘(We must remedy this issue upon my return; due to the circumstances of your relocation, I insist upon having a reliable means to contact you.)’

Patronizing, too. Great.

‘The room on the left is yours. There are clean sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom. I trust you have brought your own toiletries.’

Virgil frowned. Either Logan was one of those people who believed not brushing one’s teeth after every meal was barbaric, or he was afraid Virgil would steal his shampoo or something.

Whatever.

‘Also, please do not move the bowl on the counter, and if you find it empty, if you could fill it with the cream you’ll find in the fridge, I would much appreciate it. The house brownie may or may not choose to introduce himself to you; he tends to spend most of his time sleeping. If he does come out, please be polite.’

Virgil glanced up and was unsurprised to see that Remy had vanished. Brownies generally came and went as they pleased and stayed out of sight; he already knew he was fortunate Remy had shown himself at all.

‘I advise you to stay inside the apartment until my return. You will find both the fridge and the pantry stocked; please make yourself at home. I expect to return sometime the night of the 12th, and look forward to meeting you then.

Logan’

‘P.S. Do not touch the Crofters.’

Well, August 12th would be over in about an hour, so it didn’t look like he’d be meeting Logan that night. Virgil refolded and pocketed the note, sighing again. He found Remy’s bowl and refilled it as instructed, but figured he probably wouldn’t see the little brownie again until Logan returned…if then.

Meanwhile, he might as well get settled.

The room mentioned in the note held a twin bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a small deck with a chair. Not much, but the bedspread looked new and he had his own closet. Virgil, having lived in a tent before this, was very much not complaining.

After unpacking his clothes (black, very dark gray, more black, a little purple…what, so he had a certain aesthetic), he carefully unearthed his two most valued possessions: a beat-up tackle box full of smushed, well-used acrylic paints, and a roll of brushes and palette knives. In his escape, he’d had to leave his all sketchbooks and paintings behind…but he knew he was lucky to have saved any of his art supplies at all.

Virgil sat heavily on his bed, the last seventy-two hours finally starting to catch up.

The sheer terror of seeing his former faery master strolling through that Renaissance Faire like he owned the place.

Him bolting to his tent and throwing everything he could into his duffle.

Running, with no real plan, nowhere in particular to go, just away.

He was lucky that a Grimm had stumbled upon him at that farmer’s market and taken him to a safe house, one of many, set up all over the country. He was lucky those Grimms were in contact with the Founders…the original Grimm team…and through them, Logan.

He was lucky.

He’d already escaped hell once. He wasn’t sure he’d survive under Deceit’s thumb again. Working until his fingers bled and his eyes burned with exhaustion, second guessing every word, every gesture, every silence, never knowing day to day if he’d be slapped or fed, coddled or tortured…

Virgil shuddered, wrapping arms around himself and exhaling carefully. He’d endured over twenty hours of traveling without having a panic attack. It would suck to fall into one now that he was, for the moment, safe.

At least, he hoped so.

For lack of anything else to do, Virgil showered in the guest bathroom (with his own shampoo, thank you very much, Mr. Bring-Your-Own-Toiletries), and dressed for bed. , It was barely midnight and his eyelids already felt heavy, and normally he considered 2am “early”. He read through Logan’s stilted, precise note again, frowning the odd post script before setting it on the nightstand and switching off the lamp.

What in the Arcadian hell is a ‘Crofters’?

Clematis: rest, safety

#sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #virgil sanders #ts virgil #fae #ts remy #remy sanders #fanfiction #mahoganyandteakwood

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sidespart · 3 years

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The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Prologue Chapter 1

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times. Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared, momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now, Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

#creativitwins #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Roman Sanders #TS: Fall of Romulus #this features #10% more plot but 100% more logan #this is the second full fic ive ever done and the first multichapter so feedback appreciated :o

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inkribbon796 · 4 years

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Loose Lips, Sink Ships

Summary: Secrets, secrets, never tell . . . Secrets, secrets, just as well. Sometimes secrets are harmless, like the fact that Roman has a chronic case of losing the remotes and they don’t actually grow wings. But for Virgil and some of the other heroes, they’re a bit more serious. Too bad the Jims have no sense of the words: “keep out”.

A/N: No ships were harmed in the revealing of secrets. Just Virgil’s peace of mind. ALSO! Just wanted to put it out there I’m really glad I didn’t commit to a name for Deceit, might come out with a bonus fic this weekend for Deceit, cause I’ve got Sanders Sides on the brain.

Marvin would always swear up and down that it was an accident.

The magician had always been good at brewing potions. They took time, and Marvin prided himself on the fact that he could succeed where others failed, or even weren’t so good at. So of course he could make about any type of potion that wasn’t necessarily “above board” to make. I.E: love potions and truth serums. Both of which didn’t last nearly as long as fiction liked to say they lasted for.

However, when the Jims walked into a relatively packed common room with a huge grin, everyone knew something was up with them.

Eric, Patton, Virgil, and Randall were all watching a movie, a little bit of downtime before Patton and Virgil stepped back out. King was in the kitchen arguing about the coffee maker with Ethan and Roman. And Jackie, who was just watching the room, took one look at the Jims and thought, “Oh no, what are they up to this time?”.

“Party’s in the house!” RJ screamed and threw the glass potion he’d been hiding behind his back onto the floor. It smashed into pieces and quickly began to fill up the space.

A silvery smoke instantly flooded the room, more smoke than could have possibly fit inside that little glass orb.

Everyone in the lobby area began coughing, the smoke physically forcing them to breath it in. Jackie used his super speed to open the door and force the smoke out into the open air.

“Fook!” Jackie coughed, “what was that?”

“Not a glitter bomb,” RJ shrugged.

“I thought the label said it was a glitter bomb,” CJ agreed.

“Yeh fookers are mad,” Jackie spat. “Where’d you even get it?”

“Marvin’s study,” CJ answered. “He was working on something else.”

“Then why’d you take it?” Anxiety shouted. “What even was that thing?”

Both of the Jim Twins looked at each other, and then shrugged at the same time.

“Helpful,” Virgil glared at them.

“Okay, so we gotta figure out what it does,” Patton added. “Do you think it’s going to hurt anyone outside?”

“Nah, it was starting to dissipate when it hit the air outside,” Jackie said, zipping over to check outside for a second “Yep, coast’s all clear.”

Patton let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, that’s good.

“Maybe we could ask Marvin,” Randall asked.

“Good idea,” the Jim twins began at almost the same time. “We’ll go find him.”

Then they looked at each other with confusion.

“Nah uh,” Ethan walked over. “I don’t trust the two of you with shit. I’m coming with.”

Once the three of them were gone, Roman commented, “What if it only works on twins. Oh no! Will I be forced to share a mind with Remus again.”

“Shoot me,” Virgil groaned.

“No, you don’t really mean that do you?” Patton asked in concern.

“Of course not,” Virgil said. “It just slipped out.”

Patton looked relieved, and then tears started prickling his eyes, “Oh good, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Then Patton raced over and wrapped his arms around Virgil, the more anxious Side stiffening up like a cat that had been suddenly picked up.

“Come on, Pat, let me go,” Virgil struggled.

“Why don’t I ever get a hug from you?” Roman complained.

Jackie had his head in one of his hands, his phone starting to ring for Marvin. He was getting impatient, even more so when Marvin didn’t answer him. “Come on, we need to figure out what we got hit with.”

Marvin walked in with Ethan and the twins, and Jackie immediately stomped over to him.

“Hey Marv, what the hell?” Jackie spat. “What’d they steal?”

“I can’t tell just by the color ‘a smoke,” Marvin defended heatedly. “Has anyone suddenly tried making out.”

“No,” Eric said. “I ha-ve a b-b-oy-friend now, and . . . I don’t want to cheat on him. I’ve . . . I’ve never had a boy-friend before and—”

“Eric,” Marvin called out. “Breathe.”

“Is it Illy?” Roman’s attention hyper focused on Eric. “Did he call back? Tell me.”

“Illinois?” King balked. “Why the hell you are dating that asshole?”

“He’s not an asshole, he’s a sweetheart,” Eric began tearing up.

“He put slugs in my bed,” King dismissed. “He’s a nut job who got crazier the older he got and the closer he got to Dad.”

“Is it the same Illinois that works for Dark?” Virgil spoke up. “King’s right, he’s crazy.”

“He’s not!” Eric began crying.

“Hey, quit making ‘em cry, assholes,” Randall shouted back.

Magic suddenly seized all of them, Marvin taking control of the situation. “Hey,” Marvin called out. “Okay, it’s either a truth potion, or someone aerosolized my supply of Whiskey.”

“What were you doing with a truth potion?” Jackie demanded. “Did you give it to those two fookers?”

“No,” Marvin scoffed. “Those two would steal the clothes off my back if it meant pulling a prank.”

“We totally would,” CJ smiled, fist bumping with his brother; both of them which huge proud smiles.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t try something,” Jackie reminded.

“I didn’t drug yeh, an’ it’ll wear off anywhere from an hour ta about a day, ‘pends on the dose.”

“A whole day!” Jackie was practically screeching.

“Depends on the dose,” Marvin answered. “But as long as no one’s got some deep dark secret you all should be fine.”

Anxiety let out a nervous scream.

Kay laughed nervously, “Everyone already knows mine.”

Patton began sobbing, whatever he was saying almost indecipherable.

“Well that’s great,” Marvin groaned.

“Why did yah even have that potion?” Jackie asked, still glaring at Marvin. “Probably didn’t mean for us ta get it though.”

“I made it ages ago an’ didn’t want ta risk it by flushing it down the drain,” Marvin spat. “Just get e’eryone comfortable, I’ll see if I can whip an antidote up.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Jackie spat. Then he looked a little surprised. “Dammit, that was supposed to stay in my head.”

“Well ‘til the potion wears off, it’s not. Keep everyone who was affected here,” Marvin sighed. “I’ll make some calls.”

Jackie nodded, thanking Marvin in-between cursing at him.

Keeping themselves in the lobby they tried not to insult each other the best they could. Eric was mostly calmed down, only snapping at King who snapped back. It was fun for everyone to see the normally timid Eric snapping at someone.

However Patton was lying in the middle of the floor, staring at the ceiling. Virgil and Roman were on either side of him. King and Jackie were on the sofa and both the Jim’s were piled into a bean bag chair. Eric has gone to his room to sleep everything off, Randall taking him there.

“Do you ever think that your life’s a lie?” Patton mumbled out loud. “That no matter how many times you fuse, and how hard you try to be a good person, someone can just scoop out everything that makes you a good person and put in something else.”

Roman stared at him. “Like what?”

“I think I was replaced with another Patton, that your Patton is in my world, and I’m here,” Patton began to ramble. “But I wanna be a good person, I wanna be a good person so bad it hurts.”

“You are a good guy, Pat,” Roman said, cuddling up next to him.

“No, I’m a bad person,” Patton said in-between sobbing, his voice choking up. “I worked with Dark, I’ve watched people die.”

“You never worked with Dark, you’re been with the other Sides the whole time,” Anxiety told him. “I would have recognized you.”

“Then why do I have all these awful memories in my head that won’t go away,” Patton sat up, looking desperately at Virgil. Whether or not he was looking for reassurance or someone to validate his claims was unknown. “They only go away when I fuse. When I was Thomas last time they went away for months.”

Anxiety seemed to be thinking on Patton’s words, “It must be Arthur, he must be doing that to you. He’s forcing you to think that way.”

“Who’s Arthur?” Patton asked.

“Arthur’s dead,” King interrupted. “He bled out on an operating table in front of me. How many times do I keep having to repeat that.”

“What do you mean he’s dead, he can’t be,” Virgil responded. “He’s been keeping Dark from taking over the base.”

“Nah that’s Host and J.J, the two of them keep Dark out,” Roman bragged. “Dark’s always been trying to get into the base but it wasn’t until the Host joined that J.J got some help.”

“I knew he was a liar!” Anxiety shouted.

“Who?” Roman asked. “Dee?”

“Dark!” Anxiety answered. “Oh no.”

“He lies about a lot of stuff,” King agreed. “He once told me we couldn’t get a pet, and then he got himself a cat and named it after himself. I just wanted a puppy.”

“That’s so sad,” Patton told him, rolling over to prop his chin up on his palms. “Least you got a kitty.”

“For a couple days,” King dismissed. Then he paused, “Hey Vee, how’d you even hear about Artie? Everyone in the network uses nicknames.”

Virgil felt the words coming, like an out of control freight train with broken brakes. He grabbed at his throat. “He told me to look for him.”

“Who?” King asked. “Artie?”

“I don’t want to do it, I have talked with him since,” Virgil said, everyone was staring at him.. “You have to believe me, I didn’t believe it, I’m not spying on you, I promise!”

“I believe you,” Patton told him. “You don’t have to talk to him ever again.”

“What kind of spy doesn’t report on the people he’s spying on?” Jack agreed.

“You’re not mad?” Virge asked, daring to hope that somehow he was getting out of this alive. “Even if I was a bad guy?”

King laughed, “You think that’s bad, I’m hiding out from my old man because he would probably kill me if he ever saw me again.”

“Who’s your dad?” Randall asked.

“Dark,” King said, before slapping his hand over his mouth. “Oh no, Host’s gonna kill me.”

“What!?” About half of the heroes in the room shouted. Virgil stared at King.

“You’re not Arthur,” Virgil said out loud, his filter completely destroyed by the truth dust.

“Nah, that’s one of my siblings,” King was staring at his hands. “Host, Bim, Yan, me, Illy, Yancy, and . . .”

Then he stared at his hands, “Huh, weren’t there seven of us?”

“Was that Arthur?” Virgil asked.

“Nah, I already counted him,” King dismissed, waving at Virgil’s direction. “Sides, Artie’s kinda dead, except in the ways that probably matter. You all lucked out, you guys didn’t have to babysit him.”

RJ, who was almost falling asleep with CJ snapped away, almost dragging him and his camera over to have it almost pressed into King’s face. “This sounds like a story.”

King stared at the camera in fear, “Is that live? Please tell me it’s not live.”

“The Jim Twins should make sure it doesn’t see the light of day,” the Host announced himself.

“Host, there’s a truth spray in the air!” King called out desperately as the Host walked closer.

“Even if it was still the air, the Host’s narrations have him dictate his mind anyways,” the seer reminded.

“Oh yeah,” King’s mouth formed a thin line. “You really got the short end didn’t you?”

The Host just stared at him. “The King of the Squirrels should take a nap before he incriminates himself any further.”

“What if I did?” King somehow looked halfway between apologetic and not even a little remorseful. “Like, what if I messed up, bad?”

“The Host noticed,” the seer frowned at him.

“Nah, it was bad,” King frowned. “The one thing you told me not to do, I did it.”

“The Host can see the future, he doesn’t need a replay,” the Host reminded curtly.

“Do you hate me?” King asked sadly. “You probably do, right?”

The Host sat down on the couch next to his adopted brother, his expression softening, “The Host has never hated King.”

“Did Artie?” King was staring at his hands.

“No the Author did not hate King either,” the Host told him “He was angry and dangerous, but he did not hate his adopted family.”

King looked sad, “Oh, that sucks. Cause you were an asshole and I always felt bad about not being nicer.”

“King should save his sympathy,” Host decided. “The Author did not deserve it.”

“You did,” King told him. “You were in there, an’ I should’a been nicer.”

“So you’re Arthur then?” Virgil asked, narrowing his eyes in concentration. “Probably should have called that.”

“King and his friends should sleep,” Host told him, as his words began to curl around the room and people began dropping one by one to sleep. “Everything will be better after you sleep.”

They slept, making it easier for the minds to clear even if each of their dreams were a little more unusual and potion-fueled than usual. Marvin was able to lift the spell by the time they woke up, leaving an uncomfortable atmosphere in the potion’s wake.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Mark Fischbach #Sean McLoughlin #Thomas Sanders #the Jim Twins #Marvin the Magician #Anxiety Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #King of the Squirrels #Jackieboy Man #the Host #Randall Voorhees #Eric Derekson #Truth Serum #Jim chaos #the Jims at their finest

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mycatshuman · 5 years

Text

Castle of Devils Chapter 3

Pairings: eventual Prinxiety

Warnings: mentions of slaying a beast, hints of a past bad romance, if I missed any, please let me know!

Thank you to @civilsounds17 for reading through this for me!💚

Roman and Virgil worked on lessons for over an hour and a half. Finally, sometime around 6:40, Virgil sat back from the table with a sigh. “I think now would be a good time to stop,” he said as he looked across at Roman. The other sighed and ran a hand through his dark curly hair.

“I suppose,” he started before leaning back. “That would be wise.”

Virgil stood and turned to Roman. “Dinner should be done soon.” Roman nodded. A beat of silence as Virgil watched the other. “Would you like to go down to the dining room?”

Roman stood up and stretched. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly and he quickly averted his eyes. “Yeah,” Roman let out a sigh before looking at Virgil. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”

Virgil shrugged. “Just some pasta. Hope that’s alright with you?”

Roman smiled. “Of course! I love pasta!” Virgil suppressed a smile as he left the room, Roman following close behind.

As the two walked through the halls, Virgil tried to ignore the blood rushing through his veins. He was a little uncomfortable, he had to admit. It had been a little while since he had someone else in his home. But Virgil liked it that way. He wasn’t a very sociable person. However, he had to admit that….over the years, he had gotten lonely with only his pet cats to keep him company. That and the occasional “food” and grocery run.

Virgil shook his head slightly as they made their way into the dinning room. Virgil turned back to Roman. “I’ll go check the food.”

“Okay.”

Virgil nodded awkwardly before he left. Roman watched as the other left. His host was a mystery. And Roman was beginning to find himself falling more and more in love with mystery. He quickly snapped out of it and let out a breathless sigh. Logan was right, he really was a hopeless romantic. Running a hand through his hair he turned and took a better look at the room. He glanced at the walls and noticed more woven tapestries. One of them seemed to show what could only be of the Stoker family line. Walking over to the tapestry, he stared in awe at the amazing attention to detail. Every person on the family tree had a small portrait along with their name. The stitched pictures and names were so perfect. Roman figured it must have taken ages to complete the whole piece. He reached forward and let his fingertips grazed the woven fabric gently. His eyes trailed from branch to branch, inspecting the different members of Virgil’s family.

Roman’s fingers stopped at a name and he felt his breath catch in his throat at the picture. His eyes were more guarded. And somehow the thread captured his silver eyes perfectly. Virgil’s pale skin stood out against the dark richness of the background fabric. Roman let his pointer finger trail over the picture Virgil’s jaw. Roman wondered what it would feel like to have his fingers graze the real Virgil’s face.

Roman let out a reluctant sigh as he let his hand drop away from the tapestry. His head dropped to his dress shoes. He really needed to stop letting his heart do what it wanted. It didn’t help last time. Roman shook his head and turned away from the tapestry. Looking around his eyes caught onto a piece of art behind the head of the table. His jaw dropped and he migrated over to the stain glass window and let his eyes drink in the brilliant colors. The stained glass depicted a cross of silver. Then the background was various different sized rectangles, each colored either purple, red, or gold in a range of different shades. It was beautiful in its simplicity.

Roman tentatively reached a hand out and let his fingertips ghost the cool, colored glass. It was magnificent. Roman felt a small smile spread across his face. A throat cleared behind him. He whirled around to find Virgil standing beside the table. Plates and food already sitting there. How could they have gotten there? Surely they weren’t there a few minutes ago. And why hadn’t Roman heard Virgil come in?

“Are you ready to eat?” Virgil asked as he watched Roman move over to a chair and sit down.

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, I could have helped you carry the food in.”

Virgil gave a ghost of a smile. “Do not worry about it. You are my guest. You need not worry about such tasks.” Roman listened as he piled food onto his plate.

“Yeah, I know but I still could help.”

Virgil looked thoughtful for a moment as he sat down at the head of the table. “Perhaps,” was all he said as he watched Roman way for the second night.

Roman waited a few bites before stopping. “Are you not going to eat?” He asked as he looked at the baren space on the table in front of Virgil.

Virgil glanced down and back at him before shrugging. “I ate earlier.”

Roman frowned. He didn’t believe it. But he wasn’t going to ask anymore questions. He couldn’t, otherwise, Virgil might notice something’s up and be on to him. “So, what kind of work do you do?” Roman asked as he turned back to his food, keeping a discreet eye on the other.

“I work as an author.”

Roman nodded. “What kind of work do you write?”

Virgil leaned back in his chair. “Mostly horror, or supernatural stuff. Although I have written a few crime stories.”

“Do you think I could read any of them?”

Virgil’s stormy grey eyes shot over to look at him. “You’d really want to read one?” He asked, skeptically.

Roman nodded as he swallowed this bite of food. “Yeah, I have to imagine living in an old castle like this helps with the imagination. I think I’d like to read what came from it.”

Virgil’s eyes studied him for a moment to see if he was genuinely interested. After a few moments he dropped the intense gaze and sighed. “Sure. Do you have any preferences?”

“I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.”

Virgil nodded absently as he watched Roman. “I’ll drop the book off before you go to bed.”

“Okay.” Roman nodded as he ate his food. The silence stretched between them for a few moments until Roman cleared his throat. “The food is delicious. Where’d you learn to cook?”

Virgil looked over to Roman. “My mother. She taught me all I know.”

“She must be a lovely women.”

Virgil nodded, suddenly looking nostalgic. “Yeah,” he breathed. “She was. She really was.”

Roman froze. Oh Roman. You dunce. He turned to Virgil. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Virgil shook his head. Cutting Roman off, he said, “It’s alright. It was a long time ago. She’s in a better place now.”

Roman gave a small sympathetic smile to the other before turning back to his food. As he ate, he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Maybe he should stop learning things about his host. If he learned that what the cashier had said was true, that there were devils in this castle and his host was one of them, it would be best he had not gotten close and humanized the beast.

Roman snuck a glance at Virgil as the other let his guard down and stared off into space, thinking, or perhaps just being. Roman felt his heart sigh as he watched the softened features of his host.

Virgil’s eyes were no longer a cold grey. They were the softness of the clouds, not quite thunderclouds but they were getting there. His icy pale skin was now the soft clouds of dreams and fantasies. His expression was calm; no tension. Not even the normal stiff jaw. Roman found, that in the soft light of the great hall they sat in, his host was, dare he say it? Dreamy? Of course, Roman would never admit this. He didn’t want to sound like a lovesick fool.

Roman wasn’t the one who became lovesick. He was the one who caused the lovesickness! He was the one who made people fall for him. He didn’t fall in love like this! He wasn’t the one who stuttered in front of their crush! He was the smooth one! Yet, Roman couldn’t deny that Virgil had caught him off guard. He found himself really wishing that the cashier was wrong. He didn’t want to think what he would have to do if he feel in love with a beast. His heart squeezed at the thought. He swallowed thickly. His duties came first. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a real prince or knight. What mattered was his honor. He had promised the people (cashier) that he would save them from the evils they told him of. And he would keep his word. Roman stabbed at a meatball.

Even if it meant his heart breaking in the process.

—–

Roman let out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t falling in love with his host. Nope. Not at all, it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t going to happen. He glanced at the book on his bedside table and felt his breath catch in his throat.

His host was being so kind to him, and here has was thinking about him as if he were a monster to be slain. He pulled at his curls. This would be so much easier if he could just know. But he knew his heart would never let him completely remove himself from anything he did. His heart, his passion, went into every decision he made.

Roman let out a resigned sigh as he reached over and plucked the book from the table and pulled it into his lap. “The Dragon Witch’s Destruction,” he read. The cover was fairly unassuming. It was dark, the silhouette of, what could only be a witch, looking over a small town. And its eyes was a jaded green with slitted pupils like that of a cat’s. He flipped the novel over and read the summary. “The tale of the villain. How the dragon witch’s destruction revealed the true motive behind Maleficent’s curse.”

Roman felt a tingle run up his spine. It was practically Disney fan fiction! And he was excited! He loved Disney! And this darker side of things seemed just like something right up Virgil’s alley. A broad smile spread across his face. Maybe he could discuss Disney with Virgil!

Roman cracked open the book as he snuggled into his luxurious bed. For now, he would forget his dilemmas. For now, he would be transported into the world of fairytales. For now, “Once Upon A time, there was a witch who had the wonderful ability to turn into a dragon at will…” Roman read deep into the night. His troubles silenced by the wonderful world of Disney.

Castle of Devils Taglist: @kittycake574 @rainbow-roman @icequeenoriginal @ilovemygaydad @roman-flair @comicsimpson

Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce

Let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#castle of devils #thomas sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides roman #creativity sanders #ts creativity #virgil sanders #ts virgil #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides au #sanders sides #sanders sides fan fic #sanders sides fan fiction

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ts-into-the-coinverse · 5 years

Text

Made of Love, Chapter 24

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Logan reveals something rather horrifying.

TW: Cursing, body horror (minor)

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

She still looked rather young in the picture. Not as young as the nineteen Virgil saw her as in his dream, but not as old as when she died. Somewhere in between. She seemed a lot happier, as well, but perhaps the picture influenced that a bit. Everyone seemed happy in it. Which was sort of odd. People in pictures this old didn't normally look so expressive, but here they were. Without a care in the world. Oblivious to their future.

One day they’d lose everything. Only one person in this picture would get to move past it, but at this point, it was starting to look like this was the farthest he’d ever get.

“Virgil? What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Virgil shot back at Logan in a blind panic.

He received an eyebrow raise for his efforts. “I simply came to return some books.” True to his word, in his arms were two different books, but Virgil couldn’t see what kind. They seemed well worn. “I don’t believe you came to do the same thing, so what is it that you did come here for?” He continued on his aforementioned task.

“Uh,” Virgil messed with the gaping hole in his pocket, "I just came to look at this picture."

Logan put the first book on the shelf. "Is there any particular reason for that?" He walked to another bookcase for the last one.

"I guess not." He watched Logan get on the tips of his toes to put the book in its proper place, except he couldn't do it. The other books were in the way. Taking the initiative, Virgil took the book and placed it in its spot with little to no issue. He knew that if Thomas could barely reach the top shelf, there was no way Logan would be able to.

As expected, Logan huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms. "I had it."

Virgil smirked. "Whatever you say, shorty."

Logan glared up at him. "I understand Picani not being here makes you the tallest now but is it necessary to be vocal about it?"

"Only if it's for making fun of you."

He rolled his eyes so hard it must have been possible to see inside his skull. Well, Thomas had to learn it from somewhere. "What picture were you referring to?"

The smirk fell off of Virgil's face. "Oh, uh, that one." He pointed to the old framed photo.

Logan's annoyance gave way. He kept a blank expression as he walked over to it with Virgil following behind after slight hesitation.

It must have been a bit windy when the picture was taken. The flowers behind them were bent away from the camera and the long dress Brigida wore was blurry from movement. Her hair that she failed to keep in its style appeared to be moving in a specific direction as well. Picani and the man beside him also didn’t appear to be very still. It clearly wasn’t the best photo in the world, with all the movement going on, but someone loved it enough to keep it and put it in a frame.

Virgil noticed the subtle shifts in Logan's features as he studied the photo. He seemed… sad, despite not actively showing it. It was like everything hit him at once all over again. "Do you miss them?" The words were out before Virgil could consider them.

"I —" He shut his mouth, lips twisting into a deep frown.

Oh, gosh, Virgil, what a dumb thing to ask. "When was this taken?"

"Shortly after we immigrated to the U.S." The words flowed out of him as if he never knew anything else. Facts. That's what Logan could do. Emotions made him freeze up -- speak choppily -- Virgil had to speak to him in a way that would be easier on them both.

Then Virgil's brain did a record scratch. His brain latched onto one word. Immigrated. He wasn't sure why it didn't occur to him before, but it made sense. America is a fairly new country founded on stolen land. Patton and Logan were over seven hundred years old, it fit the narrative for them to originate somewhere else. He decided not to bring that up. "How did you get this back?" He realized, after the words left his mouth, that he said it as if he knew where the photo should have ended up. Which he didn't. At least, not as much as he made it sound.

Logan didn't notice. Or if he did, he didn't comment on it. "There were a lot of things stolen from the house. This was just among some of those items -- for whatever reason that might be. A lot of what we do is just getting back what's been taken. We've been able to recover a bit of it, but it's impossible to think we can get it all back. They could be anywhere in the country."

"Is this the only picture that made it?"

"No." Logan tore his eyes away from the photo at last. He walked over to the desk and pulled open a drawer, slipping out another picture. His eyes flicked over it for a brief second before handing it over to Virgil. "This is the only other one that made it out."

Virgil held it as if it was the most valuable thing in the world. It was singed around the edges. Thomas's parents were smiling in the center. Brigida had a baby in her lap and three little boys sat in front. Virgil didn't recognize two of them, and it took a second glance to recognize the third. Thomas. He was the smallest of the three at what must have been one or two years old. Virgil flipped it over to see if it had a date. Most of it had been burned off, but he could make out the slanted cursive writing just enough to read, “Starfish Bay August 1925”.

“Picani isn’t in this,” Virgil mentioned as he turned it back around. He did an extra once over and found his statement to still be true. Picani wasn’t anywhere in it. Wasn’t he considered part of the family?

“No, I’m afraid that particular version hasn’t been found.” He took it back from Virgil to put it away. “It might not have even made it out of the house. It could have been reduced to ash, for all I know.” He shut the drawer with a little more force than necessary.

Virgil frowned. That seemed to be enough about that for today. “So what kind of books were you looking at?”

Logan tensed, which didn’t seem like a good sign. “Books pertaining to magic.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not particularly,” he muttered under his breath. He adjusted his glasses before sighing and facing Virgil. “If I tell you then you have to promise the information won’t leave this room.”

“More secrets? I thought you were done with that.”

“It, it’s not like that. I —” he stopped himself before he could get too worked up. He continued after taking in a breath — “I’ve been looking into theories of magic, but there’s been nothing of use. I tried to see if maybe there was some way around this whole circumstance — some way to live without magic or perhaps replace it.” He messed with his sleeves. “Obviously, there was nothing. In over ten centuries of research, there’s absolutely nothing about this. It’s impossible to know what happens next. We’re in new territory. And… and it was foolish to even consider an alternative.”

Virgil's brows pulled together. "Why wouldn't you want anyone to know that?"

"Why wouldn't I want anyone to know that the only way I can stay alive is if we somehow defeat the only man in the world who has ever successfully stolen magic from people?"

Well, when he put it like that it seemed obvious. "Oh, right."

Logan frowned and pulled his sleeves over his hands. "I don't want to give Patton any more reasons to worry. If he finds out that there aren't any alternatives… he's going to do something stupid. I know he will. I, I just want to keep him safe — for at last as long as I can."

Oh jeez. These two and their love was going to be the death of Virgil. "I get it. I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Thank you."

They left the room after that. Virgil was somewhat on the fence about keeping his promise, considering secrets never got them anywhere, but he figured this one would be okay to keep. With the advantages of knowing certain timelines, he figured it might be best to reduce Patton’s self-destructive path as much as possible. He knew what could happen down that path. And it wasn't pretty.

After they got back up to the first floor, they ran into Thomas. The first thing that set off several alarm bells for Virgil was how tired he looked. It didn’t seem as if he slept at all.

“Good morning,” Logan greeted, formal as ever.

Thomas didn’t reply. His exhausted expression switched to a hard glare. He continued walking to his room without any further explanation.

That was… peculiar. “What was that about?” Virgil turned to Logan in confusion.

“I’m not entirely certain.” Logan frowned. He walked to the kitchen, where a worried Patton stood staring at the staircase. “Patton, is there something going on with Thomas?”

Patton responded without moving an inch. “He’s upset about yesterday.”

Somehow, Logan became more stoic.

“He didn't want to talk to me." Patton turned his attention to Logan and Virgil. "I tried everything, but he didn’t open up. I don’t think he’s taking it very well.”

"Maybe he just needs some time alone," Virgil suggested.

"Excellent point, Virgil." Logan opened the cupboard with the coffee mugs. "If he doesn't want to talk to us then that's okay. We'll simply wait until a moment that he does."

Patton pouted but didn't argue against it.

Unfortunately, Virgil had to go to work that night. Sure, he could have called in sick, but he didn’t want to make a habit out of avoiding work for every inconvenience. Avoiding work was meant for bigger issues. He could handle this. Probably. Maybe not, but he could pretend. At least he had Roman to keep him company until his shift was over. Thank God he didn’t have to close today.

But it felt a lot more tedious than normal. Every little action was like Heracles’s Twelve Labors. It was too much. All he wanted to do was go back home and sleep. Until he remembered that he couldn’t. Anxiety would be waiting for him. If he slept, he’d be tossed back into an ever-shifting hellscape aimed to destroy his life. Losing some sleep seemed like a better alternative at this point. He knew what Anxiety was capable of, and he was not looking forward to seeing it again. He would rather slay a hydra.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Virgil stopped his grimacing to focus on Roman. He appeared to be in the middle of folding an origami something with a napkin, as became his habit nowadays. "What makes you ask that?"

"You look more murderous than usual." He continued folding.

"That's just the mood for tonight."

"Ah. Remind me to stay out of your way, then."

Thankfully, Virgil made it through work without murdering anyone. Or slamming his head into the counter. It was a win-win for everyone. Once they got home, they did their usual thing. They said goodnight to each other then went to their respective rooms.

But unlike any other time, Virgil came back out (after failing to find something to keep him awake). He switched into cozier clothes — because even though he was planning on staying awake he had standards — and sat himself on the couch in the living room. He pulled his legs up with him since he needed to keep all the warmth in one place. Maybe some TV. Having something on would make it harder to sleep, wouldn't it?

It didn't take long for him to get bored and just put on The Nightmare Before Christmas. Hey, it was close enough to one of those holidays to be socially acceptable. Not that it needed to be, but just in case anyone out there would judge him for it like the killjoys that they were.

It wasn’t very long into the movie — Jack just discovered the other doors to the holidays — when there came a grumbling voice, “Virgil?”

Virgil unraveled himself to see a very sleepy Roman shuffling out from the hall.

“What are you doing up?”

“Starting a new tradition,” he mumbled a bit miserably as he returned to his spot. “What are you doing up?”

“I had to go to the bathroom.” He sat beside Virgil, stifling a yawn. “Have you been awake this whole time?”

“Can’t exactly go to sleep.”

“What are you…? Oh.” The realization seemed to wake him up a bit. “But It’s almost four in the morning. You can’t be planning to stay awake forever.”

“I don’t think I have a choice.” He laid his head on his knees and turned his eyes to the movie, but he didn’t process much of it. “If I go to sleep then he’ll be waiting for me, and I can’t fight him in his own space. Even if I’m aware that I’m dreaming, I don’t think I’d be able to do anything that he couldn’t counter.”

“The longest a human has ever gone without sleep is eleven days.”

Virgil blinked, somewhat confused by the factual tone of Roman’s voice. He didn’t normally sound so matter-of-fact, even when what he said was the truth, it still had that story-telling flair to it. “Uh, yeah.”

“In as little as three days you can start hallucinating. When you inevitably pass out after having stayed awake for so long, don’t you think it’ll be worse? What if he uses your hallucinations against you?”

He didn’t have an answer.

“Just go to sleep." Roman stretched his arms. "I’ll be right here if anything goes sideways.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He fell asleep before Oogie Boogie’s Song. Maybe having Roman around made him feel a bit safer. Maybe.

At some point in the night — in the morning? — he got cold. In a brilliant moment of being half-awake, he further gravitated toward the one thing exuding warmth. It was cozy. Then the one thing moved a little. It shifted to where Virgil felt more warmth. Huh, weird. He sighed and started to —

Wait a minute.

Virgil shot up. His hands were on Roman’s chest. They were laying on the couch together even though neither of them was the right size for it. He didn’t recall ending up in this position. One of Roman’s legs was on the armrest while the other was off the couch and touching the floor. Virgil was in between them with his own legs hanging off the armrest.

The movement woke up Roman. His eyes widened when he noticed Virgil on top of him.

They stayed that way, neither moving nor breathing. They just stared at each other. Virgil could feel Roman’s hands frozen at the small of his back. He could feel his nervous heartbeat under his hand. Would his own heartbeat feel the same way to Roman? He should say something. His throat remained closed and unwilling to provide support. He managed, at last, to take in a breath.

“Good morning, guys.”

A totally manly and necessary squeak left Virgil’s mouth as he fell off the couch, almost taking Roman with him. Like the geniuses they are, they gave the proper responses at the same time,

"Nothing happened!"

"This is normal."

Patton stopped and looked between them. "Okay?" He gave them a final confused look before heading to the kitchen. "All I said was good morning."

They glanced at each other. Smooth.

"Good morning, Patton," Roman said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Virgil decided to pick himself up to at least save some of his dignity. "What time is it?" He started to walk over to the kitchen.

"Just after eight o'clock," Patton chirped. Ugh, how could anyone be so cheery in the morning?

He hopped up on the counter. "Where's Logan?" Those two were always awake at the same time. It was rather odd to not see them together in the morning.

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Roman sounded flabbergasted by such an idea. "How is he still sleeping? He wakes up at the same time every morning. Like a well-oiled machine."

Patton gave a half-hearted smile.

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Patton? Something the matter?” He leaned out of the way for Roman to grab a coffee mug.

“It’s just,” he hesitated, frowning as he picked up the tea kettle. “It’s Logan. I don’t think he’s been feeling very well, but he won’t talk to me about it. It sort of feels like he’s hiding something.” He shook his head and brought up a smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I might just be reading too far into it.”

“If it’s something you’re worried about you should bring it up with him.” Virgil handed Roman the coffee grounds without even needing to look. “Even if it’s nothing, then you’ve at least given yourself some peace of mind.”

“I have to agree with Surly Temple. Worst case scenario you’ll bother Logan with an unnecessary question. No harm no foul either way.”

Patton frowned at the running water. “You’re probably right.”

At that moment, Logan shuffled out of the hall. Everything about him screamed disaster. It looked like he didn’t get any sleep at all despite sleeping longer than usual. His hair stood up in every possible direction which was rather impressive even for him.

Virgil could see Roman physically restrain himself from commenting, so he decided to speak up before an inevitable explosion happened. “You, uh, you doing okay, buddy?”

“Fantastic,” Logan grumbled. He leaned against the counter by Patton. Any sense of professionalism that he typically carried was nonexistent.

“You don’t need to be so sarcastic, dear.” Patton attempted to put a hand on Logan’s arm, but he jerked it away. Patton blinked in surprise. As did Roman and Virgil. “Logan?”

Logan seemed to piece together what he had done. “I…” He tugged on his sleeve. “I apologize for that. I had no intention of reacting in such a way.”

Patton frowned again. “Is something wrong with your arm?”

“No,” he responded too quickly to be natural.

“Logan.” Patton’s voice came out stern, but with no ill intent. It was meant to get a direct answer rather than dance around the subject.

Logan hesitated and messed with his sleeve. “Do you promise not to get mad?” He spoke quietly. Like a little kid that had been reprimanded too many times for all the wrong reasons.

Patton’s expression softened. “Of course.”

Taking a deep breath, Logan held out his left arm. He pushed up his sleeve to his elbow. Then the air was sucked out of the room. Logan’s veins were a prominent black. Almost every vein in his arm could be seen. Sprawled out like spilled ink. The skin surrounding his wrist had a dark color — almost like a bruise. Except it couldn’t have been. Every other thing happening on his arm was a pretty big indication that that dark spot wasn’t there by any natural means.

“W-why,” Patton took his arm in his hands, wide eyes never leaving it, “why wouldn’t you tell me about this?”

Logan fidgeted. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I knew you would be worried, so I didn’t want to throw this on top of everything else.”

“You…” He moved his hand to the top of Logan’s arm. “I love you, Logan. It doesn’t matter how worried I am, or how worried I will be, if there’s something going on with you I need to know. There’s no need to soften the blow, just blurt it out.”

“I’m sorry.”

Virgil felt a pinch in his chest. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was there, and he was sure it didn’t come from him.

“It’s alright,” Patton whispered. His expression switched to confusion. “I can’t heal this.”

“To be honest, Pat, that kind of looks like it’s going to need something a bit stronger than you,” Roman said. “No offense to your abilities or anything.”

“That’s not really what I mean.” He seemed more confused. “I-it’s like nothing’s happening. I’m trying, but my magic can’t touch it. It’s just sort of… going dead.”

Logan yanked his arm back. “Perhaps it’s best not to touch it, then.”

Patton’s palms began to glow a soft blue almost as soon as Logan’s arm was gone. He looked at them in surprise. “Maybe you’re right.”

Somehow, that only led to more questions.

(Next)

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #sanders side fic #body horror tw #cursing tw #logicality #platonic prinxiety #made of love

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sandersidess · 6 years

Text

Satisfied

Ship: Romantic Logicality, implied Analogical Characters: Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (very small) Warnings: Cursing, Heartbreak, Sexual Undertones (very minor), Small Panic Attack (?), please let me know if I miss anything Tag: @shadowheart752 , @la-shava-random , @anony-phangirl, @pllandcompany (if you don’t want to be tagged, do let me know please) Words: 2,220 A/N: I listened to the song like ten times The Reynolds Pamphlet, Congratulations, (First) Burn\

“Alright, alright everybody!” Roman called out and laughed, tapping his spoon on his cup, “The best man is about to talk! Let us give it up for Virgil!”

Everybody clapped and cheered as Virgil came to the middle, having a genuine and forced smile on his face. He raised up his glass, clearing his throat.

“A toast to the groom!” Virgil exclaimed, laughing as everyone chanted the same, “To the other groom!” He winked at Patton, who just giggled and held up his glass, “From your brother, who will always be at your side! To the wonderful union of this amazing couple!”

Everybody cheered and Virgil took a seat, getting uncomfortable at the attention but did it for his brother. He would continue soon, other friends and families giving a speech.

Virgil stared at Logan, gripping his wine glass as he watched how he made his brother smile, laugh, blush. He stared as Patton kissed Logan, which broke his heart and had to look away from seeing Logan smile and be genuinely happy.

‘Fuck, I need air’

He excused himself, telling Roman he would be back soon. He ignored the worried glance, walking outside of the venue and taking in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds and exhaling slowly. Virgil stared up at the stars, tears forming at the image of Logan smiling and putting that ring on Patton’s finger, both now married for life.

Virgil loved Patton, he did so much. That was his baby brother, how could he not? But Logan was supposed to be his. That night, the night of the dance. He still remembers it.

Virgil sighed as he walked in with his brothers to the ballroom, looking around and feeling out of place. Virgil, Patton, and Emile, we’re all dressed nicely, in new tailored suits, while everyone here was dressed in what seemed like army uniform and old suits.

“Hey! Emile! Pat!” Virgil called out as they left quickly to get drinks. He sighed, deciding to have some fun also, it’s rare he does.

Virgil walked to the drinks table, looking around and watched as many of the men danced with women or men, women were flirting, everybody was drinking. He shook his head and took a drink, walking down the stairs and stood nearby. He was surprised at how nice and in a way, trashy, the ball was, but everybody was having a good time. He smiled as his brother Emile danced with someone, having lost sight of Patton.

“Are you having a good time?”

Virgil jumped and turned around, seeing the person who spoke behind him, having a lazy smirk on his face.

“Dear God, do you always sneak up to people like this?” Virgil asked, taking deep breaths to calm his heart.

“My apologies,” The man chuckled, pushing up his glasses, “That was not my intention. You just seemed to be disinterested, unsatisfied, at the moment.”

“Parties aren’t really my thing. Too many people,” Virgil shrugged, wondering to himself why he was speaking so freely to this person, “And who are you to say I am unsatisfied? This drink is satisfying enough,” He smirked.

“Well, as someone who lacks satisfaction, I can very easily tell,” The man chuckled and held out his hand, “Why don’t we dance, good sir?”

“If only I know the name of said person,” Virgil hummed, taking his hand either way.

“Logan. Logan Sanders,” Logan introduces himself, leading Virgil to the dancefloor, “May I ask for the name of the person who I invited to dance?”

“Virgil. Virgil Foster,” Virgil smiled and placing his hand on Logan’s shoulder and holding his hand with his other.

He let Logan lead the dance, the music has changed and now it was more of a formal dance. Virgil smiled, having small conversations with Logan, feeling free and more open than ever. He took in memory how Logan would smile, give a small in response, his eyes seeming to have a twinkle.

“You said your last name was Sanders, correct?” Virgil asks once the dance ends, “I have never heard of that family name. Where do you come from?”

“Well, I would rather not spill family secrets so early in the night,” Logan blushed, composing himself quickly, “How 'bout I get you another satisfying drink?”

“Why thank you. I’ll wait for you here, Sanders,” Virgil hummed, watching as he left.

Virgil started screaming inside his head, the image of them dancing in his head and he was excited. He knows he found the person he was meant to be with, this was his true love! He wondered if this is what love felt; heart beating so quick, his face flushing, imagining many scenarios! Virgil started having conversations with an old friend, basically excited the whole time as he spoke about Logan. He found out he was the right-hand man of the general, how he was in charge of more than anybody thought. Virgil also found out that he grew up poor, raising in ranks quickly and never seeming to stop. However, Virgil couldn’t care less of his status, all he cared about was how much he loves Logan. How he wants to marry him.

However…

Virgil was still talking excitedly when his baby brother, Patton, ran up to him, seeming to have heart eyes. His heart broke at the words Patton spoke next.

“Virgil! See that guy over there?” Patton giggles and points to Logan, who seems to be having a conversation with a fellow soldier, “I think I love him. I think he’s the one.”

“H-How could you know?” Virgil swallowed thickly, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “You haven’t even talked to him, Patton.”

“Love at first sight, Virgil,” Patton smiled oh-so brightly, it broke Virgil’s heart even more, “I just know he’s the one Virgil.”

“Wait for me near the stairs, the one of the left side of the ballroom,” Virgil smiled and kissed his forehead, tears threatening to come out, “Trust me, dear brother.”

Patton nodded, looking back at Logan once more and did as Virgil said.

Virgil took a deep breath, excusing himself and wiped his eyes quickly. He couldn’t cry. No. He had to be strong, and this was for Patton. His brother deserved the world. Virgil turned around when his name was called, putting on a quick smile as he saw Logan walk over.

“Your drink, good sir,” Logan said and held it out.

“You know, I am very young,” Virgil chuckled and took the drink, “No need to be so formal.”

“I know, it’s fun seeing your reaction,” Logan grinned, taking a drink from his cup.

“Well, I would like to take you somewhere,” Virgil chuckled and gave his drink to someone else, holding out his arm, “Come with me.”

Logan stared at him, not knowing, but trusted him and hooked his arm with Virgil’s, both starting to walk. They had a small chatter, Virgil trying to absorb all of it in.

“Where are you taking me?” Logan asks, looking over to Virgil, who was concentrated on pushing his feelings away.

“I’m about to change your life,” Virgil responded out, smiling at Logan, “Don’t you worry.”

“Then, by all means, lead the way,” Logan smirked, staring ahead.

They soon reached the stairs, Patton standing there and seeming to be bouncing. Virgil cleared his throat, causing Patton to turn around and smile shyly, but still ever so bright.

“Patton Foster, a pleasure to meet you,” Patton introduced himself, bowing quickly.

“Foster?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s my brother,” Virgil pointed out, grinning as Logan chuckled and pulled his arm away from Virgil.

“Thank you for all your service,” Patton slightly gushed, “It means a lot to me that you risk everything for us citizens.”

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” Logan grinned, taking Patton’s hand gently and kissed it softly.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Virgil teased, leaving quickly and pushed through everyone to get out.

He had to get out.

He had to.

This was too much.

Virgil gasped for air once outside, tears streaming down his face as he did his best to breathe. It took him awhile, finally able to breathe properly, but the tears still came.

He felt foolish for feeling like this. He felt like an idiot for ever thinking that someone could love him, for falling for someone such as Logan. He knew from the beginning he couldn’t marry Logan.

First of all, he had to find a wealthy spouse, carry on the ‘pedigree’ of their family names. Everyone in town, probably the country, knew who his family and he was. This was set on him since he was the firstborn in his family.

But how Virgil didn’t care. He would have left his family to marry him if possible. He would have thrown away his last name and started over with Logan.

However, Logan was probably after him just for his last name, like all these other men. The thought did hurt, it did make a few tears come out, but at the same time, he felt affection. When they danced, when they talked, the affection was there. He could feel it from the way Logan was gentle, patient and soft while they danced and talked.

The last reason why he couldn’t be with him; his brother. He knew how he was, he knew deep down what Patton craved for. He couldn’t hurt him. Patton was caring, loving, a heart of gold, everybody adored him. Anyone would be lucky to have him. If he had told Patton that he also loved Logan, then Patton would’ve most likely backed away and let him have Logan. He always considered others before him. But he knew it would result in a brokenhearted Patton and he would lie to himself, lie that everything was okay.

Virgil hated all these reasons, hated how he had to tell himself that Logan couldn’t be his. He hated everything so much right now.

All he could do was fantasize about Logan being is Logan proposing to him and marrying him instead. Every night, the stars reminded him of Logan.

As the days passed and turned into weeks, turned into months, Virgil watched how his brother got letter after letter from Logan. He watched how Patton would light up at the letter and soon go and write one for Logan. He was there when Logan asked for his father’s blessing to marry Patton. He was there when Logan proposed and Patton cried of joy. He was there for the planning, for the practice, for everything.

He was there, standing as Patton’s best man.

He was there when they both said ‘I do’

Virgil was always there.

Virgil gasped and shoved away an arm touching his, then turned around and saw Emile standing there, a worried look.

“Are you okay, Virge?” Emile asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Virgil chuckled and wiped his tears, “I’m just overwhelmed. Seeing your baby brother getting married is an emotional moment,” He chuckles and clears his throat, “Now, let’s go back inside. It’s time to finish my toast, isn’t it?”

“Yes, here you go,” Emile nods and hands him a wine glass, walking inside.

Virgil walked through the crowd, smiling and took his place in the middle. Patton and Logan were seated, watching how Patton brightened up at the sight of him, how Logan just gave his signature smirk.

“Seems like I have a toast to finish,” Virgil chuckled, “Let’s do it once more! To the groom!” He yelled happily, holding his cup up, the crowd following, “To the other groom!” He grinned, walking over to Patton and holding his hand, tears forming once again, “From your brother, who will always be at your side!” He smiled and kissed his hand, holding it, “To the union of this couple!”

Everybody cheered, clapping and Virgil needed to wait until it died down, tears streaming down his face once more, but everybody thought it was out of happiness and the overwhelming feeling of emotions.

“May you two be satisfied in life, love, and prosperity. I wish you the best of luck and all the satisfaction in this world!” Virgil ended, his voice cracking and stared at Patton, who also had some tears.

Virgil hugged Patton and the crowd once more cheered, cheering for the best for Patton and Logan. Virgil pulled away and just have Logan a curt nod, walking back to his table, the music soon starting again and people were dancing. Logan and Patton were in the middle, having their own small, slow dance.

Virgil walked away, no one noticing him. He wiped his tears furiously away, but they kept coming. He hated this.

He hated this.

Virgil looked back, seeing how happy Patton was being married to Logan.

‘Logan will never be satisfied.’

Virgil thought bitterly, but his heart ached at the final realization of himself.

‘I will never be satisfied.’

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