#virgil becoming a light side still happens and a drift between them happens | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

candied-peach · 3 years

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ao3: “christmas baubles” rating: T warnings: platonic dlampr, some violent humor, food, christmas genre: fluff (tiny bit of angst) description: Virgil spends Christmas with everyone. It goes surprisingly well. (this is written for @potatopriestlord for @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! happy holidays ♡)

It's Christmas time.

It's Christmas time, and Virgil doesn't know how to feel. This year, Patton's invited Janus and Remus. "A new beginning," he claimed, and who is Virgil to argue? He wants a new beginning. He does, but he just-

Well, it's not quite the same. He's used to Christmas with Janus and Remus and he's slowly becoming used to Christmas with Logan, Roman, and Patton, but- Combining them?

His heart stutters at the thought.

Don't be such a dummy, he tells himself as he carries in one last box of Christmas finery for the tree. The lights have already been strewn, in white and gold. Multi-colored tinsel is densely packed in one box, ready to be flung over evergreen branches in a rainbow tapestry. All that's left, really, are the ornaments.

Virgil isn't sure he's ready for the ornaments.

They aren't regular ornaments, you see. They aren't shiny glass baubles or childish popsicle stick and Elmer's glue contraptions. They're memories.

And he's painfully aware of every memory destined to fit on the tree.

"You ready, Virge?" Roman asks, a candy cane sticking out of his mouth. Virgil nods, swallowing his nerves back. It will be fine, he reminds himself. Just because Jan and Remus are coming this time doesn't mean anything will go wrong.

Roman hands him an ornament. It's a delicate reenactment of a cabin, snow falling down the windows in little drifts. Virgil grasps it with shaking fingers, his mind already drawn into the bauble's memory.

It's his first Christmas with the other sides since childhood. He doesn't want to intrude, but Patton insists. They don't even know his name yet, think he's nothing but a bother, but Virgil goes anyway because Patton gave him that look and he can't resist it.

They've transformed the commons into what looks like the inside of a cozy log cabin. Patton beams when he sees Virgil's hesitant tread down the stairs.

"You made it!" Patton says cheerfully. Logan gives him a cordial nod. Roman ignores him altogether, too focused on putting the last finishing touches on the tree. There are heaps of red and blue ornaments in various shades, but no purple, yellow, or green. Not that Virgil expected any.

"Uh, yeah," he says, shrinking into his hoodie. He feels like an imposition. Desperately wishing he could go back up the stairs and take refuge in his room, Patton instead takes his sleeve and tows him further in, handing him a mug of hot chocolate. It warms his perpetually chilled fingers and he can't help but awkwardly smile in thanks at the moral side.

"Thanks," he mumbles, his cheeks flaming like the sunset.

"Sorry," Roman apologizes, his face tinted red. "I um, I wasn't very princely that year."

"It's fine, Princey," Virgil says with a shrug. "The feeling was mutual, remember?" The next ornament is an old one. A fragile one. One that Virgil thought had been lost.

"Patton found that one," Roman tells him. "I haven't checked it out myself."

"Oh," Virgil says, feeling dazed. His fingertips brush the childish blobs of paint that stain the ornament's surface.

"Come on!" Creativity says impatiently, hopping down the stairs two at a time.

"You're gonna fall," Caution warns, flapping an oversized sweater sleeve. "Be careful."

"I am careful," Creativity retorts, but Caution notices that he takes the remaining steps a little slower. "Come on, Curiosity's already awake!"

"What 'bout Lies?" Caution asks. Creativity shrugs.

"Not sure," he says. "We gotta get Heart up, too. He's such a sleepyhead. Doesn't he know it's Christmas!?"

"I think the whole mind palace knows," Caution says dryly. Then he steps into the living room and gasps. An enormous Christmas tree squats proudly in the corner, decorated with strings of multi-colored lights and loads and loads of tinsel. Not a single ornament adorns its fluffy branches, causing Caution to give Creativity a curious look.

"It's not done," Creativity admits. "I thought- I thought the ornaments could hold memories! Of all the Christmasses we ever have together! Or like...other times, maybe, I don't know. Doesn't that sound cool?" He enthuses.

"Y-yeah," Caution stammers. "That- that sounds neat, Creativity."

"Show us how!" Curiosity exclaims, storming out of the kitchen. "I'll make the best memory ornament the world has ever seen!" Caution bursts into giggles, covering his mouth with one sleeve.

"Virgil?" Roman asks, touching his shoulder and drawing him out of the memory. "You okay?"

"Fine," Virgil says. "I'm fine. I just. Yeah." He sets the ornament down, as gently as if he cradled a snowflake, and hurried to his box. Dust still gathers, thick and cloying, on a few of the ornaments, buried in the back. The ones with Janus and Remus. He swallows hard, stretching out a hand to pluck the nearest one free.

"Remus, I swear to all that is holy if you have decided to replace the tinsel with tentacles again-" Janus threatens. Remus laughs, dancing backward around the tree as Janus chases him. Each evergreen branch is heavily laden with a wet and floppy tentacle, making Virgil scrunch his nose when he walks in.

"Again?" He complains mildly. Janus looks up, his face brightening.

"Virgil!" He exclaims. "You- you made it."

"Uh, yeah," Virgil says, his face flushed. "Um. I didn't- I didn't know that you uh, did anything? For Christmas?"

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing compared to the others," Janus dismisses, with one light wave of a gloved hand. "But Remus and I try our best. And now you! What tradition would you like to bring to the table, my dear Anxiety?"

Virgil blinks.

"Uh, what?" He asks, completely nonplussed. Remus grins and bounces forward, flapping his hands to make the ruffles on his sleeves move.

"Janus came up with it!" He explains. "We each get a Christmas tradition, just for us. Janus's is singing Christmas carols- only the funny ones- and mine is decorating the tree on December first. What do you want yours to be? It can be anything!"

"Anything?" Virgil asks. Janus looks like he regrets all his life choices, but he nods anyway.

"Anything," he confirms.

"Could- could it be making Christmas cookies?" He asks, hugging himself and remembering Patton's baking with a pang. Janus nods in agreement, though his own mismatched eyes look shadowed.

"Of course," Janus says. "To the kitchen!"

"To the kitchen!" Remus echoes in a howl, galloping toward the kitchen and nearly tripping over a stray tentacle.

Virgil's throat aches when he returns to himself. Their cookies had burned that time, because Remus forgot to set the timer, and truthfully, Virgil still isn't sure if Remus managed to add anything inedible to them, but the experience had been-

Well, the experience had been magical.

"Virgil," Janus greets him carefully. He has a dusty cardboard box held tightly in gloved hands, and his face is carefully neutral. He glances at the cookie-shaped ornament still clasped in Virgil's hands and the faintest dusting of pink brushes his cheekbones.

"Janus," Virgil greets just as carefully. Tension dissipates as Remus thumps his way between the two, lugging his own box.

"Virgey!" Remus exclaims. "Ice to see you!"

"It's nice-" Virgil starts, before realizing Remus is holding an icicle towards him. He recoils, setting the cookie ornament back down into the box, just as Remus laughs and dramatically stabs the icicle against his own heart. Nothing happens. Janus rolls his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips, as he watches Remus's antics.

"Janus, Remus!" Patton greets warmly. His words are only a little stilted when he realizes Remus is still holding a melting icicle, dripping all over the floor. Remus waves cheerily with it.

"This is a murder weapon!" He says, cheerful. Patton blanches.

"That's- that's nice," Patton says, recovering admirably. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Likewise," Janus drawls. He looks hesitantly down into his box of ornaments. Despite himself, Virgil cranes his neck to have a peek himself. He doesn't even have to touch it to be drawn into the first ornament's memory.

"Virgil, what do you want for Christmas?"

"Huh?" Virgil asks inelegantly, spinning around to see Janus leaning against the door of his bedroom, studying his glove with practiced casualness. He shoves his headphones down, curling around his neck, as he advances toward Janus.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Janus repeats. His snake eye gleams in the dim light. "It's a simple question, storm cloud."

"No, it isn't," he retorts, flustered. "There's so many things that are out there in the world, how could I possibly choose just one-"

"Who says it has to be one?" Janus's question stops him in his tracks.

"Be- because," he splutters. One side of Janus's mouth tips up in a crooked smile.

"We're figments of Thomas's imagination, we can have whatever we want," Janus says. Virgil doesn't point out that's not true, not really, doesn't mumble anything about wishing they could all have Christmas together for once. Instead, he stares at the ground and mutters something about new headphones.

"Well, that's easily done," Janus says lightly. "I'll ensure you get the prettiest lump of coal in your stocking, Virge. Unless Remus gets to it first." Virgil laughs despite himself and Janus's eyes light up, even as he saunters out the door.

The bauble, shaped like a pair of over-the-ear headphones, reluctantly lets Virgil free. He glances up to see Janus's own eyes, misty with memories.

"You kept it," Virgil mumbles. "You kept all of them."

"Of course I did," Janus says softly.

"Look at mine!" Remus exclaims, jostling his way between the two of them and shoving an ornament in Virgil's direction. It's shaped like a very misshapen pie and his startled fingers close around it, preventing it from clattering to the floor.

"Remus!" Virgil chases him around the kitchen, laughing only partly from frustration. Remus circles the kitchen island, cackling, holding the mixing bowl aloft.

"What's the matter, Fright Night?" Remus gleefully taunts.

"The matter is that batteries don't belong in pie crust and you know it!" Virgil exclaims, huffing out a breath and stirring his bangs.

"Sure they do," Remus says smugly. "They fit in here, didn't they?"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Virgil says, rolling his eyes. "A lot of things could fit in th- I mean-" Remus's eyes light up with a wicked gleam.

"A lot of things, you say?" He purrs. Virgil puts his face in his hands.

"Janus, how could you leave me with him?" He mutters into his palms.

"Because you can handle it," Janus retorts, appearing out of nowhere. He has a string of Christmas lights tangled around one arm. "Remus, put the bowl down."

"Yes, sir!" Remus says, saluting (thankfully with the hand not holding the bowl). The mixing bowl clatters to the counter.

"And help me with these lights for a minute, would you?" Janus implores. The wink he sends Virgil's way lets him know that he'll take charge of Remus, at least for a few minutes. Enough time for Virgil to fish out the batteries, if nothing else, and see if they need to start over.

"I remember that," Virgil mumbles. His cheeks feel like they're on fire. Remus beams at him.

"Good," he says. "Merry Christmas, Panic at the Emo."

"Likewise," Virgil mutters.

"Remus!" Roman shouts, startling all three of them. "Stop bothering Virgil and help me with these lights for the window."

"Same old, same old," Remus says, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and adding a little shoulder shimmy. He shoves his box of ornaments in Virgil's arms and dashes to his brother's rescue.

"Thanks," Virgil says dryly, looking after Remus's departing back.

"I can take them," Janus offers. Virgil sighs and shakes his head.

"It's fine," he says. "I wouldn't want you to drop anything."

"As if I would," Janus says, putting one hand to his chest in mock offense. It makes Virgil snicker. Janus smiles, a genuine expression of mirth that makes Virgil's heart twinge.

"Shall we?" He asks, motioning toward the tree with a jerk of his head.

"Ah, good," Logan says, adjusting his glasses with one hand. "I was wondering when you would appear, Janus. The twins are already hopelessly tangled in Christmas lights."

"Who put the ones on the tree?" Janus asks, looking amused. Logan smiles, a trifle smug.

"Me," he says. "Would you like to help with the tinsel?"

"Me?" Janus asks, clearly surprised. Logan nods.

"Is there some reason you shouldn't?" He asks.

"No," Virgil speaks on Janus's behalf, carefully setting down Remus's box of ornaments. "I'm gonna go see if Patton needs help," he adds and hurries away as Logan encourages Janus to set down his ornaments and pick up the first strand of tinsel.

"You're doing well," Patton murmurs, as Virgil stumbles into the kitchen. Red colors his cheeks like a candy cane.

"I guess," Virgil says, leaning against the counter top. "You uh, you need any help?"

"I think I've got it for now," Patton says. "But if you'd like to decorate cookies in a bit..."

"Sounds good to me, pop star," Virgil says, relieved. Patton rummages in a box on the table for a second, holding out an ornament.

"Remember this one?" Patton asks softly. Virgil's fingertips brush the smooth edges and he's helplessly drawn in.

"Caution?"

"Go away!"

"No," Heart insists, tiptoeing in the room and looking around. The spider curtains make him wrap his arms around himself and shiver. "You're upset. I can feel it. What's wrong?"

"Christmas," Caution mumbles. He's curled up on his bed, arms around his knees. "Christmas is what's wrong."

"What?!" Heart squawks. "What do you mean, Caution?"

"Thomas has so much stuff to do," Caution says. "How can he do all of them? It's just- I just-" His breathing speeds up. Alarmed, Heart crawls onto the bed, coming to a stop right beside him.

"Breathe," Heart directs, exaggerating his own breath into a gusty whoosh of air and making Caution's lips struggle not to form a smile. "Like this, 'kay? Follow how I sound."

It takes a few minutes for Caution to match his breathing, but he does. Both cheeks flush red as Heart smiles at him.

"Better?" Heart asks gently. Caution nods, playing with one of his sleeves.

"Will Thomas be okay?" Caution asks in a tiny voice. Heart doesn't even have to think about it for his next words to spill out, ringing with the sincerity of truth.

"Absolutely he will!"

Caution smiles, his hair flopping into his eyes. Heart reaches over and brushes it back, giving Caution an encouraging look.

"Wanna help me bake?" Heart asks. "I think I can make a pretty mean cookie!"

"Sure," Caution says, and laughs. "Why not?"

Virgil comes out of the memory slowly, his face flushed.

"I forgot about that," he mumbles, carefully setting aside the cookie-shaped bauble. Patton smiles gently.

"I never did," he admits, just as they hear a crash from the living room.

Virgil runs to the rescue, Patton hot on his heels. His mouth falls open at the scene of wanton destruction. The tree is still up (which is a miracle) and as far as he can tell, no ornament has been broken. But the tinsel lies in haphazard clumps all over the floor, and the same can be said for several strings of Christmas lights. A ladder sprawls on the ground, still holding a loudly protesting Roman.

"You didn't hold it steady!"

"Sure I did," Remus argues. His brows are scrunched tight in worry. "You overbalanced!"

"Well, it isn't like I did that on purpose," Roman says. Remus huffs.

"I never said it was on purpose!" Remus points out. Roman's face acquires a particularly rosy hue.

"Oh," he says weakly. Virgil snorts with barely suppressed laughter at the twins' banter, and all eyes turn to him and Patton.

"Roman fell off the ladder," Janus explains.

"Ouch," Roman tacks on. Virgil snorts.

"That would be an ouch," he says. "You better be okay, Princey."

"I will be," Roman promises. His expression turns irascible. "At least, I will when this bloody ladder is off me-"

"Oh, right," Remus says, his own face reddening. He reaches down and snags the ladder, carefully setting it upright. "There you go, bro."

"Thank you," Roman huffs. Logan gives him a hand and he cautiously makes it to his feet, breaking out in an enormous smile. "All is well on the Creativity train!"

"Please be careful," Patton implores, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

"I'm always careful, padre!" Roman exclaims, nearly slipping on a bushel of tinsel. Logan groans, snatching it up from the carpet.

"Ornament time," Patton says. "And then after that, I need help decorating some Christmas cookies!"

Virgil makes a beeline for his box, pulling out the ornament in the very back. Janus and Remus watch him as he delicately plucks it free, blowing away the dust.

"This one," he shyly requests. The memory plays, pulling them all in.

"Janus?"

Janus looks up from his idle place on the couch, a frown tugging at his face.

"Storm cloud? I thought you were in bed."

"I can't sleep," Virgil admits. He fidgets in the doorway to the living room, his eyes entranced by the Christmas tree (thankfully tentacle-free....for now).

"Come here," Janus coaxes, patting the couch next to him. Virgil shuffles over, his instincts screaming at him to go back to his room. Thankfully, he doesn't listen. He plops down on the sofa, and Janus tugs him closer, draping an arm around his shoulders. It should feel too tight and confining, but instead, it just feels...

Right.

"I can't sleep either!" Remus shouts from the hallway. Janus fondly rolls his eyes.

"Then come on out, Remus," Janus says. "I have two sides and six arms, you're more than welcome."

"Good," Remus says, but it's a subdued Creativity who finally slips out of the darkness and into the flickering colors of the Christmas lights. His eyes are red-rimmed. Virgil thinks he must have had a bad dream or something. He hardly ever cries otherwise.

"Bad dreams?" Janus asks, echoing Virgil's thoughts. Remus hesitates, then nods, as he crawls onto the couch on Janus's other side.

"Hark, hear the bells, sweet silver bells..." Janus sings lowly, elongating each phrase until the Christmas carol becomes nothing more than a lullaby, lulling both Virgil and Remus to sleep.

Virgil carefully hooks the ornament on the tree, front and center. He steps back, surrounded by old family and new, and nods to himself.

He's home.

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sidespromptblog · 3 years

Text

Between the Mask: Part 3

One, Two and End

Warnings: Again plenty of tears, Virgil kinda mouths off about Janus, and Logan gets a little salty about it.

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly he should treat him after being told that being both nice and mean to him was wrong. Only to discover that after everything that he’d been through, Janus isn’t the person that he portrays in front of everyone else.

Word Count: 3013

AO3 LINK

Despite everything that had been promised, it started out rather slow. So much so that it felt like it was driving Roman to absolute madness, he knew as well as the others that they couldn't just rush into this without any kind of warning. They needed to build up to revealing everything, along with the fact that Logan wasn't even ready yet to face Patton let alone Virgil. Doing it too soon could and very well would go wrong, and the last thing that he wanted was for things to go back to the way that they were before. He didn't want Logan to go back to being holed up in his room, unable to be reached by anybody. Or for Janus to go back to putting on his persona every time he wanted to be even a little accepted, even if it was as the villain.

Virgil, who already panicked at the slightest hint of change in his and Thomas' life. There was no telling just how he’d react as soon as Janus showed his face to all of them, let alone with Roman now openly supporting him in everything he was doing. Not only would it make Virgil feel left out of the loop, but… it would make him paranoid as hell as to what Janus was plotting and if he had been plotting at all to turn everything around like that. Because whether he liked it or not, Roman knew Virgil, and he knew somewhat to how Virgil would react to all of this.

They needed to be smart about this.

But coincidentally… having to be smart about things just sucked.

Honestly Roman felt like he was trying to get a herd of feral cats to get used to the mere idea of comfort and love, something that Janus had been sorely lacking in the many many years of his Deceit role. As well as getting the idea across to the others that this was something that they should accept while making it all seem like it wasn’t some huge plot from the very beginning. Doing so would only shift the blame onto Janus, leaving him right where he first began with not a single shred of hope to be had for him.

Small steps, as Logan had said to Janus and him.

But small steps didn't make enduring this any easier.

Because for the first time in more than a week, Logan had answered Thomas' call to see him without any kind of hesitation. He had done so without his tie and his hair a little less than neat, it was a change, the first change that he had talked about making in order to ease the others into things. But even that little bit was almost instantly noticed by everyone. The looks that he had received from Virgil and Patton made Logan unconsciously squirm in his spot, the urge to dig his nails into his palms almost overwhelming to him. It took a conscious effort to remain perfectly still, and not fidgeting with the area where his tie would have been. Really though it felt like his progress that he was supposed to be making might as well have been moving at the pace of a snail, with how much the others seemed to notice everything about him.

Whether he wanted it or not.

"What's with the new look Logan?" Patton curiously inquired, "We just changed our outfits not that long ago, is it time for another one?"

Even the smallest and carefullest of prods from Patton felt like a harsh poke to Logan, even if the moral side didn't mean it to be. The other side had no idea that the tiniest little question could flay Logan’s emotions, leaving him wanting to retreat back into himself without a moments notice. As if… as if everything that he did was under constant question, and he couldn't just be without someone bringing up what he was doing. For a hot second he felt like curling into himself, as if that would draw less attention to himself. Or just receding back to his room like he had done before, and never showing his face.

It felt just like the infinitesimal incident.

Thankfully Roman sensing his rapidly dropping mood turned the attention to himself. "If he likes it that way then who are we to question it? Maybe it's more comfortable, I know it would be for me. Even my glorious sash becomes too much for me sometimes, and I wish for nothing more than relinquish it of its duties." It took a lot out of Roman to not immediately move to where Logan was, and to stand in front of him getting there gaze off of the nervous logical side. But even he realized that doing so would only sink their plan before it had even begun. "He looks nice without it, doesn’t he? Right Padre?"

The affectionate name was not lost on Patton, and nor was the question being brought to light. In Patton’s eyes, any change from the norm deserved its time in the light so it could either be praised or worried about. But now that the attention drifted over to Patton, his cheeks turned scarlet at the realization of the fact that he had unintentionally been putting Logan on the spot just for a single change of the logical side’s attire. He had never stopped to consider whether or not Logan wanted it to be brought up in such a way, or if he even wanted it brought up at all. He had just done so…

Kind of like when he had just blurted out Logan’s name before Logan had decided to tell it to Thomas.

“You do look nice though…” Virgil mumbled from the side, his fingers clenching and unclenching the hem of his hoodie fighting through his anxiety of the awkward situation to get even a single compliment out of him. “Your hair… it’s… hair.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked on Logan’s lips, and just like that the protective storm welling up inside of Roman flew right out of him. Just that single quirk of his lips seemed to lighten up the logical side’s whole face in a way that had been sorely lacking before, nobody least of all Roman knew when the last time that Logan had smiled was. It felt like almost an eternity ago, when Logan still had that faded polo shirt and that pale blue tie, that was close to the last time he had seen Logan look over to him with a smile of pure excitement on his face. Not one that had constantly crushed and forced over the years that everything had been happening, especially not that one.

“He’s right,” Patton’s voice dragged Roman out of his own musing. “Your hair is lovely Logan, so.. so if you want to experiment with your style. I won’t comment on it unless you want me to.” A part of Roman felt a great deal of shock at the fatherly figure’s words, but another part of him knew that when it came to their own close circle of ordeals Patton would promise anything to make the other side more comfortable.

There was no doubt that Patton would mean those words, and there was no doubt that he’d try to stick with it too given how much their little family meant to him. It was just a matter of whether Logan would feel confident enough and comfortable enough to come to him in the future.

Logan’s gaze didn’t exactly meet Patton’s, evidence enough of the rift that had grown between them from Patton’s last actions when it had come to Logan being in the last video. “Thank you,” Behind his back Logan’s nails dug into his palm, biting harshly into it. Now here came the curve ball. “Janus has made a few suggestions, so I’ll be sure to show you when I begin to try them out.”

Just like that it was almost like the warmth in the room had been sucked out by a vacuum.

“Jan..us?” The letters of the dishonest side’s name stuck to the room of Patton’s mouth like peanut butter. “Huh?”

The confusion was clear, and the tension in the air palpable.

Almost immediately Roman wanted to motion to Logan to abandon such a topic of conversation, as judging by the way that Virgil’s shoulders had suddenly stopped hunching and the anxious side now stood towering with a withering look on his face… he clearly wasn’t ready to hear about Janus in any kind of capacity. There wasn’t anything that Logan could do to change that, especially if Patton couldn’t do anything about it considering that he was the closest one to Virgil right now. Asking Virgil to humor any kind of discussion involving Janus was as useful as asking him to stick his hands in a bee nest, not only would he not do it, but he’d probably smack the person who suggested it in the first place. It was just how Virgil was as a side, change was… bad for him, him and the anxiety he subconsciously produced.

“You’ve… been talking with Janus?” Thomas spoke up for the first time since Logan had shown up, the amazement that Logan had shown up had shifted into something that kind of resembled softness as he looked back at the logical side in question. His entire body had shifted from facing Patton and even Virgil, to now facing Logan. He gave the logical side his full attention for once. “Is that what you’ve been doing since you were gone? Have you been okay with him being around you? Is he…”

Thomas’ words trailed off once he got to the topic of Janus, clearly he too wasn’t so certain about how he was supposed to even entertain the idea of Janus. Given how Janus had introduced himself though, Logan couldn’t fault him for that.

“He is fine.”

And that was the truth.

Nervously Thomas eyes shifted from Logan back over to Roman, obviously expecting some kind of reaction from Roman. Something like dismissal, anger, outrage, or just coldness. But there was nothing as Roman kept his gaze firmly attached to the other sides, he was stiff, but stiff in the kind of way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else other than worry over how the others would react to Logan’s rather bold declaration of conversing with Janus when he had been avoiding Thomas and the others for as long as he had. For Virgil, it would undoubtedly feel like a betrayal and nothing more given the context, or the lack thereof that Logan had been so stingy about. But for Patton… Roman wasn’t sure, despite how the moral side had prided himself in being an open book, Roman knew remarkably little about his actual thought process. That’s what had made it so hard to see Janus’ acceptance coming from Patton, he had expected Patton to stick to his guns and be determined that lying was bad, so when he didn’t…

Patton was very much of a wild card, despite how the other side liked to downplay himself.

A short irritable huff left Virgil, “Really Logan?!” Snarled the anxious side, the eyeshadow dark and thick under his eyes. “You’re actually willingly talking with him?! After he silenced you?! Why would you ever want to be around him now, the last thing you should want to do is hang around him! Do you even know what he’s like?!”

In an instant Logan’s gaze snapped up from the ground, and Virgil felt a shot of ice slam into his chest.

The look in Logan’s eyes.. it was unlike anything he had seen before…. He had seen Logan’s unbridled anger when Roman had called him stupid, he had seen him snark before, and even get a touch underhanded when it had come to things he didn’t want to talk about and things that he didn’t want to do. But this… the sheer anger that reflected in Logan’s eyes now, for the first time… made Virgil very afraid.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like this new Logan.

“That’s enough V-” Roman almost immediately stepped forward, a familiar look of protective rage on his face ringing throughout his entire body. He had never once been provocted into drawing his sword against Virgil, but hearing him so dismissively talk about Janus as if he knew him… It made something inside of him rage, to want to snap at Virgil and tell him exactly what he knew about the real Janus and about how far off Virgil was from the actual truth.

Roman stopped dead as soon as Logan held his arm out, his chest merely brushing against the logical side’s arm with how close he had come in just two strides. But he held himself back from saying a single word, it was Logan’s time to talk…

Not his.

Not yet.

“As if you know the real him.” Logan didn’t shout, he didn’t need to for everyone to hear what he was about to say. “And he is by far not the first person who has attempted to silence me, but he is the first person who has actually apologized for doing so. So as far as you are concerned Virgil, I will continue to hang out with him and treat him as my friend. Because he is my friend.”

A look of twin guilt blended together on Patton and Virgil’s face, a look that had said they knew the not so hidden meaning behind Logan’s words and had understood every bit of it. They had never apologized, Virgil had actually threatened Logan when he had attempted to talk about Remus. And Patton… Patton had actually silenced Logan, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

Virgil looked sick to his stomach, as if just now realizing. “Logan…” He murmured, unease and guilt swimming in his murky eyes.

Patton however could only stay silent, his hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to stop any sound from leaving him as well as to stop the shaking of his own hands. His eyes though did all of the speaking for him, betraying how Roman had been unable to get a reading on him before, as they now told everything for him without the use of words.

I’m sorry. His eyes said. I understand why you left for as long as you did after what I did to you. And even… You were right to stay away, if we hadn’t even realized until now.

“Don’t apologize,” Logan sharply said, cutting them to the core. “Don’t apologize to me unless you’re apologizing to Janus as well. He deserves better than a one-sided apology.” He was right, or at least Roman knew that he was right even if the others didn’t. “I will see you all at dinner, set another plate out for Janus.”

Logan’s steely gaze only softened when it landed on Roman, Roman had made his apologies loud and clear to him just days ago and he had apologized to Janus as well. Not only that…

They had both kept their promise to Janus.

“See you… Roman.”

And just like that Logan was gone, leaving a vacant space where he had once been standing. Leaving Roman there with an amber-like warmth in his chest, at the thought of returning to Janus’ cozy room where they could all sit and be together without a care as to who would interrupt them. Where they would be safe, and be their truest selves without the fear of outside eyes peering in and judging them.

“So…” Thomas awkwardly broke the silence, cold tears dripping down his cheeks as his voice cracked the moment he tried to use it. Both Patton and Virgil’s combined emotions hitting him with a kind of blunt force. “You’re not angry about Logan seeing Janus?”

A rough snort fell from Roman’s lips before he could stop himself. “Go take a nap and play a video game Thomas,” He instead gently told the man who certainly looked like he could use one. “I’m not angry about Janus, and I’m happy that Logan is finally happy. It’s the way he should be.” Being emotionless and robotic didn’t suit Logan, no matter how he liked to say in the past that it did. He was supposed to be the vibrance of curiosity, combined with the endless knowledge of things that had been learned. He was the one that knew all of humanity was made out of stardust.

He was never supposed to wither like he had.

Thankfully Thomas didn’t argue, as he nodded tiredly to his creative side and staggered back towards his bedroom. Roman suspected that he was far too emotionally drained to do so even if he had wanted to at the time. He’d have time to endlessly question them all later, but now Thomas deserved some peace and relaxation without having to worry over what came next. He didn’t need Janus to tell him that much, Thomas wanted it, so Roman too wanted it. Turning around Roman moved to sink out just as Logan had, just for a hand on his shoulder to stop him dead in his tracks. Patton finally taking this time to gather his wits had finally reached out, twin streaks of tears running down his face.

“What did you mean?” Patton softly croaked, “When you said it was how he was supposed to be?”

Ah…

Roman grimaced, he didn’t want to answer questions right now, but… if he had any chance of getting the two off his back for even a little while he’d need to give them something. And it had to be something for them to think over. Something that would stop them from going after Logan as well, and even relax even the slightest around Janus and get the gears turning in their head. Something…

It had to be good.

Really good.

He knew what to ask.

“When was the last time you saw Logan smile?”

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #ts sides #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #platonic roloceit #they’re all really good friends and care for each other #logan angst #janus angst

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loganisanobody · 3 years

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The first thing he was aware of was that his head hurt. He groaned and moved his hand to soothe it, or tried to, but something stopped it.

His eyes flew open, and let in a small gasp of breath.

He wasn’t anywhere familiar, that was for sure.

He looked around frantically, taking in the important details around him as his breathing came more and more quickly: the straps on his wrists and ankles on an ancient, rickety wheelchair in an ancient, dungy room with a dim bulb flickering above him. Something covered his ears, but his other senses were clear and very alert now.

He struggled against the straps, but despite the chair’s apparent age, the straps were well-made and held. Part of him was surprised the chair itself didn’t roll around with his struggling, but he supposed a stop could’ve been put on the wheels and quickly dismissed the thought.

There was no getting himself out, so he just had to protect himself until he was rescued, then. He looked around again. He couldn’t see behind him very well, but in front of him were foggy windows that he couldn’t see out of. What scared him was that on either side of him was an open door, the one on his right leading to a hallway lined with doors and empty hospital beds, and the one on his left leading to what seemed to be some sort of surgical room.

His vision started to go blurry, and he was getting dizzy even just sitting there, and he closed his eyes and tried to remember what… someone… had told him to do when he was scared… anxious. Logan! He had told him to breathe.

Virgil realized his breathing was erratic and shallow.

‘In for four,’ he remembered. He tried, but he only managed to suck in a slightly larger breath than the one before.

‘Hold for seven.’ There was no way he could hold such a meager breath for seven counts, but he tried.

‘Out for eight.’ The breath came out in a whoosh, but he now remembered practicing this enough times with Logan that he didn’t get discouraged and he tried again.

After what felt like forever, Virgil got his breathing mostly under control. There was still the damp, chilly air pressing on the back of his neck like a ghost’s breath that kept him from completely relaxing, but at least he wasn’t going to pass out.

He was trembling, making the chair squeak horribly, which, combined with whatever was over his ears, made it near impossible to hear if anyone was approaching.

Over the next few hours, nothing happened, besides his neck getting stiff from constantly turning right and left to check for anyone, friend or foe.

The light outside began to dim, casting the hallway and surgical room into shadow, and deepening the shadows in his own room. Despite his heightening anxiety at this, Virgil yawned, then shook his head. No, he couldn’t fall asleep. He had to watch for danger.

Another few hours passed. Virgil yawned more and more, and his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Finally, it seemed he couldn’t hold back anymore, he had to rest at least a little…

And then someone screamed in his ear.

He jumped, violently, looking quickly around, his heart pounding.

But there was no one there.

Now hopped up on adrenaline, he resumed his vigil of the darkened rooms, but this time more wary. He was sure someone, or something, had screamed, though, he told himself after going through the breathing exercise again, his half-asleep self might have amplified it to sound closer.

As the night pressed on, he thought he heard vague whispers that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and doors slamming that made him jump.

These shot his adrenaline back up in small doses, but eventually he was drifting off again.

He yawned, and his eyes drifted closed.

And then another scream, accompanied by the sound of a saw.

Virgil’s head shot up, and the scream and saw sounds continued, but he couldn’t see anything. He looked around frantically as the screams turned to pleas.

“Help! Please, help! No, please— Ah!”

Then, just as quickly as they started, they stopped, and Virgil was met with absolute silence.

He was breathing hard, and shaking again.

“Viiirgiiilll…” something murmured behind him, and he jumped, craning his neck to look around, but there was nothing.

After that there was nothing, nothing for a good few hours, and Virgil was able to mostly calm down again.

He was even starting to nod off again when…

“No!”

Virgil jumped, whirling to the right, expecting someone to be there. But again, there was no one.

“Virgey, don’ go ta sleeeeep…” a child’s voice said behind him, and he whirled back to the left, but there was again no one.

By now the light was coming back to the rooms and hallway.

Virgil let out a dry sob as he looked back and forth between the hallway and the surgical room again, resuming his vigil. How long would he have to do this? When would the others get here? Who was holding him here? What were they planning? Why wouldn’t they let him sleep?

Over the next few hours, more children’s voices joined the first, seeming to run up and down the hallway, shrieking and laughing, then every once in a while an adult voice would silence them and one would scream down the hallway, through the room Virgil was kept in, and into the surgical room, where it would end abruptly. After some time, the children’s playful voices would return, and the cycle would start over.

It was enough to keep Virgil up that day, despite the achiness and heaviness he felt in his entire body.

When the sun started going down, the children’s voices died down with it, until Virgil was left in silence again.

It didn’t take long for him to start to drift off.

Then there was a scream again.

Virgil looked up blearily, trying to take in his surroundings, but everything was the same. Dingy, dark, depressing, empty.

He quickly started to nod off again.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a jolt of fresh adrenaline shot through him.

Before he could turn around, hands put something around his neck and chin, making him unable to turn.

His heart beat faster. His breathing was becoming more shallow. No, no, no…

He fought against the straps again, he had to fight somehow.

He thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t make out what it was.

Then the wheelchair started moving, turning. It turned to face the hallway, then started rolling backward into the surgical room.

No, no, no, nonono…

Whispers floated vaguely around his head, the wheelchair squeaked horribly beneath him.

Then the door at the very end of the hallway slammed open, and someone, no, multiple someones ran out.

Virgil’s heart leapt. “Logan!” Logan raced down the hall, past doorways and empty hospital beds, followed closely by the others, though it was harder to see them with how narrow the way was.

“Let him go!” Logan shouted, which sounded more muffled than anything Virgil had heard the previous two days.

A hiss sounded from behind Virgil, and shadowy creatures started pouring out of a doorway to his right, what had been behind him. His heart rate spiked as he realized they could have attacked him at any time.

He heard Roman and Remus yell, followed by unearthly shrieks.

But his wheelchair was still moving backward, and he was fully in the surgical room now.

Some of the shadow creatures followed him into the room and started undoing his cuffs. He fought against them the entire time they removed the cuffs and then lifted him onto a metal table, but either they were too strong for him or he was too weak from lack of sleep. Four of them held him down on the table as he struggled, while one pulled another smaller table over next to his.

He glanced at this tray and all air escaped his lungs. It was full of rusty surgical instruments.

“Logan!”

He fought as hard as he could, and he could hear the others getting closer, but the shadowy figure seemed to be choosing which instrument to choose first, and was taking its sweet time doing so.

Finally, it picked up a scalpel that had definitely seen better days, and walked around to stand at Virgil’s head. Virgil continued to struggle, but he kept his eyes on the scalpel the entire time, watching as the shadow fixed the light above his head, then brought the scalpel slowly down over his face, just between his eyes, positioning it just so…

Something flew through the shadow’s head, and the shadow and scalpel poofed into smoke and dissipated. Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The other four shadows were quickly disposed of, and Virgil went limp on the table, free, but oh so tired.

Logan was the first to reach him, pulling off the headphones that were over his ears.

“Starlight, are you okay?”

Virgil could only stare up at the light above him. Logan hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder, and Virgil let out a sob.

“Oh, starlight.” Logan scooped him up and held him close as he cried, VIrgil clinging to Logan’s shirt.

Roman, Remus, and Janus excused themselves to make sure there weren’t any straggler shadow creatures, while Patton helped Logan sink themselves and Virgil to the commons and settle on the couch, where Logan held Virgil for a good long while, as Virgil cried himself to sleep.

#analogical #sorta #My writing

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

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(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

This work and others are also available on AO3!

If you like this, please consider reblogging, as sharing a creator’s work is very encouraging to us and helps our creations reach more people!

74 notes · View notes

druidx · 3 years

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Family Treasures

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (2015) Context: A friend linked me a TAG fic with the most perfect description of Lasagna I have ever read. I then got carried away and read nearly every fic she recommended to me... and then I figured I should watch the 2015 version of Thunderbirds (having only seen fragments of the original ‘60s show as a kid)... and then this happened. I’ve also been leaning heavily into the subtext thing still, so constructive criticism, with subtext in mind, is welcome on this piece. Words: 1700 CW: Injury mention, worried people, minor maudlin thoughts Tagged: @viawrites-andacts @strosmkai-rum @scribeofred Read on AO3

Kayo paces. Her sleek leather boots sink into the plush carpet of Tracy Island's lounge. She has been grounded by injury, left to recover while the Tracy boys are out there doing what they do best. She trusts them; knows they know what they're doing, knows they can handle themselves... But it doesn't help. Her fingers itch to activate the comms, but she doesn't. The boys don't need her micromanaging, and she trusts John to forward anything if he thinks she can assist... But still, the ache remains.

Those leather boots softly tap as she reaches the parquet flooring, and Kayo finds herself standing in front of Jeff's desk. It's a big, sturdy, mahogany thing. Impish sunlight glints off the polished surface, winking and laughing. It makes her think of Virgil. The sun drifts behind a cloud, and the laughter vanishes. She turns away.

Her steps lead her to the portrait of Thunderbird One, and the nicknacks beside it. Her eyes slide over the portrait – seen a hundred times before – to an antique barometer on the shelves. And there is Scott: Quicksilver in a glass; carefully controlled vim and daring. She pictures him in freefall, madcap laughter stolen by the rushing wind. The thought of his pack failing at fifty thousand feet is enough to have her leaning against the wall, head reeling like she's nosediving, seconds before the impact that has left her arm in a sling, and Thunderbird Shadow a pile of scrap.

Kayo huffs out her indignation at her weak and maudlin thoughts, wrenching back from the wall. She pinwheels away, her boots marking out time on the parquet as she passes in front of the vast window. Outside the sun glimmers off the swimming pool. Bright. Cheery. Such a laughable contrast to the storm inside. She wishes it were raining, dark skies and tempestuous winds. The bowl of forget-me-not blue is almost mocking in its temptation. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and brings herself back to ground level.

Kayo finds herself in the far corner of the lounge, at a kitschy '60s coffee table tucked into the fold of the room. On its surface sits a porcelain pug, which reminds her of Sherbet – and, by extension, his owner. It appears delicate – a dainty conversation piece; but her foot knows it is sturdier than one might think. Her eye catches on a woollen beanie, abandoned next to the pug – and she scowls; Lady Penelope has Parker to keep her from serious trouble. Kayo's brothers are up there without their usual safety net.

She turns back, pacing towards the piano. She plays only a little; her mother insisted, to start with. But after a year of tantrums and sword fights, Mama Kyrano gave up. But the island is empty – even Grandma Tracy is on the mainland – and the house is too quiet.

Kayo sits down at the piano and raises the lid, leaning absently to the side as a small, spring-loaded, plastic frog sails over her shoulder – the latest victim in the ongoing prank war. Her fingers wander over the ivories, and she settles into picking out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star in the upper third. As the sweet notes fill the air, Alan comes to mind – bright, lively, graceful; effortless as the rising music. Kayo lifts her head as if she might somehow see to the edge of space; see Thunderbird Three shimmering with star-stuff as if picked out in the silver, gossamer notes she plays. She dismisses the fanciful thought with a twitch of the lips, finishing the refrain.

As her hand falls still, she looks across the room, gaze drawn back to Jeff's desk. She remembers the moment he asked her to become his head of security – when Papa Kyrano retired. She'd not long returned from her last field stint with Mossad when he'd called her to the desk. His lips had asked her to help him protect the world; his eyes had asked her to protect his boys.

Kayo sighs, the guilt of disappointing the indomitable Jeff Tracy laying heavily over her shoulders. She closes the lid and turns on the stool, intending to resume viewing life through the plate-glass barrier, when her foot nudges the plastic amphibian, abandoned on the floor. She picks the thing up, lips quirking at the cartoonish features – the bugging eyes and wide, red grin – and is inexplicably reminded of Gordon. Kayo places it on the piano, where it wobbles, brilliant green out of place on the ebony-silk surface. Three birds, two star-men, but only one squid-boy. She purses her lips and tries to tell herself the unease this thought causes is about lack of process redundancy. Perhaps she should expand her skillset in an aquatic direction...

She stands with purpose and walks over to the nook in which sits Goron's transport chute. But as Kayo reaches over to activate the chute, a flicker of something catches her eye. Her free hand is already fumbling for her stun-gun when the interloper reveals itself: a long-legged tropical spider has found its way into the aquarium. It flails and panics, and she wonders if it might drown. But even as she watches, it's already hoisting out of the water and building a complicated nest in the corner of the tank. Kayo watches it work, watches its ingenious use of resources in an unfamiliar environ, watches it engineer a refuge... and thinks of Doctor Hackenbacker. Distracted from her previous thought, Kayo turns away from the chute access, making a note to tell Gordon about the spider. She doesn't think it's a threat to the fish, and the lid is a four-handed affair. Besides, knowing Gordon, he'll want to coddle the thing before he releases it.

Instead, Kayo climbs to the mezzanine. Somewhere in the aether, a stack of security reports grows ever larger, but she is unable to read them, to even consider distracting herself with them at a time like this. Worry still fills the well of her stomach, bilious and vile. There are too many close calls, too many near misses. Too many times she's snatched one of her brothers from certain doom. She's so useless here. Idly, she picks up a blown-glass paperweight. Does John ever feel like this? she wonders as she stares into its nebulaeic swirls. Drifting high above them, like a flame-haired malāk – a messenger of God – with his brothers so far from his grasp, does John ever feel powerless? She wonders how he does it: how he can stay so removed from the action, remaining so calm. She wonders how he manages the silent panic that maybe this is the mission someone does not come back from.

The glass has chilled her hand, chasing phantom skeins of cold and fatigue through her body. Kayo carefully replaces the paperweight and makes her way back down the stairs. She settles into the sofa lining the conversation pit, a hand falling to her side as she allows her body to sink into the plush stuffing. Something rough touches the side of her hand, and Kayo fishes out a blackened cookie from where someone – Gordon or Alan, most likely – has stuffed it between the sofa cushions. Kayo screws up her nose, making a noise of revulsion. It's been at least a week since Grandma Tracy tried baking again. Mouth still in a down-curve of disgust, she leans to put the cookie on the table but finds herself pausing as the light sluices across its dark, oleaginous, undulating surface. It reminds her of the Iceland mission and the pictures of cooling magma Doctor Hackenbacker proudly showed off – and his lecture on igneous rocks. Created by fire, he'd said, melded and reforged into something tougher. Used the world over – even here on the island – as foundations. Unshakable and resistant to all the world could throw. It makes her think of the island's second foundation, of all Grandma Tracy has been through, and yet still stands firm and loving despite it.

She wishes any of her extended family were here, now. Like that spider, Kayo feels out of her depth, could do with someone strong, cheery, soothing; a solidity under her feet. But they are not.

Kayo is a woman who knows when her limits have been met. The island is empty, there's no one around to witness the break caused by cracks of worry, pain and fatigue. Her lip wobbles, vision growing hazy with tears. She gives a small sob, then another, allowing herself the luxury of a little cry.

"Kayo?" She sniffs, swatting at her eyes, and looks up to see Alan's hologram looking down at her, eyes pinched with worry, tone edging towards frantic. "Kayo, is everything okay? John-" "John," comes the even tone of the auburn-haired man who appears next, "should be more careful about what side remarks he makes while on comms to his worry-wart little brother." He rolls his eyes. "Sorry to disturb you, Kayo. But your telemetry did do something unusual a few moments ago-" "Kayo? Alan pinged me. What's your status?" Scott cuts in, as if they are in the sky and all is normal. Before Kayo can say anything, Lady Penelope appears, the picture of decorum and class as usual. "I'm sure it was nothing. Isn't that right, darling? Just a little wobble, eh?" her Ladyship says. "'Wobble'?" asks Gordon, from where he and Brains cluster behind the pilot of Thunderbird Two. "What the hell does- Hey!" Kayo's lips twitch in amusement, as Gordon rubs his head from where Virgil has given him a brotherly love-tap. "It means: keep your nose out, squid-boy," Virgil tells him. "Is everything okay, Kayo dear?" says Grandma Tracy. "John asked me to- Oh," she adds, looking at the packed comm channel. "Well, it looks like you all beat me to the pinch." She smiles and rubs the back of her neck. Kayo looks over her family with a swift, critical eye. Apart from Gordon's head, they all appear healthy and uninjured. Relief floods through her, loosening tense muscles. Her wry amusement turns into a full-blown smile. "I'm alright," she says. "Like Penny said, it was just a little wobble. Everything is F.A.B."

#writing #tanusha 'kayo' kyrano #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fandom #constructive critism welcome #wandering words

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bonniebelleklyde · 3 years

Text

The Small Hours

Note: This fic takes place within what I believe we’re now calling the Mistletoe Universe. Chronologically, it takes place after A Storm to Weather and before Mistletoe. I would highly recommend reading both first to have a full context for this! Thanks to the lovely anon who sent in the prompt for this-- Logan returning the favor from A Storm to Weather and comforting Janus regarding an irrational fear.

Word Count: 2651

Pairing: Loceit (romantic)

Warnings: The warning is a spoiler! Check the tags if concerned.

Summary: In the small hours of the morning, Logan finds Janus in a rather unusual position.

When Logan rose before the sun—not an entirely uncommon occurrence—and made his way to the kitchen to brew a very strong pot of coffee, he was not particularly alarmed at the sight of a figure, obscured by the darkness of the room, sitting atop the refrigerator. He simply nodded in its direction.

“Good morning, Virgil,” he said before stifling a yawn. “It’s a bit early for you, yes?”

There was nothing but silence in response. That was...odd. Concerned that something was troubling Virgil beyond his normal levels of anxiety, Logan flipped the light switch and jumped a bit when the light revealed that it was not Virgil at all sitting on top of the refrigerator, but Janus.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—what are you doing up there?”

Logan was hardly an expert in these things, but something was definitely off about Janus, even absent the fact that Logan had never seen anyone other than Virgil choose this particular seating arrangement. Janus was fidgeting with his gloves, a habit that Logan had come to realize as indicative of nervousness in the deceitful side. He was also noticeably avoiding eye contact and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Unsure how to proceed, Logan followed Janus’s lead and averted his eyes, waiting for some sort of response. When he received none, he furrowed his brows in confusion. Janus was not exactly known for holding his tongue.

“Is something wrong?” he tried again, endeavoring to communicate through his tone that he was not prying for curiosity’s sake, but rather attempting to offer whatever assistance might be required. Logan doubted he was successful in this endeavor—he was rarely successful in conveying any tone to speak of, his words always seeming to come out dry and hollow.

“No, no, don’t mind me. Nothing’s wrong,” Janus said in a voice so quiet that Logan suspected it would have been drowned out by the sound of the coffee maker had the logical side turned it on.

Logan cocked his head to one side, turning over Janus’s words in his mind for a moment before gently shrugging his shoulders.

“You know, one would think—given who you are—that you would be better at that.”

It was Janus’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Better at what?”

“Lying.”

Janus blinked hard, his mouth falling open in an expression that Logan couldn’t be sure indicated offense or shock.

“I am literal deceit.”

Logan nodded, a small smirk crossing his face. “My point exactly— literal deceit should be more…adept at deception, no?”

Janus scratched at the back of his neck and did not speak for several long moments. Logan cursed himself inwardly— he hadn’t meant to offend, but he almost certainly had. He had essentially just told Janus (to his face, no less) that the other was bad at his job.

“I’m sorry,” he said after it became clear Janus was not planning on providing any sort of response. “I did not mean to imply that you are always—”

Janus cut Logan off by gently holding up his gloved hand, a tentative smile on his face.

“I know,” he said simply. “And you’re right. It was a lie. But I don’t…”

It was Logan’s turn to interrupt. “Janus. I don’t intend to pry.”

Logan was reminded of the night when Janus had first become privy to the logical side’s irrational fear of thunder. He certainly hadn’t pried—had not mocked Logan or passed judgment in any way. He had not forced Logan to talk about his fear—a fact that Logan was exceedingly grateful for. No, Janus had simply…stayed. He’d borne out the storm beside him, with a steadying arm around Logan’s shoulders, for no other discernible reason than the simple fact that Logan had been afraid. Janus…Janus had been lovely. And he’d gone on to be equally lovely during the handful of thunderstorms that had occurred since that night. Almost immediately after the first crash of thunder sounded from each storm, Janus would materialize wherever Logan happened to be at the time. He wouldn’t say a word about the storm itself or about Logan’s silly fear. He’d beckon for Logan to sit beside them, and together they’d make their way through one novel or another, taking turns reading aloud to each other until either the storm had passed or they had drifted into sleep. Though his fear of thunder had never subsided, Logan became strangely fond of thunderstorms. Increasingly, he’d found himself wanting to…well. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

What did matter was that, through every embarrassing moment of it all, Janus was lovely. And while lovely was not a word Logan would ever attribute to himself, the very least he could do was—in the face of Janus’s obvious discomfort—afford the other his privacy.

There was a subtle change in Janus’s expression at Logan’s words. It seemed…softer, somehow. Logan quickly averted his eyes once again when he caught himself starting to stare. The last thing he wanted to do was make Janus any more uncomfortable than he apparently already was. He wondered briefly if Janus, too, was reminded of the storms. He became suddenly aware of how long the silence between them had stretched on for, and he coughed to dispel the strange tension hanging in the air. Remembering his motivation for entering the kitchen in the first place, Logan crossed the room to the coffee maker.

“Coffee?” he offered before chuckling softly when Janus wrinkled his nose. “Not a fellow caffeine enthusiast, then?”

“Oh, I drink plenty of tea,” Janus responded, his tone finally sounding a bit lighter now. “But I’ll never understand how you can drink that stuff—coffee is disgusting.”

Logan snorted in amusement as he began spooning out coffee grounds from his hidden stockpile. “Are you sure? You might find that you like mine— I keep the quality grounds well hidden from the others. You’ll find that the taste of coffee can vary quite widely depending on the type and origin of beans used to prepare it.”

“Is that so?” Janus returned, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Very well, I’ll try it if you like, but I make no promises regarding my reaction.”

Logan hummed in amusement, grinning as he got the brew started. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Janus nervously scanning the kitchen floor. Was there some sort of rodent about? Logan wondered idly but did not ask. Instead, he summoned a book—The Mystery of Edwin Drood—from its place on his nightstand, brandishing it for Janus to see before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I believe we left off on Chapter Three?” Logan asked quietly, turning to the appropriate page and looking to Janus’s face to determine whether this was the right course of action.

Janus’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and his grin widened just a bit. He shifted his position so that his back rested against the wall behind the refrigerator and closed his eyes.

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

Logan sported his own small grin as he lay the book out on the table in front of him.

“Excellent. Though I still don’t understand why you chose a book that is only half finished,” he remarked, his tone only slightly teasing.

Janus’s grin faltered at that, his eyes snapping open, and Logan worried that he may have inadvertently insulted the deceitful side once again. But Janus spoke before Logan could make his hurried apologies, his tone not offended but hesitant, perhaps even a bit nervous.

“I had thought…er, well…I thought that perhaps it might be interesting to trade theories about how it might have ended once we’ve finished. If you’d like to, that is.”

Logan was taken aback for a moment at the knowledge that Janus had selected this title because he was interested in discussing theories with him. That was…unusual. Logan was far more accustomed to his own academic musings being tolerated at best. The idea that someone valued them enough to actively seek them out…well, that was…that was quite pleasant. Logan felt something he couldn’t name—a warmth of some sort—bubble up in his chest, and he beamed up at Janus, not having the slightest clue why the other seemed so very nervous to reveal this incredible information to him.

“I think I would enjoy that immensely,” he said genuinely. “There are few things I find more satisfying than parsing out a good mystery, as you well know.”

Janus must have read Logan’s sincerity in his face, because the deceitful side’s apprehension melted away to be replaced by a brilliant smile to match Logan’s own. The corners of Logan’s lips were still tipped up as he watched Janus’s eyes fall closed again and as Logan began to read from the book.

Before long, he was interrupted by a buzzing sound signaling that the pot of coffee had finished brewing. Logan paused his reading and strode over to the cupboard to retrieve two mugs. When he’d poured both drinks, he looked to Janus with questioning eyes.

“Will you be joining me at the table, or should I hand this to you up there?”

He asked the question gently, kindly in a way that he hoped invited Janus to reveal whether there was some way that Logan could help him with his current predicament without pushing too forcefully. Janus averted his eyes and chewed at his lip.

“I…don’t normally make a habit of sitting up here,” he said slowly after several moments.

“No, you don’t,” Logan confirmed simply with a nod, leaning against the counter as he waited for the other to continue.

“It’s ridiculous,” Janus said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated. “I don’t…I am being ridiculous.”

Janus’s face was bright red, and he seemed as if he was endeavoring to look anywhere but Logan’s face, and Logan turned his own gaze downward in an effort to minimize the other’s discomfort.

“More ridiculous than shaking like a leaf during every thunderstorm?” Logan asked softly, a small self-deprecating smile on his face.

At that, Janus’s eyes snapped up immediately to meet Logan’s.

“You are not ridiculous,” and something about the amount of sheer conviction in Janus’s voice stole every bit of Logan’s breath from him. “You are…”

Janus trailed off, either unable to come up with a word for what Logan was or unwilling to voice whatever word he may have had in mind.

“Well. Regardless,” the deceitful side continued, glancing away from Logan’s face once again. “I am being ridiculous. It really is so trivial, I…I should just come down…”

When Janus made no move to come down off of the refrigerator despite his words, Logan thought for a moment before offering, “Might there be anything I could do that would make coming down at all easier for you?”

It was clear from the hesitant look on Janus’s face that there was. In that moment, Logan wished he could be someone else—Roman or Patton perhaps, who were so much better at assuaging fears and dealing in emotions than Logan was. Janus deserved someone who was more practiced at this—who knew how to help Janus in the extraordinary way that Janus had helped Logan. Still, it was far too early for anyone else to be awake, so he supposed he would have to do.

“For what it is worth,” he said quietly, not having the slightest idea of what to say other than the simple truth, “I could never think you are ridiculous. You could tell me that you are up there to hide from the coffee pot, and I would think no less of you. You could tell me anything at all. I would never reveal the information to anyone else, and I would certainly never judge you.”

The words were inadequate, he was sure of it, but they were all Logan had. He watched with concern as Janus’s brow furrowed and his face contorted into an expression that Logan was not able to read. At the very least, Logan knew that Janus could be certain he was not lying. At long last, the deceitful side met his eyes once more with that same, unreadable expression.

“I’m afraid of spiders,” Janus finally confessed, his tone strained. “Virgil’s stupid pet must have escaped, because I woke up with the damned thing on my pillow, and it followed me into the kitchen.”

“Oh!” Logan responded, somewhat relieved that the situation was one that he could help with after all—and likely very easily at that. “I’ve actually assisted in retrieving it for Virgil several times. It should be no trouble doing so again. Do you have any idea where it might be now?”

Janus was hiding his face behind his hands now.

“I think it crawled under the oven, the last I saw.”

Roughly ten minutes later and with the practiced use of paper and string, Logan had successfully located the spider under the stove and seen it returned to its cage in Virgil’s room. Janus choked out a strained but sincere thank you, his face now an alarming shade of red.

“Thank me by coming down here and trying my coffee. I’ll make a convert out of you yet,” Logan teased, hoping the change in subject would lessen Janus’s embarrassment.

Logan lifted his hand in an offer to help Janus down from the refrigerator. Janus stared at the hand stretched out to him for just a moment before taking it and climbing down onto the counter and then finally to the floor. Logan found himself wishing—however irrationally—that Janus would forget to let go of his hand when his feet were once again on the ground, that Logan could remove Janus’s glove and interlace their fingers together, that they could—

Logan shook his head as if to physically shake that particular line of thought from his mind. He wondered briefly what it meant that he was thinking about such things with increasing frequency and resolved to consult Roman or Patton about the matter later. For now, he focused on keeping away the frown that threatened to form when Janus inevitably did let go of his hand.

“Alright,” Janus said with a small sigh as he took a seat at the table and looked toward Logan expectantly. “let’s get this over with.”

Logan smirked and handed a mug to Janus before taking the seat across from him. He nearly snorted his own coffee through his nose at the look of pure disgust on Janus’s face the moment the liquid had reached his tongue.

“I take it you’re not convinced?” he asked, not entirely successful in his effort to ward off a bout of laughter.

“This is revolting,” Janus said, glaring at his mug as though it had insulted him. “This is worse than what the others drink. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Logan snickered and downed his own coffee in three gulps, more to prove a point than anything.

“Mark my words, I’ll sway you one day,” he promised, though not entirely serious.

“Can’t imagine how,” Janus said with a roll of his eyes before stretching out his hand. “Here, give me the book; I’ll pick up where you left off.”

Logan couldn’t help but grin as he handed the volume over. They had never before engaged in this strange practice of reading aloud to one another outside the context of a distraction from fear. Janus caught the grin and shot one back as he flipped to the correct page.

“May as well keep going. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on the identity of the murderer.”

There was that peculiar warmth in Logan’s chest again. This time, he simply allowed himself to bask in it. He would find clarity and answers regarding these strange and pleasant feelings Janus seemed to provoke in him later. For now, it was more than enough that they were there.

#fanfic #loceit #mistletoe #mistletoeverse #logan sanders #janus sanders #tw arachnophobia #romantic loceit

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theatresweetheart · 4 years

Text

Childish Innocence

Summary: Logan was never too sure the little egg he’d rescued would actually hatch. However, when he starts hearing the egg cracking, he realizes he has a decision to make.

Warnings: Brief mention of losing a child.

Pairings: Parental/Familial Analogical

Characters: Logan, Virgil.

Word Count: 1867 words

A/n: I finally got around to writing more dragon content, and I’m pretty happy with how this came out, too!

Continuation/AU: Thunderstorms and Stowaways, A Snowy Twilight Find

——————————

The nights quickly grew colder every passing day. The little egg he’d rescued from the cold embrace of the snowbanks stayed still, motionless.

Logan had half a mind that the egg wouldn’t hatch.

And so what if it didn’t?

This was how life worked; sometimes eggs hatched and sometimes they didn’t.

It was unfortunate, yes, but it could not be changed.

However, this truth didn’t mean he didn’t keep it warm. Logan may not believe the babe would hatch, but it didn’t stop him from caring for it. Most of his time was now spent curled around the little one when he wasn’t out hunting—which he did only twice a week. The cold made his joints ache anyhow and livestock was scarce in the frigid breeze, so it wasn’t too much of a hindrance staying tucked inside.

His gaze shifted down to the little egg that was snug between his underbelly and silks and maps. The glowing was soft, but still lightly pulsing. It was only showing him that the babe inside was resilient enough to hold on a little while longer.

Logan knew he had grown somewhat attached, as illogical as it was. Yet, it didn’t mean he would keep the child with him. It would be far easier to take the pup and give it to another– another that could care for it better and give it the attention and affection it would crave.

The dragon yawned as the sun began to sink out of sight, slowly casting the world in a darkening and cool light.

Logan stretched after a moment, before settling back down into his hoard and relaxing languidly. Letting out a soft huff of air, he let his eyes flutter shut for just a moment. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy since he’d brought the egg into his care, however, he took every chance he could get to catch a few extra winks. If the egg hatched and the babe did survive, he had an itching feeling he’d be losing sleep until he found a suitable place for the hatchling.

The minute he was beginning to drift off, he heard it.

It was soft, just a tiny sound at first. He opened his eyes, lifting his head to scan the area in front of him. He was tucked as far back into the cave as he could be for an adult dragon, so the entire entrance to the cave was in his complete view. It was how he watched for intruders and stowaways if they so dared to enter.

When he didn’t see anything, or anyone, his attention shifted downward when he heard the same sound, this time a little louder.

When Logan’s gaze met the egg, he saw a hairline fracture running down the length of it. Slightly surprised that this was happening, the dragon rose himself into a stand, hovering over the egg.

He’d watched others back home (before he’d split off from the group) who let the baby hatch on its own. The parents hovered close, standing together as they awaited the little one inside to make their grand debut. Logan had thought, at the time, he would never have to feel that anxiety flutter through him—the worry that maybe the child wouldn’t hatch and he’d have spent all this time keeping it warm for nothing.

Of course, he reasoned, he shouldn’t truly be as nervous as he was. This wasn’t his babe nor was he intending on keeping them, it would only cause more trouble. His own parents had died defending him, so being a parent himself was a rather frightening thought. Not that he was frightened.

But giving one’s life for that of a child who would be ungrateful?‌ Only for it to be in vain? That was unnerving.

The egg cracked further and Logan sat down a pace away from it, knowing that assisting the hatchling through this process may be detrimental. He could recall elders of his old group explaining to young and worried parents why they could not assist their baby hatch.

It is a very real possibility to accidentally kill the child because one had intervened too early in their attempt to “help.”

Logan would only step in if he felt as though he needed to.

Hours passed as the egg continued to crack slowly but surely.

Logan had been keeping watch on it, as well as keeping an eye out toward the front of the cave. It was surprising to notice how paranoid he’d become about a wandering and aimless traveler, even though he was well aware it was the dead of winter. No human with half a brain would be about in this weather, especially not at this time of night. But there was such a vulnerable life in his care now, until he decided what he was going to do.

Finally, after what had felt like forever, the babe pushed the rest of the egg open and lifted their head, taking their first real breath of outside air. They coughed, eyes glued shut as they tried to take their first step forward. Instead, the little one’s legs wobbled shakily and toppled forward onto the soft silks of the hoard Logan had been on hours before.

Logan took in the sight of the little one, a soft scale-less violet babe.

He stood quickly, cautiously moving toward the little hatchling as they chirped softly. He leaned down, snuffling at them for just a moment and imprinted their scent, just as the babe reacted to his warmth. They chirruped again, leaning forward and trying to meet Logan head on.

Surprised, Logan moved back and the babe whined, their head swiveling from side to side trying to find the adult again.

Logan leaned closer to it again, eyes alight with curiosity at the tiny life in front of him. Covered in slime and fluid from their egg. He pressed his snout gently into the little one’s side, nudging them over so they laid more comfortably on the blankets. The babe hummed as they squirmed on the comforters, confused by the new sensation.

“Look at you,” Logan mused after a moment, crouching down so he was level with them. The babe followed his voice and they turned their head to face him, scenting the air and trying to familiarize themselves with the way Logan smelled.

Logan snorted softly back at them, and the babe tried to mimic the sound.

Slightly amused, he moved forward once more. Bathing the child was the next hurdle and then cleaning them up. He’d need to get the babe’s eyes cleared as well, which would help them open them.

Cleaning the hatchling took more time then he expected. The baby didn’t seem bothered, as he sat with his little tail swishing back and forth. He was standing unsteadily on his wobbly legs, as Logan sat nearby, ready to move in case he tipped over again.

The little one tested the air once more, trying to find Logan without the use of his eyes. His eyes were free of grime, which included anything that could keep them glued shut; Logan had made sure to make quick work of easing it off gently.

The babe chirped and Logan repeated the sound. The hatchling startled a moment, whipping his head to face where the noise had come from.

“Yes, I’m here little one,”‌ he said, just as the baby toddled toward him.

The child sat down a few paces from his snout and Logan titled his head to the side, curious. After a moment of nothing happening, he watched as the little one rubbed at his eyes with his claw-free paws, letting out soft sounds as he worked. Not five minutes later were there two big, shining, violet eyes blinking up blearily toward Logan–whom of which was watching in quiet awe.

He’s yours, a small part of the adult whispered, nudging a protective instinct of Logan’s forward—a part he hadn’t known had been there. He’s so trusting, you can’t let him down by giving him to someone else. You’d feel godawful about it as well.

“Hello there,” he greeted the babe quietly, his head resting down on his forearms as the hatchling chirruped excitedly back at him.

The little one was trying to take in all of the larger dragon, however, it seemed his attention began to wane and a yawn split his features. Logan was granted a toothless yawn and the babe wobbled on his feet again. Logan leaned forward, using his snout to keep the babe upright, however, that didn’t stop it from nearly toppling to his other side.

Letting out a soft breath of air, he stood up just enough to lean down and nab the babe by the scruff of his neck. He hefted the little one into the air for just a moment, before settling him down into the mass of blankets and soft cloths and silks. Logan then curled around the little one, offering warmth and comfort and protection. The babe snuffled before yawning again, his eyes fluttering shut as he curled up against the bigger dragon.

“Sleep,” Logan said to him, watching as the little one barely reacted to his voice, seemingly only liking the vibrations. Truthfully, he knew the babe wouldn’t be able to speak on his own. That was something Logan would need to teach him, not that he minded. “You’ve had a long day.”

The child didn’t respond, of course. Not that Logan was surprised, however, he knew he also couldn’t refer to the little one without a name for much longer. Though, what would suit him?‌

His eyes glanced over the little form, almost already sound asleep.

Since the moment his eyes had opened, they had been constantly on the move. Looking from Logan himself, to shining coins, to the tapestries that were laid strewn across the stone flooring.

That vigilance was something Logan would have to hone further into him. The act of being wary was something that could keep him alive when the time to survive on his own came inevitably. However, looking so far into the future was unfair to the babe curled up directly into his side, snuggled up close and reveling in the warmth Logan radiated.

Vigilance.

Another moment passed. He let his eyes flicker to the babe’s features, soft as they were now. His scales would eventually grow in, he noted quietly.

Logan hummed low in his chest, the sound reverberating and causing the babe to try and repeat the sound—only earning some softer squeaks in response instead. “As for a name,” he spoke gently, the babe’s purple eyes fluttering open lazily, watching the parent in front of him, “how do you feel about Virgil?”

The babe blinked at him, exhaustion clear in his eyes, before he trilled softly. The hatchling’s eyes quickly slid shut after giving the sound of acceptance.

Logan felt something soften in him, watching as the little one drifted off to sleep. He leaned down too, adjusting just slightly enough to find a comfortable position to sleep in. He stayed curled close around Virgil, the newborn vulnerable in this great big world.

“Sleep, my little one,”‌ Logan rumbled, “you’ve got a full life ahead of you.”

——————————

TSAS Taglist: @isle-of-gold @rosiepupper @anxiousvirgil0 @imstupidhowyadoing

(if you wish to be tagged in future works in this verse/or in general, let me know!)

#Brook writes #Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides fic #Familial Analogical #Platonic Analogical #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #ts Logan #ts Virgil #Dragon!Logan #Dragon!Virgil #Child!Virgil #TSAS #Thunderstorms and Stowaways

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forthegodsandtheghosts · 3 years

Text

The Four Times Virgil Was Sleepy Around The Other Sides and The One Time He Fell Asleep

Link to AO3 version

Post the inspired the concept

Post that helped me with scene 4

Virgil doesn't have a good sleep schedule. That fact absolutely affects him in his everyday life. Just a bunch of Virgil being sleepy and defensive about it.

This is honestly just very self-indulgent because I just absolutely love Virgil Sanders and can't exist without thinking about the Sides for five seconds

It had been a long… day? Week? Month? Interval of time. I had been a long interval of time for the resident mindscape emo who just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

Letting out a long, drawn-out groan of agony, Virgil flopped down onto the couch, fully planning on just being a general nuisance by hogging it. Though, as soon as he stilled, hands resting on his stomach, he noticed just how good laying down felt. Arching his back off the couch, he heard those satisfying clicks before dropping back down with a sigh.

He could almost sleep here. There wasn’t exactly anything stopping him. The other Sides are off doing their own thing and Thomas probably wouldn’t miss a wanna-be vampire hollering in his ears. Besides, he needed the rest. So, slowly he allows his muscles to relax further as his eyes slide shut.

Then he hears footsteps.

Virgil shoots upright, scooting to lean on the arm of the couch his head was previously next to, trying to look natural. His gaze goes to the doorway just as Patton enters the room.

He startles when he notices Virgil’s presence, legs sprawled out, still taking up the couch. “Anxiety! Hi, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Patton’s shocked expression quickly changes to show his typical cheerful smile, confusion about Virgil being there present none the less.

“I could say the same, but we live in the same mindscape and are bound to see each other most of the time, so I can’t.” Virgil’s sass is prominent no matter how deadpan he sounds and Patton’s smile almost wavers.

“Of course, kiddo! I didn’t mean anything bad by you being here, just got a bit surprised. Well I’ve got something to do, I’ll see you around, Anxiety!” he called as he went back down the hall he just entered from.

It was about a week later; Virgil had managed to get one (1) almost full night of sleep – he got maybe two hours – and was once again extremely tired and considering just saying fuck it and going back to bed for the rest of forever. So how exactly did he end up dragged into a movie night with the rest of the Sides? Pure dumb lack of luck.

He was placed on the couch, sandwiched between Patton and Logan – Patton who just wants to give the newest member of their little group the most love he can and Logan who would probably implode if he had to sit on the ground – Roman sitting at Patton’s feet on the bean bag he dragged over. Virgil could already feel himself fading, with the lights off and all the warmth and the shockingly comfortable surface that is Patton’s chest he was being pulled into. Honestly, it’s as if the guy was made to be as huggable as possible.

Virgil soon reached the point of having to force his eyes to stay open barely halfway through the first movie. He couldn’t fall asleep. He’s tough and dangerous and they can’t know he sleeps and becomes defenseless sometimes, it’s far too dangerous. Who knows what could happen to him, what they could do–

His own internal ramblings were cut of as he let out a wide yawn, half burying his face into Patton’s chest. Patton released a small sound that definitely caught the other two’s attention if the yawn didn’t. “Are you tired, kiddo?” Patton quietly asked, hand soothing through Virgil’s hair.

Virgil quickly pushed himself off Patton’s chest. “No. I’m just getting bored of sitting here, watching a bunch of singing animals.” He stood from the couch and made his way quickly to the doorway, ignoring the disappointed expression on Patton’s face and relishing in Roman’s offended one. “See you tomorrow maybe.” Then he disappears up the stairs.

It’s a quiet day. Not the odd kind of quiet.

Rather, the kind of quiet that is achieved when everyone is relaxing in the common room doing their own thing. It’s not as if a vacuum sealed chamber, there’s still the sounds of Logan flipping pages in his book, of Roman’s pencil scribbling away in his notebook, and of whatever show Patton decided to watch. A good quiet that everyone could enjoy. Everyone that was fully awake that is.

Virgil sits on the couch, between Logan on the armchair and Roman on the middle cushion, staring blankly at his phone's home screen. He considered finding another app to entertain himself on but as soon as he hit the home button the fatigue of a poor sleep schedule hit like a bus. At this point, he might as well be sleeping with his eyes open due to his complete lack of responsiveness to anything around him.

Logan glances at the seemingly spacing Side. Eyelids slightly drooping, the lack of spare eyeshadow particles to suggest usage of makeup – which was concerning on it’s own as it almost looks like he is wearing makeup, the heavy lean on the armrest. Anxiety is not doing okay is the conclusion he comes to.

As most should know, Logan is not one to sugar coat or delay, so it’s easy for him to decide to get the current predicament dealt with as soon as possible. “Anxiety,” he starts, closing his book and causing everyone’s attention to move to him, including, just barely, Virgil’s, “from what I have observed, you seem tired. Have you been having issues sleeping?” Right to the point.

Everyone’s attention is now on Virgil, even as he still seems to be processing what Logan said, a confused expression on his face and half-asleep glaze to his eyes. “Wha’?” He says after a few more moments, blinking dazedly at Logan.

“Alright, that is everything I need to know.” Logan stands and moves towards the closet they keep spare blankets and pillows, A.K.A the Pillow Fort Closet™. He pulls out a soft blanket and pillow and carries them back into the common room, setting them down on the armchair. He quickly shoos Roman and Patton off the couch while Virgil watches, barely processing anything. “Anxiety, can you lay down for me?”

Virgil barely registers when he complies, lifting his head when he’s told to as Logan slips the pillow under it and drapes the blanket over the rest of him. It’s only after Logan sits back down that Virgil realizes what just happened and is sitting, standing, and sinking out in quick succession.

Months later, a few days after Virgil revealed his name and everyone got a dandy style change, things had returned to relative normativity except Virgil was marginally more included in many things the other Sides choose to do than before.

It’s currently night, a particular night in which Roman has been up even into the morning so late he decides there’s no point in sleeping. Roman decides to head downstairs and get a cup of coffee with the promise he’ll actually sleep tomorrow. What he finds isn’t not normal, but definitely not expected.

When he rounds the doorway into the kitchen, he catches sight of a large mass around counter level. He’s immediately flicks on the light, earning a startled hiss from the mass, now revealed to be Virgil sitting in the sink, the Side seemingly just woken up by Roman’s entrance.

“Virgil?” Roman asks. “What are you doing in the sink?”

“Sleeping. What are you doing up?” He rubs harshly at his eyes with a wide yawn.

“I got… busy and came to get some coffee. Why are you sleeping in the sink?”

Virgil only responds with a shrug, slumping further into the sink though his gaze doesn’t leave Roman.

Roman only nods and gets to work on making his coffee. “Well, it’s not my back that’s gonna feel like a dragon hit me with a tail whip later.”

“Whatever.” Virgil, still annoyed and tired from being so abruptly woken, continues to watch Roman with a slightly dazed stare until he finally leaves the room, turning the lights off as he went.

As soon as he's gone up the stairs, Virgil falls right back to sleep.

It was yet another, apparently mandatory now, movie night, and Virgil isn’t complaining. He is, once again, being cuddled by Patton and is happy to cuddle back with the easy bribe of hair petting being offered. Logan sits on his other side holding one of his hands as it had soon after his acceptance been revealed that Logan was actually very lenient about – if not openly welcoming – of physical contact. Roman sitting at their feet as per usual in regard to movie nights.

Virgil’s relationship with the other Sides had quickly developed into one of relative familial comfort.

Leading to a very similar predicament to earlier that year.

Sitting for more than an hour in a dark room, surrounded by warm bodies, with plenty of comfortable pillows and blankets surrounding them – a requirement set by Roman and Patton – the perfect movie night and napping environment. So, it’s simple to say that, while Virgil had been getting better sleep as of late, he is pretty sleepy.

There is one difference though. Instead of running out of the room the second his eyes start closing, he relaxes more against Patton’s chest. With a sigh he tries to bury his face further into the body, causing Patton to let out a low, small laugh.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. You’re safe.” He whispers to Virgil.

Virgil hums in contentedness as Logan slowly rubs the back of his hand and Roman wordlessly lowers the volume of the movie. As he slowly drifts into sleep, he can’t help but think one final conscious thought.

Man, I love my family.

------

@sleepyvirgilprompts

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logicaemetus · 4 years

Text

dark and stormy.

Summary: Virgil panics during a thunderstorm. Logan helps. Characters: Virgil and Logan (platonic, but read it how you want) Words: 1,765 Content warnings: panic attack, intrusive thoughts, brief mentions / descriptions of impractical death

Notes: guess who hates thunderstorms? me! guess who wrote this to cope while a big ol thunderstorm raged outside and flooded our basement with 3 inches of water? me!!!

---

Irony of ironies, Virgil thought bitterly, burying his face into his knees and flinching as another crash of thunder shuddered through the house. He pulled the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter, trying to be as inside himself as possible. Of course the guy who literally calls himself a stormy night is scared of actual stormy nights. It’s your logo, for goodness’ sake.

He could practically hear Logan’s voice in his head pointing out his inconsistencies. He. is. odd. Virgil was beginning to feel tired of being a walking contradiction.

Rain slapped against the side of the house in waves. He tried not to think about the windows shuddering and shattering under the force of it, rain pouring into the house, flooding the room from floor to ceiling with glass and water and blood, drowning them all. If he’d had his headphones with him, he could try to block everything out with music. But those were in his room, and he couldn’t get himself to move from his huddled-up spot on the living room floor.

Ignoring the incessant beating against the windows -- They can’t break, they’re built for this. Right? When was the last time we checked them? How do we know this house passes safety regulations? -- Virgil tried to breathe and focus on the feeling of his hoodie under his fingers. He pinched at the pattern, scowling at the lightning bolts dimly illuminated by the flickers outside.

He supposed, when he’d first chosen his logo, that maybe he could pull a Batman. Get over his fear by becoming it, in a way.

Clearly, his plan had worked about as well as his attempts to force Remus out of the mindspace. Fat lot of good that did him! his mind offered cheerfully, echoing the possum man himself.

Oh, god. The last thing he needed was to accidentally summon another nightmare in the middle of this one. His stomach roiled.

Another flash and a near-instantaneous boom jammed his thoughts to a halt. Virgil distantly registered a pain in his arm and realized a few moments later that he’d shoved his mouth full of sweater-sleeve to stifle his own yell. That lightning strike couldn’t have been more than half a mile away. Why were there so many things in the world that could kill Thomas!?

“Virgil?”

He almost didn’t hear the voice through the pounding of blood in his ears. He cringed; the thought of any of the others finding him in this state made him want to sink through the floor. He could sink through the floor, if he wasn’t jumpier than a horse at a firecracker convention.

Footsteps approached. Virgil began to pick up his head to see who it was before another bright flash of light made him recoil instinctively and hiss. Great. Now he was frightened, embarrassed, and rude. A package deal.

“Virge?” the voice came again, more gently. “It’s just me, Logan. I came down to ensure any non-vital electronics are unplugged in case there is a power surge.” There was a slight pause, and then Virgil felt the other crouch beside him. “Are you... alright?”

Virgil wanted to bite out a what does it look like, Lo? but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He settled for gritting out a sound of distress and shaking his head.

Logan’s presence hovered, carefully, just within reach but without making contact. A feeling of gratitude bubbled through Virgil’s frazzled brain; he didn’t think he could handle being touched without warning.

“How may I assist you?”

As if on cue, another crack of thunder set his nerves jumping. He swung a hand out, reaching for Logan and finding purchase on what felt like an arm. To his deep relief, Logan didn’t flinch. He was solid, steady. A much-needed contrast to the thrumming, prickling energy under Virgil’s skin.

“Room,” Virgil choked out. “Need to get to a... a room.”

“Certainly. Your room? Or perhaps Patton’s?”

Virgil hesitated. If he couldn’t calm down here, he wouldn’t fare much better in his own room. Plus Logan wouldn’t be able to stay there, and (he realized, with another jolt of embarrassment) he didn’t want to be alone. And as much as he adored Patton, he would fuss over him, and the last thing he needed was for anyone to make a bigger deal of this than it needed to be.

“Yours.”

“Oh.” A faint note of surprise coloured Logan’s voice. “Alright. Can you stand?”

Another sound of protest left Virgil’s throat.

“Very well. We can sink out together.”

“Can’t. I tried.” Virgil winced at himself. Leave it to me to ask for help and then reject every possible solution.

“I am here to help you try again,” Logan said calmly, his voice nudging aside his negative thoughts. “If you hold onto me, I can provide the grounding you need to sink and rise up. Is that alright with you?”

Virgil took a steadying breath. Ignore the rain. Ignore the wind. Ignore the possibility of being tossed around like a rag doll by the elements, being fried to death, being picked up and flung and crumpled against the wall with a sickening crunch. Ignore ignore ignore. “Sure.”

“Alright. Don’t be alarmed, I am merely repositioning myself.”

Virgil felt Logan move, and he fought back a pathetic whimper attempting to crawl up his throat. Blessedly, the other side didn’t make any attempt to remove his hand from his arm. In a moment, the two were facing one another. Well-- Logan was facing him, cross-legged. Virgil still had his face jammed into his knees.

“Give me your other hand, please.”

Reluctantly, Virgil relinquished his white-knuckled grip on his leg and reached out. A cool hand took his.

“Very good. Now hold onto my arms, like this--” Logan’s hands slid forward and wrapped around Virgil’s elbows, and he mirrored the motion. Self-consciously, he noted the contrast between the warm of the other’s skin and his own clammy hands. He tried not to grip too hard. There was no way Logan couldn’t feel him trembling and flinching, but if he noticed he gave no indication. That bubbling gratitude returned in Virgil’s chest, countering some of the fizz in his lungs.

“Now, you don’t have to look at me. I will speak to you, and you only need to focus on my voice and maintain your hold on me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm.”

“Excellent. Take a deep breath... now out... there we go. Keep that up. Now...”

And Logan began to speak, in a low and steady cadence, about ionization. The intricacies of electrons and how atoms gain or lose them. How it happens during storms, yes, but it is also utilized in fluorescent lamps, scientific equipment, and radiation therapy. As he spoke, his voice seemed to wrap around Virgil’s mind until it came from within, muffling the sounds of the storm. A feeling of calm flowed from Logan’s hands into Virgil’s arms, up into his chest, his stomach, his legs, smoothing out his frayed nerve endings and anchoring him to his own body.

Subatomic particle collision. Heterolytic fission. The formula for quasi-static tunnel ionization. Virgil couldn’t follow a word, but he felt himself carried by the calm of it. His grip on Logan tightened as the ground dissolved from underneath them. They drifted through nothing, and the only thought in his head was that singular voice, weaving a tale of atomic stabilization.

“...where W is the time-dependent energy difference between the two dressed states, and if you open your eyes now, you will see that we have reached our destination.”

Virgil hadn’t even felt them rise. He dared one eye open, and then the other, taking in the blue hues of Logan’s room. “Woah. Just like that, huh?” He took a breath of crisp, dehumidified air, dispelling the last bit of cloying fear that had taken up residence in his lungs. The room seemed to be soundproof; he couldn’t hear a trace of the storm at all.

“Indeed. How are you feeling now, Virgil?”

His eyes met Logan’s for the first time that night, and he realized he was still clinging to him like a vise. He quickly let go and looked away, reaching up to pull his hood off and fix his hair.

“I’m... better. Thanks. I’m, uhm...” He cleared his throat. “Not great with. Loud. Destructive... things. But, I can breathe now, so... thanks for getting me out of there.” A prickle of shame began to creep up his neck at the thought that Logan practically had to play firefighter to get him out of a non-life-threatening situation. Oh, jeez. And he’d hissed at him. He winced. “Sorry for freaking out on you.”

“There is no need to apologize, Virgil. You were experiencing a great deal of alarm. And I am happy to help. Truly.”

Virgil nodded, and the prickle receded a little bit.

“Now that you are in a relative state of calm,” Logan continued, “would you like to return to your room?”

Virgil silently thanked every painted star in Logan’s room that it was him, not Roman or Patton, who’d found him. He was so chill.

“Actually, if you don’t mind,” he began, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Can I stay here for a bit? I could use the company. And... my room isn’t soundproof.”

Logan smiled softly. “I don’t mind in the slightest. Would it help to talk about what just transpired, or is a distraction preferable?”

“A distraction sounds amazing right now. Actually-- I left my headphones in my room. Do you...?”

“I have an extra pair of noise-cancelling headphones you may use. Or, if you prefer, we could--”

“--share a pair of earbuds and listen to that podcast you were telling me about?”

Logan’s eyes lit up, and Virgil smirked at the way he instantly grew more animated. “I-- yes, if that is-- if you are amenable.”

“I’m down.”

---

Irony of ironies, Virgil thought with amusement, an hour later. The one who’d been most excited to get him into Wolf 359 had been the first to fall asleep, head lolling against his shoulder. Not that he minded.

He leaned his head back against the wall, counting the stars on Logan’s ceiling while the episode finished. He knew he’d probably wake up soon and scold him about the dangers of not sleeping in a real bed, but for now... this was fine.

#virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts virgil #ts logan #analogical #as with most things I write this turned out way longer than I intended and I had no idea how to finish it #but uh. yknow. *yeets my fears onto virgil* have this #no editing we die like men #me write #fics #local emo says debate club blows; attends anyway

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snek-snacc-ficc · 4 years

Note

Want Sanders Sides requests? Take your pick: 1)Patton and Janus are "rivals." Whenever they meet, they coldly go "Deceit." "Morality." & then exchange a sassy remark & go on their way. Everyone thinks they hate each other. But really, they're bfs. 2)Sides can't die, but Roman doesn't know that. So when Virgil comes back after getting accidentally killed Roman thinks it's Deceit and rejects him. 3)Patton starts showing frog traits & freaks out thinking Thomas is rejecting him. Janus comforts him.

Me? Finally getting around to finishing fic requests? It's more likely than you think. In all seriousness thank you for the request, I’m sorry its taken so long to get to.

I had to go with prompt 3, I’m a sucker for froggy Patton.

Words: 1,090

All the lights in Patton’s room were turned off and the curtains pulled shut, leaving the room in complete darkness. It would have been silent as well, were it not for the sniffles coming from said side who was curled up underneath his covers, tears streaming down his cheeks despite how hard he had tried to blink them away.

Patton had woken up that morning with a horrified gasp upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. Splotches of moist, slick green skin had started to pop up sporadically across his body, and his eyes had formed an orange tint with his pupils becoming subtly more dark and slanted.

The sight made his stomach churn. Only the dark sides ever exhibited any animal traits, and while he and subsequently Thomas had started seeing them in a different light, the fact that he was now changing appearance couldn’t be good. Despite how hard he had been trying to loosen up a bit Thomas’ view of him was changing, and not for the better.

He sunk back into bed, not daring to think about facing the others in this state.

---

Since the last episode’s ordeal there was a noticeable tension in the mindscape. The sides would silently shuffle through the kitchen every now and then during the day. Roman and Virgil seemed to stay close, throwing dirty looks Janus’s way, and Logan drifted about his business expressionless, acting as if he didn’t even notice the others around him, before retreating back to his room for the rest of the day. With the strain between everyone it was easy for Patton’s absence and failed attempts to lighten the mood to go unnoticed.

It wasn’t until afternoon that Janus realized he was missing when he came into the commons for their usual chat (a routine that they had fallen into in the weeks since the last video). It was then that he also registered he hadn’t seen Patton at all that day. He may not have been welcomed in the light side of the mindscape for very long, but that didn’t seem like normal Patton behavior. A spark of worry came over him and immediately he sunk out in search of the other.

His first instincts led him to the main hallway of the light side, where all the doors to their rooms were. He couldn’t help but notice his own door was currently residing there. In the past few weeks it had been constantly switching at random between here and its place in the dark sides half, as if the mindscape couldn’t quite decide where to put it. Next to it was the light blue door leading to Patton’s room, littered with brightly colored stickers of everything cheerful from hearts to smiling cookies on its exterior. He knocked on it gently. “Patton? Are you in there?”

He was met with the sound of shuffling from the other side and Patton spoke up, his voice carrying an obvious over-chipper tone that was only made more apparent by the way his voice cracked when he spoke. “Oh, Janus, yes, I’m just feeling a little sick though kiddo, I wouldn’t come in.”

The scent of lies lingering in the air became even more apparently overwhelming when Janus pushed open the door and stepped into the darkened room.

His gaze fell on the lump of sheets on the bed. A pathetic final attempt at a cough came out from them as Patton mumbled something about not wanting him to get sick before he threw the covers off the figure entirely. Unable to make out much more than Patton’s form he switched on the nightstand lamp and was greeted with the sight of the other’s current situation.

Patton immediately looked away, eyes brimming with tears.

Janus was admittedly surprised at the sight. The incident with “Lilypadton” had already been an unexpected factor in the events after the wedding. Never did he think that it would carry into his appearance afterwards.

Before he had a chance to process words of comfort Patton cried out in a choked sob, “Why is this happening to me?” His voice sounded deeper than usual, his words carrying a slight reverberation to them. “I’ve tried so hard to loosen up but it doesn’t matter, I’m still hurting Thomas and now-” he stifled what sounded like a cross between a sob and a croak, “and now he doesn’t even like me.”

Janus reached out and gripped Patton’s hand. “And what makes you think that?”

“This!” he gestured across himself, “All of this. I wouldn’t look like this if he didn’t think I was bad.”

Janus couldn’t help but grimace at that. “Thank you Patton.”

“Wha- oh,” his eyes widened, suddenly remembering the scales decorating the other sides face, “I’m sorry, I didn’t, I mean you’re-”

Janus sighed. This was new for all of them, he couldn’t blame Patton for the way he was feeling right now. “I know,” he said, “It’s alright.” He pulled him into a hug, Patton leaning into his chest, appreciating the comforting embrace.

Janus held him silently a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

“You know, snakes almost universally represent trickery. Deceitfulness. Goodness knows Thomas knows that, in part thanks to you.”

Patton hummed in acknowledgment.

“Well, frogs have been known to symbolize a rebirth of sorts, things changing. That’s not always a bad thing either. You even said something along those lines yourself if I recall.”

Patton nodded, his tears slowing their fall and beginning to dry.

“Thomas’ view of you, of all of us, has altered since he was younger, it’s probably even changed quite a bit from a month or a week ago. Your job as his morality can and should be something fluid, and he’s now starting to really understand that. Maybe that thought process is manifesting partially in your physical appearance, but that doesn’t lessen the importance of your role, and it certainly doesn’t mean Thomas no longer wants or needs you.”

Patton sat up a bit, wiping the remaining wetness from his face.

“Thank you, Janus,” he said, given the other a gentle smile.

He gave him one last squeeze before breaking away and standing up. “Of course dear heart.”

He gave Patton an amused look, taking in his new appearance. “Just between you and I,” he said, “green totally isn’t your color. Just, don’t try to make a huge deal out of it. I think Remus has laid claim to it for his Disney villain aesthetic.”

Patton laughed as the two of them sunk out.

#patton sanders #janus sanders #moceit #lilypadton #sanders sides

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residentanchor · 4 years

Text

Probable Theorem Ch. 17

<<Chapter 16 Chapter 17

Summary: We take a moment to follow Patton as he forms a plan. Warnings: Cursing, panic(mild), yelling(mild), kidnapping Word Count: 10,760 (I honestly don’t know how I did it I’m sorry) Note: There was fan art I commissioned for the last chapter! Check it out if you missed it! Also, this one took a lot of editing. To the point where I might have missed something from reading it so much so lmk if there are any issues.

The entire journey home, Patton could feel Virgil’s emotions bubbling over.

Anger. Panic. Desperation. It all burned inside Patton, twisting around and mixing with his own feelings so furiously that he could barely tell them apart; a concoction of anger and worry and panic brewing inside, try as he might to quell it. The morning had been quite the ordeal already, and Patton’s racing heart and shallow breaths were making it rather difficult for him to focus on anything.

He had managed the entire journey home by focusing his breathing and sending calming waves out in an attempt to soothe the others. He’d seen Virgil relax enough to make it home, though he was worried about how much his mind was panicking and how deep he would spiral by the end of this. As for Logan? Patton could feel the anxious energy radiating from him, but it was unsettling how calm and collected Logan appeared to be despite that. He seemed to be pushing down his feelings about what had transpired to be the level headed one of the group. Patton couldn’t imagine that was going well for him, but he let it slide for the moment.

Once they made it home, Virgil raced forward to get inside first as Patton felt his anxiety spike. Distance made calming him down near impossible at this point, though, so as Virgil moved further and further away, Patton couldn’t help but start to worry about himself. He’d already been struggling to put himself at ease; trying to send those calming waves to the others at the same time was becoming impossible. By the time they all entered the apartment, Virgil had already begun pacing and Patton couldn’t focus on his thoughts anymore. With all of them now together in private, they finally had a chance to process what happened.

Roman was gone. Attacked and taken in the early morning despite their best efforts to rescue him. Virgil was stressing over how he had failed Roman. Logan was struggling to hold himself together for both of them. And Patton himself was concerned about what the kidnappers could do to Roman, and what if they were too late to rescue him, and–

“Please step out of the room for a moment while I try to calm down Virgil. Do those breathing practices like you taught me, okay?” Patton looked up to see Logan staring at him distressed. He turned to glance at Virgil who was even more panicked than he was, then back to Logan.

Nodding, Patton turned and headed for his door without another word, focusing on getting away from the swirl of negative emotions storming in their living room. After accidentally slamming his door behind him, he turned his focus solely to himself and the hurricane of emotions that had built up from the walk home. The separation between himself and the others seemed to be helping already as he promptly managed to settle his thoughts. As he started counting to himself, he could feel the anger and desperation melt away. Not entirely but enough to be notable. In the silence of his room with the muffled voices barely drifting through his bedroom door, Patton calmed down. It was almost startling how quickly he had managed to clear his thoughts with the distance from the others' emotions. It felt like so long ago since that day he sat down with Logan and discussed the possibility of him being an empath. Now he was nearly an expert on his newer skill.

With a much clearer mind, Patton could relax and gather his thoughts. With a few ideas in mind, he had come up with a plan but he knew that Virgil and Logan wouldn’t approve of it. He didn’t want to lie or hide anything from them, but part of him knew that keeping it secret would motivate him to just do it and get it over with. Patton was convinced that this was their best chance at finding Roman as quickly and as safely as possible. “Sorry, guys…” he mumbled to himself as he shut his eyes, hoping the others wouldn’t notice the flash of light from under his door.

As soon as Two had made his appearance, he looked at Patton and sighed. “You’re sure about this?”

“Well, don’t you think it’s worth a shot?” Patton turned towards his dresser as Two glanced away. “You’ll go with Logan and Virgil and I’ll start getting ready for work.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Two said, looking at the door. “I don’t like the thought of tricking them like that.”

“I don’t either.” Two heard the sound of ruffling clothes as Patton got changed. “I’ll send Three off to work, so I won’t be lying about that part, at least. And we will be helping them search after! I just…”

Two exhaled from his nose and nodded. “Yeah. I get it. Besides, it’s about time, right? We… will tell them afterward?”

“Of course! By this afternoon I’ll have an answer and we'll tell them everything. It’s just a few hours.” Patton walked up to him, buttoning up his shirt. “Go on, I’m worried about Virgil. I’ll join you in a bit. I should call Roman’s job and let them know he’s not coming in for a few days, too. That’ll give him some time. I’ll just say he’s incapacitated and seeing a doctor or something…”

Two stayed for a moment, watching as Patton pulled out his phone and searched for the number for Roman’s job. He had the number in case of an emergency and he was glad he had the foresight to ask for it. As Patton began talking to someone on the phone, Two reached for the doorknob and opened it up. “You both alright? Feeling any better, Virge?”

Patton was quick to apologize to the person on the phone and finished the conversation before hiding it away and walking out into the living room, aware that he would probably be mistaken for Two. “Now, none of that! We need to start making a plan, right?” he said as he adjusted his collar, looking over at Logan. He questioned his boyfriend, taken slightly by surprise at his different attire.

“Um… ahem. What’s with the outfit change?”

One thing Patton liked about Two was that he never had to share his plan out loud. The Pals couldn’t read each other's minds, but it was almost just as good. They were always on the same wavelength, their ideas forming almost at the same time. It made sense since they were all connected, he supposed.

Patton and Two were synchronized as they crossed their arms, berating Virgil for his lack of sleep. Virgil admitted to not getting a proper night’s rest in at least two days but lashed out at the idea of staying back to rest. He was running on fumes and anxiety, a dangerous mix, but couldn’t be stopped. Rebelling against the idea of a nap, Virgil turned and bolted out the front door, Logan following after him.

Two turned to Patton and their eyes met for a brief moment. They both nodded at the same time and Two ran out, shutting the door behind him.

Patton took a moment to celebrate his success. So far, the plan was going flawlessly. Two would spend the day looking for Roman with Logan and Virgil. Patton had some time before he needed to head out himself. He took the opportunity to pace himself and try to make sure everything kept going smoothly.

Another flash of light and there was Three in Patton’s work outfit. Three looked a bit uneasy, but smiled. “And you’re absolutely sure about this?”

“You just have to go to work and focus on that. If anything comes up, you know I’ll have the cell on me. If you need to contact him, Logan should have his. If Logan calls, just try to keep him distracted. I don’t want him to find out until I’ve spoken with her. Everything is fine.”

“Right, right… I’m sorry, I guess I’m just nervous.”

Patton chuckled anxiously. “So am I.”

The two looked at one another for a moment before Three gave a genuine smile. “Though, I am upset I’m not going to be there for that conversation with her.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be filled in on everything tonight.”

“Standing up to her will take a lot, One. I know you can do it. Just be careful with whatever you decide to do after."

Patton smiled at the nickname. “I’ve got this, Three. You go on ahead. I’ll leave in a moment. I have one more thing I need to do first.”

Three understood without another word and readied himself for the day before heading out the door for work. With that, Patton had completed step two.

Now for step three…

Locking up his apartment, Patton stood on the porch and took a moment to breathe. The sun was much higher now; Logan and Virgil had been out for a while. He had eaten and prepared for the most difficult task of them all, but first, there was one more important thing he had to do.

He turned to the other apartment door on the shared porch and knocked, hoping it wasn’t still too early in the morning. After a long moment waiting, he heard footsteps approach as the door cracked open.

Leslie appeared on the other side of the doorway and smiled. “Oh, Patton? Good morning!”

“Good morning, Leslie. I know it’s a bit early, but is Clyde awake yet?”

Leslie seemed confused, but nodded. “Yeah, I just made him breakfast. Is everything okay?”

“I just want to know if I could talk to him in private for a moment?”

Leslie gave a worried look before nodding again. “I’ll go ask him, wait right here.”

Patton felt his heart thudding in his chest as he stood on the porch in silence. This was probably the easiest thing he had to do today and it still had him on edge. After a minute, he heard Clyde groan and stomp down the stairway that led to the apartment door.

Clyde appeared in the doorway with a baggy hoodie on, the hood thrown up over his messy bedhead. “What do you want? It’s stupid early, so someone better be dying!”

Patton nervously chuckled and clapped his hands together. “I mean, I sure hope not! But, uh…”

Clyde raised an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “I’m listening, but make it quick.”

“Okay, well, I know you’re going to say ‘I told you so’, but Roman sort of…” Patton motioned with his hands as he tried to find a delicate way to share the news.

“Did that idiot get hurt?!” Clyde’s eyes shot open wide as he pushed off of the doorframe. “Is he okay?” Clyde caught himself and tried to appear nonchalant. “I mean, he probably got what he deserved.”

Patton was surprised by Clyde’s genuine concern, even if his neighbor tried to shrug it off. “I mean, he was… but he, um… was sort of taken last night.” Clyde didn’t move or respond to what Patton had said. “We think it was the APC. Anti-Prince Club.”

Finally, after a moment, Clyde huffed out a soft laugh and shook his head. “I knew it! I knew that damned idiot was nothing but trouble! So? Do they know about us, then?”

“I… don’t know. We tried not using powers to rescue him, though we eventually had to as they made their escape. We don’t know what they saw. I just wanted to warn you.” “And hear me say ‘I told you so’. Of course, that moron would be the one! What an idiot! I tried telling you all, but noooo! I’m just a kid, don’t listen to me!” Clyde threw up his arms in frustration.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. We really hoped to avoid all this.” Clyde huffed and crossed his arms again. “Um… well… that’s it. I guess.”

“Yeah, thanks for possibly putting me in danger. If they find out there are more people with powers and they find me, this is on you.”

“I know, Clyde. I really am sorry.” Patton hung his head shamefully. “I try to see the good in the world and sometimes I forget how much that can get me in trouble. But don’t worry!” He smiled and puffed out his chest. “I have a plan. I’ll fix this, just you wait!”

Patton turned to march off before he heard the door creak open wider. “Wait!” He looked over his shoulder and saw Clyde looking a bit uncomfortable and glancing away. “I mean… Look, I may be thinking too much into this, but I have a bad feeling, so..."

“What is it?”

Clyde closed his eyes and the air around him shifted. Soon, he was gone, and instead, the image of a middle-aged man was standing in his place. He seemed friendly, with smile lines on his face and a balding head with a widow’s peak. He had a bushy mustache and a beer gut and overall seemed like an average person Patton would see walking down a street. “If you–sorry. A-hem.” Clyde cleared his throat. “If you see me while trying to rescue Roman…” Clyde’s voice took on a much rougher, scratchier tone. “Don’t trust me, Patton. I’m dangerous, okay? Tell Clyde immediately and don’t let my appearance fool you.”

Patton nodded, still in a bit of shock at Clyde’s blatant display, before the image shifted back. “Who was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll… I’ll tell you if you do see him. I’m just being paranoid, but it doesn’t hurt to be overly cautious sometimes, ya know?”

With a nod and a wave, Patton said goodbye to Clyde and began to head out for the most difficult step he had planned so far.

Step four: Time to give his mother a visit.

The entire bus ride to his parent’s house had him on edge. Patton couldn’t help but glance at his phone over and over again. He tried to keep his nerves down and focus on Two and Three, making sure they were alright. He felt them both on edge but okay for the time being before staring out the window as buildings zoomed past.

Finally, at his stop, Patton hopped off and practically started speed walking down the road. His heart was racing with excitement and nervous energy; he was trying to burn it off as soon as possible.

While he was approaching his parent’s neighborhood, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He jumped and pulled it out, looking to see the name ‘Logan <3’ pop up on the screen. He looked at the clock and sighed, realizing he probably had been found out, since he had been too nervous himself to have felt the other Pals. Of course, Logan had discovered everything faster than he had anticipated. He hesitated before he answered it, hoping to catch it before it went to voicemail. He opened his mouth and froze, his heart pounding heavily. How much had Logan figured out? How mad was he for what Patton had done?

“Patton?” Logan’s tone was even, which didn’t help his nerves.

“Logan? Everything alright?”

“Care to explain why Two is here and Three is at work?” Well, it seemed he’d figured out most of it, if not everything. “Did you really find it necessary to sneak away from us like that?”

“Would you have stopped me from doing this if I had told you?”

“I… We’re just worried. I don’t want you rushing into anything.”

“She’s my mother, Lo.” Patton smiled for a bit, though Patton could feel how empty it was. “I have to be able to talk to her about things.”

“I don’t want her to keep–” Logan paused as he rethought his words. “You always forgive her.”

“Not for this.” Patton’s nose wrinkled and he furrowed his brows in anger. He always forgave his mother for what she would say to him, but his friends? He should have stood up to her before, but this was as good a time as any to fix his mistakes. “I’ll call you back when it’s done. Trust me on this?”

“Yes, of course. Always.” Logan answered immediately, with no hesitation nor hint of anger in his voice. “Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I have her outnumbered.” He heard Logan chuckle softly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Right, of course. Later.”

Hanging up, Patton felt much more at ease than he had before. Logan was behind him every step of the way. He could do this. He wasn’t alone.

As he approached his house, neither of his parents’ cars were in view. There was no sign of his dad’s small sedan which was a familiar sight. Patton was used to the car’s absence when his father would work longer shifts. Patton wasn’t sure when he’d return; he would often stay late, and go straight to bed when he got home. His mother’s beat-up pickup truck was also nowhere in sight. Wondering where she could have been only made Patton worry.

Patton fished out the spare key they had entrusted him with and entered the home he had grown up in. The lights were off and everything was silent, causing Patton to pause. He could almost close his eyes and imagine being a teenager again, coming home to an empty house. Then, it would have made him excited. A bit of peace and quiet alone where he could relax and work on other things. He’d hated being stuck in his room and avoided it when he could, especially since his mother had always made him leave the door open. Moments of privacy had always been a treat, rare as they were.

Now, he was walking into the empty house and the feeling wasn’t there anymore. He’d lived on his own for so long that it was never really quiet. It was a bit unnerving.

Flicking the light switch, Patton took in the familiar sights as a wave of nostalgia swept over him. The photos all around the living room, along with a random painting here or there. The couch with his father’s La-Z-Boy chair next to it. Patton chuckled as he shut the door and walked in–the chair reminded him of the one Logan had favored at their old apartment that was destroyed in the fire. It hadn’t been long since Patton had been back in the house, having moved in temporarily after they’d lost their old apartment.

He walked around, inspecting the living room and kitchen before pausing at the end of the stairs. “Mom? Dad?” There was no response–not that he expected one. He pulled out his phone and checked the time, letting out a small sigh. “Dad probably stayed late for work again, so where’s mom?”

He paused as he glanced around the living room, the house to himself. A thought caused his heart to jump as his mind raced. Alone. In the house he always hated being alone in. He smiled and glanced around before shutting his eyes in a flash of light.

Patton Pals in the house were a big no-no, and only Two and Three had been around when he had tried as a child. But the rest? They all blinked and looked around, different levels of excitement on their faces as they all had the same thought.

“Mom is gonna be so pissed if she finds out.”

“‘If’? Oh, I am definitely telling her we did this.”

“I don’t wanna start a fight.”

“Yes, you do. Come on, how many times did we imagine doing this? Like stealing a cookie from the cookie jar before dinner.”

They all chuckled and gathered in a group. Four, Five, Six, and Seven all smiled at Patton and he returned the favor. “It feels so bad,” Patton giggled. “It’s as good as I imagined.”

“Yeah, well.” Six crossed his arms and turned away. “I’ve been wanting to do something like this forever, but you never listen to me.”

Patton blinked and threw up his arms. “You’re always trying to get me to rebel by doing something bad! This isn’t bad!”

“Yeah? Tell that to mom.” Patton frowned and turned away as Six rolled his eyes. “That’s why we’re here, aren’t we? We're finally going to tell her off?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Five chimed in, “but we are going to say something, aren’t we? I mean, after that dinner with Logan, we have to say something. We’ve been avoiding her for long enough.”

Patton looked at the four Pals standing in front of him and took a deep breath. “I did want to ask if we were going to take… extreme measures.”

“Obviously, yes!” Seven said, throwing his hands in the air. “She basically admitted to being a part of the APC! And now they have Roman!” “We don’t have proof of either of those things for certain.”

“Yeah, but we believe that they could be true, and that says enough!”

The Pals turned to Patton, as he hadn’t given his opinion yet. “Well, even still. This is a big decision and I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t decide?” Seven questioned, as if Patton had said something ridiculous. “What is there to argue about?”

“She’s our mom,” Patton mumbled. “Cutting her out completely is a bit drastic, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Seven shrugged. “After everything? We’ve asked her to hear us out how many times? We have to draw the line somewhere.”

“I’m with Seven on this,” Six added. “If she cares, she’ll hear us out.”

“I dunno.” Four turned and sat back on the couch, tired of standing. “I think it’s a bit much, don’t you?” Five nodded in agreement. “See? I just think there’s more at stake if we go all in! Why take the risk?”

“Five only agrees because that’s what Three would want.”

“Hey!” Five shouted. “That’s not true! And even if it is, it doesn’t matter because Two would agree with you, which leaves us at a stalemate!” Five turned to Patton. “So, we need a tiebreaker. What do you think? We hear her out and forgive her because she’s our loving mother?”

“Or, and hear me out,” Seven spoke up, holding up his hands defensively, “we stop giving her excuses and hold her responsible for her actions? Like this! ‘Margaret, tell me everything, or else I’m never speaking to you again.’ See? Simple!”

“She’s our mom, Seven,” Patton sighed. “She’s forgiven me for a lot of things. I’m not saying we let her off easy, but cutting her off from us completely is a lot, right? I just don’t know what to do.” “If we can’t agree on this, then how are we going to agree on what to do after we talk to her about Roman, hmm? That’s what we came here to talk about, right?! We need to make a decision and we need to make it now.” “Okay, let’s put it to a vote.” Patton turned to Four. “Four? Do you want to make the deal with mom? Cut her off completely if she doesn’t comply?”

“No.”

Patton nodded and turned to Five. He shook his head and frowned, looking over to the last two. When Patton turned to Six, he didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.” “Seven?”

“Yes.”

Patton sighed and pushed up his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Okay. Well, we still have to vote on what we’re gonna do when we ask her about the Anti-Prince Club. Do we want to take the information back to the others first? Or shall we have her take us there to make sure she’s not lying and that’s where Roman is first?” Four watched as Patton turned to him for his answer. “I think we should go back and regroup first.” Five huffed and shook his head. “No, we need to go and make sure she’s not lying.”

“I’m with Five,” Six crossed his arms. “We don’t want to waste their time if he’s not there or if she takes us on a wild goose chase. We confirm it’s real first, then tell the others.”

“We’ll just worry them by taking too long! If we have a lead, then we should share it right away.” Seven nodded his head toward Four. “So I’m with Four, and we have a tie on both decisions. Now what?”

The front door jiggled and the five froze, eyes darting to the noise. The door opened and the sunlight shined through brightly as a figure stood in the doorway.

Patton watched as his dad tiredly shrugged off his shoes and shut the door behind him. He turned and removed his jacket before hanging it on a hook beside the door. He started walking into his home and looked up, taking in the five men standing in his living room.

“Well, what a wonderful surprise! My favorite son!” He smiled as his eyes wrinkled with age. “All five of them, it seems! Wow, that’s more than I remember. You’re getting good at that, huh? How many can you make now?”

Patton and the Pals all smiled at their dad; the old man’s beard had grown more since they had last seen him. His eyes were sunken in from exhaustion, like always, but he carried himself as tall as he could. He was always such a burly man, but Patton knew better: he was a total softie at heart.

“Hey, dad,” Patton spoke as he turned.

“Now, none of that.” He held out his arms and wiggled his fingers. “Where’s a hug for your honorary Pal? You call them pals now, right?”

Chuckling, Patton raced forward and wrapped his arms around him and squeezed as much as he could. “You’ll always be my favorite Pat! And my favorite pal.”

“And you’ll always be mine.” He patted Patton on the back and chuckled at the silent joke as they pulled away. “Are you here to see your mother? She told me you argued again.”

“Uh, yeah. Do you know where she is?”

“I dunno, she joined some book club or something.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes for a moment, but Patton could tell it hadn’t done much. He could just feel the exhaustion rolling off of him. “I’m glad she’s gotten out to be more social, but I’m not usually around to get all the details.” He yawned and ran a hand through his hair. “Want me to stay up till she gets back?”

“No, get some sleep. You pulled a double shift again, didn’t you?”

“Gotta pay the bills.” He shrugged and turned to walk towards the staircase to his room. “Let me know if you need anything, even if I’m asleep, got it?”

“Yeah, dad.”

He paused on the bottom stair and turned to them once more. “Patton?”

“Patrick?”

His father smiled briefly before it fell, his expression turning serious. “I love you and no matter what, I always will.”

“I know–”

“I know you know. But I also know your mother worries about you, and all this–” he waved his hand toward the pals, “–getting out scares her. But you’re an adult and you need to make your own decisions. Now, I don’t know what the fight was about, but due to your track record, that’s my best guess.” Patton turned away briefly in embarrassment. “You ever need to talk to me, I’m a phone call away. I don’t care what it’s about.”

“Thanks, dad. Really.”

Patrick nodded and started heading up the stairs. “I’m off to bed. Oh! And visit again soon, will ya? I know I missed that dinner with that boy of yours but he’s not off the hook yet!”

Patton chuckled and watched his father disappear up the stairs. “I will! Go get some sleep!”

He and the Pals sat silently, listening as Patrick made his way to the bedroom. The click of the door cut off any other sounds that could be heard, diverting their attention back to one another.

They looked around and Patton frowned as their topic came back to mind. “It’ll be hard to cut her out and not him.”

“We can work around that.” Seven spoke immediately to defend his point. “He’s willing to work with us! He can meet us at our place. That shouldn’t even be a factor.”

“You’re right.” Patton held up his hands to prevent any further arguments. “You’re right. Well, at least…” Patton looked up at the Pals with a look of surprise in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” Six asked. “Is it gonna help us with a decision?”

“Probably. It’s the best chance we have right now to make up our minds.” “How?” Four asked. “We’re at a total stalemate if you can’t make a choice.”

“No, not exactly,” Patton smiled as the realization sunk into the rest of them. “Not if I give someone else the choice as well.”

“Eight?!” Seven cried out. “You want to make Eight?! You’ve never made anyone past me before!”

“It’s our best bet, I guess.” Four mumbled. “I mean, if he can’t decide, it makes sense. They can vote on both and we get everything sorted.”

“Woah, hold on.” Six stepped into the center of the room a bit more. “Are you absolutely sure? You know that after making a new one, you can’t go back. We’re stressed out right now. You shouldn’t do anything drastic.”

Patton wrapped his arms around himself and paused a bit. Then, looking up at Six, he nodded. “I’m sure. We need Eight. Besides, I feel like… he’ll be helpful to have with everything going on.”

“Right, okay,” Six stepped back and motioned to the room. “The floor is yours, One.”

Patton nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Summoning a Pal was familiar to him. Reflecting in on himself, searching for that warm feeling like when you get a hug and then grabbing that feeling before pulling. But creating a new one for the first time was like breaking something apart. It’d fit back perfectly and he wouldn’t even notice it break, but he’d have to be careful.

Concentrate and focus. Ignore the warmth building and the light you can tell is shining behind your closed eyes and just pull.

---

Roman was enjoying the view beyond the single glass wall he was imprisoned behind, but his desire to hear what the old man was yelling about meant he couldn’t sing. The two morons that had attacked him and brought him here were looking more like children being scolded for doing something wrong at the moment. They tried to speak up at one point, but Bruce cut them off quickly and they just looked more ashamed after that. Eventually, they walked off and he sighed before disappearing behind the door and out of view from the glass. Most of it was still covered, except for that one part that kept being lifted so people could look in on him. The last time someone looked in, Bruce had appeared and turned red with anger, chasing them off. Then he’d turned to the other two orchestrating the ‘viewings’ and started shouting.

Roman was glad for the reprieve, but he just wanted to go home. He felt like a prisoner, which he supposed he was, but worse. Almost more like an object to be stared at and less like a person. The people coming in and ogling at him like he was some sort of spectacle made him feel uneasy. His roommates must have been worried and he was still exhausted beyond belief. They didn’t know where he was yet, or else Virgil definitely would have found a way to talk to him and yell at him himself, paradoxes be damned.

The door opened and Bruce walked in with another water bottle, sighing as he shut the door behind him. “Sorry about that. Those two are unbelievable.”

“Then why let them be in charge of anything?”

“In charge?” Bruce laughed at the thought. “No, they know someone who let us use this empty office space until it gets rented as long as we keep it clean. I think they told them we were cleaners, actually. They have no idea what we use it for. Otherwise, those knuckleheads wouldn’t even be here. They’re not in charge of anything.”

Bruce held out the water bottle and sat down slowly. “I told them to stop going out on searches, and said that kidnapping a person was illegal and that we are not the cops, but no. They have it in their heads that this’ll turn out like their comic books or a movie and they won’t get in trouble, and roped all of us into it in the process.”

Roman frowned and played with the water bottle, watching the small bubble of air move around. “So this was all a mistake? Can’t you just let me go, then?”

“Well, now that we have you, the others are arguing on what to do. Fortunately, I convinced most of them that letting you go at sundown was our best bet with the cover of the night where people might just think you’re on another patrol or something. As long as I can convince you not to press charges or anything.”

Roman’s heart jumped at the idea of finally being let go, but he didn’t let it show. “What proof do you have that I won’t?”

“They have your face, Charging. Those morons who brought you here never got a photo, but some of the others did, and I can’t get them to delete all of them.” Roman frowned at that, gripping the fabric of his jacket in one of his hands. He knew he had convinced the two idiots that had attacked him, and he had hoped that was it, but someone must have snuck a photo without him knowing. “So we’ll both have to agree to each other's terms and come to an understanding. Besides, the photos are of you locked in a room trapped so it’ll be hard for them to share it and also look innocent. Everyone wins.”

“All I understand is that I’ve been assaulted more than once and you want to get away with it completely.” He shook his head. “Short of you disbanding, I can’t agree to that. You don’t just have my face. You find out who I am and everyone I care about is in danger. I can’t have that.”

“Well–” Bruce leaned in a bit closer – “can your powers do something about that? Take out their electronics?”

“I told you, I don’t actually have powers!” Roman hissed out and turned away. “I would if I could, that sounds great! Point me in the direction and I’ll fry everything in this building if I had to. But I can’t do that! Because powers aren’t real.”

Roman waited a moment before turning to Bruce who just watched him carefully with a frown on his face. “You really don’t have powers, huh?” Roman waited a moment before he shook his head. Bruce sighed and turned away. “Damn, and I was really hoping. Shit.” Roman sat up in surprise at his reaction. “Well, I can still get you out, but it looks like my time in this club is done.”

“Really?” Roman squeezed the water bottle and heard it slightly crinkle. “Why is that? Sick at what they did to an innocent person?”

“I infiltrated this club to find someone with powers, Charging. If you don’t have any, I’m not interested. Sorry, no offense.”

“You infiltrated–wait, why? You said you knew someone else with powers, what’s going on?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified on a need-to-know basis.” Bruce leaned back and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, if you come across anyone with powers, you’ll have to let me know.” Bruce leaned forward and started to stand. “I’ll let you think about their proposition and come back for an answer.”

“Wait!” Roman dropped the bottle and reached out. Puzzled, Bruce knelt back down to look at him as Roman felt his throat close up. “Maybe I do know something…” He pulled his hand to his chest and could almost feel his heart pounding through his jacket. “How do I know you’re not lying? Who’s this person with powers?”

“You know someone with actual powers? You’re not lying to me?” In response, Roman shook his head quickly. “Well, ratting out someone else isn’t exactly fair, is it? But if we both know someone, maybe we can work something out.”

Roman sat a moment, processing his next words carefully. “I suppose… it depends. I’ll have to talk to them when I get out.”

“Alright.” Bruce began to push himself up from the floor slowly and leaned back to crack his back. “Well, then sit on this as well as your answer and I’ll return in an hour, okay?” He looked down at Roman and paused for a moment. “If you’re willing to share, then I’d love to meet up with this person. I’ve been searching for others with powers for years.” Roman watched as Bruce turned to walk out the door. “ Just remember. I’ll come for your answer in an hour, Prince. I hope you’re ready by then.”

---

Everything was still, no one willing to move and break the quiet that had fallen. They all stood there, staring at the new Patton Pal in anticipation. Patton had tumbled a bit as Eight appeared, catching himself on the side of the couch and glancing around the room.The others were all waiting excitedly for the newest arrival to speak.

“Eight?” As Patton spoke, the new Pal turned toward him. “Um, hi! Nice to meet you, Eight! We were kind of… stuck. Did you have any input? Or something you wanted to say?” Eight blinked at Patton and then looked back at the Pals, standing and stepping away from the side of the couch. “Eight?”

“Say something!” Seven cried out, frustrated. “We need an answer, please just say something already.” After a moment, Eight opened his mouth, abruptly spinning around and turning to Patton. “You’re going to tell mom that she’s going to bring us to the APC, or we walk out and find them ourselves and we won’t ever be coming back.”

Patton and the pals jumped as Eight spoke, glancing around at one another in surprise. “Are you sure?” Four asked from the couch. “She’s family!”

“Yes, and we gave her ten years’ worth of chances to hear us out. How many has she returned in kind?” Eight looked at Three as he spoke. “How many times have we asked to talk before she cut us off, saying what she says goes? How many times do we excuse her behavior? We’ve stood up to her too many times.” Eight turned to Patton and frowned. “It’s time to stand up to ourselves. She made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we have to forgive her for them. I think you know that. I think you all know that. You’re just not brave enough to say it.”

“Is that what you are to me?” Patton spoke softly. “My bravery?”

“Another thing we need to discuss.” Eight spun around instead of answering. “Our plan. In a little more detail, at the very least.”

Patton and the others waited a moment before Eight squared his shoulders and looked at Patton.

“I know we’re all afraid… but I think you know what you want to do.”

“But… Logan and Virgil…”

“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. You know you can convince them, but we don’t have the time. We don’t know what’s happening to Roman right now. At least let them know we have a plan. We can keep them updated as we learn more.”

“But…” Patton sighed. “Are you sure? We could just get the location from her. She might not even tell us!”

“She’ll tell us. I know you don’t trust that she’ll be completely honest, though, so we need to make sure Roman’s actually there first. We can’t get the others’ hopes up. After we know where Roman is, then we can regroup just like you want. We need to do this, we’re risking more if we take the safe route. If we don’t pace ourselves, we’ll just be putting the others at risk.” Eight paused for a moment. “Don’t you think Virgil will just run there in frozen time the first chance he gets? We have to be sure.”

Patton slowly nodded before looking at the others. “Yeah. Okay. We go to the APC first, then we regroup.” Five and Seven looked a bit upset at the news, but nodded in agreement. “So, what do we tell her when she gets here?”

“We can discuss that together until she does.” Eight smiled. “We got this, One.”

---

“Thomas?” Logan spoke softly as he approached the other. “I just wanted to apologize again for my behavior in the past. It was rather uncouth of me. I may have had my reasons, but it does not justify my actions. I am sorry.”

Thomas smiled and shrugged. “I know you feel bad about it, and Patton said you had some personal reason why. You’re trying, right? So I can forgive you this time.”

“I don’t get it, though.” Virgil walked up with a new cup of coffee in his hands. “I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with this. Why are you here?”

“About that.” Thomas ran his hands through his hair. “I was talking with Joan and they kind of acted like they already knew I was going to do something. Even before I decided to tell them that I wanted to come on my own. Which was weird, because I kept getting this deja vu feeling like I needed to go find you guys and help.” He looked up at Virgil and Logan. “Is this something we’ve been through before? Maybe not this exact scenario, but similar? I just couldn’t stand by, something wasn’t sitting right with me.”

Virgil sipped his coffee, let out a loud sigh, and nodded his head. “Your memories aren’t completely gone, just locked up.Your body is responding based on what you’ve done before, I guess.”

Logan turned to Virgil, confused. “That’s not actually how any of that works?”

“Hey. Who’s sipping at coffee looking brilliant with his deductions, huh?” Virgil raised his mug. “That’s what I thought. I don’t have to be right. I just have to look like I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s not how that works at all either, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged. “Works for Tony Stark.”

Logan looked even more confused. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Thomas interfered. “So, what have you figured out so far?”

Two walked up at that point, rubbing at his chest. “Well, I don’t know what Patton is up to, but I just got a weird feeling, so I at least have an idea.”

“Are you alright?” Logan turned his full attention to the Pal. “Are the others alright?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, Lo.” Two smiled sincerely, which put Logan at ease. “He’ll tell you later. Right now, he’s fine.”

Confused, Thomas turned toward Virgil, who mouthed ‘Patton Pal’ back. Thomas nodded and Virgil held up a hand, raising two fingers to signify it was Two talking.

Clyde walked in from the kitchen and up to the others, holding a mug in his hands. “So, you figure anything out yet?”

“Are you drinking my coffee?” Virgil looked offended as he stared at the cup. “Is that my Nightmare Before Christmas mug?!”

Clyde looked Virgil dead in the eyes as he brought the mug up to his mouth and took an obnoxiously loud sip. “No.” “What do you mean ‘no’?” Virgil pointed at him. “I can see you drinking my coffee in my mug right now!” “Oh?” Clyde tried to hide his smile behind the mug. “Do you have any proof of that?” Virgil stuttered, a bit speechless as Clyde held a shit-eating grin on his face. “Alright, enough of that.” Two stepped in and looked at Clyde. “Should you even be drinking that?”

“Should he?” Clyde motioned to Virgil with his totally-not-stolen mug. “Besides, didn’t you wake me up super early this morning?”

Two was taken aback by the comment and blushed in embarrassment. “You were already awake when Patton knocked on the door!”

“I’d like to see your evidence to this claim,” Clyde simply took a sip of his coffee again as Two was flabbergasted. “This is slander. I demand a lawyer.”

“You always like this?” Virgil asked with a quirked eyebrow. “I bet you’re fun at parties.”

“I light up the room more than you do, Tinkerbell. Don’t see me complaining.” Clyde felt a bit of pride when Virgil snorted out a laugh at the comment.

Logan stared at the two before turning back to Thomas. “Right. Well, to answer your question, Thomas, we’ve figured out very little since we discovered–”

“We don’t know jack squat,” Virgil cut him off, huffing as he took a big swig of his coffee. “I’ve been awake while trying not to panic for hours and we had to come back because Roman’s mom is on her way here to kick my ass.”

“She’s not going to harm you, Virgil. She was simply worried about her son and wanted to come help and figure out what happened.”

“He disappeared under my watch and she’s going to kick my ass.” Virgil stared down at his almost empty mug with a frown. “Not how I wanted to die, but I’ll take it.”

“Aww, Virgil, I’m sure she won’t kill you that slowly.” Clyde tried to seem genuine as he placed a soft hand on Virgil’s back. “I’ll totally miss you. It’ll be easier to steal this mug if you’re dead.”

“You’re putting that back or I’ll kill you myself before I die.” Virgil glared at him and Clyde smiled and rolled his eyes in response.

“Are we going to tell her about our powers?” Everyone turned to Thomas as he spoke up. He quickly became self-conscious with so many eyes on him and shuffled his feet. “I mean, she knows about Roman’s, right? What about us?”

Logan hummed and closed his eyes as he took a moment to think about it. “It would probably be for the best to wait for now. I’m sure we all aren’t comfortable with divulging such a big secret so let’s keep it to ourselves unless we need to ‘spill the beans’. Metaphorically speaking.”

Another cup of coffee and a worried scolding from Two later, there was a knock on the door. Virgil sighed and stood up from the couch to answer it. “Well, it was nice knowing you all.”

Opening the door, Virgil blinked as his gaze drifted downward. At least a foot shorter than him was a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair. She smiled up at him excitedly and threw open her arms.

“Oh, I’d know that face anywhere! My son has shown me pictures! You have to be Virgil! Come here and give mama a hug!” She waited for Virgil to hesitantly bend down and extend his arms a bit before latching onto him. She squeezed him and swayed back and forth before letting go. “Such a handsome, strong man! Oh, my boy better be taking good care of you! Come, let us talk.” Virgil moved out of the way as she walked in and inspected the room. “Oh, company! Hello, I’m Roman’s mother, Liz. I’m sorry if he’s been quite a handful.”

The room was silent for a moment before Clyde started snickering to himself. “At least someone apologized for that moron.”

Liz frowned and sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “My son is a brilliant boy who is just very passionate and thinks with his heart instead of his head sometimes.” Clyde blushed and turned away, focusing on his coffee. “But I understand. That is why we are all here, yes? What has he gotten himself into now?”

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Logan.” Liz turned to shake Logan’s hand he had extended already. “You may want to sit down, it’s not good news.”

“So I take it he didn’t just break something again?” Liz looked worried as Logan led her to the couch.

Two walked up and tried to smile, though it came off more as a grimace. “Hi, I’m Patton. Would you like something to drink?”

“After I hear the news, dear. I don’t know how much you’ll need to put in the glass.”

Two looked confused for a moment. “How much what? Water?”

“Tequila.”

Virgil covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing as Clyde’s eyes grew wide.

Logan cleared his throat and ran a hand down his tie to distract himself. “I’m afraid Roman was assaulted and taken early this morning.” Logan diverted his gaze away and braced himself for her reaction. “As of right now, he is currently missing.”

Liz paused and nodded her head. “Ah, is that all?” She turned to Patton with a smile, though still seemed tense. “Water will be fine, dear.”

Virgil walked up to the couch as Two moved to go to the kitchen. “Wait, that’s it? You’re not mad?” Virgil ran both of his hands through his hair. “I was there! I froze and I didn’t stop them!”

“Well, goodness, Virgil! I sure hope not!” Liz reached for her purse and sat it in her lap. “I wouldn’t want to have heard you got hurt as well. That would be far worse!” She began rummaging through her purse for a moment. “It sounds like that hate group that was out to get him might be behind this if I had to guess. I’m a part of his fan club, though I’m sure my Ro doesn’t know that.” She pulled out a pack of gum and extended it out to Virgil. “Dear, take this. I hear chewing gum can help with the nerves.”

Virgil took it and stared at her before looking down at the gum. “You… figured that all out already?”

“He’s my son, my shining star! I will always worry about him so I like to make sure he’s okay.”

“Wait a second!” Clyde pushed past Virgil and looked at her. “You knew he was out there using his powers and you just let him?!”

“It is who he is, who am I to deny that? He’s not hurting anyone and is trying to put more good in the world. I’m proud of what he does.”

“He has powers!” Clyde threw up his hands. “He is showing the world that people with powers exist! He could be putting all of them in danger!”

Liz watched Clyde as he slowly grew impatient, waiting for an answer. “Honey… are you mad he is using his powers because you’re worried about someone else? Are you worried about yourself?”

“What?!” Clyde shouted. Two jumped from where he stood in the doorway, holding a tall glass of ice water. “I mean, what do you mean by that?”

“Well, if he has powers, I always assumed others probably did as well. Is that what worries you?” She turned back to Clyde. “I could just be guessing but… sweetie, do you have powers?”

Clyde turned red in the face before turning and heading for the door. “That’s it! I’ve had enough of all of you. I’m out of here! Don’t bother me again, he’s your headache and I want nothing to do with him!”

Clyde slammed the door and they heard his feet stomp all the way up the stairs to the apartment above him. Liz, however, seemed undeterred as she started to stand up to take the glass of water from Two. “Well, how about a plan to find my little bolt while he calms down, shall we?” Virgil was beginning to realize that he was still afraid of Roman’s mother, but for completely different reasons.

---

Patton’s phone began to ring, cutting short the conversation they had been having.

‘Mom’ popped up on the screen and Patton answered it immediately.

There was a pause as both remained silent before Patton spoke. “Hello?”

“Patton? Is that you?”

“Well, you did call me.”

“I’ve been getting your answering machine all week! I didn’t expect you to pick up this time.”

Patton looked over to Eight who silently was cheering him on. “Well, I figured it was about time we talked. Where are you?”

“I was out running a quick errand, but I’m home now.” Patton watched the front doorknob twist as it unlocked and opened.

“Good.” Patton pulled the phone away and hung up, watching as his mother walked into the house. “We can start there. What errands were you running?”

Maggie lowered the phone as she took in the sight before her. Her son who had not answered his phone in days was in her home, and he had made more of those copies. They stood there in the center of her living room without a care in the world, all of them watching her. After what she had just witnessed this morning? She wasn't pleased.

“What are you doing?!” She closed the door quickly and locked it once more before marching into the living room. “You know you shouldn’t be using your powers! What if someone saw?”

“The door was locked, mom. Please be quiet, dad just got home not too long ago and should be asleep.” Patton watched as his mother grew red with rage.

“Do not speak to me in that tone, young man! This is my home!”

“Which you have extended to me as my home,” Eight called out. Patton felt his heart flutter in fear as he spoke.

“I was not talking to you! I was talking to my son!”

“How do you know I’m the original?” Patton asked. “How do you know? Can you look and tell me that he didn’t just give me his phone? That he’s even in this room right now?”

“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes!” She quickly looked around the room before turning back to him. “I am very cross with you leaving dinner the other night! And hiding the fact that Logan had powers? Now I find Roman is Prince Charging and he has powers too! You moved into an apartment with a bunch of delinquents! I wouldn’t be surprised if Virgil had them; you're just keeping all sorts of secrets now, huh? What else have you been lying to me about? How many times have you told me you haven’t been using your powers and you’ve been running around with half a dozen of them out?”

Patton remained motionless as she berated him.

“Well? Answer me!”

“Where’s Roman?”

“What?”

All of the Pals approached Maggie, surrounding her and cutting off all her exits. “Your little ‘book club’ has him. Dad told me about that, by the way. You’re keeping secrets too, mom. So, where is he?”

Maggie looked around and opened her mouth to speak.

“Think carefully,” Eight cut her off before she could say a word. “Because whatever you say will decide how we handle the other conversation we will be having afterward.”

“What ‘other’ conversation?” Maggie backed off a bit as she glared at Eight.

“Well, mom, funny story about that,” Seven spoke up, crossing his arms. “When your friends decided to attack Roman and hit him over the head with a bat before kidnapping him,-”

“Remind me. Was that before or after they tried running us over?”

“They what?!” Maggie shouted as she stared at the Pattons in disbelief.

“Funny story, really,” Four cut in. Maggie gawked at all of their faces in her growing panic. “When you side with people willing to hurt others? They don’t care who gets in their way.”

“So.” Patton took a step closer and held his head up high. He imagined Logan standing beside him and supporting him every step of the way. He knew that no matter what happened, he wasn’t alone. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Maggie looked anguished as her eyes quickly flickered from each Pal before landing on Patton, who she had talked to first. “They almost hit you?” Her voice was soft and it shook before she reached out. As she cupped his cheeks, Patton frowned and tried to cling to his wavering confidence. “My baby boy, are you okay?”

Patton felt his throat ache and close up and took a moment to calm himself. “Yeah.” He pulled her in for a hug and looked over her shoulder to the Pal staring at him. “I’m okay.” They embraced for a moment before Patton pulled away.

“Mom, where’s Roman? Is he okay? What do they want to do with him?”

“The poor dear! He’s at the office, I just saw him. They’re trying to see if any of us recognize him.” Maggie watched as Patton paled at her words. “I didn’t say anything! They asked and I said I’d never seen him before! I said he was such a young boy that he reminded me of you, and that I had to go.” She reached out and grabbed his arms. “You have to believe me, sweetie, I didn’t say a thing! You’re all I talk about there, and they know that.”

Patton nodded and closed his eyes. “Okay. I believe you.” She sighed and he opened his eyes once more, standing up tall as he did. “But you have to take me to him. I want to see him for myself.”

“No, Patty, it’s not safe!”

“They have my friend, mom!” Patton stepped back and shook his head. “We’re all worried about him. Virgil was there when he was taken and he hasn’t slept, and Logan’s barely holding himself together.” Patton’s voice wavered. “I have to see him. We need to get him out.”

“Well, maybe no one will recognize him! Maybe we can come up with a plan, or...”

Patton shook his head. “No! No, he worked in public for years and he performs in plays! He puts his face out there every chance he gets. Anyone could accidentally recognize him. The sooner we get him out, the better!” Maggie looked conflicted. “He has a family. His mother will be worried sick. What if it were me?”

Maggie clenched her eyes shut and nodded. “Yes. You’re right, of course, you’re right.” She looked up at her son as her eyes glistened with tears she fought back. “I just wanted to protect you. You know that, right? I want to keep you safe. I haven’t been doing a great job of that, have I?”

“It’s not too late to start.” Eight spoke up. Everyone turned to him as he smiled. “We were going to walk out if you didn’t want to help, if I’m honest.”

“Walk out? W-what do you mean ‘walk out’?”

“Of your life, mom.” Eight stepped closer and left no distance between them. “Logan was right. We love who we are. Every quirk we have and everything we can do. But you lashed out with rude comments and backhanded jokes. You didn’t realize how harmful your words were. Every time we tried to talk to you, you didn’t want to hear anything about it. We gained empathetic abilities. Did you know that? Did you ever wonder if these powers grew to something more?”

Patton held a hand up to his chest and rubbed it. He was so overwhelmed with his emotions, but the heartbreak his mother felt at Eight’s words were blossoming. He watched as she shook her head and looked at him.

“Is it true?”

“I’m okay with you not agreeing with my choices, mom. I’m okay with you worrying about me using my powers. But it’s more than that. It’s not just me anymore. When you start interfering with my friends, that’s when I have to realize that something isn’t right. I have to say something about it for their sakes.”

“Not the healthiest thing we’ve ever said,” Five chimed in.

“But that’s our issue.” Seven said. He approached Patton with a smile. “Maybe we still need to learn to love ourselves more. Maybe we’re not selfish enough. Maybe we care about others over us and we need to work on that.” He reached out and disappeared in a flash of light. Maggie gasped, not used to seeing it again after so many years.

The others gathered and all smiled at Patton as they reached out one by one, each one disappearing in their own flash of light. When Eight reached out, Patton mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ before he disappeared. The rush of the Pals’ emotions from their conversations surged for a moment before he turned to Maggie once more.

She tried to smile at him before she launched and pulled him in for another hug. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realized it was so bad!”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, yeah. You’re right, it’s not.” Patton chuckled and felt his tears finally overflow. “But we can work on that together. I’m not exactly the perfect son either.”

“Yes, you are. And maybe Logan isn’t so bad. When he’s not scaring the living daylights out of me with those eyes!”

“You don’t know half of it.” Patton pulled away and removed his glasses to wipe at his eyes. “Gosh, I’m not ready for this talk.” He put them back on to catch his mother doing the same thing. “It’s going to have to wait, unfortunately. I want to see Roman.”

“Okay. Of course, absolutely. I’ll take you there right now.”

---

“So, that’s it, then.” Liz seemed frustrated with the plan they had shared, which hadn’t been much. “You think you might know how to get in?”

Two nodded and crossed his arms. “I’m working on a way to get into the APC. I’m just waiting to hear back from my source that’s checking to see if they even have him. I don’t like waiting around but we’re running out of ideas.”

Liz sighed and nodded. “That’s good. What other plans do you have?”

“We aren’t sure,” Logan frowned and looked at Two. “Patton’s plan was all we came up with, really. We were going on a manual search when you had called. We came back here to tell you everything we knew.”

“Well, what about the fan club?” Eyes turned to Virgil, who ducked his head and began nervously chewing on the gum Roman’s mother had given him. “I mean, would they know anything?”

Liz smiled and pulled her phone out of her purse. “That’s not a bad idea! I’ll contact Sammy right away. We may just get lucky, maybe they can reach out to the others. I know some old members left to join the other club as a way to get inside information, like spies! We can ask the rest to keep their eyes open.”

“Is there anything we can do as we wait?” Thomas ruffled his hair a bit, then leaned in and whispered as Liz started to call someone, distracted. “I mean, power-wise?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I could scan the city for him, but that could take days, and it’s not a perfect process. I missed Clyde the first time.”

“That’s if he’s even in the city,” Two chimed in. “Clyde mentioned moving from the suburbs. You didn’t miss him, he just wasn’t here. So there’s a chance Roman’s out of reach, too.”

“Can we extend that reach?” Thomas asked. “There’s got to be something we can do.”

“We’d have to amplify his powers to do that,” Virgil pointed to Thomas. “But our power amplifier is busted and we don’t have a manual, so that’s a no.”

Thomas’ eyes widened in realization as he turned to Logan. “Well, that just leaves one thing left to do.” He smiled at Logan before fishing into his pocket and pulling out a small, beaten up memo pad. “I was actually planning on bringing this up anyway and now seems as good of a time as any.”

Logan seemed perplexed as his eyes went from Thomas to the small memo pad. “Thomas, as you sure? You don’t have to do this now.”

“I’m sure,” Thomas lowered it and took a step closer. “Time to take up those lessons again. Let’s fix my memories, shall we?” --- Chapter 18>> (If your name is in italics, I was unable to tag you. Please contact me before you are removed.) Tag list: @cyberpunkjinx @phlying-squirrel @equipodeleo @ace-anx @tisithelittleelephant @fandomsofrandom @thestoryofme13 @herequeerandverytired @too-random-for-me @midknight-mania @sleepyssnail @dragonsight9 @queer-human-being @ab-artist @arandompasserby @musikasworld @hellomusicalnerdhere @izzynuggets @noahlovescoffee @rosesisupposes @detective-lemon @kanejandkruge @draw-till-die @dreaming-about-kittens @nico-holly @maxwithanxiety @cornycornfriendo @pixelysparklez @icequeenoriginal @coloursintheblur @omg-rainbowgalxy-things @myqueen4art @billy-jeans23 @llamaly @len-art-trash @i-know-im-smart @nightmaretyrantvantas @mooniecoockie @prettymuchpugs @itsalexiastuff @littledog-draws @jay-reid @the-better-bard @the-lavender-creator @skskskkskskskk @starry-knight-skies @lynnthefander @notkolaidoscop @sweetkirbi @stablerock @astute-goldfish @4ngstyc00kie @a-5-7-b-8-4-c @nadja-chamack16 General: @helloisthisusernametaken @entitydark @lightningbug04 @moonstone-fox @another-sandersidesblog @thesynysterunknown @roo-kangas @singingjo-blog-blog @unikornavenger @rememberfateau-nowoffical @sanders-sides-trasshcan @sleepyssnail @jemthebookworm @spectralheartt @fandomsofrandom @johnlaurensadmirer-johnsenpaiowo@rosie601 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @izzyfandoms @zaidiashipper @enbyamy @romanmustberomantic @daylnvale @that-one-sunfish-with-a-wig-on @squiddney69 @decayingfoxx @watchoutforthefanfics @pigeonsinatree @lynnthefander @k1ngtok1 @wewuzraw @lovelyisthesunrise @sparkedawg @pukingdraws @pixelatedrose

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raindropsduringthesunset · 3 years

Text

Forests and Fae (That Fateful Day) (TSS Fae AU)

Ao3 ~~~ Wattpad

First Part, Last Part, Next Part

Characters: Virgil, Janus, Patton, Remus, Roman, Logan, Original background character(s) (mentioned)

Relationships: LAMPDR (Platonic), Eventual LAMPDR (Romantic)

TW: neglect, mention of implied non-consensual kissing, blood, non-consensual touching (non-sexual),

CW: cursing, panic, Janus (sympathetic), Remus (sympathetic, Patton (sympathetic), nose bleeds, injury, dehumanization of a nonhuman (it/it's)

Enjoy!

~~~

The world is such a strange place.; strange and violent- at least from Virgil’s experience. He wasn’t mad about it honestly. At least He couldn’t say he was surprised. After all, being born in a small town filled to just melt into the touch and let it consume him. He honestly had every reason to; nothing was stopping him from just accepting his fate in this moment. Well, nothing except the boiling anxiety that was making his stomach tumble in somersaults every second he stood still.

Virgil was always under fire from something for something. His hair was always too long, his face always dusty, and his clothes were always dirty, his eyes were weird. He found that he couldn’t really complain- most of the town didn’t really have much going for them so they needed something to pick on. It’s also not every day you meet someone with purple eyes.

Magic of course wasn’t unheard of either. Gods know that mortals tend to blame everything that inconveniences or scares them on magic. It was raining when you had to walk to work? Magic. The room was a little darker than you remember it being last? Magic. Someone’s eyes are purple? Magic.

Virgil couldn’t say he was surprised once he realized that the town was very very against magic use- despite it being awfully convenient from what he’d read in spare newspapers that would be left by teens visiting from the next town over.

Man Miraculously Healed By Local Sorcerer Physician, read a headline. Wizard Scholars Put Out Fire At Museum, another had said.

Sometimes though he understood. Headlines of warlocks starting fires and enchanters cursing whole bloodlines and getting arrested made him understand.

What he didn’t understand was why he was feared. He didn't practice magic. He wasn't born with magic. His eyes were just purple because they were like that. He couldn't change that.

Okay maybe he felt like he was over exaggerating their distaste for him, at least at first, but the nail in the coffin for the town was when one of the boys happened to think he was hot, and happened to kiss him in the middle of the street, and happened to use the excuse that he was enchanted by Virgil as to not get kicked out. Word spreads quickly in small spaces, the incident quickly making Virgil the talk of the town.

Cursed they had called him. Disgusting, Corrupting, Evil. Virgil had to go. Half the town was out for his head and he was not about to become a statistic.

Not a week after the incident Virgil had decided. Not even bothering to pack, Virgil ran for it and never looked back.

Timeskip

Branches and thorn bushes scratched at his legs as he ran through the forest, his heart pounding in his ears. His feet hurt from the pebbles and stickers poking roughly at his soles, but he couldn’t slow down and risk getting caught. He really didn’t want to learn what the town did to runaways.

A twig snapped loudly under his feet making him stumble forward. Despite hoping he wouldn’t trip, he ended up falling face first into a pile of twigs and pebbles. Virgil groaned and pushed himself up, wiping the blood that was now dripping from his nose.

Panting heavily, he turned and looked back between the trees. No one. Good. Virgil let out a shaky breath and leaned over on his knees, waiting for his nose to stop bleeding. The ground was hard and rocky, leaving small dents in his knees and his hands.

A small crack to his left caught his attention, his eyes snapping to a tall figure halfway hidden behind a tree. Oh fuck. Cringing slightly at the taste of copper, Virgil pushed himself up and onto his feet. He glanced around, wanting to kick himself when he noticed the small border of mushrooms and flowers behind him.

“Well, well, well,” The figure sneered, sounding closer than it appeared, “What business does a mortal have doing in my forest?” Virgil was frozen in place, his knees locking. The figure finally stepped into the light.

Long, straight black hair flowed down to the person's waist and seemed to glimmer from the sunlight. It wore a long golden cloak over a warlock cloak. What really caught Virgil's eye was the person's face which was plated with shimmering scales on one side, it's eyes glimmering golden with it's pupils sharpened.

Wait. The eyes. Oh. Oh fuck this was a fucking fae.

As if that wasn't already obvious from the whole… thing the fae has going on.

Virgil gulped as his hands began to shake. He decidedly ignored the overshadowing fact that he also seemed to think the fae was very attractive. But of course he did- fae and their fucking rules and fancy flair making Virgil swoon for no reason.

“Are you lost, little one?” The fae strode closer, it’s cloak drifting gently above the grass, avoiding getting snagged on scattered twigs. It felt like thorny invisible vines had tied their way around Virgil’s ankles.

He had run right into a hunters trap.

His eyes shot around, looking for the fastest way out. He paused, breath hitching while looking at a nearby tree. Moss had grown only around the bottom of the tree, wrapped firmly all the way around like a ring. No sense of direction. He was in a fae garden- very deep in a fae garden may he add. Just wonderful. This was by far the worst situation he had ever gotten himself into.

Blood dripped down his lip and onto his shirt, the taste invading his mouth and probably dying his teeth red. The fae frowned slightly at the blood, raising an eyebrow and glancing down at the stones below Virgil.

“You fell.” Yeah, that's fucking obvious. The faery smirked, sending a sharp shiver down Virgil's spine.

“You’re remarkably snarky for the predicament you're in darling.” Virgil blushed, though he couldn't tell if it was from the embarrassment from his lack of filter or the pet name.

“You look awfully red, do you like when I call you darling?” It moved closer, “Would you like me to clean your face for you, darling?” Virgil could've sworn the word was enchanted. He found himself leaning toward the fae, the realization of his own movement causing him to flinch back, stumbling slightly. The fae pursed it’s lips, furrowing it’s brow before gliding forward and gently taking Virgil’s head in his hands.

“Oh little one,” the fae wiped away the blood from Virgil’s face, “you must relax.” Virgil stood frozen in front of the fae. He wanted to run, he wanted to kick and fight and scream and just get away. Fear- and maybe something else in the raging dumpster fire of emotions he was feeling- shot through every nerve in his body. Blush rushed up his neck, coloring him pink from his shoulders to the tips of his ears. A cough from a few feet away caught the two’s attention, making the fae’s head snap to the side.

“What’ve you got here J?” A voice perked up, a series of steps quickly following as Virgil stood helpless still in the fae’s grasp. The fae- apparently named J- sighed and rolled his eyes before reluctantly passing Virgil to the other.

“I was having my fun Pat, why did you have to come?”

“I felt something in the bond; do you expect me to just ignore when you find something interesting?” The new fae joked, walking in front of Virgil and gently holding his chin.

God, the fae was so warm. It felt like a hot evening cider had seeped it’s way into Virgil’s bones, warming him oh so gently and leaving the intoxicatingly sweet taste of comfort on his tongue. He was so tempted to just melt into the touch and let it consume him. He honestly had every reason to; nothing was stopping him from just accepting his fate in this moment. Well, nothing except the boiling anxiety that was making his stomach tumble in somersaults every second he stood still.

“Oh aren’t you just the sweetest thing, I ought to be offended that J didn’t tell us about you sooner. Us? Virgil pushed away the thought in favor of trying to assess the situation- again.

The fae holding him, Pat, had coily blonde hair, it’s- their, Virgil couldn’t pretend these fae weren’t as serious as they were anymore- skin a warm shade of brown with a seemingly constant red-ish blush across their cheeks. Virgil would say it was makeup if it weren’t so hard to get it around these parts- then again these were fae. It’s eyes shone with a beautiful light blue and just a shimmer of gold around the iris. Several freckles dotted across Pat’s face, giving them a more gentle appearance, only adding onto the comfort that they seemed to radiate from them. They wore more casual clothing than J did, simply a sweater with various plant life sewn onto it and a pair of slacks.

Everything about them seemed to draw Virgil in, making him lean slightly toward Pat with a dazed expression before his brain seemed to snap back into place and start working again. Pat frowned slightly at the sight of Virgil’s swollen nose and used their other hand to oh so gently swipe a finger from Virgil’s forehead to the tip of his nose repeatedly, making him feel like he was floating.

“What happened to you, dear? Are you alright?” Pat asked in a loving, parental tone.

“He fell, look down, ya' numb-nut.” A new voice said, gravel very quickly cracking under what was probably very heavy boots.

A pair of bright emerald and- you guessed it- golden eyes bore into Virgil’s as a fae with an extravagant dark cloak and black princely suit with fine sparkling green trims stood beside him. Their hair was a brown, raggedy mess, their face surprisingly dirty despite their formal appearance. What managed to really throw Virgil off was the large handlebar mustache that seemed to be plastered onto the fae’s face. He… Supposed it didn't make the less attractive- wait fuck no stop dude what the fuck.

“Duke, please step away from the mortal, they're already overwhelmed,” J said, making Virgil realize that he, in fact, was breathing pretty fast. Pat hushed him and put their hands on his cheeks and ghosted their thumbs over his cheekbones. J rolled their eyes from a few feet away.

“I can never have my fun without you two interrupting,” J huffed, a humorous smirk crossing their lips.

“Oh, don't go acting like the Duke now, you've had your fun and it's our turn.” Pat said, earning a quiet ‘hey!’ from the Duke. Virgil glanced to the side and back to where the Duke was only to find him no longer there. Confusion and panic invaded his system only for a pair of arms to tightly wrap themselves around his waist.

“He’s so small!” Duke shrieked, making Virgil flinch.

“Quiet down Duke, you’re going to scare him.” Pat’s expression softened as they tapped the tips of their fingers against Virgil’s cheek.

“Oh, I hate to say, but he’s already…” J looked him up and down, “terrified.” Gods, Virgil hated that they were right. Pat looked between J and Virgil for a few seconds before slowly letting go of his face. Virgil might have appreciated it more if the Duke wasn’t holding him hostage.

The blood under his skin felt like it was boiling- but somehow in a good way. The touch both made him want to scream and want to curl in closer. The feeling of the Duke’s fingertips tapping along his stomach as they spoke to the other two that were there made him feel like he was on fire. He couldn't put the fire out, he was going up in flames and burning down.

“Duke, let go of him, he needs a break,” Pat said, looking worriedly at Virgil. The Duke looked hurt for a moment before looking at Virgil's face and slowly uncurling their arms from around him with a small huff, causing Virgil to stumble forward a little. He felt like he could breathe again, his body finally stopped feeling like a fire pit. His skin still crackled with adrenaline, Virgil holding himself back from scratching at it.

“I do believe it's my turn.” Another new voice added. Gods, how many are there?

“Prince, didn’t I just say that he was overwhelmed?”

“Oh hush, as if he wasn’t just holding him,” The Prince tilted their head to the Duke. Pat pursed their lips and gave them a look. The Prince rolled their red-tinted eyes and huffed dramatically, playing with his cloak. Virgil realized the Prince looked just like the Duke but inverted- maybe they were twins or something, he didn’t really have the mental energy to deal with the semantics of that though.

“Gods, you’re just fun fun police today aren’t you?”

Virgil felt like a spectator, standing still and watching the two argue playfully. Argue over him. This was weird. Everything here was weird, it was bright, it was loud. He could feel the forest’s energy thrumming under his skin. His heart beat rapidly, his breath speeding up.

“Hey, little one, take a breath for me, yes?” A new fae that seemingly suddenly appeared in front of Virgil said, reaching for his hand before hesitating and retracting their touch. Virgil took in a shaky breath and let it out in a rush, hearing a small coo from a few feet away that was followed by fierce whispering from what he thought might be one of the twins. He repeated the process a few more times until his breathing seemed to regulate.

“Good, good, can I touch you little one?” The fae reached their hand out again. This time Virgil reached out himself and took it, earning a small nod from the fae.

“I’m L, you’re safe little one, we have you,” L looked back at the others, “I apologize for the others being so… insistent. They don’t do boundaries well.”

“He started it!” The twins called out as one, pointing to J who rolled his eyes.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” He said as if he’d repeated it a million times- and maybe he has.

Virgil redirected his attention to the fae in front of him. L and J looked similar, L shockingly looking more formal. They had a flowing tailcoat of black with dark blue accents, a very well tailored black suit. They were sun tanned but seemed to share the same pale complexion as Virgil- if you ignored the literal star shaped moles that were sparingly scattered around their body. Virgil would be concerned if the fae weren’t, ya’ know, immortal.

“Dear, why is the mortal injured?” L asked J who just rolled his eyes and pointed down. L spared a glance and nodded before swiping his thumb against Virgil’s hand.

Virgil gulped and glanced around, counting the fae. Oh yeah, he was royally fucked. He was pretty sure he was going to die. It was fine, everything was fine. This was fine. He had to admit that he couldn’t really be mad. Hey, if his last sight was a beautiful fae, he was not going to complain.

“I can feel you lying to yourself,” J said, stepping forward, “What is going on in that pretty head of yours?” L took a step to the side to let J cup Virgil’s chin, making him shudder. Virgil turned his head slightly and let out a cough, his palm feeling sweaty in L’s hand.

“I, uh, fuck,” He sputtered out. The fae let out a chorus of laughter. His blush deepened as he reached a hand up to cover his face.

“Oh beauty, that was precious.”

“Watch your language sweetheart.”

“That was adorable, I could just die.”

“You can’t die Duke-”

“Figure of speech L.”

“Darling,” Virgil peeked through his fingers, “why are you so tense?” J gently moved his hand, smirking slightly when they saw how deep his blush was.

“I-” Virgil’s words got caught on his tongue. He panicked and glanced around, his eyes jumping from fae to fae. “I uh, express extreme regret for entering your territory without thinking.” L chimed with light laughter, giving a small smile that made something well up in Virgil’s chest.

“Oh you are very smart, well done little one.” They praised, squeezing his hand before letting go and walking to talk quietly to Pat.

Gods this was so fucking weird. Of all places Virgil could have stumbled into- a coven, a ritual, a prayer circle, maybe just some kids messing around- this was probably one of the worst scenarios. He supposed it could be worse; at least these fae seemed keen to not terrify him or want to eat him alive… at least so far. He wondered what he’d owe the fae after this.

Stumbling into their forest like a bumbling idiot, snark one of them- clearly the more powerful one as well-, comfort that in all honesty he knew he didn’t deserve. Oh yeah, Virgil was a dead man for sure. He’d have to give them his soul and then some. This was an absolute disaster.

“You can say that again.” The Duke said with a loud cackle, making Virgil jump and stumble back a little bit. J grabbed his arm and stopped him from falling, carefully setting him back on his feet.

“What part of this is a disaster kiddo?” Pat asked, casually taking L’s hand and sending him a quick nod. Virgil glanced around and took a shaky breath.

“What do I owe you?” He started, looking down at the floor and stepping away from J’s touch. “I… I don’t have much, I don’t know what I owe you or what you count as a favor but,” he sighed, “I’m bound to owe you something, yeah?”

The forest was suddenly quiet, still thrumming with faint energy. The five fae looked around at each other, having a silent conversation. The twins looked at each other, then at Virgil, and back at each other, and nodded in unison. Pat nodded, then L, then J.

Virgil blinked at the five, confusion clear on his face as he tried to figure out what the hell they were agreeing on- if anything. Were they figuring out what to charge him? Whether or not to kill him? At this point, Virgil thought that might be a better option. He didn’t have anything to give really, so why would they keep him alive after he had taken so much. He was in debt and couldn’t pay it back.

“If you’re going to kill me, please just make it quick.” Eyes snapped to look at Virgil, making him squirm under the attention. Pat’s expression softened, J and him locking eyes before J stepped to the side and let Pat walk up.

“Actually kiddo, we were thinking of just… keeping you,” Pat said, “If you would like to stay of course. We don’t really like the idea of taking anything from you. Plus you don’t really look… prepared.”

What. What? WHAT? Why would they- what are they- what? Words and questions spun through Virgil’s head, leaving him dizzy and disoriented- well, he was already disoriented by the forest but that was hardly the point.

“But- why? I haven’t done anything, why would you-” He paused, licking his lips nervously, “Why would you want me? Is this some sort of joke? I’m- I’ll guess I’d be a servant or something but- why not just kill me? Aren’t souls like- super valuable?”

The fae looked… horrified? Virgil really couldn’t tell anymore. He was tired, okay? Pat took a few more steps closer and took Virgil’s head in his hands. Virgil’s heart sped up and he just couldn’t help but want to melt into the touch.

“Kiddo I-” he cut himself off, “I understand why you may be… distrustful of us. We aren’t- fae don’t really have the best reputation and…” Pat’s words got stuck on his tongue. He looked back at and sent a quick pleading stare. L blinked at the two for a moment before sighing under his breath.

“We understand if you do not wish to stay with us. From what we have discussed, we are fully willing to let you leave with, ahem, no strings attached.” L looked to the Prince, his face twitching up when the Prince nodded.

What? What?

What even was Virgil’s luck at this point? These fae were so fucking weird. Virgil blinked blankly at the chorus of fae in front of him, still processing what he just heard. The Duke chuckled gently and quickly walked up to Virgil, pushing Pat out of the way. He ruffled Virgil’s hair and squished his face, smiling when he felt how warm Virgil was to the touch. A shiver went down Virgil’s spine at the sight of his slightly sharpened teeth.

Is it worth it?

I have nothing to lose.

So why are you so scared?

… I don’t know.

So? The universe is your guide, right?

As if the universe has been anything less than harsh.

Have they given you a reason not to trust them?

… No. But gods I wish I could. It feels like the universe is throwing every stone at me and I can’t escape it. I want to trust them but it’s just so hard to when everything- every odd is pinned against me.

Karma comes back to help in times of need. Why not take a chance? Just this once?

This is a big chance to take so blindly.

You said it yourself, you have nothing to lose.

“I… sure?” Words tumbled out of Virgil’s mouth, regret crossing his face for a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The Duke let go of Virgil’s face and walked a few steps away. Here goes nothing.

“I can’t promise I’ll be anything… special for you but,” he opened his eyes and looked up, “I’ll try to repay you.”

“Oh little one,” J, suddenly in front of him, gently dragged the back of his hand against Virgil’s cheek and took his chin between his pointer and thumb, “You owe us nothing.” The moment seemed frozen in time. Virgil felt something warm well up in his chest, spreading through his entire body.

“What can we call you, little one?” J asked, gently staring at him with his magic-filled eyes. Okay, so Virgil was dumb, but he wasn’t that dumb. He also didn’t have a death wish so:

“You can call me V.”

The fae smiled at him, looking between each other. A silent phrase was passed in the air.

This will be an interesting journey.

13 notes · View notes

and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Accidents Happen - To Pieces

Summary: Roman, feeling himself coming undone at the edges, continues to dig. Almost everything that could go wrong, does.

Content: Discussion of drugs, fainting, (brief) discussion of disordered eating, alcohol use, discussions of bad parenting

Word count: 7,188

{Part 3} {Part 5}

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Three days. They were going to meet outside Janus’ house at around four on Friday, and it was now eight on Wednesday morning. So… Forty-eight hours until eight on Friday, and then eight hours until they met up, and add another hour to actually put his plan into motion… Fifty-seven hours was almost too long for Roman to wait to get to the truth.

But he did it anyway, because this was the plan he had made, and because he couldn’t risk Janus getting suspicious and hurting Remus again.

When he got to school on Wednesday, Janus was waiting outside his locker for him, and Roman had to fight down the urge to sink his fist into his jaw. He’d aim for the scarred side, knowing it would hurt more, watch Janus stumble back, hands flying to his face… He didn’t. Instead he greeted him, smiled at him, and went over a few flashcards for their calculus exam that afternoon.

He begged off their lunchtime revision session, though.

Instead of going to the library, he went to find Virgil. There had to be more he could find out about Janus, about whatever he had on Remus, and the odds were that the caffeine-fueled senior would know more than he had told Roman in the first place. It would be hard to keep his reputation as the all-knowing man of mystery if he just gave away all of his secrets as soon as somebody said please.

Virgil was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of one of the benches outside the back of the school when Roman found him, his head in Patton’s lap, allowing the other boy to braid small plaits into his dress-code-breaking purple hair. They were both giggling, and Roman almost felt bad about interrupting their private bubble of sunlight with his approach - then he realised that there was so much bad inside of him already that he couldn’t fit any more in. He stopped in front of Virgil, waited until his dark eyes broke away from Patton’s broad grin, and then cleared his throat. Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “How can you possibly want more from me? I gave you everything I had on Janus…”

Patton made a scandalised noise, and tugged sharply on the plait he was working on. “Verge! You said you’d stop dealing secrets!”

“Ow, Pat, I lied, alright? Lay off…” Virgil winced and rubbed the side of his head, and a look that Roman couldn’t decipher passed between them. Then Patton sighed, nodded, and returned to playing with Virgil’s hair. There were three flowers in it, and Roman was certain that Virgil didn’t know they were there.

He cleared his throat again, licked his lower lip, and debated joining Virgil on the floor. “I think you have more.”

“Do you.” It wasn’t a question, and Virgil’s voice was flat. Patton’s eyes moved slowly between the two of them.

“You know everything about everyone.”

“I’m flattered, but we all know that’s not entirely true,” Virgil responded, sounding almost bored. He was doing a very good impersonation of his elder brother - and Roman hoped, for the hundredth time, that he didn’t know that Remy was dealing again.

“Fine. Tell me about Remus.”

Roman hadn’t realised that it was an order until Patton frowned up at him, his golden curls falling into his uncomfortably inquisitive blue eyes. “Manners, Roman. If you can’t be polite, you’re not getting anything.” Virgil just shrugged when Roman looked at him.

Roman resisted the urge to snap at Patton to shut up, to mock Virgil for letting his bit on the side try to run business for him, and wondered when he had become villainous enough to think like that. He swallowed and nodded once. “Sorry, Patton, Virgil. Please, tell me about Remus?”

They both considered him for a long second. Finally Patton nodded, apparently satisfied, and pushed his glasses back up his button nose before returning to Virgil’s hair. The information broker, on the other hand, gave no such quarter. “No.”

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“No. I’m not informing on your brother to you.” Roman felt as though he had been reduced to merely staring at people in mute shock more times in the last week than ever before. Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned his head back into Patton’s lap again. “You could have asked him anything you wanted, any time you wanted, and you didn’t.”

“Then…” Roman cast around desperately. He should just cut to the chase. Shifting from one foot to the other, he licked his lower lip, struggling to meet Virgil’s gaze. “Then… Tell me what Janus has been blackmailing him with. ...Please,” he added, because Patton’s stern gaze was on him again.

The expression on Virgil’s face was something like pity, but moved his head a tiny distance from left to right and then back again, as much as a shake as he could manage with Patton curling his hair around his fingers. “No. If you’d have given a shit about Remus before he ended up in prison, you’d have spoken to him before. I’m not telling you anything else. Patton, are you braiding flowers in-”

“I’ll tell Logan you’re cheating on them.”

A haze of anger had descended on Roman’s vision, and he had blurted the words out before he had properly thought them through, before he could jerk them back into his skull and bury them with the rest of his mealy, maggoty, un-Prince-like thoughts.

It felt as though time had stopped. Virgil had paused mid-sentence, Patton’s hands had frozen mid-way through trying to sneak a daisy into the plait he was working on. The sound of shouting from the front of the school had stopped; even the wind had ceased to blow. The couple in front of him looked very briefly confused - and then Virgil’s expression changed to one of absolute disgust, whilst Patton’s became merely disappointed. Very disappointed. Roman discovered that he could manage to feel bad about something else, after all.

He was stepping backward, already trying to find a hole in which to curl up and die, when Virgil’s hand shot out and fastened around his lucky red sash, dragging Roman down so that they were face to face.

“For your information,” Virgil began, drawing the words out so that Roman could feel the disdain and anger in every syllable, “Logan is fully involved in our relationship with Patton.”

Another second of horrible, itching silence. Roman risked a glance at Patton, and found that he was refusing to meet his eyes. Then Virgil shook him once and, when he was sure that he had his attention again, continued speaking, his words deliberate, furious, cold.

“I never thought you would stoop this low. Remus might be unpredictable, sometimes dangerous, but you’re even worse, aren’t you?”

Roman shook his head desperately. “I - no! I -”

“No? Nothing gets in the way of your goals, Roman. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed. Not your friendships, not your morals, not even your own twin about whom you care so very much. Do you want to know the difference between you and Remus, Roman?”

Roman shook his head faster, and Virgil tugged him close enough that he could feel his breath on his cheek.

“Remus hurts people. You don’t even see your victims as people - you see them as obstacles in the way of your perfect, shining life. Remus knows what he’s done, what he does, and you? You have no idea what you do to the people around you. You pretend to be the hero, you’ve managed to delude yourself into believing that you’re the hero - Remus accepts that he’s human, while you think you’re some kind of god. You’re not.” Virgil was surprisingly strong. Roman was trying frantically to tug his sash out of his black-nailed grip but to no avail. “You’re so full of self-righteousness you can’t even see that people can make mistakes without being monsters - and you can’t see yourself turning into one, either.”

He released him with the air of one dropping a particularly filthy sock into a laundry basket, and Roman stumbled backward, panting. “Hasn’t your family hurt me and my dates enough? Get out of here.”

Roman didn’t need telling twice.

He considered saying he was sick to get out of school on Thursday. It wasn’t entirely untrue: after his confrontation with Virgil, Roman had found himself hurling what little lunch he had managed to eat into one of the toilets near the sports hall; a similar thing had occurred later, after dinner, when he had started trying to think through what Virgil had said. Skipping breakfast seemed like the safest thing to do in light of all of that.

In the end, he knew he couldn’t skip. Not really. He had two more exams that day, and if he missed them his grades would tank. He couldn’t let that happen. Not on top of everything else going on.

Roman had thought that he and Virgil were still friends, even if they didn’t talk much anymore. Well, obviously they weren’t now, but… He hadn’t realised that he had hurt Virgil that much. He had thought they had just drifted apart halfway through middle school the way people do, because they have different interests - but apparently that had not been the case from Virgil’s point of view. So what if he had missed a few calls from him, skipped a few invitations to hang out? They had stopped talking properly some time after Virgil came back to school - he had been off for a few weeks toward the start of eighth grade. Virgil had always passed it off as no big deal.

Remus had always passed everything off as no big deal, too.

This time it was only bile that rose in Roman’s throat, and he swallowed it away. He could fix the mess between him and Virgil once he had figured out how to save Remus and ensured that Janus met his downfall.

He tried to speak to Logan as they filed out of their history exam that morning, but they just scowled at him. Clearly, Virgil had told them what had happened.

Janus was happy to talk to him, though. Janus was happy to talk to him, to sit with him, to talk and talk and talk at him, until Roman wanted to wring his stupidly graceful neck. Instead he just smiled, nodded, gave absent half-answers where he thought they were appropriate.

“There was a greater focus on The Great Depression in that exam than I was expecting, you know?” Janus asked as they sat down on the grass outside.

“I guess so,” Roman murmured, pulling out his lunchbox and his revision notes.

“Depressing, if you’ll excuse the easy pun.” Roman didn’t chuckle.

“You don’t eat much lately,” Janus commented, putting a gloved hand on Roman’s wrist as he closed the lid on his practically untouched egg rolls.

“Not hungry,” Roman muttered.

“Hm,” Janus responded. He squeezed Roman’s forearm briefly before pulling away.

“You seem distracted today. Everything alright?” Janus pressed. They were packing up to go to their afternoon exam.

“Yeah, just stressed,” was Roman’s automatic answer.

“We still good for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes.” It was the most emphatic answer Roman had given all day, and Janus looked pleased.

Snake.

Roman passed out halfway through his biology exam on Friday morning.

It had been hot in the exam hall, even more so than it had been on Monday, and Roman found that he had emptied his water bottle within half an hour of the exam starting. The words on the paper before him had blurred again, had straightened out when he had blinked, and then blurred again. It took until his pen caught on the paper and sent a spray of ink over his desk that he realised that his hands were shaking, and once he noticed, he couldn’t make them stop. He couldn’t control his own handwriting, either: no matter how many times he blinked at it, how many times he rubbed a hand over his face and pressed his knuckles into his eyes until he saw stars, it seemed determined to quiver in place before scuttling over the lines of his paper, their spider-like scurrying taking on Virgil’s voice. Monster, they said, villain.

His throat felt like a desert, tumbleweeds blowing across his tongue, and his water bottle was empty. Roman’s chair made an unnaturally loud scraping sound as he pushed it back; he could feel eyes turning toward him, burning holes in the back of his neck. Small black spots appeared in his vision as he stood to walk to the water cooler at the front of the hall, and although he squeezed his eyes shut tight before taking a step, they didn’t go away. They danced around the corners of his vision as he started moving between desks, keeping his eyes fixed on the clock on the front wall. How much time was he wasting here?

He didn’t realise he had stopped walking until his professor’s face swam into focus in front of him, her mouth moving. Roman had no idea what she was saying - it was as though he was underwater, with her swaying in front of him, sound bubbling past his ears in unintelligible blobs. Raising his hands, he tried to show her his water bottle, hoping he could get his message across, and then realised that his hands were empty. Had he dropped it? Or was it still back at his desk?

Roman tried to turn around to check, and that was when he felt his legs give out beneath him. He didn’t have time to worry about the ground rushing up toward him, though: it disappeared into a dark fog before it got too close.

The next thing he saw was Janus, haloed in a soft, bronze light and gazing at him in concern. Roman’s head throbbed dully: he went to raise a hand to rub it, and realised that he was lying on his back, head resting on something soft.

Janus was saying something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. It looked as though he was arguing with someone: he was waving one hand the way he did when he was talking passionately about something. Where was his other hand? Usually both were involved in this dance - oh. There it was, running through Roman’s hair. He could feel his fingertips pressing lightly against his scalp.

Roman suddenly realised that his head was in Janus’ lap.

That was when sound returned to his surroundings.

“- be his choice!” That was Janus.

“He could have a concussion! This isn’t up for debate, Mr. Sinclaire.” Who was that? A teacher?

“He doesn’t have a concussion, Ma’am -” The emphasis in Janus’ voice said that he was seconds away from calling the teacher something far less complimentary. “- and you know that because you saw me catch him. He just needs to get outside.”

Roman blinked, and Janus’ fingers hesitated in his hair, then rubbed a gentle circle just behind one ear.

“His parents need to be called, at least. I don’t know if you missed it, Sinclaire, but Mr. Wang just collapsed.”

Roman sat up slowly, feeling the room swim around him, and was braced by an arm slipping under his shoulders to support him.

The irritation was even clearer in Janus’ voice now. “How could I have missed it? I caught him, while you just stood there and watched. Roman is an adult, meaning that it is his decision who should or should not be informed, and given that he recovered consciousness within five minutes, basic health training states that he should only be taken to hospital if he faints again, or begins acting unusually. So how about we ask him, hm?”

It was Janus’ arm supporting him, Roman realised. Their teacher was just staring at him, and it occurred to him that he was supposed to say something now. He licked his lower lip anxiously. “I… I’m fine. Don’t call them. Just need to finish my paper…” Roman tried to pull away from Janus to stand up, stumbled, and found himself grateful for the fact that Janus rose with him and caught him again.

Both he and the teacher were shaking their heads now. “Ro, don’t be stupid. You need a-”

“Mr. Wang, don’t worry about the paper. ”

“Come on. We’re heading outside, Ro. We can come back to discuss making up the paper later.” Janus was draping one of Roman’s arms over his own shoulders to help himself support him.

Roman nodded slowly. He didn’t really feel good about walking out, but the idea of going back to his paper wasn’t a particularly pleasant one either. Besides, he had a feeling that neither Janus nor Miss Fox were about to let him do that.

It wasn’t until Janus started guiding him toward the fire door that he realised that everybody else was still sat in their seats, most of them staring at him. Janus appeared to notice him noticing, because the arm around his waist squeezed his side briefly and he murmured, “Hey. Focus on getting out of here, alright? Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” he muttered back.

Janus guided him out of the sports hall, grabbing both Roman’s backpack and his satchel from the heap by the door. Roman blinked in the bright morning sunlight. It felt as though he had been in the exam hall for hours, days, through the heat-death of the universe - not less than an hour, assuming Janus had been right about him only passing out for a few minutes.

A thought occurred to Roman then, and he frowned. Having checked the seating arrangements earlier that morning, he knew for a fact that Janus’ seat had been somewhere behind his: it didn’t make any sense for him to have caught him. He’d have had to practically teleport across half the hall to be there on time. He said as much. “Did you really catch me? How were you right there? You should’a been on the other side of the hall.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Janus’ mouth. “After you got up and stumbled halfway up to the front, then just stood and swayed at Fox? There was obviously something wrong. And all she could do was ask you what you were doing and if you could return to your seat. You could have been seriously injured if she’d have just let you fall and crack your head on a desk on the way down. The incompetence.” He scoffed, and Roman’s mind boggled at the fact that he had just been rescued by the villain he was trying to bring down. Janus seemed to be thinking along similar lines, because as he maneuvered the two of them around the bins at the back of the sports hall, he commented, “Always thought it would be you catching me as I swooned, not the other way around. Funny how these things work out, huh?”

“So you abandoned your paper because I walked across a room? Where are we going, anyway?” Roman was fairly sure that he could walk on his own now, but there was something comforting about leaning against Janus. It was the physical contact, of course - Roman wasn’t entirely sure of the last time he had hugged somebody - not the fact that it was Janus with an arm around his waist.

“The bench behind the science block. That alright?” Janus waited until Roman had nodded before continuing. “And no, not just because of that. Virgil texted me on Wednesday, said all the evidence pointed toward you having a slow-mo breakdown - his words - and that I should keep an eye on you. Sit.”

Roman sat. What else had Virgil said? Did Janus know he was onto him? He wouldn’t blame Virgil if he had gone and spilled all the beans - a spider couldn’t be expected to keep its secrets for long. What good was an intricately crafted web with nobody there to marvel at it?

But Janus didn’t look mad. He was digging through his backpack, and after a second he tossed something into Roman’s lap before sitting down beside him. “Eat.”

“What?” Roman picked up the thing Janus had thrown at him. It was a sandwich, sealed in a reusable plastic bag. Red jam was oozing out from its edges. He swallowed. “This is your lunch. I’m not eating your lunch.”

“Well, you’re not eating your lunch, so you’re going to eat this.” The response had been immediate, brisk; Janus looked a little guilty, and took a deep breath before continuing in a much more gentle tone. “And it’s not my lunch. I’ve been making an extra sandwich every day in case you needed it. And you obviously do.”

Roman considered arguing, but decided against it. There was probably poison hidden between the brown bread. He opened the bag and pulled out the sandwich, then nibbled quietly at one corner.

Janus wasn’t touching him anymore. Roman wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or frustrated. No, he was - he should be grateful. He didn’t want to touch his nemesis any more than he had to to keep up the act. The little thing inside that was begging for Janus to hug him again was just the part of him that was so desperate for affection that even a monster would do.

“Roman, are you… Alright?” The brunet sounded tentative, as though he were afraid to upset him by asking, but as though the question really mattered to him. Yet again, Roman reflected upon how good an actor Janus had turned out to be.

He swallowed a bite of sandwich. “Fine. Tip-top. Never better. Why’d you ask?”

Janus gave him what could only be described as a look, and started counting on his fingers. “Let’s see… You just passed out halfway through an exam, Virgil’s concerned enough about you to actually ask me to keep an eye on you; unnecessary because I was doing that already because, oh yes, your twin brother is in prison for grievous bodily harm, and you’ve gone from being slender to being positively skin and bones in less than two months.” It looked as though Janus wanted to say more, but he stopped himself.

There was jam on his fingers. It was sticking to his skin in stains almost the colour of blood, and Roman stared at the last bite of sandwich in his hand for a few seconds before popping into his mouth and sucking his fingers. Demons and monsters drank blood as though it were lemonade, right? And according to his inner compass, he was well on the way to becoming one of them. According to Virgil, he was already a monster.

“Drink.” Janus handed him a water bottle, and Roman obeyed. “I’m just worried about you, Princey. I’m your friend - possibly your only friend, given the fact that I’ve never seen you actually hang out with anybody else - and I don’t want to watch you burn away.”

“I’m… Just stressed.” Roman offered finally. Janus just looked at him, face open, and Roman was struck by the urge to tell him everything. He didn’t. “It’s been rough not having Remus around. I mean, I know he’s a monster, ‘n all,” he hurried to clarify, eyes landing on the burn tissue around Janus’ bad eye, “but… Home’s different without him.”

It looked as though Janus wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, his throat bobbed as he swallowed and winced, but in the end he just rested a hand on Roman’s knee and squeezed it. “I think you should go home. Get some rest. Sitting Geometry this afternoon isn’t going to-”

“I’m not going home. I - It’s just one more exam, plus whatever I need to do to make up Bio. I’m not failing just because-”

“Just because you worked yourself to the point of collapse?” Janus took his empty bottle back from Roman and returned it to his backpack, ignoring the scowl Roman gave him. “Fine. But only if you eat lunch today. I’m sitting with you, and if you don’t finish, I’m skipping this afternoon to take you home.”

“My dad will be home. It’s his day off.”

“I never specified whose home.”

Roman let out a grunt of frustration and pressed his face into his hands, and Janus squeezed his knee again. Roman wished he would stop. Not the knee-squeezing in particular - all of it. The lying. The pretending to be Roman’s friend when he had blackmailed Remus into prison. The pretending to care when he was just looking for a way into Roman’s head, a way to destroy him as well. It was difficult to believe that the boy sitting next to him, the one that had helped him out of the exam hall and had had a panic attack because his sleeve had caught fire, was the same person as the man that Remus was so clearly scared of.

If Janus kept this up, Roman was scared that he’d forget who the villain was altogether. He needed to finish this, and soon.

“Okay. Deal, whatever. Can we still hang out this afternoon?”

Janus looked incredulous, and the expression brought a faint smile to Roman’s wan face. “You still want to hike through the woods after this?”

“Yes. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” It wasn’t a lie.

“I… Okay. But only if you eat everything, and you don’t pass out again in Geometry. And if you start getting dizzy while we’re walking, we’re going back to mine to watch TV. My parents are going out of town for the weekend.”

Roman opened his mouth to argue, but the firm stare Janus gave him clearly said that there was no point. He stared him down until Roman finally nodded.

He ate his lunch while Janus quizzed him on formulae for the exam that afternoon. When he was done, Janus handed him a raisin biscuit; when he looked at him in askance, the other shrugged and said, “I heard that squashed flies are lucky in some parts of the world.”

They met outside Roman’s house at four, Roman squinting in the summer sun, Janus sporting a large pair of sunglasses. Janus was also carrying his satchel, and when Roman asked what was in it, he opened it to reveal two bottles of water and another blood sandwich. Smart.

The clear plastic bag that had gotten Remus kicked out of the house was in Roman’s back pocket, but he didn’t mention it yet.

Roman tried to ignore the anxious glances Janus gave him every few minutes as they walked into the trees, as though he was expecting him to just keel over any second. He withstood a full ten minutes of silence and furtive looks before finally speaking up. “I’m not going to, you know.”

Janus noticeably startled - or pretended to, at any rate - and then gave Roman a thoroughly unconvincing look of surprised innocence. “Not going to what?”

“Collapse again. I’m not going to, so you can quit watching me like I will.” Roman picked up the pace a little.

“I’m not watching you as though you’re about to collapse,” Janus protested, walking faster to keep up with Roman. How annoying.

“You are. You keep looking at me, and your forehead goes all scrunched, like somebody’s planning on planting root vegetables in it.”

Janus made an exasperated noise, and Roman glanced briefly over his shoulder to see him tugging at the cuffs of his gloves and then adjusting his beanie. Why was he still wearing that thing? Wasn’t he roasting?

“Fine, I was watching you. It’s scary, alright? Watching someone you care about just crumple up like that.” Roman deliberately ignored the fact that Janus was trying to imply that he cared about him. Actually, he internally scoffed at the words. Janus had been rather heavy-handed with the beguiling today, first stroking his hair and saying they were friends, and now saying he cared about him. Not at all up to his usual subtle standard.

The repeatedly exaggerated care was making Roman irritable and snappy. "It won't happen again. I'm not fragile."

"I know you're not, R- Roman." Janus sighed. "Sorry." And that managed to make Roman feel even worse, even though he knew that Janus was just trying to manipulate him further.

"Whatever," he snapped, speeding up again until he was moving at a run.

Janus kept pace with him without complaint, even though Roman could hear his breathing becoming more and more laboured as they headed deeper into the forest. By the time they stopped in a small clearing by a stream, he was gasping for breath.

"It's nice here," Roman said gruffly, and Janus doubled over, his ragged inhalations the only sound in the quiet space.

It took approximately three seconds for Roman to stop feeling some perverse satisfaction over having managed to make Janus suffer, and to start feeling guilty. He didn’t want to feel guilty, of course - but it wasn’t something he could help.

Taking the three steps back toward him, he took Janus gently by the arm and guided him to a large rock, where he sat, wheezing. “Sorry,” Roman murmured. Flipping Janus’ satchel open, he pulled out one of the water bottles and opened it, then handed it over and watched Janus take a few small sips.

It was a few minutes before Roman was able to hear birdsong over Janus’ gradually slowing breaths, and a while after that before Janus cleared his throat - it sounded painful - and returned the water bottle to his bag. He offered Roman a nervous smile. “If you were trying to turn my lungs to mush, Princey, you’ve had quite a good go…”

“Sorry,” Roman muttered again, and this time he accepted the apology with a nod and a wave of one gloved hand.

“You’re forgiven. It’s not your fault, really.”

“It’s Remus’?” Maybe Roman sounded a little overeager in pushing for more information, because Janus gave him an undecipherable look.

“I was going to say that it was mine. I could have just stayed walking at a sustainable pace.”

“Well, I’m flattered you tried to keep up,” Roman made himself chuckle, pressing one hand against his chest. Janus wouldn’t have let him run off on his own: the other had made it quite clear that he thought he was about to faint in the middle of the forest and be eaten by rats if he wasn’t around.

This time, the look Janus gave him was like the surface of a hot spring: placid on the surface, but Roman could tell that there was something simmering below.

The thought occurred to him that maybe Janus had allowed himself to be dragged into the middle of the woods because the trees and lack of witnesses would give him ample opportunity to reveal whatever heinous thing he had done to Remus, and that he had enough material to blackmail Roman into driving a second car into a pole if he wanted him to. Clearing his throat, Roman took a step back (he had been hovering in front of Janus like a wrong-doing child waiting for a telling-off) and then waved a hand at the trees. “You know, I come out here a lot.”

“You do, huh?” A slightly teasing tone had entered Janus’ voice, and he was smirking despite still being red in the face. Some strands of his brown hair had fallen across his eyes, and he reached up to tuck them under his hat. “Never would have guessed, what with the way you were so tentative about bringing us out to this charming clearing.”

Roman allowed himself to pause, tilt his head, chuckle as natural a chuckle as he could manage, and then continued. “Yeah. It’s peaceful out here, y’know? Relaxing.”

He glanced back at Janus to see that he had stretched out with his back against the rock - like a snake, basking in the sun, waiting for its moment to strike. “It’s certainly very calm when I’m not puffing like a steam train…”

“It’s pretty private, too.” Roman moved closer to him and, ignoring every instinct that warned him that getting closer to a viper was a horrible idea, sat down to lean against the rock as well. “A good place to think, or spend some time alone, or…”

“Yeah?” There was a nervous, softly excited note in his companion’s voice now (how was Janus so good at controlling himself? It just wasn’t fair), and when Roman looked at him out of the corner of his eye he saw that the late-afternoon sunlight was turning Janus’ tanned skin golden. He should be framed and hung in an art gallery, he mused privately.

Or framed and hung for as punishment for his crimes.

“It’s a nice place to smoke a bit.”

Surprise flickered over Janus’ features - genuine surprise, cracking through the carefully built mask. “You smoke?”

“Ah! No,” Roman pulled the bag from his pocket and waved it, hurrying to clear up the misunderstanding. “It’s just weed. Not cigarettes. Those things kill. And smell gross.”

“Yeah. My dad smokes. It’s a disgusting habit…” Janus closed his eyes briefly, tilting his face to the sky. From where he was sitting, on Janus’ right, Roman couldn’t see the scarred side of his face. It was possible to believe that Janus had never gotten involved in the crash that had ignited his life as though it were a field of grass.

“Mine used to,” he agreed, hands already working to roll two joints into shape and pulling Remus’ keychain from his other pocket. He offered one to Janus, who raised an eyebrow slowly at him.

“Are you actively trying to kill me, Wang?” Roman blinked, and Janus waved an exasperated hand in the direction of his throat. “Given the smoke damage, I don’t plan on inhaling anything other than oxygen for a very long time.”

Roman blinked again. He hadn’t thought of that. His dumbfounded expression must show on his face, because Janus’ expression softened again. “Don’t worry. I had a feeling you’d be planning something like this, so I came prepared with my own refreshments.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a metal flask that Roman hadn’t seen when he had grabbed the water bottle.

“A proper boy scout,” Roman commented, and they both chuckled, Janus out of amusement, Roman out of relief. If Janus was going to help, then getting him to talk was going to be even easier than he had expected. He returned both joints to the ziploc bag and stuffed it back into his pocket, but didn’t put the keys and their attached lighter away.

“Well, cheers.” Janus raised the flask to his lips and took a large gulp, then offered it to Roman, who accepted. The metal was cool, and he could feel rough lines on one side. Flipping it over, he saw that the shape of an octopus had been roughly scratched into the face of the otherwise smooth flask. He smiled absently at it. It reminded him of the doodles Remus had used to do, back when they were still a family, back when he was still friends with Virgil. Roman would find a piece of paper and use an orange felt-tip to draw a four-legged shape, and then scribble around its head in red in a rough approximation of a lion. Both his best friend and his brother would draw blobs with eight legs, one in green and one in purple. The green octopus would have curly legs, often spreading over the entire page and wrapping Roman’s lion in its grip; the spider would sit quietly on the edge of the page, and they’d look away, and when they looked back Virgil would have added half a dozen more. The three of them had gotten in so much trouble when their drawings had made their way first onto the floor and then the wall of the kitchen.

He seemed to remember that being his idea, but now that he thought about it, Roman was certain that Remus and Virgil had taken the brunt of the punishment for it.

Roman raised the flask to his mouth and swallowed as much as he could in one go, using the burn of whatever Janus had brought - was it tequila? He couldn’t tell - to jerk himself back to the present. Then he took another, because it didn’t taste bad.

That, of course, was when he regretted taking such a huge mouthful. Roman already knew he was a lightweight, and he needed his wits around him for what he was about to do. Janus smiled at him, took the flask back, and took another sip. “It’s bourbon,” he supplied.

“Whiskey? Isn’t that stuff expensive?”

“Came out of my parents’ liquor cabinet. They won’t notice it’s missing.” Janus shrugged and took another sip, then handed it back to Roman.

Which was good, because Roman wasn’t sure what to say to that.

They sat there in a sleepy sort of silence for a while, passing the flask between them. After his mistake with his first mouthful, Roman was careful not to drink any more, only tilting the thing until the whisky touched his lips and then lowering it again, pretending to swallow.

He wasn’t sure whether Janus was drinking any. It certainly looked as though he was, but Roman wasn’t sure if the flask was getting any lighter or not.

That would be amusing, wouldn’t it? Both of them sitting there, pretending to drink in the hopes of getting the other to get sloppy and reveal some secret or other.

Eventually, Roman came to the conclusion that he was going to have to say something. Otherwise, they would just sit here until it got dark, and then they’d go home, and the entire day would have been an unprecedented disaster. He cleared his throat, and Janus lowered the flask to look at him.

“I… Wanted to talk to you.” He started, and was surprised when his words were met with a broad smile.

“Me too. Do you mind if I go first?” Well, that wasn’t what Roman had expected at all. He shrugged, wiggled a hand in the air in a ‘go ahead’ motion, and then watched Janus take another gulp of whiskey. What was Janus about to say? Was he about to confess?

No, he wouldn’t be confessing. He was about to open with an easy request, for Roman to stop digging for the truth and to become his little puppet, and close with blackmail. Roman sat up a little straighter, the warmth in his stomach partially sunlight, partially alcohol, partially triumph.

“Roman, I…” Janus hesitated. Wow - he was putting a lot of unnecessary work into this. “I… It’s my fault, Princey. I blackmailed Remus until he believed the only way to free himself was to drive both of us to a fiery end. I don’t regret it. And now I’m going to blackmail you, because I still need a pawn in my evil plans for world domination. I don’t care if you never want to talk to me again - you’re my minion now.”

Only maybe that wasn’t what Janus had said. Maybe what Janus had actually said was, “I… I like you, Princey. A lot. I have for ages now, and I… Well, I was hoping that with us becoming friends, maybe you’d be open to… I don’t know, trying something. You - You don’t have to, of course. I won’t pressure you. And I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again.”

Roman gaped at him, the words refusing to sink into his brain. “... What?” He was saying that a lot at the moment, it seemed.

Janus chuckled nervously and pressed the flask into his hand. “I have a crush on you, Roman. I’m asking if you want to try dating, or something.”

Roman looked down at the flask, wondering if he had somehow drunk enough to be hallucinating. Sure, a couple of weeks ago he had suspected that maybe Janus might like him, but he had ruled that out as an option. It was all just… Acting. Manipulation. Janus wasn’t being sincere.

“Roman? Ro? You okay?” A yellow hand was waving back and forth before his eyes, and Roman brought his focus back to the man sitting next to him. It was a trick, right? It had to be. Janus had been hurting Remus, he was using this as a way to get closer to Roman to hurt him as well. It was the only thing that made sense.

“I’d… I’d appreciate it if you said something now, Ro.”

Janus was playing with the cuffs of his gloves again. Roman just kept staring, waiting for the catch, for the trap to spring shut around his ankle.

“Anything. Yes. No. I hate you. I like you too. You disgust me. Anything, Ro, just stop staring at me like that.”

It was taking a considerable amount of effort to make words come out of his mouth, and Roman bought himself a few extra seconds by lifting the flask to his mouth and taking another mouthful. It burned on the way down - again - and helped bring him back to himself. Again.

Janus looked almost afraid now.

Janus looked almost afraid, and Roman didn’t like it.

“Is this… Is this a trick? Some sort of sick joke?”

Now Janus looked offended - no, he looked hurt, and that was worse. Taking the flask back from him, Janus shoved it into his bag and stood up. “I… Take it you don’t feel anything, after all. That’s… Alright. I won’t bother you again, Roman. It’s been nice knowing you.”

No - no, Roman couldn’t let him leave! He had to ask him - had to ask him - pushing himself to his feet, Roman grabbed at Janus’ sleeve, missed, and found that he was squeezing his hand. There was a vulnerable look on Janus’ face when he turned, so raw that something inside of Roman cracked painfully open, and the maggots within him writhed, although they were more sluggish than usual. Maybe that was the effect of the alcohol.

“Roman?” Janus asked, voice hopeful.

Roman spoke at the same time, the words tearing themselves from his chest in a torrent of anger and fear, blood and worms and guilt, vengeful wrath and desperate plea, alive. He just wanted Janus to stop lying, just wanted to stop feeling like the villain in this stupid, stupid tale, just wanted fix everything Janus had broken, that he had broken, and stop feeling bad about doing what needed to be done. “Why’re you hurting Remus?” He didn’t want the words to come out like that, faintly slurred and all at once, but he couldn’t stop now that he had started. “Why’s he scared’a you? Why’d you have to hurt him - what d’you want from us?!”

The apprehensive, excited look on Janus’ face slipped away, taking the world around them with it and smashing into fragments at their feet.

Taglist:

@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #AcidentsHappenAU #alcohol use #fainting

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babysizedfics · 3 years

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i dislike mondays. ugh. but because monday is piano day i wanna know do any of the sides play an instrument?? & how did they react when virgil showed up, how long did it take for them to become comfortable? -🌙

i cant think of the instruments atm hshshhs i dont wanna mix concepts

how the light sides reacted when virgil showed up and how they decided virgil could move in permanently

TWs: angst (hurt/comfort style), anxiety attack mentioned, mention of abuse (in mentioning that this is NOT abuse)

virgil arrived trembling very late on an autumn night

logan was already asleep and roman was in his room doing something, only patton heard the gentle tentative knock on their front door

when he pulled the door open, he saw what looked like a child with a large backpack hurrying away from the door, so he called out "excuse me? Did you knock?" and it isnt until the person freezes and turns around that patton realises it's virgil - one of the sides he hasnt actually seen in YEARS

virgil hugs himself tightly, scratching harshly at his hoodie sleeves, mouth opening and closing wordlessly, not able to speak to someone so unfamiliar

patton can see tear tracks on his cheeks

"hey, kiddo, do you wanna come inside?" patton asks very gently, holding the door open as wide as it will go and taking a step back to give virgil space

it takes a good few moments of virgils eyes darting between the door and pattons shoulder and the sidewalk behind him and his feet but eventually he tiptoes up to the house and hesitates a moment before stepping into the warmth

as he passes by patton is reminded of how young virgil is compared to all of them, he's so small, just above five foot patton reckons, with lanky legs and the slightest baby fat on his cheeks still - he's only 16 if patton remembers correctly. last time he saw virgil was when he was 10.

he's different sure, his hair is no longer white but dyed a dull black, hes taller and clearly wearing makeup - and either he lost his freckles or he owns very thick foundation - but patton recognises the tentative tiptoe walk and the way he looks at the ground and hugs himself. he's still the same vulnerable child patton wished he could have seen more of all those years ago were it not for janus distancing the dark sides from them all

virgil is shaking like a leaf and still hasnt spoken (patton has never heard him speak besides whispered one or two words phrases to janus when they used to all attend meetings together) but patton guides him through to the kitchen quietly and makes him some chamomile tea which he knows is meant to be good for anxiety

he doesnt get much of an idea of why virgil is there since he still hasnt spoken a word - patton doesnt know at this point that virgil is autistic or selectively mute - but he knows that there must be a reason that paranoia felt the safest place to be was a totally new environement. something must have happened at home

he doesnt actually ask virgil what happened, knowing if he wanted to say he would, and simply tells him that he is safe and nothing will hurt him here. its late, if he would like patton can drive him back ((virgil instantly goes wide eyed and teary and shakes his head and breathes faster - patton holds his hand up and gently continues)) but if not then he can stay the night and they can talk in the morning

theres no negative response to that so once virgil has finished with his tea (only drinking about a third of it) patton shows him to the spare room, points out where the bathroom is, and gets him settled

((continues below cut))

it isnt until the next morning at breakfast that patton informs logan and roman what happened and that virgil is still in the room upstairs. roman is completely offended that it happened without any prior warning, that an intruder snuck under his nose, and logan is merely shocked and curious as to what happened.

i wont develop on that first day much more at the moment - but essentially the sides can only be outside of their own abode for 7 days (rounded up to midnight on the last day). if they are in the OTHER house (subconscious or conscious) by the time that week is up, their function will adjust and be reassigned to that part of the mind

virgil stays for six days - after the second day he was comfortable enough around patton to speak to him if they were on their own, but not at length. mostly whispering and never more than a sentence at a time. he told patton that he had a fight with janus and that he didnt want to be in that house anymore but he didnt share any details.

patton didnt feel he NEEDED details. if virgil felt uncomfortable in that house he didnt see why virgil should be made to stay there.

roman refused to speak to virgil the entire time he stayed there

on the seventh day of virgil staying with them, logan tried to speak to him in the morning, explaining that he must go back to the other house before midnight, thats just how its meant to be. it triggered virgil to have an anxiety attack right there in the living room and logan very bewildered helped him get through it.

patton took virgil back up to the spare room and reassured him that if virgil didnt want to do something he didnt have to - that included living with the others. virgil whispered that this is how things are meant to be - repeating logans words - and patton was internally furious. he told virgil he would soeak to the other two

that evening in the last couple of hours before virgil is due to either go back or be destined to stay with them forever, patton has logan and roman sat in the kitchen and refuses to give up his case

i wrote this dialogue a few months ago but this is where it begins:

P: He's just a child!

R: He's hardly an innocent little lamb, Pat

P: Don't you two remember being 16? Roman when you were that young you were still in school, you still had braces

R, blushing: No need to reminsce...

P: Logan when you were sixteen he hadn't even been created yet, not for another year. You were still figuring out how the mindscape worked!

L: I... was it really so long ago?

P: And when I was sixteen Roman and-- they were still-- *sigh* We were all just children. We were confused and scared but at least we knew where we belonged.

L, gently: Patton. He belongs in the subconscious with the others

P: You're both ignoring the fact that the must be a reason why he doesn't want to be there anymore. Why he doesn't want to be with them

R, angry and ready to fight: Are you suggesting they abused him??

P: No!! No, he said thats not it--

L: The mindscape would have alerted us in some way. And we are all essentially facets of Thomas; even if we all behave differently and hold different values, it is not in any of our natures to be maliciously cruel.

R: then what did patton mean?

P: I mean you know what the others are like. How they behave, how they live. Virgil has been with us for six days now and I can't be the only one who's noticed how different he is from the rest of them. He's quiet and cautious and gentle. He's frightened

L: Janus and Remus are not above feeling fear

P: I know but... He obviously doesn't feel safe with them. He doesn't fit in there

R: Well he doesn't fit in here either!! We've already got our dynamic all worked out - The brains, the brawn, and the beauty! A fourth doesnt fit into that!

P: well then we'll adapt so he does fit in

R scoffs and storms toward the closed kitchen door

P: Roman, please--

R opens the door and everyone freezes to see Virgil stumble back from it, clearly having been listening to their conversation

P: Oh kiddo... We were just--

R, bitter: Eavesdropping, huh?

V remains silent and glares at romans feet, hugging himself tightly

R: see, paranoia can't even look me in the eyes! He's obviously up to--

V: virgil

R, shocked because its the first time he has heard V speak and its quiet: what?

V: n-not paranoia. virgil.

everyone is silent and V immediately regrets speaking. he turns and hurries back up to the spare room

L looks from where V ran away, back at P's dejected look, and nods to himself, taking a deep breath

R sees this and instantly knows what it means - Logan has made his mind up. and what he says goes

R, sarcastic: great

R storms out and runs up to his room, slamming the door hard enough for P and L to feel it rumble from downstairs

After a moment P starts to stand up to go check on R and V. Then L's hand stops him

L: He can stay

P looks at L, eyes full to the brim with tears, looking so so hopeful and relieved. he sinks back to his chair and takes L's hand tightly

P: really?!

L nods and pulls his hand from P's hold: Really. If the mindscape thought it necessary to Thomas' psyche it could have prevented Virgil from even finding his way here. But it didn't

P wipes at his eyes and smiles wobbily

L: And we do have a spare bedroom. Which honestly always baffled me, I didn't request it of the mindscape... I daresay this may be the exact reason we were equipped with a four-bedroom house

P gasps: You mean this was destiny??

L: That is a highly emotionally charged way of putting it. But yes quite possibly

P sniffles and instantly pulls Logan into a tight hug. L very awkwardly returns it, then pulls back

P: Logan thank you so SO much, you have no idea--

L: I have one condition though

P instantly nods and looks at L very intently with a big smile

L, hesitating: You need to inform Janus before midnight

P's smile drops. his eyes drift to the digital clock on the oven - 23:34

L: At exactly midnight the change will be made permanent. While this was within Virgil's right to have a say in the matter, Janus is still his legal guardian. He--

P: he deserves to know...

L, sympathetic: I can handle telling Roman and--

P, desperate: I want to tell Virgil!

L, smiling softly: as you wish

...

23:42

P holds the telephone to his ear and dials janus' number. It only rings once

J: Hello? Virgil??

P: It- It's Patton.

J: Is virgil still there??

P: yes he-

J: For goodness sake Patton, do you have any idea what day it is, what time it is!! He was only supposed to stay a few nights!

P: I--

J: are you dropping him off? Do I need to pick him up?? I'll get in the car right now

P: Janus, I'm sorry he-

J: is he hurt?!

P: No! No he's not hurt

J: Then why the hell isn't he back yet! You know we don't have much longer!!

P: Janus-

J: I swear to GOD if anythinf has happened to him-

P: he isnt coming back

J: ... what?

P: Virgil, um... He's staying here. For good

P: Janus, I--

*janus hangs up*

Patton stays frozen, hand over his mouth and eyes burning with unshed tears. he slowly lowers the phone back to the table, then sees movement in the corner of his eye. he gasps and quickly looks up.

virgil is standing just around the corner and jumps at pattons reaction, clearly highly strung. patton smiles reassuringly despite the tears in his eyes. "hey kiddo. sorry if i scared you"

virgil shrugs a little stiffly. it makes his backpack fall down his arm - and patton realises virgil has packed all his things in his bag again

"um.. do i- do i need to walk?" virgil asks, shaky and small

patton bites his lip and very slowly and carefully approaches virgil, stopping when virgil took a step back

"do you want to go back?" patton asks sincerely

virgil shakes his head immediately, strongly

patton nods to himself, but still prompts "are you completely sure?"

virgil slumps a little, voice even quieter. "i-i can go if you want"

"no" patton quickly says "no kiddo, i didnt mean that at all. youre allowed to stay if you want to"

virgil actually meets pattons eyes for the first time in his life - only for a second, but it blows patton away a little - "really??"

patton smiles sadly. "really really" then he turns serious. this is a serious matter after all. "but its permanent, okay? and if you change your mind or not thats completely fine but you have to do it in the next-" he checks his phone "-7 minutes so that I have enough time to drive you back"

virgil blinks hard and takes a big measured breath at that. he even sways a little and patton holds his arms out - not touching virgil but offering him something to hold if he needs to

virgil tentatively holds onto the sleeve of pattons fleece. "can, um... am i allowed to sit down?"

"of course, kiddo, come on" and patton leads him to the living room

they sit on the couch, just a couple of feet between them. by virgils doing - pat sat down first and let virgil sit wherever he pleased. when virgil didnt take the seat furthest and instead sat right next to pstton, the older side knew virgil must need comfort

and for the next few minutes virgil just sat and breathed a little too shallow and fast and looked at his phone every moment to check the time. it was the longest few minutes of either of their lives, sitting in silence and waiting for virgil to make up his mind

at least thats what patton thought, until he saw the time reading 23:58

it was well past the time they had to leave if they could get virgil back in time. virgil wasnt making up his mind - he was counting down the seconds until he was officially free from the subconscious

and then the clock hits midnight and virgil goes deadly tense and still, as if he's waiting for his phone to blow up in his face or something. neither of them moves or speaks, its been silent for minutes but this is deafening

but after a minute or two with no exploding phone or whatever else virgil expected, he breathes a big shaky sigh. he looks hesitantly up at patton, eyes falling just to the right of his head to avoid eye contact "is-is that it?"

patton nods slowly, a little stunned himself. "i guess so. do you feel any different?"

virgil blinks and frowns. then whispers "i'm... anxiety."

"you feel anxious?"

virgil picks at a loos thread on his ripped jeans. "y-yeah but... but my function"

"oh!" patton gasps, not knowing what else to say. he goes for reassurance. "well that's okay. whatever you are, you're still virgil."

"i... do i live here now?" virgil whispers, and the hope and relief in his voice is just too much for patton not to smile

"you live here now" he assures, feeling his heart swell when he sees the tiniest hint of a smile pull at virgils lips - the first sign of joy he's shown since being there

"can i please hug you virgil?" he asks

virgil hesitates, ducking his head a little, but then he nods very subtly.

patton carefully scooches closer on the couch and hunches down to wrap his arms around virgil firmly but softly. virgil is tense in his hold, so patton only hugs him for a brief moment before pulling away and smiling down at him

"welcome home kiddo" he whispers

...

so as you can see patton clearly warms up to virgil quickly - it doesnt take logan much longer though virgil is intimidated by him at first and they dont get very close for at least a year. roman hardly speaks to virgil for weeks, and beyond that their interactions are limited to arguments and insults for at least two years. it isnt until virgils third year living there when he helps roman realise he has undiagnosed adhd that they start to get along more, albeit reluctantly at first

i do know a lot more about this time period in the au (and some of it is written) so if you have more questions pls do ask!

#little/big concepts #little angst #asks #🌙 anon

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Many More To Die

TITLE: Many More To Die

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: For over a thousand years, necromancy has been forbidden in the Kingdoms, the Necromata--its practitioners--feared, reviled, and punished for a power they never asked to wield. Those Necromata who are not killed in the cradle are taken from their families, stripped of their Name--the core of identity and memory--and imprisoned for the rest of their lives.

Logan was twelve when he entered the palace dungeons. Prince Roman was fourteen when he witnessed the young necromancer being brutalized, imprisoned, and left to suffer.

Roman only wanted to offer the other boy comfort, and perhaps a scrap of dignity. He didn't realize his kindness would follow both of them into adulthood--or that Logan would one day become the only person in all the realms that Roman would be able to trust with his life, his heart, and his very soul.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: lots of death because necromancy, slash, and more to come as I figure it out ‘cause it’s late and I’m tired. Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more...hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1023, A.A.

Necromata.

Sitting in the middle of his cell, twelve year old Logan...Logan choked on tears as his shoulder screamed, his bones ached, and the flickering lights of his cell let his imagination run wild with all manner of monsters and omens of doom lurking within every shadow.

He knew he was lucky—many necromancers were caught in the cradle and killed. Very few survived as long as he had. He could be grateful to his family for that much, that he'd lived long enough to escape a death sentence.

He did have a family. He knew that much—remembered that much. Everything else, they had taken before throwing him into his cell. The prison mage's hand was still a ghost of cold fire against his forehead, worms of icy coal burning through his brain to wipe out every trace of the things that would make him what he was, allow him to be more safely contained.

The name spoken with fear and loathing was all that he had left.

Necromata. The legions of the Animator...the necromancers.

“Psst!”

The hiss echoed off the stone in the corridor, made his heart leap into his chest as he looked around for the source of it.

“Psst! Over here!”

Logan tried to scramble back from the door of his cell, and screamed when he forgot about his dislocated shoulder, collapsing as it gave way under his weight.

“No, don't—please, it's okay. I don't want to hurt you.”

Blinking, Logan squinted into the low light beyond the torches that barely lit his new home. Something bright green flickered there, an outline visible that was vaguely person-shaped.

“Who...who are you?” he asked, curling his injured arm as close to his body as he could so he wouldn't forget again as he got to his feet.

“I...I'm not supposed to say.”

Logan shuffled a little closer to the bars of his cell. “Then how do I know you don't want to hurt me?”

“The prison mage took your Name—you won't understand if I tell you. Just...”

The person-shape on the other side of the bars moved forward, an arm protruding through to set a bowl on the dirt floor of Logan's cell. Inside there was water, and sitting across the rim was a heavy piece of leather.

“I saw what the guard did when you came in. Your shoulder...it happened to me once when I snuck out to hunt for the Lazari.”

“The Lazari don't exist.” Logan replied, reaching up with his good hand to try and wipe some of the tears and snot off his face. “They're a fairy tale, like the Animata.”

“How do you know?”

Logan opened his mouth...then closed it after long moments.

“I...I don't know.” he admitted. “I must have lost it when the prison mage took my Name.”

“Then you could be wrong.” the person-shape insisted, those emerald flecks in the near shadow sparkling with determination. “I'll find a Lazari one day. Just you wait.”

“What does that have to do with my dislocated shoulder?”

“Oh! Sorry—uhm, I did it once. When I snuck out, I fell from a tree and mine popped out. My brother showed me how to use the bars on our window to pop it back in! I threw up, though—and he made me bite a belt so I wouldn't scream.”

The hand appeared between the bars again, nudging the bowl and the leather strap forward a little further.

“I can tell you how to do it.”

Logan shuffled forward a couple more steps, then shifted to kneel in front of the bowl of water.

“I...might know.” He replied, staring at the bowl for a long moment before he peered back into the dark, into the green spark that was his benefactor's eyes. “Thank you.”

The person-shape said nothing for a long moment...

“Berry.”

“What?”

“Berry! The guards called you Logan, right? They took your Name—maybe Berry can be your new one.”

Before Logan could comment, the person-shape grew less distinct, and the flicker of green was gone with the clatter of footsteps scurrying away into the dark.

It was a silly idea—a Name taken could not be restored so easily. Still, the word rattled around in his head along with the one that made his bones ache again.

Necromata. Berry. Necromata. Berry. Berry.

Logan Berry.

Something stirred in the middle of Logan's mind, in his marrow—in the place that magic had scoured out and rubbed raw within the pathways of his brain. Something stirred, settled...

Something slid into place, and all of a sudden the shadows were far less frightening.

Popping his shoulder back into the socket hurt far more than dislocating it had—and yet while he'd sobbed his soul out after being injured, after being robbed of all that made him a person, he shed not a single tear as he put the leather between his teeth, wrenched his joint back into place, and used the fresh water to clean up after he'd emptied his stomach into the corner of his cell.

He even managed to sleep on his pallet of straw, and dreamed of green embers in the dark, drifting into the shadows in his cell and transforming every monster into a friend.

**********

1033, A.A.

“I had the dream again.”

“A kinky one?”

“Sweet leaping gods, Remus!”

The high, strident cackle of his twin brother echoed through Prince Roman's bedchamber, making him wonder yet again why he thought he could talk to the crazy idiot about anything remotely meaningful. Yes, Remus was trustworthy—he gave Roman all manner of hell for the secrets he shared, but had suffered his fair share of indignities to keep his mouth shut—but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the teasing and the laughter to have such a steadfast confidant.

Remus had secrets of his own, after all—the numerous Anima that shared his bed, for one. Like Roman, Remus was fascinated by the Necromata, the true necromancers that all citizens of the Kingdoms were taught to hate and fear. The Anima were little more than pretenders, mages of other disciplines that toyed with the death magic that had been outlawed for over a thousand years.

Still, they had a lot to teach—and made good company, from the way Remus spoke of his dalliances.

“Oh, I'm just yanking your chain, big brother!” Remus assured him, crossing over to drape himself over Roman's back, chin settling on Roman's shoulder to read what his twin was writing as he hunched over his desk. “C'mon now—tell me about the dream, and I'll tell you about the Necromata I fucked last night.”

Roman straightened abruptly at that, unceremoniously sending Remus sprawling to the floor. Turning his chair, he gaped down at his brother and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You did not sleep with a real necromancer, you lying sack of horse dung!” he hissed. “Why would you even say that in the palace of all places?!?”

“Because the sex was unbelievably good?” Remus offered, shrugging from his place on the floor, flat on his back. “Believe me, Ro Bro, a guy that can't actually feel human contact can keep it up for a nice, long, slow roll in the hay. It's pretty remarkable!”

Roman just huffed, standing from his seat—and promptly sinking to the floor to sprawl out right beside Remus.

“You're lying.” he said simply.

Remus was quiet a long time...then sighed.

“Of course I am. He was just another Animata.”

“Anima. The Animata are a myth, like the Lazari.”

“Since when did you turn into such a brainiac, Roro? We both know I've always been the smart one.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a grin, stretching his leg to kick Remus's ankle—but the truth of the matter was, Remus was right. Between the pair of them, Remus was smarter by leaps and bounds. He was studying the collegiate sciences when he was seventeen, and began his magic training before he'd even reached puberty. The fact that the only part of the sciences he enjoyed were anatomy and mortuary study were entirely besides the point, as was the fact that Remus wasn't actually capable of using magic at all.

He was, as their father lovingly put it, a rogue genius: in possession of an intellect so massive that the rules couldn't restrain him. He either knew too well how to circumnavigate them, or he simply didn't care enough to bother and did what he wanted—what he thought was right, no matter the consequence.

Roman might have been the elder of the twins—by one hour, eleven o'clock of one night where Remus came at midnight the next morning—but he aspired, every single day, to be the maverick that Remus was. He simply lacked the brains...and the courage.

Which was why today, it was Roman their father would be naming as his successor, and not Remus. Roman would be king, would rule by the law and the will of the gods, and Remus would...get to be Remus for the rest of his life, a crown prince without a care in the world.

“Tell me about the dream, Roro.”

Remus's voice was gentle this time, his fingers walking their way along Roman's arm until he could find his hand and weave it into his own.

Roman sighed, staring up at the mural on the ceiling of his bedchamber—a beautifully wrought depiction of the Fall of Death, the final battle between the Animator, the first of the Necromata, and their ancestor, King Thomas Andres, that had saved the Kingdoms over a thousand years ago.

“He was in it.”

“The boy from the dungeons?”

Roman nodded. He could feel Remus watching him...

Just like he could feel the boy from the dungeons watching him every time he had the dream... ********** “He was here again.”

“Jumpin' Jiminy, Lo—are you sure?”

Logan nodded, mostly to himself. Patton couldn't see him, not from the bathtub behind the partition that separated it from the rest of the room, but it hardly mattered—after eight years as cell mates, the two of them had become as close as brothers, as close as twins according to some of the guards that had met the king's identical twin sons.

They had grown so naturally into the relationship, it made Logan wonder sometimes if he'd had a brother before his Name had been taken.

Well...it made him wonder in the early days, at any rate. Logan had stopped wondering many years ago.

Suffice to say, Patton didn't need to see him nod to know that Logan had.

“Well? What'd he do?”

Logan let his mind wander back to the night before—the dream space that he so often occupied, the boy that had come to him in the dark ten years before with a bowl of water, a leather strap, and a name.

The boy he'd come to think of as the Green Man, with those eyes that the dark couldn't fully hide.

“The same thing he always does.” Logan managed to reply, setting down the pen he'd been using in favor of resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers to press against his lips. Among those Necromata imprisoned in the palace dungeons, Logan was quite fortunate: he was allowed a cell mate, access to books and writing implements, even a small window sill garden consisting of plants that couldn't be used for magical purposes.

He was very lucky. Ten years of good behavior had given him an incredible amount of leeway and granted him creature comforts like access to regular bathing privileges. The guards even referred to him by his chosen name.

He was, for all intents and purposes, treated like he was truly human. A prisoner, always, but one the guards and prison mages shared a basic blood connection to, unlike the other Necromata.

“...Lo?...Logan!”

Shaking himself, Logan cleared his throat and tried to beat back the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks, having been caught wool gathering.

“Apologies, I didn't catch that.” he called over his shoulder.

“I said, did he say anything this time?”

Logan shook his head, knowing once again that his actions would be understood rather than seen. Patton asked the same thing every time Logan mentioned the visits, and every time it was the same.

If Patton really knew the content of the Green Man's visitations...

Pressing his fingertips to his mouth again, Logan shut his eyes and let himself remember.

The visits were always in a dream space—for years, before the visitations became more regular, Logan had assumed the Green Man was a guard's son, or the child of some member of the palace staff. Later, when the Green Man came to Logan in his sleep, he figured he was the son of a prison or court mage—who else could manage to dream walk in the mind of even a crippled necromancer like him?

Then again...Logan was different from many prisoners like himself.

In the dream, Logan still cannot see his face. Like those ephemeral dreams from his first few nights in the dungeons, he's little more than shadows with burning points of light the color of fresh shoots just springing from the soil. Over the years, he's become more distinct, but still nothing Logan can give any real definition.

He is a man made of darkness, his eyes reflecting what spark of magic lives within him. They never speak to each other—Logan never dares, secretly apprehensive that disturbing the quiet will somehow end this irregular communion they share.

All the Green Man does is extend a hand, the only part of him Logan can truly see. What was once small and slim fingered has changed over the years into a large hand, broad but lean, tendons standing out below each knuckle and tanned by exposure to the sun. Every time, he reaches out, and every time, Logan takes his hand and just...holds on.

In the dream space, Logan can feel his touch. It's likely a projection, something imagined, but there's strength and warmth in that hand—the pressure of fingers meshing with his own, the heat of palm sealed to palm. There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him. Gradually, the feeling passes, and Logan clings until the feeling returns, crashing over him and sliding back in waves beating the shore of his nervous system.

Logan is always the first to let go. The Green Man makes sure of it—and then he leaves.

“Are you okay, kiddo?”

Logan looked up sharply, twisting to see Patton over his shoulder. His mop of tawny curls is swept back from his face, still dark and wet from his bath, the chill of the cell raising gooseflesh on his bare torso.

He has one hand holding the towel around his waist, and the other resting on Logan's shoulder.

The pressure is barely there, that buzzing awareness of contact easily missed if not expected.

Patton hastily lifts his hand, face screwed up in silent apology. Logan dislikes physical contact, even if he cannot feel it—just like any of the Necromata, so divorced from the living, human populous that they cannot even connect to them through touch.

“Didn't mean to spook you, Lo. Just...you're real quiet. Usually, you got more to say after a visit from You Know Who.”

Logan nodded, then made a point of reaching out to squeeze Patton's hand briefly before letting it go just as quickly.

“Apologies. I suppose I'm just...distracted by today.”

“Yeah—hey, you think the prince'll come down here?” Patton asked hopefully, drawing back to go and find some clothes. “I mean, if he's gonna learn to be king after the ceremony...”

Logan let Patton continue to chatter about the potential for this new ruler to somehow see their plight, somehow be their salvation. He let the words, the hope, wash over him without making contact.

Patton could have hope, because he had no Name. No history, no memory, no past and therefore no future. He was a blank slate, for all intents and purposes, unable to access the power of the Necromata with no life of his own to bind it to.

Unlike Logan. Logan, who no longer wondered if he'd had a brother in his family.

Logan, who could share a dream space, something only mages were capable of.

Logan, who had been given a new name by his benefactor so many years ago, a name that others used daily.

Logan Berry, who even now could feel the essence of every rat behind the dungeon walls, every guard on patrol, every prisoner languishing beneath the lowest floors of the palace...and every noble, every royal, every peasant up above.

Logan Berry, who could not remember his family, but could remember that he once had a brother.

Because, despite the fact that a Name taken could not be restored so easily, Logan had taken a name freely given and made it his own.

A Name, freely given. A life, restored.

Logan could not have hope, because he had the power of the Necromata at his fingertips—and it was only a matter of time before good behavior would no longer be enough to earn him the leeway to stay alive.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #ts logic #ts creativity #thomas sanders #fanfic #ts fanfic #necromancer au #this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it #never trust me with nice things #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again

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