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x-nerdingss-x · 4 years

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Guilty as Charged - Intrulogical

A one shot that isn’t angsty? Huh, turns out I am capable of writing some form of fluff/crack after all.

Intrulogical is good shit alright?

Blurb: Upon hearing a secret relationship between Logan and Remus, the others wanted to unravel the truth in a courtroom.

Okay no seriously: Here are some trigger warnings in case any of you need them. - Swearing - Remus, just, Remus - Sexual name calling - Courtroom scenario - Mentions of murder/suspected murder - Pet names

(You can also read this on ao3 too).

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22:00 (PM). Sunday, 27th September, 2020. Courtroom (1).

Roman settled himself on the highest point of the room, the judge’s chair towering over the rest of the valley of seat benches in front of him. A weight scale was displayed in front of the judge’s seat, with the witness stands nicely tucked beside the judge’s space. The room had its same cream and brown structure, the dark wood fitting nicely with the formality of the scene. His red sash was pulled over his white robes, gripping onto the gavel he broke a year before.

Janus seemed smug in his side of the courtroom, chilling near the prosecutor’s benches of the scape. His partner in juristical crime, Patton, stood in his side of the room. Adjusting the silk white tie that laid on his dress shirt, he glanced curiously at the prosecutor. His own black suit fitted nicely with the yellow he adored, as well as the bowtie and bowler hat that he wore as his signature style.

Patton gave the other a small grin, a hint of mischief evident in his giddy behaviour. Wearing his own blue, white and cream suit for the event, the preppy side brushed the specks of dust off his outfit and gave a small, knowingly nod to Janus. The prosecutor of the trial nodded back to his partner, his own smirk curling onto his snake-sided face. Janus later scoped around the room for the little emo he again appointed as the jury. Given that it was early night, the tired side sprawled across the few chairs of the gallery, his hand resting over the table top and his leg hanging for room space. Roman slammed his gavel loudly near Virgil’s direction, and Janus stifled a laugh when a thud was heard nearby.

Virgil climbed off the floor to sit on his jury seat properly, huffing as he hunched over his figure. His eyes were darker than usual, his low energy reflecting his tired mood. The patched purple tie loosely hung from his purple button up shirt, and his black hoodie had its familiar, warm weight on his shoulders. It was a Sunday night, and the others thought it was a perfect time to introduce the new agenda of the week, starting fresh before the new Monday.

Logan (compared to the others) looked pissed. The last place he wanted to spend his night was in a courtroom to entertain the other sides. He was abruptly summoned from the warmth of his bed into a bright blinding room. Still in his fluffy, stark white unicorn onesie and blue flannel pyjamas, he hastily stood up in order to properly change into his daily attire. Clearly, his day has not been finished yet. With his black polo shirt and blue striped tie, he also summoned a black cardigan to keep the nightly chill off his shoulders. Logan heard shuffling noises around him, and he assumed everyone else was getting ready for the trial to commence.

Speaking of trial - What the heck is this trial meant to be? Why is it held at a late time? On a Sunday no less. Logan assumed he was to receive these answers to the questions swimming in his head throughout the fiasco the others called a court scenario. He took a quick wander around the room and noticed he sat in the defendant’s seat rather than in the back of the room where he was last time in the public gallery. At least he had a more significant role than the last courtroom event, but himself sitting in the defendant’s seat and not as a lawyer like the snake-father pair did confuse him. Was he in trouble for something? Or was it the group’s dramatics to engage themselves into a topic the answer to his questions?

Nevertheless, Logan continued observing and noticed there was a lack of Thomas in this room, so he safely deduced that the sides weren’t working with another late-night moral dilemma. He also spotted a lack of green that would often appear in the same room as the others. Perhaps, he was asleep and kept away from the mess the others would engage themselves into - although, knowing the other side’s curious and unpredictable behaviour paired together, it would have been tricky to hide away from him.

Logan’s thoughts trailed to the whereabouts of Remus instead of the sounds in front of him, his pondering kept short when he heard the gavel slamming for attention. He vaguely heard Roman’s shouts and almost missed the others sitting in their seats. Logan decided to pay attention to the situation instead. At least he can answer his own questions of Remus’ whereabouts later when he sees him again after the situation, whereas it would be more difficult to gather answers for his questions about the courtroom if he missed the trial.

“Alright ladies,” Roman said, beginning the court case. “Are we all ready to discuss the charges?”

“Yes, your honour,” both Patton and Janus said in unison. Virgil rolled his eyes as his response, and pulled his hood over his eyes.

Clearing his throat, Roman opened the conviction book and began reciting the lines from the last court trial.

“The state of… Logic Sanders v. uhm…” the judge began trailing off, staring at the imaginary lines. Patton tilted his head at Roman’s confusion, whereas Janus sighed as a response.

“Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders v. Mindspace, Roman.”

Roman perked his attention at the snake, whispering a quick thank you before clearing his throat again to restart his lines.

“Apologies, everyone,” He said, before speaking again. “The state of Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders v. Mindspace in the name and by the authority of the state of the Mindspace,” Then picking up his gavel in the process, he pointed the mallet towards the stylish lawyer. “Janus ‘Deceit' Sanders, prosecuting for the state of the mindspace, under oath information makes the trial for Logic Sanders.”

Roman saw the wording, and grinned at the page he was to say aloud. “Count one…” He said. “Did conspire suspectful activities with Remus Sanders, the Duke of Creativity, without mentioning it to other sides who reside in the mindscape.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow at the mention of Remus. “Count two, is convicted of creating and performing numerous chemical concoctions that are, as of, dangerous to handle and human dissection without a license, whilst experimenting said ideas on an idiot the judge then refers to as a 'brother’.”

Listing off the convictions, Virgil laid his head on the jury bench to rest before the lawyers could provide their opening statements. Logan wanted to do the same as the jury, especially as the false claims of his activities are listed throughout before the case could properly commence. He took note of how most of these activities, if not all, involve Remus in some way. It’s not as if they figured something out, right? Logan handles the braincell after all.

Well, so he thought.

“And count 5. Is engaged in an illegal secret relationship with Remus Sanders, the Duke of Creativity,” Roman huffed, finishing his lines. “Remus should be glad I read his name in such formality and not as ‘Stinky Trash Bastard’.”

Logan’s attention piqued as he heard the last conviction, conscious to not give any facial expressions away for the courtroom. The others may own a brain cell between them after all, although, in Logan’s situation, it is not the best thing to appreciate. Lifting himself off the seat to call on their bullshit, Logan fell back almost instantly as if he was restrained. Noticing the chains linked from his wrists to the seat, he quietly growled as he tugged on his arms.

“What is the meaning of this, by chance?” He asked the others who stared back at him.

Roman opened his mouth to repeat the charges, for Janus to interrupt him instead. “Did you seriously forget that you were charged for suspectful murders with Remus?”

“Are you… for sweet Newton…” He muttered under his breath. “I did not try to kill anybody, I can promise the court that.”

“Sorry Logan, but that’s for the jury to decide,” Virgil mumbled, resting his head down away from the bright lighting of the room. Logan grumbled from his seat, crossing his arms and leaning back on his seat. Yawning, Logan rested his head back as he listened through the court procedures. Janus’ work for an accurate scenario, he was sure. There was no doubt Roman wanted to join him, with his theatrics for drama. Patton was most likely involved for a majority vote. Virgil however? He wasn’t too sure as to why he’s in the room, more preferring sleep than anything.

He heard the judge banging his gavel again to wake Virgil from his attempts of slumber, and he felt someone shaking his arm awake. Opening one eye to spot a concerned Patton, he shrugged his lawyer away and went back to closing his eyes, concentrating on the sounds instead.

“Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty, obviously,” He said. “However, I do have a question for the judge.”

With the silence in the room, Logan took this as his opportunity to speak. “Hypothetically, for some odd reason I was to be found ‘guilty’ for any of these charges, what is my sentence?”

Patton leaned against the edge of his side of the bench, fiddling with the tie tucked into his vest. “Full fairness, we were aiming to get you to cough out what you were hiding with Remus and give you a minor sentence. We would agree on the sentence, right guys?”

Logan began tapping his foot on the tiled floor, his impatience slowly growing. “But what is that minor sentence you were thinking of? A rough idea, Patton.”

Everyone hummed at the question, thinking of an idea. It wasn’t till Roman had an idea did he share with the court.

“If you are found guilty on any of these charges, we take your crofters away for a month for not telling us and uh...”

“A group discussion about opening up to others when we figure out why you were so secretive to us, and work towards building trust,” Patton said, silently congratulating himself on his idea.

They’re going to fucking what?

Not the crofters. Not the trust exercises.

“You are not touching my crofters, nor am I going to participate in a ‘trust bonding exercise’”.

“Logan, that is for the Judge to decide after your trial. Gosh, I thought you were meant to be the smart one,” Janus said, waving away Logan’s protest. “Now, can the judge continue this trial? I do like continuing my 8 hour sleep schedule.”

“Alright,” Roman puffed out his chest, opening a different book to read from. “Prosecutor, your opening statement…”

-*-

The trial was running along smoothly as the lawyers gave their statements, and Logan decided to at least entertain the idiots for a while. If he cooperates, the better chance he has to both escape charges and sleep in his lovely cushioned bed with Remus. It wasn't as if he were not guilty with all of them, but he wasn’t going to tell the others which charge it was. Although, he wouldn’t say their relationship was illegal either, per se.

“Prosecutor, call your first witness to the stand,” Roman said.

Janus nodded, summoning Logan into the witness bench. He noticed the chains around his legs, meaning he couldn’t teleport anywhere beyond the courtroom, but he appreciated the fact that his wrists were free. Janus waltzed over to the other stand, to begin questioning his first ‘witness’. First? Does this mean there are other witnesses? Would that mean the other witness is Remus? Logan doubted that Remus would be kept away from the courtroom in the first place due to his nature, but the fact that he was included in the charges meant the others would interegotate him too.

Oh gosh, Remus doesn’t even know what a filter means.

Logan silently wished for Remus to remember the fact that it was a shared secret, and therefore his partner can keep the unharmed crofters.

“Witness, state your name, age and role as a side.”

Logan cleared his throat. He should at least follow along to their shenanigans if it meant he gets out quicker and freely. “Logan Sanders. I am 31 years old, and represent Thomas’ Logic.”

As he finished his sentence, a book appeared beside him as Janus took the initiative to recite the vow for the court. With everyone’s hand on the book (except for Virgil, who Logan could assume was soundlessly asleep), the book disappeared and the question could finally begin.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Janus asked.

Logan stared back at Janus, giving the other a small smirk. “Objection, that would be leading the witness.”

“Well objection, the witness does not object.”

Roman fiddled with his red sash for a moment before noticing the pair. Picking his gavel up, he gestured to the two men. “Sustained. Janus, watch yourself with your blunt honesty. Logan, do your job as a witness.”

Apologising to the judge, Janus sighed as he posed straighter in his stand. “Very well, we shall do this the long way.”

“We shall, yes,” Logan spoke back. Sneering at the logical side, Janus adjusted his bowtie and began his work.

“Alright, if you insist,” He began. “I’ll like to remind the court of the date of which the case commences. It should be Sunday, 13th of September, 2020, and this date is when participants of this room recognise some signs of a… relationship, between the pair.”

Janus cruised around from the stand towards Logan, resting his arm on the desk. “How would you classify your bond with Remus?”

“I would say it is a close platonic relationship between us.”

Smirking, Janus clicked his tongue at the statement. “So close, would you say you do activities together that you, or Remus, wouldn’t do with the other sides?”

“Provide examples to the court, Janus, and I’ll decide on that question,” Logan leaned over, staring at the snake. No way would there be any evidence that would suggest their relationship together, or anything else like doing chemistry experiments together, or dissection as a pair. The homicide case however, was questionable, since Logan didn’t remember killing anyone - unless they assume he was suspected to contribute into some homicide cases; again, questionable. What was the 4th conviction again? Now he thought about it, Logan should’ve paid more attention to the charges Roman was reading aloud to everyone.

Nearby an empty space in the courtroom, Janus clapped his hands together to summon a table. Logan felt the blood drain from his face as he saw the table. An assortment of items laid on the desk, from fingerprinted evidence to even photos with him and Remus together. A few objects were on the table too, which included small bags of jewellery and the coats the pair wear whenever they do their science experiments. How is Logan getting away with any of this both smoothly and quickly?

Janus adjusted his yellow gloves and picked up a small ring from the table. The glint of gold shined from the reflection of the lighting, and Logan instinctively looked over his left hand to realise there was something missing. His glance was quick, but both Janus and Patton caught his stare to confirm that it was his own ring. Logan stood up to walk over to the table himself and snatch his ring from Janus’ grip, only to remember he was restrained to the ground.

“So eager Logan… But do tell the court what this ring means to you.”

“Janus, I request that you give it back to me as it is my belongings.”

“But you have stated earlier that you would discuss the activities you do with Remus to the court once I provide examples, and this is your first only example. The rest is for Patton to decide when he interrogates you next,” Janus leaned onto the bench while inspecting his gloves, turning around to wink at the defence attorney awaiting for his go. Patton glanced to the side, covering his hand over his mouth to suppress his giggling. Janus patiently waited for Logan to dig himself out the figurative hole he just dug himself in, smirking as the opportunity for the real truth seemed bright.

“For your information, the ring has no relevance to this case, and no relevance to the previous statement you provided to the court about some weird, nonsensical ‘symptoms’ of me having feelings,” He retorted, sitting gayly-straight on his seat. "Get lawyered."

“But here’s the thing Logan, it does, in fact have relevance,” Janus said, grabbing a snapped photo earlier of the ring. “In this ring is engraved a date. Assuming this ring is yours due to your reaction earlier of checking if you have the ring, do you want to share the connection of a suspected bond between you and this ring?”

Logan gulped, shifting away slightly as Janus held up a photo for the judge to see. He knew what the ring was. Although the ring was gold, there were speckles of dark blue sapphires and emeralds that were entwined together, with detailed swirls danced around the ring. Inside the ring had a date. 13.9.20. That was the day him and Remus celebrated their 3 year marriage anniversary.

“It’s not as if you provided any details about these signs of a speculated relationship,” Logan said. “What are these figurative ‘connected strings’ between our friendship and the signs? Obviously a ring could be a part of the friendship, but do you care about sharing anything else to the court?”

Janus strolled back to the table and picked up another object from the layers of evidence he could show Logan. While gathering a few photos to display, he also held a stained cooking apron in his arms both respectively coloured blue and green. The few photos were of the pair baking or cooking dishes (captured from a corner due to Patton’s photography skills). Looking over at the evidence table, Logan’s eyes trailed across to another empty spot of the courtroom, where Patton’s side was. The logical side only realised then, that both sides had enough evidence to prove their points.

He hopes that Patton’s defending skills were better than Janus’ prosecuting.

“I’m pretty sure besties don’t wear cooking aprons together and make things. Not even Virgil and I cook together like you guys and I consider ourselves good friends,” Roman quipped as he saw the evidence.

“Well, what do you think of this new evidence, jury?” Patton asked, spinning around to face Virgil. Unfortunately for them, Virgil was softly snoring from his comfortable position. Roman grabbed his gavel again, slamming it close to the edge of the table to Virgil’s direction. The anxious side perked up from the sound, turning his gaze towards the judge before huffing. He lifted his head back, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

“Alright, what did we find from Logan? Brief recap please,” Virgil asked.

“We found out that Logan’s bromance can be proven as a romance,” Roman said.

“How?”

“Cooking aprons,” Patton clapped. “Oh Jannie, didn’t you also find their cookbook? You got real good recipes there Logan.”

Logan’s attention reverted back to the black-tux wearing lawyer in front of him. “Jannie?”

“We’re meant to make fun of you, you know,” Janus sneered, throwing the cooking aprons at the judge. “Anyways, I can also supply a fully documented report conducted by the side who feels… well, feelings of what was being observed during that day and now, in this very courtroom,” Janus held the case file in his hands, blowing a quick kiss to Patton’s direction. The other closed his hand as if he caught it, holding his hand to his chest while smiling. Virgil grimaced at their loving affection, whereas Roman waved the lawyer’s shenanigans away. He opened the file, finding many pages of notes instead of the expected few words Patton would’ve written.

“This is about the both of them, right?” Roman asked himself rather than Patton.

“No, your honour,” Patton heard the judge. “That is of Remus alone.”

Roman chuckled at the notes he read as Logan sunk on his seat, his confidence disappearing. His defence attorney created a case file for his prosecutor. How would Patton defend his own words? How would Patton defend? Yes, Logan felt himself getting screwed over by the two lawyers. Until, that was, an idea popped in his head.

“Hold it,” Logan stood up, pointing a finger to the prosecutor. “I thought we were discussing about me, your witness, if you remember. How would that contribute to my case?”

“I’m so glad you asked Logan,” Patton said, getting up from his seat to join Janus. “Jannie and I waited for this moment.”

Virgil, Roman and Logan looked at the both of them, each wearing their own puzzled expression.

“What moment?”

Janus stepped aside, bowing to Patton to guide him to the stand like a gentleman. “I’m afraid that’s for my clever pumpkin to tell you,” He said before strolling off to his own seat.

“Thank you Jannie,” Patton summoned his own evidence table, with more of Remus’ belongings rather than Logan’s. Still a concern for the witness, who wanted to walk away from the case with a ‘not guilty’ verdict. Preparing himself, Patton waltzed towards Logan with a grin on his face, his bunny teeth coaxed with a glint of mischief. “So do you happen to remember… the specific details… of what both you and Remus did that day… on the 13th of September?”

“In fact I do, Patton,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “Both he and I cooked dinner together since the rest of you were out from 5:30 PM to 8 PM, and watched a documentary to accompany each other since neither of us were busy and wanted to relax because we're good friends.” He technically wasn’t wrong, so why did Patton look as if Christmas came early? He held up a photo album for the court, flipping through the pages with the couple together.

“This is found in Remus’ room, and evidence of his handwriting on a separated written page on the evidence table confirms that it is his handwriting and even pen ink.” He smiled brightly, trying to find the specific page in question. “There was a page of the both of you together that describes his feelings perfectly with the book I gave to judge Roman, with Remus talking a lot about your… marriage anniversary.”

Although Roman gasped for dramatic effect, Logan’s shock was shadowed from under him. His case will be blown if Patton found the page. Logan knew what he had to do, but he had to be discreet so he wouldn’t be caught. Inspecting his uncuffed hands, he rolled his wrists before flicking his fingers, making an object move from across the room. The object fell from the table and clattered on the ground, and Logan took his chance to eradicate the evidence in the photobook from where he sat. A temporary disappearing 'spell', but it would last long enough for the case. Patton looked away from the clatter to return to the photo album, frowning as his evidence had disappeared.

And a score for Logic.

Janus noticed the smug expression on Logan and the confused face on his partner. Even from a distance, he saw the lacking bulk of pages that would describe their ‘anniversary’ date, and slammed his hands on the table. It could only mean one thing, and he pointed to the witness.

“Objection,” He shouted. “Logan tampered with the evidence when the object coincidentally clattered on the ground.”

“Overruled. Unless you can prove the coincidence, then it will be dismissed,” Roman yawned. “Patton, I’m afraid your time with the witness would be over soon if you cannot gather any other sustainable evidence.”

“Oh,” Patton said, replacing his frown with a cherry grin. “No worries, my question would be finished if that were the case.”

Roman slammed his gavel down to announce the end of the questioning, and both the lawyers sat in their designated seats. Logan was teleported back to his defendants’ spot, sighing when the cold metallic shackles were connected to his wrists once again. He looked aside to Patton, and furrowed at the lawyer.

“Patton, who are you exactly in my case? I doubt you’re my defence attorney.”

Sitting down and sliding towards Logan, Patton adjusted his jacket and summoned some cookies for a quick bite. “That’s the thing, I’m not.”

“What?”

Gulping down the cookie, he hummed at the sugary chocolate chip before turning to Logan. “Both Janus and I collaborated on the case together. He would just be the leading prosecutor whereas I’m more on the side-lines waiting for your undying confession,” he explained to Logan. Before Logan could object how it was an unfair trial and therefore should be disbanded completely, Roman slammed the gavel to call for silence and prepared for everyone’s attention.

“I call for the second witness to the stand.”

Janus nodded, flinging his wrist to open the doors automatically, revealing the second witness. Seemingly in his green and black striped pyjamas, Logan assumed that one of the others forced his husband to wear some form of clothing before entering the courtroom as boxers may not have been enough. He trotted to the witness stand, also in shackles (considering the convictions were about him too). Remus yawned and glared daggers to the others that dragged him here, and took his heating (Logan) away during his peaceful slumber. Logan internally prayed that Remus wouldn’t do anything stupid during his testimony and questioning, and that the neither of them would contribute to the endless trust bond exercises if the either of them were caught guilty.

Remus seemed to not notice Logan at first, expecting his husband to wear his unicorn onesie. Landing his eyes onto Logan however in the accused's bench, a grin broke in his face and waved to his lover.

“Hey Honeybun, how’s it going?” He shouted, wanting to jump over the witness stand and cling himself into a bear hug before falling down from his seat, the shackles bonded to the floor. Nobody reacted at Remus’ fall, and each instead had their own form of surprise.

Roman saw Remus and thought that his brother could never act like an excited dog, at 11:23 PM no less.

Virgil was jolted awake from the statement, and stared at Remus in shock. By that, he had decided the verdict.

Patton was internally screaming in glee. Their plan had worked.

Janus was horrified, with his mouth open at the words that came out of Remus’ mouth.

And Logan?

Pale with rage in his eyes.

He did whatever he could to divert the case for almost an hour and a half, only for his idiot of a husband to blow it in no less than one sentence. Maybe… just maybe, he would be found guilty on all charges after all, including an attempt of homicide. Logan wished his crofters goodbye when he heard the lawyers fall from their surprise to their laughing cheers, celebrating with a quick kiss shared between them.

Janus spun around after Patton kissed him, smiling with a dopey expression before glaring at Remus. “Hold it for a second,” He said. “How the fuck-”

“Language.” Patton chided in.

“Apologies Patton. Where the fuck did you learn pet names from? I sure as heck never taught you any.”

Remus leaned over in his witness stand, wanting to be close to his best friend as much as possible (whilst being restrained).

“Did you just forget I’m also Creativity, dumbass?” He sighed, looking up to his brother on the judge’s seat. “Do repeat my title for me, ‘oh mighty judge of dick sizes.’”

Roman grumbled, crossing his arms while leaning back on his seat. “Stinky Trash Bastard?”

“No you bitch, the other thing.”

“Remus Sanders, the Duke of Creativity?”

“Ha, there’s your evidence from your ridiculous question Anus. Get lawyered.”

Logan sighed, banging his head on the table before grumbling curses under his breath. Virgil swung his legs on the table by that point, now awake more than ever since Remus stepped in the courtroom. This is what he signed up for. The drama - and he wanted to see it personally.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” Remus noticed Logan’s upset mood. “I’ll steal more crofters for you later once the trial ends and we’ll hide it in the secret stash.”

"And there goes the 4th conviction..." Roman muttered. "Count 4; thievery."

At least he remembers what I like, compared to who I love.

“Remus, you do remember the two sentences carried for this case, right?”

Getting himself comfortable on his seat, Remus tilted his head. “I mean, I know ‘the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’, Star-fly, and something about crofters?”

“No Remus, we have to explain everything, including our feelings.”

Remus’ eyes widened at the words, hissing. “Aw Shit. You’re not gonna do that to us, right guys?”

“I dunno Remus,” Roman said, spinning his gavel. “That is the sentence if you are found guilty on one charge, and so far you’re going to be found guilty on two and a half charges?”

“Two and a half?” The partners said in unison.

Virgil smirked, pointing to Logan. “Do you see the murder in Logan’s eyes when you said that, Remus? I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Remus cursed under his breath again, whining to the emo. “But he’s my heater. Do you know how cold it is when you’re in bed alone?”

Patton squealed quietly, covering his mouth. “Oh my gosh they sleep together. You’re both so adorable, oh my god look at you Logan - all grown up and living with your life partner- hey wait a second.” He stopped talking, looking between the both of them.

“If you're both married like the photo album said, then why did you never invited us to your wedding?”

“Hey yeah - Where are your wedding papers if you’re both married?” Janus asked. Logan hummed while processing the memory of the papers, shrugging as a response.

“I remember signing mine, and I was actually fairly surprised when the last count was announced,” Logan quipped to himself, sighing when he may of realised something. “Remus, what did you do to your papers?”

“What papers? The wedding papers?”

“No Remus, we were talking about your funeral arrangements- Yes you’re marriage papers you idiot.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

Remus tapped his chin, furrowing in thought before letting out a small sound in realisation.

“Oh. Okay Logan, believe me when I say I did sign the papers.”

“Mhm, do go on defending yourself in a courtroom,” Logan said while shaking his head. He knew where this was going.

“But I may or may not… ate-our-papers-a-few-weeks-ago-with-the-new-deodorant-stick-you-gave-me?”

“You fucking WHAT?”

Virgil snickered at the couple as they began bickering, looking over to Roman and waved to him for attention. “Your honour, I came up with a verdict.”

Roman leaned over to Virgil’s side, hammering for the others to quiet down before Virgil could announce the verdict.

“Not guilty.”

Remus stared at Virgil for a moment, a grin slowly forming on his face as he whooped in joy, celebrating as Logan let out a breath of air. They can finally sleep. Both Janus and Patton stared at him in ‘are you kidding me?’ expression. Virgil watched the husbands have their moment of glee before he could speak again.

“Nice try fuckers, it’s a guilty verdict by a landslide.”

The lawyers nodded as that made sense whereas the partners groaned in unison. Roman slammed the mallet down to announce the end of the case and the sentences carried out. Although the shackles were off the pair, Roman quickly snapped his fingers together to keep the shackles on Logan’s wrists.

“Do you mind, Roman?” He asked the judge as he descended down the stairs.

“Dude, by looking at your face, you’re probably going to kill someone for taking your crofters. Or, well, murdering your 3 year husband? From announcing your secret relationship? Platonic relationship my ass…” He muttered the last part, beckoning Virgil to join him from the jury stand. The lawyered-couple followed from behind, and Logan sat seated as Remus waved from the witness stand.

“Hey Remus?” Logan asked once the door clicked closed when Patton was the last to leave.

“Yeah Cherry-Nerd?”

“5.”

“What? 5?” Remus tilted his head.

Logan summoned Remus’ morning star in his hands, gripping onto it as he stared at Remus. “4.”

“Oh shit-” Remus scrambled to jump off the witness stand to the door. He slammed it open and checked behind him briefly.

“3.”

“ROMAN- ONE OF YOU NEED TO ARREST MY HUSBAND BEFORE HE KILLS ME.”

Even if Logan is pissed, he can appreciate the feeling of finally be called his husband. But now, Remus is going to stay on the couch tonight.

"2... and 1-"

#Sanders Sides #Sanders sides fanfiction #Ao3 #Intrulogical #Logan Sanders #Remus Sanders

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x-nerdingss-x · 4 years

Text

Your Turn

Summary: 1943. Janus is employed as the town's telegram boy.

Context before the story if you don’t know what a telegram boy is (if you do, you can continue reading): It's basically someone, typically a young child or teenager and men who couldn't enlist or be drafted due to medical conditions or religious beliefs, who isn't drafted for fighting during WW1 or WW2, works like a postman, except their job was to deliver letters to families with members that were sent from the member's officer/higher positioned commander.

These letters weren't typically sent from the solider themselves telling their family of their experiences in the war front, but news such as the family member who fought either died during action, M.I.A (Missing in Action; normally from running away during battle or their body cannot be retrieved and therefore missing) or P.O.W (Prisoner of War; typically captured by enemy lines and like M.I.A, usually never returning back to family).

Usually telegram boys worked in towns or cities, but were generally avoided by the community because their job was to bring the unfortunate news of disaster from the front lines to the home front. They would also serve as a comfort tool for grieving families that were affected by the letter, but also delivered last letters written by the soldiers, photographs, jewellery and money - anything with value that is to be sent to the families as a memoir.Hopefully I taught someone something new today lol.

Happy reading-

(You can read this on Ao3 under XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX)

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1943

It was early morning in a remote town, the sun rising from behind the hills with pale blue and purple colours swirling together to paint the new day. Yet to be hot for the townspeople, many were outside to do their daily activities before it got too warm, the summer heat too unbearable for anyone. Of course, it wasn’t sandy, with grass growing lightly in muddy hills near outback huts many made as homes. A light breeze blew over to the town, the heat slowly growing closer.

On a bicycle, a teenage boy travelled to the town’s post office to collect mail for the day. Putting on his black newsboy cap, the boy also wore a black and yellow striped cloak to protect his skin from the dangerous sun, yellow gloves to prevent sweat slipping from his bike handles. He said thank you to the post man behind the counter, and bid them farewell as he buckled the letters at the back of the rack of his shiny yellow bike. Yellow, so many people could see the boy clearer.

Except, that was the issue. The boy rode on his bike, and others in his town went inside their homes immediately. He would admit, it hurt the teen a little; he only wanted a few shillings like the workers in his hometown. Mothers pulled their children away from the boy, and the yellow teenager even glanced at a parent who pointed to the boy, giving the child a disapproving wag of their finger and told them to stay away from him. He knew what he was doing was the unthinkable for any family during these unprecedented times, but there was no use for being a newsboy in a small home either. Adjusting his cap, he looked onward and visited the first house.

He knocked on the door, holding a mustard splatter of an envelope in his grip. Waiting for the mother to open the door, the boy hummed as he knew who owned the house. Mrs. Realeza. Her son Remus was a friend of the boy and Roman a mere acquaintance… although someone he wouldn’t particularly talk to. The letter in his hands twisted his gut inside. He knew exactly what it was, and he gulped down his feelings. Knocking again, he rocked on the balls of his feet and tilted his head from the lack of response. What he was aware of however, was the mother was behind the locked wooden door, holding her breath with her hand covering her mouth. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and the boy knew she was the same as every other mother he had to encounter. It was still a saddened thought to consider.

The telegram boy was not supposed to know she was there.

“Mrs. Realeza,” The boy said, keeping his voice firm for the mother despite threatening to waver. “I know you’re sobbing from behind the door, but I think it’s best to know the truth.”

“No Janus, please go away - If I don’t read it, then the truth doesn’t exist.” She could feel her body shake uncontrollably, her soft whispers of denial were heard through the door. Janus mumbled to himself, controlling his own attitude for what the letter meant. In truth, he didn’t like his job, much preferring a different job; but he also felt a sense of justice when he gave the townspeople these letters. It would spare them much grief if they knew when the news came, instead of waiting for someone non-existant to return home after years of fighting a war.

“Mrs. Realeza, I don’t have two letters for you. You should know which son it is-”

“I SAID GO AWAY - NONE OF MY BOYS ARE DEAD! THEY ARE TOGETHER, THEY ARE ALIVE-”

Janus huffed, leaning his face against the crack of the door instead. “I am legally not allowed to open your letter, and even then I am against such manners. I could read it for you, with the permission of course.”

She wept quietly, wiping a tear from her eye before getting up to open the door. The mother knew what the boy was doing, and even if she hated him and his job, she couldn’t help but remember that one of her sons is a close friend of the telegram boy. He shouldn’t feel such pain or sorrow from reading the letter first hand; it was just his job to deliver them instead. A click echoed through the crack of the door, and Janus stepped back to allow room for the mother to see him properly. Clutching on the letter firmly, he had another hand behind his back. She took the first letter, and Janus waited until she read the first letter to reveal his second hand.

“Oh Remus… my baby boy…” She whispered in disbelief, her eyes dashing through the lines of the letter. Janus sniffled quietly, snaking his second hand to her. Held was another pale yellow envelope addressed to her, and he frowned when he caught a glimpse of her disbelief. Hiding one side of his face, he revealed the white, discoloured pigment of his skin and looked at her with his blurry eye instead. He couldn’t bear gazing at her grief. Hesitantly reaching out for the second letter, the mother screamed in pain as the boy recoiled from the sound, shoving the letter to her before rushing off to his bike to escape her fury.

“YOU LYING SNAKE! YOU SAID THERE WAS ONLY ONE LETTER. BOTH MY BOYS ARE GONE - YOU LYING SON OF A-”

“I had to lie, because you wouldn’t open the door otherwise.” Janus hopped onto his bike and prepared himself to dash off.

“NEVER STEP FOOT ON MY PROPERTY. CONSIDER THIS THE LAST TIME YOU’LL EVER SEE THIS HOUSE AGAIN.” She slammed the door, effectively shutting the boy from any connection he had to the family. Janus swallowed his bubbling tears, taking his hat off to give a moment for both the lost lives of Roman and Remus. His hat hovered over his chest, covering his heart with his head down. He may not have liked Roman, but even he felt a sense of sorrow for his lost life.

Two letters down, and sadly just a few more to go.

-*-

Biking around the small town, Janus took a moment for himself to find the next house. He felt the cool, metallic chain around his neck bumping into his chest, a necklace hidden under his shirt. He didn’t have a moment to think earlier, especially after reading the first letter he had to deliver, but now only one person was stuck in his mind during the whole fiasco. Janus knew fully well of the necklace, a photo of his Patton, the faith of his journey. From meeting each other in their childhoods, both boys felt a separation between them when Patton was drafted into the war just a little over a decade later. It was a shame, since Patton was 18 and Janus fell short being 17, but he promised to join Patton as soon as he could, just so they could be together again. Just a few months, Janus could be deployed to where his friend is.

He much preferred fighting than delivering the fate of those who are gone.

Janus arrived at his next house, preparing himself for giving the next letter. He also knew who this house belonged to as well, being an ex-friend of the boy. What he didn’t know was he was deployed to fight, and it didn’t sit comfortably with the knowledge that he was also gone into the hands of death. Knocking on the door curtly, he waited for the ex-friend’s father to open the door and receive the letter. It should be better; in Janus opinion, to get it over and done with. He didn’t want to suffer through the grieving process of Virgil - he doesn’t want to admit that he already cried when they departed, to only cry again when it’s fact that they’re both completely separated.

The dark oak door opened to reveal the old man, and Janus gave him an awkward wave to the man. “For you, sir.”

Unlike Mrs. Realeza, the old man gently took the letter from Janus’ jittery clasp, already aware of how uncomfortable the situation was. “Thank you, Janus.” His face curled up unnaturally, his eyes squinting to hold in his tears. Virgil… his son…

Janus had to pray for Mr. Ansia’ that night. He already knew he lost his friend, but he couldn’t dare think of how hard it was to lose his son. He would admit, he didn’t have a close connection with Virgil, and bowed down respectfully to his father before trailing off to the next house. Janus wanted the meeting to speed up, rather leaving to deliver the next letter before lunch than to remember the ex-friend that just died on the battlefield with the friend's father standing emptily on the porch. Even if Janus didn’t like Virgil, he would be a fool if he ignored the few happy times they did share. Janus would be a bigger fool if he denied that the same happiness would arrive again.

-*-

He went back on his bright bike, but didn’t speed off as quickly as the wrath of Mrs. Realeza. Instead, he rode slowly. He took his time, recollecting the memories of Virgil and taking his moments to remember him as a fallen man. It was ironic; their arguments were always about worth, and Janus can safely claim that Virgil held more worth. Despite his unnerving energy and negative views of the world, he also faced the challenges to prove something else entirely, and the yellow boy couldn’t help but respect that courage. It wouldn’t be long now; he’s counting the days till he can be in the battlefield and see Patton again.

His heart fluttered when he thought of Patton, a small smile curling in his lips and closed his eyes to imagine the soon-to-be encounter. What could he say? Oh how he missed him. He missed the golden curls, the baby blue eyes and toothy smile the other would wear a lot. He missed the blue shirt and grey cardigan hugging his shoulders, but Janus couldn’t wait to see him again in his military uniform, wearing it alongside him with pride. The boy didn’t notice he went off trail to the next house, and turned into a small corner to where it should be. A shortcut, in a sense.

Unlike the previous three letters, he didn’t recognise the next house as well. He only saw a boy walking inside it once from the way home from school, a year or two above his own. Janus only started high school whereas the other looked like he was attending for a while, far too tall for his already short legs.

Arriving at the house, he took a few minutes to gaze at the place before stepping foot to break the news. Familiarising himself with the neatly tended gardens and swing set on the porch, he also noticed how it was made from brick compared to the lazy wooden timbre for structure. An outdoor lamp sat coolly under the shade, small flickers of light bounced from the electricity the house swam with. He was far too distracted, never noticing the parents who chatted together near the fence of the front yard. Taking a glimpse of them, Janus could tell the older boy wasn’t just an ordinary student. With a house that looked neat, tidy and well mannered to his parents, Janus could assume he was rich.

The mother had her hair wrapped onto a bun, wearing an all black dress with a cardigan to protect her forearms. She had a large hat on top, with black and blue feathers puffing the look. The father looked no different, except for the dark blue tie and white shirt tucked under his black pants. If Janus had to guess, they looked rich; possibly a scientist or business owner. It would make sense if the older boy could continue learning for so long, since many high school dropouts like Janus had to quit from the lack of money to continue.

“We assume you’re the telegram boy?” The man asked, strolling over to him. “I’m afraid you’re a bit too late, since we just came home from his funeral.”

Too late?

“What has to come I say,” The mother said. “We would appreciate what his officers said though, check if he managed to make any colleagues while fighting.” She neatly folded a handkerchief she held onto a pocket of her dress. “Come inside, I’ll get us some biscuits to pass the time.”

Beckoning him to come, Janus propped his bike against the wooden fence and followed them past their blooming garden. It didn’t sit right inside him, as if he was intruding inside a home of someone who passed rather than like he was a guest. A little funny though… the parents didn’t seem so shocked or surprised by their son’s death, almost like they expected it to come.

China plates were displayed in the cabinet by the kitchen, which was down the hall from where they all entered. It was a big house, like it was small from the outside but bigger on the inside. Janus could spot the living room just a few metres away, with a fireplace and television - wait, television? How rich are they? He wanted to sneak away and inspect the television, never imagining to see one for himself. Of course, it would be considered rude, and he was named Janus Classy Sanders for a reason; named from Patton, who he wore the title with pride.

“We never thought he'd come back in the first place. Despite our protests for him to stay, he wanted to join anyway for the opportunities granted for him after. He even said if he died, we would collect the military funds he organised for us.” His father said when he strolled to the kitchen. Grabbing some drinks and glass, he settled them on the table and waited for the teenager to join them in the room. “We don’t even need the money, thinking of giving it away in fact.”

“Perhaps you’ll want it dear? You look like a smart boy. Would you say you wanna go to university? It would be nice for a kid from this town to go to one anyway if he wasn’t the one to do it - a shame, since you’re the only kid in this town left.” The mother quipped, changing from her black to a cosy blue. Janus blinked from the odd behaviour, but thought nothing of it.

“I stopped high school just a few months ago because we couldn’t afford the classes. Working for the money is fine,” He said.

“But we insist. Logan would’ve wanted the money to go towards an education than to nothing anyway - he was going to be a teacher you know? Teaching children who couldn’t afford schooling anymore.”

Logan?

“I mean, if it’s a good cause…” Janus trailed off. He would admit, he would like the money and actually finish what he wanted to be in the first place, a lawyer, and Patton always said to strive for opportunities if it meant for the better. “Would you both like the letter?” He asked.

“Oh sure,” Janus handed Logan’s father the letter first, waiting patiently as he scanned the letter from the officer first. A simple message, nothing grand or extravagant. “It seems he only had a letter from the officer, dear. No comments from anyone else, friend or colleague.”

Both Logan’s parents took a moment of silence, frowns evident in their faces. A sense of melancholy washed over the room, and Janus gulped down the unforgivable sadness. A tear welled up in their eyes before either of them could mutter, wiping them off quickly and returning to a blank, apathetic look they mustered in front of the telegram boy earlier.. “Shame…”

Janus bowed his head before taking his leave, after they explained how the funds would work. After the discussion however, Janus noticed the sun rising steadily north and bid them farewell, his mind curiously checking them from behind the walls to sense any distress. He knew some families held a ‘front’ in front of the boy, acting as if it’ll comfort him from the terrors and reality of war. His head sunk when he heard a female wail from behind closed doors, knowing this was the reality as well.

-*-

“One more letter, just one more,” he told himself when he got back to his bike. The seat was warm and the metal too hot to touch with bare skin, but he hummed when he picked the letter up to see who it was for. “I wonder who it’s for…” He sang the last line.

J. Sanders.

From: US military division, officer T. S.

Janus ceased his eyebrows when he noted the letter, ensuring it was a telegram instead of a normal letter. He knew it should be a telegram, delivering them to almost half his town, but he never received mail anyway. Not even Patton sent him letters for a few months now, so what could this mean? Strolling to the undercover shade with his bike, Janus plopped himself on a grassy hill nearby Logan’s house to read the letter. He should’ve probably given it to his mother, as it could’ve been a relative who had their tragic demise (although, did any of his family join the war?)

He took out the necklace that had Patton’s memory and clutched on it. At least it felt like he was there with him to read the letter alongside him; he was always better when it came for emotional support. Slowly tearing the letter open, he took note to keep the envelope in a decent condition, so if his mother were to read it later, then the letter should be nicely protected. The yellow mustard of a colour was boring into Janus’ mind, and he yanked the letter from the envelope before he could overthink the contents. The worst that could be was Patton, but that’s his mind spitting nonsensical ideas.

Opening the envelope, he slowly rubbed his thumb over the page, the ink print trailing over the touch. All he had to do was read the first letter of the note, and the strong, cold-fronted boy to other widows/vilomahs/orphans could now feel the same feeling of those who grieved: the loss of someone they deeply loved.

Janus. C. Sanders,

Patton Walds, a member and soldier of the US army in participation in WW2 is M.I.A. His father was killed in gunfire just a few weeks earlier, and is suspected Patton was missing since 1st November, 1942. If there was no letter written during those few months, then it is safe to claim he is missing in action. As a dear friend, it is to commemorate his loss, as it is recorded of his lack of family to write to. Contents are included in this letter, such as a necklace he disposed of before his missing report, as well as letters that were kept with that necklace.

Sorry for the loss, and may your prayers be heard.

Officer Lieutenant T. S.

Janus blinked quickly, a tear shedding onto the paper held in his hands. He quickly wiped his face to avoid smudging the ink, knowing his mother should read this with him later. A small cry left his mouth, his throat closing up and his breaths quickly pacing into short gasps. Patton - Patton, no, his friend, why? They were meant to meet just in a few months, they were so close to seeing each other again. Janus took a few deep breaths before he could empty the envelope’s contents, a letter and necklace left to show Patton’s last moments of existence. A pain gripped inside his chest, and he tugged on his hair when more thoughts of his disappearance flooded his mind. Why? Why?

A golden chain fell onto the lively grass, although it felt like nothing when Janus skimmed over the long blades of green. His touch felt numb against the chain, skipping the cool, cold chain and instead opened the locket that hung with the necklace. A photo of him was printed onto the locket, with Patton hugging him from behind. As he closed the locket, he trailed over the faint graving of a love heart printed onto the metal. He slid the locket off the chain, and took off his own necklace to add the new locket beside his. His photo of Patton, with a swirly snake engraved instead was together with the heart of his friend.

Janus picked up Patton’s last letter, his expression curled into a scowl when he whimpered out the pain inside him. The words became a blur to him, from both his watery vision and his mind’s struggle to comprehend the scenario, let alone the words printed on the page. He didn’t want to read it - he couldn’t read it. Soon a small wail tugged inside him, clenching his fists as he curled up into a small ball. He was alone in this remote town, the summer sky blazing over his dark clothing and slowly burning his skin. The boy didn’t care.

Now, he supposed; he knew how the other families felt. Logan’s parents were right, their words spat like facts instead of a simple statement. He is the only kid left in this town.

It was his turn to grieve.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #platonic/romantic moceit #Janus Sanders #Patton Sanders #remus sanders #Roman sanders #Virgil Sanders #Logan sanders #Ao3

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