#No beta we duck out like virgil

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Virgil McAlester x Plus Size, Gender Neutral, Criminal Surveillance, Reader

♤ Summary: Virgil shows up at your place, wounded again. You take care of him like always. And hope maybe this time you might get to keep him.

♤ Warning: blood, wound tending, unprotected sex, sort of friends with benefits to lovers... like if you squint... reader was oblivious to the feelings, non canon compliant.

♤ A/N: tagging @jozstankovich cuz i always do, and also @wifeofbath because you liked the post i made about it, so hopefully it's okay to tag you! 🩷 all mistakes are my own, no betas in this house we just post it and run. Oh! another thing, the non canon compliance is that i had him let the library lady live. Not because i think he would have, but mostly because it pissed me off that the movie killed her in the first place. So i changed that. He might be a little ooc but like... he was barely there and i can do whatever i want. 👍🏻😄👍🏻

🪡🩹🪡🩹🪡🩹🪡

The perimeter alarm beeps, drawing your attention from your painting. You lift your head and look at the wall of monitors to your left. You swing your legs out of bed and walk over, watching him shuffle slowly towards your door, he's hurt again then.

You sigh, settle your finger on the button and wait. You click it down as he reaches for the door buzzer, not letting him hit it. He drops his hand, looks up into the camera above the door and smiles.

He reaches for the door and you lift your finger, letting it lock so it doesn't move when he pulls on it. He doesn't look at the camera as he flips you off. You snort a laugh and click the button again, letting him in this time.

You walk to the bathroom, duck under the sink and grab the first aid kit, it's much bigger now than it was when you first got here. You had to upgrade when he decided he was going to be using you as his medic and not an actual doctor, or the weird mob doctor everyone else goes too.

You set the kit, now more of a duffle bag, on the end of the bed and walk to the kitchen. Filling a bowl with warm water as you wait for him to come through to your space.

It's essentially a warehouse you've fixed up into a living space. You have a bathroom and a kitchen semi separated from the main room. Your bed shoved against one wall, your desk and wall of monitors along the other. And a small space across from your bed with another smaller desk, for drawing and painting and whatever else you choose to do when you're not monitoring the movements of some criminal or another.

"Fuckin comedian you are." He says, in lieu of a greeting. You smile into the sink and slap the handle to turn it off when the bowl is full enough.

"Enjoy that did you?" You ask, grabbing one of the dark wash clothes you keep in a drawer specifically for him now, dark so the blood doesn't stain them. He hums as you walk back into the room, already pulling your singular desk chair closer to your bed. You elbow the switch on the wall, he squints as the room goes from nearly pitch black, save the glow from the monitors, to bright florescent.

"You should go into stand up." He grumbles, sighing as he falls slowly into the chair, being careful not to roll, his heels firm against the tile floor. You hum in response, mimicking his response from earlier.

"And miss out on all this?" You gesture to his face, which is bleeding, and his hand, also covered in blood.

"What fun would that be?" You ask, sarcasm dripping from your words as you set the bowl down gently on the edge of the bed, carefully not to spill it. He sniffs a laugh, his head hung low, chin resting against his chest, hair hanging in front of his wounded face. You frown, reach under his chin and lift his head, he looks up at you, mouth twitching into a quick smile before dropping again.

You push his hair out of his face and inspect the wound on his cheek. Bullet wound. Your heart hammers in your chest, palms sweating a bit.

"Close one." You say, trying to joke and missing by a mile, your voice tight. He nods. Says nothing. You take a deep breath and start cleaning. Wiping the blood from his skin in soft careful movements. The water in your bowl a filthy brown by the time his face is clean.

"Stitches first and then your hand? Or you want me to clean that first and then stiches?" You ask, hand on his shoulder. He frowns, flexes his fingers, grunts.

"Hand first." He says, voice tight.

"M'kay." You look to the bowl, then his hand, you scrunch your nose and tap his shoulder.

"C'mon. It'll be easier in the sink." You grab the bowl and carry it to the kitchen, poor the bloody water down the sink and get the water warm, only turning the pressure on about half way. You step aside and pull his hand forward, moving it under the water and rinsing the blood from his skin gently as he grimaces at each touch.

You dry his hand and face when you're done and both walk back to the bed. He plops back into the chair, hands firmly on the handles now, waiting for you.

He hisses through his stitches, tears falling down his face as your needle goes through his skin again and again. You stitch his hand too, and then wrap it.

"All done." You whisper, patting his knee. He breathes out hard, opens his eyes and looks up at you.

"Thanks." He sighs. You nod, and keep your eyes on him.

"You gonna shower?" You ask, he always does.

"Yeah." He says, eyes on you, making you incredibly aware of the fact that you're still in your pajamas, just shorts and t-shirt, but still.

"Okay. Be careful with your stitches, use the low pressure setting if you're gonna put your face in the water." You instruct, tucking supplies back into the duffle.

"Whatever you say doctor." He says, and you can hear his smirk. You keep your eyes on the duffle, only looking at him just as he ducks into the bathroom.

You hear the water turn on, wait til you hear the shower door open and click shut again, before your dig out some clothes for him, things he's left here over the last few years. A shirt here. Pants there. You'd cleaned them and tucked them away for safe keeping.

You place the folded shirt and underwear underneath a towel, and set it on the bathroom counter when tuck the duffle back into place. If he hears you come in he says nothing. If he feels you glance at him through the foggy glass, he says nothing.

You've been doing this dance for months now. This new dance. Tending his wounds had been normal, but a few months ago things had changed. At first he'd just stayed the night, lying in bed next to you, sleeping. You'd wake with him wrapped around you, snuggling into your soft body.

And then he'd kissed you. And then more. And more. And now you're here. Tending his wounds again and waiting to see how much he wants from you tonight.

You turn the lights back off on your way into the kitchen, letting darkness fill your space again, the way you like it. You feel safer in the dark. Always have. Tucked away in your space away from the world, where no one can see you, doing your work in the dark, finding and watching people no one else can find.

You clean the bowl and put it away again, toss the towels into the laundry and head to your desk. You look over the monitors for awhile. Nothing much going on. A few targets milling about on the late night streets. All of them heading home for the night it seems.

You click through a few more, checking on them. Nothing new. Everything where it should be. Everyone, where they should be.

"It's the middle of the night and you just happen to be wide awake?" His voice cuts through the humming of your screens.

"I'm always awake in the middle of the night." You keep your eyes forward.

"Isn't that why you come here?" You tilt your head to the side, finally looking at him. He's leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, damp hair smoothed back, arms crossed across his chest as he watches you, ankles crossed as well. He smiles, ducks his head.

He pushes off the wall and you look away, eyes going back to your screens, you pretend to watch people, though your eyes are unfocused. You feel him against your back before he speaks again.

"Not the only reason." He whispers, presses himself against you, firm chest flush against your back, hands gentle when they move to your hips.

"Does that make me special then? Providing first aid and fulfilling your other needs as well?" You hum, his fingers dig into your skin, tugging you closer.

"See. Fuckin comedian." He whispers into the skin of your neck, pressing soft kisses across your skin, his hands pushing your shirt up just enough so he can get his hands on the waistband of your shorts.

You sigh as your head falls back onto his shoulder, letting him take what he wants from you. His hand push your shorts down, nimble fingers moving between your soft thighs, pressing into the skin, telling you to spread your legs without words.

You do as you're told, always do when he gets like this. Needy like he can't get enough of you, can't touch enough of you fast enough, can't get you close enough.

He tugs your shirt up over your head, spins you around. Smiling at you briefly before pressing his lips to yours, soft at first and then more insistent, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lifts you and drops you on your own desk with a grunt, cursing from using his injured hand but not stopping.

He presses himself againt you, presses into you, a deep sigh falling past his lips, into your ear as he presses inside. His hands grabbing at your shoulders as his hips move against you. You claw at his back as he moves, he whines into your shoulder, his lips and teeth pressing into the skin there.

You lean back a little, to look at him, your hand moving to the side of his face that's not injured, pushing his hair out of the way to cup his cheek, thumb moving across his skin as his hips slow momentarily, his eyes locked on yours. You move, brushing your nose against his before kissing him, too soflty, probably. But he whines into it, chases it deeper, his hips stuttering.

You groan, squeeze your legs around him tighter, heels digging into his thighs, pulling him closer, deeper. He grunts into your mouth and then he's gone again, mouth at your shoulder like always. His hands on your thighs, fingers digging deep into the soft buttery skin there, tugging you impossibly closer, grinding into you deeper and deeper.

His teeth dig into your shoulder as you clench around him, heat filling you, crashing around you, as his hips stutter once more and he stills. Both of you breathing heavily as your grip on each other loosens, but you don't let go.

He laughs, breathless, into your shoulder, like he always does when he finishes. His lips pressing barley there kisses up to your cheeks, across your nose, and down the other side of your neck. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and just rests there, his softening cock still settled inside you.

You roll your hips once, smiling when he whimpers in your ear. You hold him try not to think about how he likes to watch the monitors rather than look at you when he's like this. Always looking over your shoulder when he takes you on the desk. And he always take you on the desk.

And normally you can ignore it, you say nothing. Just let him have you, however he wants you. Because it's enough. Having him this way. His hands smooth down your back and he presses a kiss behind your ear softly, as he pulls out, and you can't hold your tongue.

"Ya know I can get you a mirror if you wanna look at yourself so bad." You mutter, hands sliding from his back to brace yourself on the desk. He tenses for a moment and then pulls away from you slowly, hands resting on your thighs still. There's a mischievous glint in eyes that hurts.

His head tilts, studying you, you look away, grabbing your shirt and tugging it back on, you try to push him away so you can find your underwear and shorts, but he crowds against you again, calculating eyes still locked on you.

He leans close, his lips pressing to your ear and his other hand moves to the side of your head, holding you gently. He nuzzles against your cheek and huffs a laugh.

"It wasn't me I was lookin at." He whispers, presses a kiss to your temple and then he's gone. He bends and picks up his discarded shirt, wipes himself clean and then steps back between your legs, finds a clean spot on the shirt and wipes you clean as well. And then he fucking winks at you and walks away.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you find your clothes and tug them on.

You turn back to your screens, eyes on the one that was right behind you when he had you pressed to your desk. You see yourself, standing there looking at your monitors. You turn slowly, looking to the ceiling, the small camera you'd installed there blinking at you smuggly in the dark.

Your chest rises and falls heavily, heart and stomach fluttering as you realize. He'd been  watching you. Watching your face as he fucked you. Had been from the beginning. Your palms sweat, you place them flat on your desk as you hear your sheets rustle behind you.

"Coming to bed?" He asks, voice soft. Not gloating, the way you'd expected. You look over your shoulder at him, he's sitting on the edge, one leg hanging over the side, watching you. He jerks his head gently, inviting you to join him.

You nod, see him smile, and then crawl into bed next to him. Laying face to face in the dark, nothing but the glow of the screens casting light, and only on you. His face is in darkness, the screen behind him giving him and eerily glowing silhouette.

"You really didn't realize?" He breathes between you, reaching toward you, knuckles brushing your cheek. You shake your head. Too nervous to speak. You see the shadow of his head nod.

"Do you now?" He asks, thumb moving over your bottom lip. You shrug the shoulder not pressed again your mattress. He hums again, assessing, and then leans forward, up on his elbow, looking down at you, his hair falling in his face, curtaining you both in, he's so close.

"I come here for you. The other shit's just a bonus. Okay?" He asks, doesn't wait for an answer before he's kissing you, softly, and then lying back down. You say nothing.

"You believe me?" He asks, moving his head against the pillow, the sheets rustling.

You look at him in the dark, thinking back over the last few year. The way he started staying. The way he asked to see your art. Asked about the music you like. Asking all sorts of questions he didn't need too, nothing personal at first. Not in your line of work. It wasn't done. Until it was.

He'd asked about your family, if you had a nice childhood. All sorts of questions. You hadn't answered them all, but it hadn't felt like he was fishing for information. It had felt like he was curious, trying to figure you out. For himself, not for someone else. You close your eyes, reach out and take his hand in the dark.

"I believe you." You say, he squeezes your hand, and even in the low light, you can see him smiling.

You lay in the dark for a long while. Your eyes closing and opening again slowly, both of you moving your fingers against each other. His voice is impossibly soft when he speaks.

"I almost killed someone tonight." He says, voice heavy with emotion. You squeeze his hand, knowing nothing you say will help. You hear him swallow, his throat clicking in the dark across from you.

"I couldn't do it. I mean we fought. And I could have. I had her. But then," he breathes shakily,

"This fucking book fell out her pocket. That one you're always rereading. With that little fuckin guy, lives in a hole. Fights a dragon or some shit?" He sounds frustrated, his hand shaking in yours.

"The Hobbit?" You ask, a small smile curling your lips even though it's not a happy thing he's telling you. You hear him snap his fingers, his free hand pointing at you in the dark.

"Yeah. That. It fell out of her pocket and I couldn't- I just froze. It made me think of you and I couldn't do it." He shrugs, shoulders bouncing in the dark.

"I knocked her out. Took the kid. This girl. Couldn't have been more than 8. I didn't like that either. Kids." He shakes his head, breathes out hard.

"I couldn't even stay at the diner. Said I had some shit to do for the family. Something to clear up. I dunno. I couldn't stay there. Not if they were gonna hurt that kid." He shakes his head again and rolls onto his back, the light from the screens illuminating his face now. You can see tears, one of them falls down his face from the corner of his eye. You reach out and wipe it away, he leans into your touch.

"I didn't like that. I don't wanna go back." He whispers, grabbing at your hand when you begin to pull it back. He keeps ahold of it, rests it on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat, steady, but fast. You close your eyes, thinking of the bullet that nearly killed him today, your heart thundering in your own chest, the fast rhythm matching the one you feel under your hand.

"So stay here." He turns his head, looks at you.

"For awhile. You don't have to go back right away." You shrug, move closer, he moves to accommodate you, shoves his arm under you and tugs you close, buries his nose in your hair as you settle on his shoulder.

"Just stay here. With me." You whisper, hand resting on his ribs tugging him closer. You hear him sigh, his fingers tapping out a gentle rhythm on your arm.

"Maybe I will." He breathes, rubbing your arm, settling in closer to you, pressing a kiss into your hair.

"Won't be able to get rid of me." He whispers. You smile against his chest.

"Hmm. I dunno. You're pretty small. I think I could take you." You argue, all fondness. He snorts, squeezes you, his hand resting on the soft roll of your side.

"I'm sure you could." He agrees, sounding exhausted. You lift up on your elbow and look at him, his eyes barely staying open as they look at you.

"Sleep. And stay." You kiss the corner of his mouth. His cheeks dimple with a smile, eyes finally closing and staying that way, smile fading slowly.

"Okay. Yeah. I'll stay." He sighs, falling to sleep as you watch him. You brush a stray peice of hair off his face and settle back down against him. Drifting off on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you tight.

He'll wake you in the morning with a soft kiss and cheeky grin, having been watching you sleep. Always watching you. Always has been watching you.

And he'll stay.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Symbiotic Mutualism

Mutualism; a relationship between two different kinds of organisms that benefits both.

Pairing: platonic moceit

Word count: 896

Warnings: a pushy failed blind date, but nothing happens

Notes: part of my MPD verse

for @lighthouseinagardenofstars

thank you to @teacupfulofstarshine for beta reading

---

“I will give you four dollars and a really good croissant if you let me hide in here.”

Devin blinked in confusion at the cherubic, wind-flushed hobbit who’d just entered his store, who was currently glancing nervously over his shoulder and looking like he was on the run from a pack of wolves.

Making a split second decision, he gestured firmly for the hobbit to come behind the counter  (he didn’t think he had time to explain the curse, so talking wasn’t going to be helpful at the moment), earning a relieved smile. The hobbit darted behind Devin, who turned back to the dried and powdered flowers display next to the register, looking surreptitiously out of the corner of his eyes at the door.

A man walked past, looking searchingly around him, even going so far as to cup his hands to the glass front windows and scowl inside. He didn’t see Devin’s hidden charge, visibly slumping in frustration, and huffed out what was most likely an inaudible curse word before stalking further down the street.

“Ex?” he said, not looking up (just in case the searcher suddenly came back).

“Blind date,” said the hobbit.

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

“Condolences.”

“Is he gone?”

“I’m surely going to have an easy time answering that before you’ve looked at my curse bracelet.”

The hobbit visitor simply appeared next to him in that startling way hobbits often did, as if he’d materialized from nothing. He peered around Devin’s shoulder, and Devin helpfully raised his wrist so the bracelet could be read.

“Okay, I’m up to date!”

“In that case, no, he’s right outside the door.”

The hobbit giggled, before offering a hand for a shake.

“Thanks so much!” he said cheerfully. “I’m Patton. What’s your name?”

“It’s not Devin. And I’m certainly not at all curious as to what your blind date could have done to make himself so distasteful you hid from him that quickly.”

“The date was actually last night,” said Patton. “And it wasn’t that bad, we just didn’t hit it off, and I said so in the text I sent him after. But he showed up to my work today and bothered me through my whole shift, and then he tried to follow me home after I got off.”

“Totally not completely terrifying.”

“I know right?” said Patton. “He’s lucky my brother wasn’t working today, Virgil might have literally stabbed him.”

“Doesn’t sound like my kind of solution.”

“Thank you so much for letting me hide!” said Patton, pulling out a lunch box from seemingly nowhere.

“It was very troubling,” said Devin, waving a hand dismissively.

“Here’s your croissant!”

“I want it,” said Devin. “It was a huge inconvenience to let you duck behind my counter for three minutes. I’ll be taking your lunch.”

“I have two!” Patton chirped, holding out the napkin-wrapped croissant insistently. Devin was surprised – normally the longer he spoke, the more trouble people had parsing what he was trying to say, but Patton didn’t seem confused or put out by having to decipher it. He hadn’t even mentioned Devin’s curse since he read the bracelet.

“Fine,” said Devin, taking the pastry and nibbling on the corner. “... Unholy shit.”

“I know, right?” said Patton smugly. “Me and my brother are so good.”

“You didn’t make this,” said Devin incredulously.

“Sure did! Apothecafe, down the street, it’s me and my brother’s coffee shop and bakery. Patton Cottonwood, at your service.”

“I’ve had a chance to try it out.”

“Well, that won’t do!” exclaimed Patton. “All my friends get half off treats!”

“Oh, really?” laughed Devin’s, “Is this how you normally make friends?”

“Oh definitely not, normally I’m the one doing the rescuing,” said Patton, in a very over-the-top way and a twinkle in his eye that made Devin think he was being sarcastic in a strangely saccharine way. “I’m a regular superhero, just look at me. Can’t you tell?”

Devin looked him up and down, all four-feet-something of him, springy brown curls and golden skin with pink-apple cheeks and a smile like a storybook character.

“Oh, definitely,” he deadpanned.

Patton let out a trill of a giggle.

“Gimme your phone,” he said, shaking his hand insistently. “I’ll put my number in and you can text me when you’re coming into the bakery! I’ll be sure to find something you like on the menu.”

“You’re not at all presumptuous you know,” said Devin, even as he did capitulate by unlocking and handing over his phone.

“I’ve been told I make friends like a steamroller!”

“An inaccurate comparison.”

Patton handed Devin’s phone back and trotted toward the door.

“I gotta head home, chores to do, but text me!” said Patton. “Treats! Half off! I am not above bribing you to be my friend!”

“You’re not very strange, Patton Cottonwood.”

“You’re stuck with me now so you better get used to iiiiit!” sing-songed Patton, darting out the door with a jingle of the bell and half-jogging down the street in the direction he’d come from.

“What a normal little creature,” Devin muttered to himself.

He glanced down at the contact in his phone.

‘Your New Best Friend Patton.’

Rolling his eyes, Devin changed it and texted a screenshot to him, getting a long string of laughter emojis in response.

‘Patton (Nuisance)’

Patton replied with another screenshot, and Devin couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Snake Boi 🐍’

[liemonyellow]

no salvation for me now

read on ao3

Summary:  Janus isn't having a great day. The others help.

Ships: Platonic DRLAMP

Warnings: Mild swearing

Janus pulled the soft, plush blanket over his head, curling up into a tight ball in the middle of the pile of comforters and stuffed animals he called a bed.

Better. He supposed he could just turn off the AC, but it was too hot even for him, and he preferred covering up in the cold to having to cool himself down when the warmth became too unbearable. It wasn’t like he could crawl out of his own skin, as Remus often suggested.

A stray fabric tentacle from one of his many octopus plushies - all gifts from Remus, and all of which he adored, of course - was digging into his side, its lumpiness an unwelcome sensation keeping him awake when all he wanted was to fall asleep and not wake up for at least a week. The very thought made him want to punch his pillows again; he’d slept quite well the previous few days, so why was he still so fucking tired!?

He knew why.

He hated the reason.

Janus turned over on his other side, yanking the offending plush limb from underneath him and shoving it aside. Reaching for his phone, he checked the time. It was two in the afternoon and he had far too many notifications. Thank the lord for silent mode.

Peeking out from under his blanket, Janus saw strips of yellowish light streaming in through the gaps in his curtains. Normally, he’d be fine napping in broad daylight but right now he wanted darkness. He groaned, and his stomach growled with him.

His attempted nap was officially a lost cause. Dragging himself out of bed, Janus thrust his feet into his slippers and stood, stretching out his arms. He didn’t bother changing into his usual outfit and left his room for the first time that day, ignoring the quaint little color-coded post-it notes the others had left on his door wishing him a nice day or hoping he’d feel better soon or whatever. He was not in the mood for sympathy or socialization right now, even indirectly.

It was even cooler out in the main house, with the AC going full blast to combat the humid heat. The others didn’t have weird issues with temperature like Janus did, and he didn’t begrudge them for it. He could always put on more layers, after all, and the living room had been amassing a rather impressive array of blankets, throws, afghans, and other such sundries for a while now. The twins claimed it was for impromptu blanket fort construction and their subsequent blanket fort pillow wars, but Janus had yet to see any such happenings. It would only be a matter of time, knowing them, but so far Janus was the only one to make any use of the collection at all, and solely for their intended function as warming implements.

As expected, everyone else was in the living room, and they all looked up when he entered. He greeted them with a curt nod before heading straight for the kitchen. No one stopped him, or tried to talk to him. Janus wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He decided he preferred it over the alternative, for now.

Nothing looked appetizing, despite how hungry he was. But he had to eat, so he grabbed a couple slices of sandwich bread and toasted them. He slathered on the butter because fuck it, he wanted to, and scarfed them both down in what had to be less than a second. There. Fed.

Janus grabbed a clean cup from the clean cup cupboard and filled it halfway with water, then drained it in one go. Hydrated. What now?

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do, for who knew how long. It wasn’t until he heard a small cough that he vacantly turned his head to see Patton giving him a nervous smile.

“Hey, Jan. Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft. Patton stood just the slightest bit slouched over, either from trying to peek at Janus’ expression or to seem unthreatening. It didn’t really matter which.

Janus shrugged, his eyes returning to stare at the empty countertop.

“Can I touch you? Do you want a hug or something?”

Janus shrugged again, but didn’t jerk away from Patton’s light fingertips on his shoulder like he would have if he were truly averse. Nor did he lean into the touch, as he would have if he were having difficulty asking for it. He honestly just didn’t care.

“Is this okay?”

Janus didn’t feel like answering, but managed a nod. Patton’s hand came to rest fully on his shoulder.

“Why don’t we move into the living room? We can keep quiet if it helps.”

Janus dispassionately followed the guidance of Patton’s hand on his shoulder, staring at the floor as he dragged his feet across it and into the living room. He didn’t really see where he was going, trusting Patton to navigate him safely onto the sofa.

There was murmuring and soft chatter around him as Janus realized Patton had deposited him in the middle of the big couch, and that the others were giving him space to breathe. They were careful not to touch him too much or too firmly, moving slowly and deliberately so they wouldn’t startle him.

Virgil put a hand on his knee, squeezing it gently. Janus turned to look at him, getting a small, encouraging smile in exchange. Janus went back to staring at his knees.

Something soft was draped over his shoulders. Janus sat there, unmoving, as someone tugged it more tightly around him before coming around to sit down on his other side. Logan. He held another, folded-up blanket. He set it aside, in case Janus wanted it later, and held Janus’ hand.

Roman wrapped his arms around Janus’ shoulders from behind him, muttering something softly that Janus didn’t catch. He pressed a kiss into Janus’ hair, then slowly moved away to sit beside Logan, wrapping an arm around him to rest a warm hand on Janus’ shoulder.

It didn’t take long for Remus to get there, though if it did, Janus hardly noticed any time passing. He and Patton had brought them all refills. Janus hadn’t even noticed the untouched, now-tepid mug of hot cocoa set before him on the coffee table until just now, when Remus set another one down for him. Remus spun around to scoop Janus up - very gently, for Remus - and sat down in Janus’ spot, setting Janus down on his lap and cradling him.

After they saw that Janus wasn’t uncomfortable with the new situation, Roman started grumbling about the interruption, only settling down once he re-established contact with Janus. Patton had also somehow squeezed into the narrow space between Virgil and Remus, cuddling Remus’ side, a hand placed comfortingly in the crook of Janus’ elbow. Janus’ legs ended up laid across Patton and Virgil’s laps, and which Virgil immediately claimed with a repeated, soothing caress, though whether for Janus’ sake or because he liked the way the silky fabric felt was up for debate. Virgil would deny both either way, knowing Janus knew the truth.

Surrounded by the people who loved him most, Janus’ eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep, safe at last.

[anxious-logic]

Buddy Up

my gift for @8beez for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! this was super fun to work on, i hope you like it!!

thanks to @snowdice for being a rubber duck for me to bounce ideas off of, and @edupunkn00b for betaing!

Ships: platonic Janus/Remus/Logan, familial Remus/Roman, familial Virgil/Logan, familial Janus/Patton

Word count: 2,672

AO3 rating: G

Warnings: second-grade bullying of main characters, crying child, anxiety attack, skeletons (dinosaurs, in a science museum), brief passing mention of "insides in jars" (in a scientific/educational context)

Summary: Janus didn’t like field trips very much. Most of the other kids loved them, he knew, but when he went on them he was stuck with too many loud, excited kids who made it impossible to hear what they were supposed to be learning, and reminded him how much more interested he was in actual school and learning than everyone else. He didn’t have a lot of hope for this field trip being much more fun than what he was used to.

...But maybe that would change.

~~~

“Okay, listen up everyone!” Thomas called out. He glanced down at his clipboard, which had all of the buddy pairings listed. “We’re going to do the buddy system today, and I’m going to give everyone a buddy. Okay?”

He looked up to scan over the bus full of antsy, excited second graders, noting the especially rowdy groups and the few solitary, quiet students. He noticed Janus looking especially forlorn, and hoped that going to the museum would cheer him up. He'd been buddied with Danny, a student from Emile’s class - Thomas didn't know him, but Emile said he was outgoing and he trusted Emile's judgment. “I’m going to read off the list now, so I need everyone to pay very close attention.”

Thomas read off the list of buddy pairs, trying to do it quickly enough that the students could get in the museum but slowly enough that all of them knew who their buddy was.

“Raise your hand if you don’t know who your buddy is,” he called anxiously after going down the list. Only two of the students raised their hand in confusion, which Thomas decided to call a win. This was the first field trip of the year, and the first time Thomas had ever led a field trip, so he was feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Okay, everyone,” he said after clarifying for those two. “When you get off the bus, Mr. E is going to put this bracelet on you. Don’t take it off, okay? It’s how we know you’re ours, so we won’t lose you with another school.”

There was a general noise of agreement from the students.

“Now let’s get off the bus, find our partner, and go inside!” Thomas announced.

The bus exploded with noise and action as the students all stood up, chattering excitedly to each other. Thomas did a headcount as Emile fastened the admission bracelets, carefully cutting the excess off of the students with the smallest wrists.

“This should be a fun time, shouldn’t it?” Emile smiled at Thomas as he stood up.

“As long as nobody gets hurt or left behind, I’m going to call it a success,” Thomas laughed back.

---

Janus knew Danny didn’t like him.

Danny had other friends, ones he actually played with at recess. They played football, and kickball, and baseball, and pretend, and even though they were all in Mr. E's class they all knew to make fun of him already.

“C’mere, dumb face!”

Janus winced and looked up to where Danny was scowling at him, arms crossed.

“I’m coming,” he mumbled, slowly following Danny into the museum.

He didn’t like field trips very much. Most of the other kids loved them, he knew, but when he went on them he was stuck either with too many loud, excited kids who made it impossible to hear what they were supposed to be learning, or one kid who constantly reminded him how much everyone else didn’t like him, and how much more interested he was in actual school and learning than everyone else. He didn’t have a lot of hope for this field trip being much more fun than what he was used to.

“I’m going to the dinosaurs,” Danny announced when he saw the skeleton suspended from the ceiling. “Come with me.”

Janus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath so he wouldn’t start crying. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see the dinosaurs, because he did! It was that he wanted to look closely at the skeletons and learn everything he could, not just yell about how cool the big dinosaurs were and call the little ones lame.

He walked into the dark exhibit room, quickly trying to figure out which of the skeletons was the most interesting. He wouldn’t have much time before Danny decided he wanted to go somewhere else, so he’d have to be smart.

He moved over to where a weird, fish-looking skeleton was displayed, and began sounding out the words on the sign in front of him. He’d only gotten a few sentences in, since the name of the dinosaur was weird and long, when Danny came up to him again.

“I’m going with my friends,” he announced. “You stay here, with your weird face. I don’t wanna be stuck with you all day.”

Janus felt his eyes start to fill with tears as Danny turned back to his friends, who had tagged along near him, and walked out of the exhibit room, leaving Janus alone.

No. Danny couldn’t do that, now Janus would get in trouble because he was alone and they weren’t supposed to be alone, and he would get lost and left behind and then he’d never get back to school and he’d be here forever and ever and—

“Are you okay?”

Janus sucked in a breath as he looked up to the voice. He was sitting on the floor, he realized, and he was crying. A kid he didn’t know was standing in front of him, head tilted in curiosity. He was wearing a fancy tie, which Janus thought was a little weird to wear on a field trip but didn’t want to say out loud. Another boy, who had a gray stripe in his hair like some of Janus’s dad’s old people friends, was standing behind him. Janus would have said that out loud, except he knew not everyone could control everything about how they looked and he thought maybe it would make him feel bad so he’d keep it in his head. Both of the boys were wearing the bright green bracelets Mr. E had put on everyone’s wrists when they got off the bus, but since Janus didn’t know them, they must’ve been from Mr. E’s class.

“No,” Janus sniffled. “I- my buddy left me, cause he doesn’t like me and my face is weird and I like to read too much and-”

“It’s gonna be okay,” the second kid said stubbornly, sitting down on the floor and scooting himself closer to Janus. “I’m Remus, and this is Logan. And we can be your buddies now, because we don’t care about your face and Logan likes to read a lot too.”

Janus looked between Remus and Logan. “...Really?”

Remus nodded again, the movement so large he almost fell over. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Janus said hesitantly. “My name’s Janus.”

Logan’s face brightened. “Like the god?”

Janus’s mouth dropped open. “You know that story?” Most kids just made fun of him for having an old lady name, even though that wasn’t what his name was and it made him feel bad.

“Yes!” Logan bounced excitedly. “Janus was the god of doorways, and starting and finishings, and he had two faces and that’s cool because so do you but not really?”

His sentence ended like a question, and Janus hesitantly raised a hand to touch the vitiligo-covered side of his face. “Thanks,” he said shyly. “Most people think it’s weird.”

“Nuh-uh!” Remus jumped in. “It’s cool.”

Janus hesitantly smiled at both of them, wiping his nose and eyes and standing up. “Um— where do you guys wanna go?”

“I wanted to look here at the dinosaurs,” Remus said excitedly, jumping onto his feet too. “Because dinosaurs are related to chickens and I wanna know if I can make chickens carn-eye-voras like dinosaurs!”

“Um, carnivores,” Logan said hesitantly. “That’s an animal that only eats meat.”

“Right, that,” Remus said excitedly. “Do you wanna look around with us?”

Janus glanced back at the sign for the fish-looking dinosaur. “I, um- I kinda wanted to finish reading this?”

Remus tilted his head at the sign, then glanced at the skeleton behind it. He gasped in excitement. “Wait, dinosaurs could swim?!”

Janus nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh, this one could! It’s a spin-oh-soar-uhs, and it’s the only dinosaur that could swim.”

“Woah,” Remus whispered in amazement. He moved closer to the sign, squinting at the words written on it. “Lo-lo, can you help?”

“Mhm!” Logan stepped closer, adjusting the black glasses frames on his face. “Okay, so the—um, this dinosaur, could swim and mostly ate fish. It didn’t always live in the water, but it spent a may-jor-it-eye of time in it.”

“That’s so cool.” Remus peered at the model that was sitting behind the glass.

“…D’you wanna look at some of the others?” Janus asked hesitantly, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Yes!” Remus yelled in excitement. He tilted his head at the way Janus flinched back. “Um, should I try to keep my voice quieter? I know my brother says I can be too-much for some people and I need to work on it sometimes.”

Janus snuck a glance at Logan, who was solemnly watching Janus. He didn’t give any indication of what to do, so Janus looked back at Remus.

“Um- you don’t have to, because I know it’s hard sometimes and I don’t want to get in trouble for not having a buddy,” he mumbled.

“But do you want me to?”

“…Yes?” Janus quickly looked up at Remus, then back down at his feet.

“Okay. I’m sorry for being loud, and I will try to keep my inside voice on and my outside voice off.” Remus nodded firmly, then turned back to Logan. “What’re some of the other cool dinosaurs here?”

---

Janus wiggled excitedly in the bus seat as he saw the trees surrounding the school. He’d been talking to Remus and Logan when they first got on the bus, but then Remus fell asleep and Logan asked if he could read his book so Janus just watched out the window and thought about what he’d tell his dad when he got picked up.

“Okay, everyone,” Mr. Thomas announced as the bus slowly came to a stop in front of the school. “Grab your backpacks and anything else, check your seats to make sure you’re not forgetting anything, and let’s slowly file off the bus, okay? It’s almost 3:30, so we’ll stay out here until your parents get here.”

Janus nudged Logan. “We’re here,” he told him.

Logan looked up, surprised. “Oh, I didn’t realize we’d be here so soon.”

Janus giggled. “It’s been hours and hours and hours!”

Logan frowned a little. “I don’t think it’s been that long. We left the museum at two, and school ends at three thirty, so that’s an hour and a half at the most longest time.”

Janus tilted his head. “Oh. It felt like a long, long time.”

Logan shrugged, putting his book in his backpack and turning to Remus. “Remus? You have to wake up now,” he said, shoving him just a little.

Remus let out a dramatic snore, making Janus giggle. “I’m still asleep,” he announced.

“Sleeping people don’t talk!” Janus gently poked him in the tummy, and Remus shrieked with laughter, squirming away.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake!” Remus sat up, his hair sticking up from laying on the window. He grabbed his backpack, peeking in it to make sure he had everything.

“Ready to go?” Logan asked, looking to either side and ducking to check under the seat in front of them for anything else.

“Yep!” Remus exclaimed.

“Mhm, I’m ready,” Janus confirmed.

As they walked off the bus, Janus searched the parking lot for his dad’s car.

“I wanna have my dad meet you,” he said to Logan and Remus.

“Ooh, ooh, my older brother too!” Remus piped in.

Logan pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. “My dad too.”

“Are either of them here yet? Mine, um, I don’t see the car in the parking lot.”

“Um—” Remus craned his neck, standing on his toes. “Yes yes yes! Roman!”

Janus jumped at the sudden yell from Remus, and Logan ducked to avoid the backpack that Remus hadn’t put on his back before waving his arms excitedly.

“Hey there, Remus, how was the field trip?” A man - Roman, Janus assumed, came up to Remus, gently taking his backpack from him.

“It was so cool and I met Janus, he’s really nice!” Remus said quickly. He turned to Janus. “This is Roman and he’s the most amazingest big brother in the whole world and he plays Castle with me really good!”

Roman scooped him up. “Well, I’m glad you think so, Duke Remus.” He turned to Logan and Janus and gave a dramatic bow, making Remus shriek with laughter as he almost fell. “I am glad to meet you, Lord Janus. And it is good to see you again, Head Researcher Logan.”

Logan gave him a shy smile. “Hi.”

Janus waved a hand, not sure what more to do.

“So, what did you do at the museum?” Roman asked Remus.

“Oh oh oh! We saw the dinosaurs, and those were cool, and Logan said that maybe we could make chickens be, um, carniv-orous, but it could be hard, and then we saw the string so we could see how sound works and-”

Janus tuned Remus out as he turned back to the parking lot, watching for his dad. He perked up when he saw the dark blue car turn into the parking lot.

“My dad’s here!” he announced, looking over at the other three. “I’m gonna go get him so he can meet all of you.”

“Okay!” Remus said excitedly. “Um, can I go down please?” he asked Roman, who set him on the ground.

Janus watched his dad pull into a space, then waited until he got out of the car before waving. “Daddy! Over here!”

His dad brightened. “Hey, kiddo!” He looked both ways—just like he’d taught Janus—before crossing the parking lot to get to where Janus was standing on the sidewalk. “How was the field trip?”

“It was super fun! Not at first, because Danny left me because of my face so I didn’t have a buddy, but then I met Logan and Remus, and I want you to meet them too, and Logan really liked the insides that were in jars, even though I thought it was kinda gross, but he didn’t make me stay for super long there because he said he knows that some things make people feel icky and he didn’t make me want to feel like that, and Remus really liked the dinosaurs too and he’s kinda weird but in a really good way and—”

Janus continued chattering as he led his dad to where Remus, Roman, Logan, and another grown-up, who was wearing a black and purple jacket, were standing.

“This is Remus,” Janus said, pointing to him. “And this is Logan, and Roman who’s Remus’s big brother, and um—I don’t know him, but I think he’s Logan’s dad, and this is my dad and everyone’s really fun and awesome and they’re my friends now even though they’re in Mr. E’s class so we can’t see each other that much at school.”

Janus’s dad smiled at Logan and Remus. “Hey there, kiddos, it’s nice to meet you! I’m glad you and Janus had fun together.” He looked up at Roman and the other grown-up. “My name’s Patton, how are you?”

Janus turned to Logan. “Is this your dad?”

Logan nodded. “Mhm, he’s really smart, he makes computer software and has a super special computer for it and I wanna do that when I grow up too!”

“Um—okay,” Janus said. He didn’t really know what that meant, but if Logan said it was cool then it must be because Logan was cool too. “Um- um- I really like you guys and wanna have a play date so should we ask if we can?”

Remus gasped, his eyes going wide. “Yes yes yes!” He turned to Roman, pulling on his shirt. “Can we have a play date sometime?”

Roman looked to the other grown-ups. “Fine with me if it is with you?”

The others nodded.

“Looks like we’ll get to know each other pretty well,” Logan’s dad said as he took out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers?”

Janus turned back to Remus and Logan, beaming.

He couldn’t wait to spend more time with his new best friends.

~~~

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this!

[edupunkn00b]

Punks, Poets, Parents

Ch. 1 Attitude - Next - Master Post - [ A03 ]

Rated M - WC: 2172 - CW: Swearing, alcohol Written for the Thomas Sanders Big Bang creative event and will feature some awesome art by @vianadraws (here) and @briandthemoon (here). Beta read by @naminethewriter, @treeni, and @typically-untypical

Don’t care what you may say We got that attitude! Don’t care what you may do We got that attitude! - Attitude, Bad Brains

Fic playlist on Spotify ---

Thursday, October 6, 1983 - New York City

Remus was half-way down the cement steps when he heard the whine of the subway and felt the rush of hot air that signaled a train was starting to pull into the station. Judging by the direction of the sound, it was on his side of the platform. He ran the rest of the way down, tightening the strap on the bass case on his back and fishing in his pocket for a subway token. He sprinted to the turnstile, dropping in the token and pushing through the big yellow barrier just as the train doors opened.

Happily relying on the ignorance of strangers, he smiled. People only saw a tall man in spiked leather and bright green hair and hurried to get out of his way as he ran for the closest open door. They never considered he was just another hamster in the wheel, trying to get somewhere on time. His heel had just cleared the doors when they closed with a thunk and the train began to move. Grinning wildly, Remus grabbed a pole just in time to avoid being thrown in the lap of the closest passenger as the train jolted to a start.

---

Logan stepped out of his tiny bedroom into the equally tiny living room. Patton dropped his feet off the edge of the coffee table a half-second after he entered the room. Logan raised an eyebrow at his little brother, who flashed his trademarked ‘I’m too cute to hate’ grin. He shook his head but was unable to completely suppress his smile. Quickly he scooted past the television, heading to the kitchen for one last sip of coffee before leaving for this evening’s performance.

Patton peeled his eyes from Schneider’s antics on the television, finally registering Logan’s concert attire. "Ooohh… I really like that shade of blue! It brings out your eyes!"

Bowing his head slightly in thanks, Logan tilted his head at Patton, pocketing his keys and wallet. "Are you quite certain you do not wish to join me tonight? I expect this performance to be quite compelling. I am confident we can purchase another ticket at the door."

"Nah, you have fun! I’m making an early home visit tomorrow and I'm feeling like an old drum…" Patton grinned and danced his shoulders back and forth, waiting for the groan his pun was certain to earn.

Instead, all he got was an indulgent smile and a sigh. "Would that be because you are figuratively 'beat?’"

Patton threw his head back and giggled, clapping his hands. "Who says you're no good at puns?"

“An understanding of the root of a pun does not necessitate an appreciation for the so-called humor of a given pun,” Logan replied dryly. “I have noticed a marked similarity between your favored style of puns and those practiced by my first graders.” Logan winked, in too good of a mood to maintain his feigned annoyance. Patton laughed and ducked as Logan reached out to muss his little brother's hair on his way to the door. After checking his pockets one more time, Logan crouched to tie his laces. ”Turn off the t.v. before you go to bed, all right? And keep the door locked, please. I have my key."

"You got it, Warden. Have fun!"

---

Hilly Kristal poked his head into the tiny, sticker-lined green room behind the stage at CBGB's. “You’ve drawn quite a crowd tonight, boys! Can you hear them?”

Virgil sat cross-legged on the counter in the corner, applying and reapplying his stage make-up in front of a small mirror he held with one hand. He frowned and made a face at Hilly. “Don’t remind us.”

Roman grinned broadly and stood behind his boyfriend, waiting for him to put down the eye pencil before wrapping his arms around him, pressing a kiss against his neck. “Oh, you know the crowd loves you, Vee.” He gripped Virgil’s chin, gently turning his head so their eyes could meet. “It’s almost enough to make me jealous….”

Blushing and fighting the grin pulling at his lips, Virgil returned to his make-up, muttering, “Oh, shut up,” without malice. Roman’s smile only grew and he released the drummer and allowed him to continue his preparations. Virgil turned and eyed the lead singer’s skin tight red leather pants, ripped shirt that revealed more than it covered, and velvet cape draped dramatically over one shoulder. “You know everyone in the audience is just going to drool over you, Ro.”

“He’s got you there, Ro Bro.” Remus leaned against the doorway, half-watching their flirtation and half-listening to the markedly louder crowd in the main area of the club. “What do you think tonight’s take is, Hilly?”

Hilly lit a cigarette and smiled. “It's looking like double last week's.” He blew a puff of smoke away from Remus’ face. “Word is out on you boys.” He took another drag on the cigarette before checking his watch. “You’re up in ten minutes.” Hilly turned to leave, calling and laughing over his shoulder, “Just remember who gave you your start, yeah?”

Shaking his head, Remus picked up his bass and checked the tuning. Roman started his round of warmups, chugging a sports drink and muttering about red and yellow leather. Remus rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. You can take the kid out of the theatre….

They were half-way through their set and Roman signaled to Remus to start their new song. Remus swallowed hard. This was their first song he had written completely on his own and Roman stepped away from the mic, letting Remus take lead vocals. He heard Virgil step down the tempo slightly, starting the familiar beat of his song. Looking down at his battered instrument, Remus started picking out the bass line. The light vibrations from the steel strings buzzed through his arms and against his hips before being amplified through the speakers surrounding the stage. He closed his eyes, letting the pounding drums meld together with the bass, listening as Roman picked up the melody on his guitar.

Slowly, the tension, the crowd, his anxieties, it all just melted away and all that was left was the music pulsing out through his fingertips and out in the universe. He opened his eyes and stepped closer to the microphone, lips brushing against the mesh, feeling his mustache scrape across the top. He started to sing.

How can you Even see me When I can’t see myself

His voice started in his signature low rasp, which, as Roman would point out, repeatedly, wasn’t strictly singing. One late night, hours into a marathon rehearsal session, Remus had finally lost his temper and shouted at his brother, “Well what the fuck would you call it, then, Manilow?”

Roman sputtered, “It—it sounds like you’re—” his face matched his signature cape and he turned his back to Remus, draining the last of the beer next to his mic stand.

Finally Virgil interjected, muttering to Remus, “Just let it go, man. Let it go." He'd tapped out a rhythm on the snare. "C'mon, let’s pick up right before the bridge….”

Shaking off the memory, Remus sang the next verse.

How can you Even see me When I can’t be myself

Remus looked out into the audience. As expected, all eyes were drawn to his brother. Remus glanced over and saw Roman swinging his hips, hands dancing up and down the neck of his guitar, ever the showman, even when he wasn’t singing lead. Remus swiveled back to face the mic. He’d been mistaken. Roman hadn’t captured every set of eyes in the audience.

Near him, standing just a few feet away from the lip of the stage, was a guy in tight jeans, a black, long-sleeved flannel, and knee high Doc Martens. His neck was draped with thin chains and he had spiky electric blue hair. His eyes never strayed from Remus.

All alone When I’m walkin’ Right through the glimm’ring light

Remus kept his gaze for a moment, watching as Blue’s eyes grew at that verse, before looking down for the next verse.

And they hate And they mock me But I won’t stop my fight

Remus risked another look, expecting to see that Blue had figured out that Roman was the one to watch.

Blue’s eyes were locked on him. Stay on target…. Remus started the next verse just before Virgil would have to start the section again.

How can you Even see me When I walk

Can you see me When they mock Can you see me

Blue’s eyes were answering his question.

Everything else faded away.

All the other sounds in the club, the bodies slamming against each other on the dance floor, Roman’s gyrations next to him, the frenetic, pounding beat of Virgil’s drums, all of it just fizzled away.

All that was left was his music, his words, and Blue.

When they bite Can you see me When they hate Can you see me

How can you Even feel me

They moved seamlessly into the next song in the set and Roman picked up the lead vocals for the next several songs, one of which included a tricky bass solo that Remus and Virgil created together. Remus looked up during their next song and he saw Blue out in the audience, not quite as close to the stage. Blue was watching him. Remus missed a note and Roman shot him an angry look, so he dragged his eyes back down to the bass in his hands, biting his lip, forcing his fingers to obey.

The next time Remus looked up, he caught a tiny glimmer of Blue’s hair over by the bar. Virgil counted off for their last song of the night and Remus poured his attention into his playing. The last song was always the one everyone remembered best and he was going to deliver. He just hoped Roman remembered the new verse he wrote.

On the beach At night alone You let go

All my world All my soul All the world belonged to you All my heart All my blood All my world belonged to you

Remus looked up as he played the last note, eyes scanning the crowd for that lovely electric blue. There was a sea of colors and shapes in the crowd, but Remus couldn’t spot his Blue. Fuck, dude, possessive much? Maybe learn the guy’s name first. Remus shook his head and unplugged his bass before following Roman and Virgil off the stage, heading back to the green room.

Just before ducking into the microscopic room, Remus scanned the crowd one more time, hoping to catch a glimpse of that lovely blue-tressed man. Not spotting him, he shrugged, then joined his bandmates, calling out, “All right, Friend, Roman, countrymen, what’s next?”

---

Logan yawned as he tiptoed into his apartment. As he’d anticipated, Patton had fallen asleep on the couch. Chuckling lightly under his breath, he turned around and locked and chained the door behind him, gently placing his keys and wallet in the little bowl by the door. He slipped off his shoes and walked over to where Patton was sprawled in front of the still-on television, currently playing an I Love Lucy rerun.

Smiling and shaking his head, he turned the knob on the television until it clicked off. He then opened up the blanket draped over the back of the couch, covering his brother. Patton woke when he nudged a pillow close to the back of his head, trying to ensure he wouldn’t wake up with a wry neck.

Patton’s eyes blinked open and he squinted, trying to focus on Logan’s face. Logan chuckled again, “Pat, are you certain you would not be more comfortable in your own bed?”

“Nah, big bro, ‘s cozy here… Mmmm… How’s the concert?”

Logan smiled, “It was a remarkable performance. They played some original works tonight, including a debut...” Logan’s voice trailed off and nodded almost absently, looking at nothing in particular. His lips curled up at the edges and he tapped his fingers to a beat only he could hear. Feeling Patton’s eyes on him, he cleared his throat and continued. “In addition to their usual repertoire of classics, of course. Quite enjoyable and certainly worth the late hour on a school night.”

“Hmmm… tha’s good. ‘Night, Lo …,” Patton mumbled, drifting back to sleep.

Logan kissed his brother on the head and chuckled. Twenty-four and still hasn’t grown out of falling asleep with the television on. “Pleasant dreams, Patton. See you in the morning.”

Logan took a moment to drink a full glass of water and take his vitamins before making his way to his room. He removed his contacts in the bathroom, swapping them for his usual black-framed eyeglasses. As part of his typical nightly routine, he scrubbed his face before brushing and flossing his teeth. When he was done, he used a clean paper towel to wipe down the sink, counter, and mirror, leaving the tiny bathroom shining in the dim light.

After flicking off the bathroom and hallway lights, Logan returned to his room and changed into pajamas. He hung his pants and put the rest of his concert clothes in the hamper. Walking past his dresser, he double-checked his alarm clock, briefly testing the volume, then took a moment to straighten the bright blue wig carefully set on its stand next to his clock. He smiled, then turned off the light and climbed into bed. ---

Image credit by Adam Dicarlo on Wikimedia Commons

taglist: @psychedelicships @mavenmush @demon9980 @crossiantgay @justmeandmygayships @tsfanficarchive @sandersidesbigbang @thomassandersidesbigbang2021

[thepenguinclub]

a cautionary tale

read the first installment of the teacher virgil series here, and the next one here. masterpost here.

virgil and oc, part of a series, read the first one for more sanders sides content but this is a stand alone, the oc is my baby boy respect him

Summary:

“What I don’t think you know, or what you don’t understand, is that there are consequences to your actions. This stuff you’ve been getting away with for who knows how long? You’re going to stop getting away with it, and when that happens, it isn’t going to end well. This shit you’re messing around with, it has real world consequences.”

“I don’t care,” Kane bit out sharply, meeting Mr. Sanders’ gaze. His teacher raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t care?” he repeated.

“I don’t care.” Kane shifted in his seat, tightening his still crossed arms. Mr. Sanders nodded slowly, and leaned back again, spinning slightly in his fancier chair.

“Alright,” he said after a second. “You don’t care.” He gestured to the door. “You’re free to leave, then.”

---

Kane is what people call a delinquent. A mischief maker. A bad kid and a worse influence.

Kane is, at heart, a kid who needs a helping hand.

————

hello! yeah so this is something i turned in for my creative writing assignment to write a cautionary tale. and of course my brain immediately went 'hmmm.... how can i sneak fanfiction into this' so here we are.

i know this is not the sequel people were expecting but give it a chance! i think you'll like it.

thanks to @sunbrightshadows for betaing, and for the very nice person in my cw class who gave me a wonderful peer review, as well as wrote a very nice story.

the junior lit. and lang. class of mr. sanders and what happens in it takes place in november. this takes place in april of the same school year, so after tjllcmswhit. why is that name so long honestly who named it that. oh right.

(virgil is a genius and graduates college early, which means he's 19 when he starts teaching (also 19 in this fic) for those reading as a standalone.)

enjoy!!

WARNINGS: swearing (lots), smoking, police, police stations/holding cells, descriptions of school fights (not very graphic), allusions to child abuse, mentions of parental deaths and unhealthy coping mechanisms for grief (i.e. overworking and fighting)

if i missed anything let me know!!

————

Kane ducked as Jackson’s fist sailed over his head, right where his nose had been. He reached up and grabbed Jackson’s forearm, twisting it to his left as he stood back up to his full height. Jackson grimaced, grunting as he used his other hand to try and get his arm free. Kane just smirked, using the opening to knee Jackson in the gut, causing him to double over with a pained wheeze.

“Finish him off, dude!” Dylan yelled from a few feet to his right, snacking on a bag of potato chips noisily. Kane spared him a roll of his eyes before following his advice, clasping his hands together and raising them above his head. Before he could bring them down on Jackson, though, the telltale clicking of heels reached his ears. He and Dylan locked eyes.

“Teacher,” Kane mouthed, and then they were off, leaving Jackson to catch his breath just as the teacher rounded the corner. They ran around the building, through the underpass, and all the way until the bleachers of the stadium field, where the junior army kids were practicing. 

“Shit, that was close,” Dylan panted next to him, pushing his hair off his forehead. Kane just nodded, taking deep breaths as he fluffed his own hair. “What was she even doing out there anyway?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Kane replied, shaking the leftover adrenaline out of his limbs. “All that matters is that Jackson is gonna snitch because he’s a little bitch, and we’re gonna take the fallout.”

Dylan swore under his breath. 

“We could spin it that you were just defending yourself,” he suggested half-heartedly, both of them knowing that there was no way out of it.

“Eh,” Kane shrugged. “What’s one more black mark, right?”

Dylan let out a little “amen,” before nodding in the direction of one of the school’s back doors.

“First period starts soon,” he said, and Kane grunted in response. They both walked through the doors and blended into the crowd of other students, following the flow to the fourth floor until they reached their destination, slipping through the doorway as the bell was ringing. 

“So close,” Mr. Sanders sighed. “One day you two’ll be late and I’ll finally feel vindicated.”

“I feel like you’re conforming to a stereotype because of our appearances,” Dylan replied breezily, sliding into the desk closest to the bookshelf against the wall as Kane flopped into the one next to it, both of them dropping their bags heavily next to them.

“Those were some big words for you, Dylan,” Danny quipped from behind Kane, who turned around in his seat to scowl at him. Danny just flashed an overly wide smile, batting his eyelashes. Danni, his partner, looked at him unimpressed from behind Dylan.

“Do you need me to dumb it down for you?” Dylan replied, smiling innocently back. 

“Boys,” Mr. Sanders called from the front of the classroom, tone sounding bored. “We do this testosterone competition every class and it never gets more entertaining, so, unless one of you has magically come up with some new material, shut up.”

Kane huffed, but turned back to look towards the front, Dylan following suit.

“Wonderful,” Mr. Sanders deadpanned, before pulling out the attendance clipboard. “Alright class, today we are going to do your favorite hot drink.”

Kane zoned out, only answering with a flat “coffee” when Mr. Sanders called his name. He liked Mr. Sanders, really. He was the youngest teacher in the school, having graduated much earlier than average people, and wasn’t much older than Kane himself. He and Dylan purposefully tried not to skip first period because of how much they liked him, actually. When there was a class you liked, it was smarter to go, that way you could get away with skipping others. That’s what they had learned freshman year, and they’d both been operating fine under that rule since.

Still, it was Lit. and Lang. Not exactly the most interesting class in the world. So, when Mr. Sanders opened with, “Alright, kiddies, today we are continuing with Dante’s Inferno,” Kane felt completely justified letting his head fall to the desk with a thud in disappointment.

“Mr. Barns is exceedingly excited about this news,” Mr. Sanders continued, amused, and Kane flipped him off without lifting his head up. “Oh, look, a bird. I wonder how that got in here.”

The class erupted into giggles, and Kane lifted his head up only to glare at his teacher, who just smiled cheekily back. Dylan patted him consolingly on the shoulder, and Kane glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It was pretty funny, dude,” Dylan explained unabashedly, shrugging. Kane grumbled nonsense to himself.

Mr. Sanders continued the lesson, discussing the latest chapter of Dante’s Inferno that Kane had spent three minutes skimming on SparkNotes. It was a pretty average English class, which meant Kane was staring aggressively at the clock the whole time, willing it to move faster. The only thing he really paid attention to was when, about halfway through, Mr. Sanders got a call on the school landline, which wasn’t very common. All he said, though, was “yes… okay… okay, thank you,” so it was only a little more interesting than the material.

Finally, after an eternity, the bell rang, and Kane swung his bag onto his shoulder as he stood up. Freedom was in sight.

“Kane, Dylan, stay back for a second, please.”

Freedom was lost, never to be attained.

The rest of the class filed out of the door, Kane watching wistfully, before he slowly slumped up to Mr. Sanders’ desk, Dylan a few steps behind him.

“Yeah?” he asked rudely. Mr. Sanders leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Kane swore internally.

“Dylan, what’s your next period?” he asked. Dylan didn’t reply for a second, probably trying to remember. He usually skipped the next period.

“Latin,” he answered slowly. “Shit, I have a test, I think.” 

Mr. Sanders just stared at him.

“Go to class and do me the favor of, at the very least, cramming before the test instead of just trying to bullshit the whole thing,” he finally said. Dylan smiled a bit as he nodded, and Kane had the lingering thought of ‘take me with you’ as he walked out the door.

Mr. Sanders turned to look at him, and he cringed.

“I know for a fact you have art next period, which you skip, even though you’re a good artist, so you aren’t getting out of this, Kane.” He gestured to the desk in front of his own desk, where the deaf girl usually sat. “Sit down.”

Kane sat, letting his bag drop again. He rested his head on his hand morosely.

“I got a call from Mrs. Meyer,” Mr. Sanders stated. “She said she caught you beating up another student while Dylan observed.”

“She’s so wrong, I would never-” Kane went to protest, but Mr. Sanders held up a hand and he stopped talking.

“Now, I don’t particularly like Mrs. Meyer,” he continued. “And I don’t believe you were kicking around a kid without any reason. So,” he leaned forward, “what was your reason?”

Kane contemplated sticking with the lie that he didn’t do anything, but the look Mr. Sanders was giving him was screaming ‘don’t fucking try me,’ so Kane just scoffed.

“He was being a dick.” He crossed his arms to match Mr. Sanders, hunching in on himself. “He was starting something he couldn’t finish, and I told him that, but he didn’t listen. So I finished it. Simple.”

“Right,” Mr. Sanders agreed amicably. “Simple.”

Kane nodded stiffly, and Mr. Sanders sighed. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.

“Look, Kane.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re a smart kid. When you apply yourself, you do well in this class. You’re a great artist, and if you actually attended those classes, you would be even better. I want to help you be a better student, and with anything you need help with.”

Kane had been shrinking into himself during Mr. Sanders' whole speech. In his entire life, he had never had someone reply to one of his fuck ups with compliments. ‘I want to help you’ was pretty common, but never with the sincerity that Mr. Sanders was giving him now. It all had a quality that made Kane feel worse, like he had a wad of chewing gum lodged in his stomach.

“What you’re doing right now,” Mr. Sanders continued, shaking his head, “isn’t working. You aren’t doing well in your other classes, are getting marks on your records, and beating kids up? That’s assault, if they want it to be.”

“I know all that,” Kane replied quietly. 

“I know you do,” Mr. Sanders replied even faster, speaking calmly. “What I don’t think you know, or what you don’t understand, is that there are consequences to your actions. This stuff you’ve been getting away with for who knows how long? You’re going to stop getting away with it, and when that happens, it isn’t going to end well. This shit you’re messing around with, it has real world consequences.”

“I don’t care,” Kane bit out sharply, meeting Mr. Sanders’ gaze. His teacher raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t care?” he repeated.

“I don’t care.” Kane shifted in his seat, tightening his still crossed arms. Mr. Sanders nodded slowly, and leaned back again, spinning slightly in his fancier chair.

“Alright,” he said after a second. “You don’t care.” He gestured to the door. “You’re free to leave, then.”

Kane narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glancing between Mr. Sanders and the door. After a full minute, he decided it wasn’t a trick, and he slowly stood up, swinging his backpack onto his back. When Mr. Sanders just watched him, he gained more confidence, striding over to the door. He was halfway through the doorway before he was stopped.

“Mr. Barns,” Mr. Sanders' voice called from behind him, mention tone here. Kane didn’t turn around. “Think about what I said. Even though you don’t care.”

Kane paused for a second, but that was the end of it, so he walked out the door and into the empty hallway. 

He ignored the gum in his stomach when he turned in the opposite direction of his art class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian Xander was the biggest kid at Westburrow High School.

He was a senior, so the grade above Kane. He’d been held back three years running, and the rumor was he was shooting for a fourth, which also made him the oldest kid in the school, by a long shot. He was muscled, with tattoos stretching over his skin and studs on his clothes. He smoked outside instead of attending class, he and his revolving door of friends claiming the best spot to smoke, under the bleachers. This meant Kane, Dylan and the rest of their friends were banished to the cut-out in the back of the school, where the dumpsters were.

But Xander (not Brian. Some people said that not even his parents called him by his first name) and his gang were suspended a few days ago, which meant that, considering Kane and his friends were the next in line, they had taken the luxury of the bleachers during the last period of the day.

Which was good, because it was an uncharacteristically hot April day, the kind that teased the summer that was approaching, and the dumpsters would have smelled horrible in the thick, warm air. 

Instead of suffering, though, they were in the blessed shade of the bleachers, a paradise in comparison.

“This is nice,” Dylan said next to him where they were both leaning against the wall. Smoke filtered out of his mouth when he talked, wafting upwards gracefully. Kane nodded his agreement, removing the cigarette from his lips and breathing out through his nose, tendrils of his own smoke floating to join Dylan’s. Mr. Sander’s warning was long pushed into the back of his mind, something he had committed to ignoring. All in all, it was pretty nice.

Of course, that was when things went wrong.

“Yo, freaks,” a voice called out, and Kane furrowed his eyebrows, turning towards the voice curiously. There weren’t a lot of people who would be confident enough to antagonize their little group.

Unfortunately, one of the only people that was exempt to that statement was indeed standing at the mouth of the bleachers, looking pissed.

Kane tried not to obviously scramble to his feet in front of Brian Xander, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Next to him, Dylan stayed sitting, watching with a hesitant expression.

Kane should have said something like, “Do you want to join us?” Or maybe, “What’s up?” Or a simple, “Yo.”

Instead what came out was, “I thought you were suspended.”

Kane cringed, because that was definitely not the right thing to say. Xander seemed to agree, because he sneered.

“So, what, I’m gone and you fuckers think you can just waltz in and take our spot?” He glared at Kane, who looked at Dylan for help. He just parroted Kane’s own wide-eyed stare back at him.

“We weren’t trying to-”

“You know what?” Xander asked mockingly, stepping forward. “I really don’t care.”

Kane ducked as Xander’s fist sailed over his head, breathing in so quickly he choked on the air, causing him to stumble away from Xander, coughing and sputtering. The bigger man didn’t care, and it didn’t take long for him to go after Kane.

His other friends, the absolute dicks, ran as soon as it was clear this was going to be a real fight. Dylan, the only one that Kane actually trusted, caught his eye, turned around, and started running. Kane didn’t have time to think about that before he was being pushed back against a wall, his head hitting it painfully, causing sparks to dance around his vision. It cleared just in time for him to dive out of the way of a punch that would have broken his nose, instead causing Xander to slam his knuckles into the brick and swear loudly. 

“I’m gonna kill you for that,” he growled, shaking his hand out and wincing. Kane just stood up. 

He knew how to fight. He knew how to fight, he’d been doing it since he was thirteen. This was just another jerk, one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. There was nothing different.

At least, that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t sure if he believed his own lies, but they tasted sweet in his mouth, so when Xander came at him again, he faked a hit to the other boy’s face and instead punched his gut, kicking the side of his knee when he paused to grunt and regain his breath.

Kane backed up quickly, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Xander stood up straight, and caught Kane off guard by just charging him instead of making some comment. 

That was what decided the tone of what was about to happen. Kane got some good hits in, enough to know Xander would be feeling like shit for the next few weeks, but for every hit Kane landed, Xander landed three. Kane was wiping blood from his nose and wheezing when he breathed, scrambling away from the looming figure that was backing him against a wall, when Dylan showed up, three security guards, a teacher, and the principal in tow.

“Mister Xander!” the principal yelled, causing Xander to pause, looking at their new audience and sighing aggressively at what he saw.

He looked back at Kane consideringly, trying to figure out if he could land a few more in, but two of the security guards came up behind him, one clapping him on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, kid,” he said. “Police are on their way, and it wouldn’t do much.”

“Besides,” the other one added, looking down at Kane, “he’s getting the same wrap as you. I mean, you are trespassing on school property, technically, but he’s not coming off clean, if that makes you feel any better.”

Xander smirked down at him, as if Kane’s stomach hadn’t just dropped straight out of him, then turned in the guards hold to walk back over to the group, letting the third guard handcuff him.

The first guard came up to him and offered a hand up, which he took, grunting when the action of standing up caused his ribs to scream in protest.

“Come on, kid,” the guard said, leading him out to everyone else. Police cars were pulling into the parking lot. Dylan gave him an apologetic look, which he nodded at in acknowledgement. It was the best thing he could have done, and Kane recognized that. The guard pressed something metal against his wrist, which Kane realized were handcuffs. He swallowed.

“Here to pick up some delinquents?” a police officer called from the front seat of his car. The guard led Kane over, opening the door and sliding him in. Kane watched numbly as the guard leant down to peer at him from outside the car.

“Have a fun ride,” he said. Kane just breathed in heavily.

The car door slamming startled him enough that he hit his head on the roof of the car. The officer in the front seat just chuckled lightly and started to drive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kane was in a holding cell.

He was sitting on the bench, hunched over, with his elbows resting on his legs and his head in his hands. The position was hell on his ribs, but he was tired, and that was the way he felt most comfortable, so that was the way he sat.

They had given him a few bandages and bruise cream, as well as checked him over for a concussion (he didn’t have one, just a lump on the back of his head), so nothing was as bad as it was when he first got to the station. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel a bit like a giant bruise, though.

The officers had told him that they were keeping him until someone came to get him and had paid what needed to be paid. Which, normally, meant for a few hours.

Unfortunately, Kane was not normal, which meant that his mom was out of state for work and he had no other family. And also, even if his mom was fifteen minutes away, he wasn’t totally sure they could afford bail anyway. For all he knew, this cell would only be the first. Kane blinked back tears, not for the first time since he had arrived at the station. What had he been thinking?

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to mess around a little, pass his classes with Cs and Ds and work right out of high school.

Instead, he was sitting hunched over in a holding cell for the foreseeable future. He dimly wondered if they’d give him a pillow for the next few nights.

He sighed, and immediately regretted the action when his body berated him for it.

A door opened, a few heavy footsteps entering the room around the cell. Kane didn’t look up. Just officers passing through.

At least, that’s what he thought until a familiar voice was telling someone to “let me inside.”

Kane’s head snapped up to watch Mr. Sanders raise a patronizingly calm eyebrow at the sputtering police officer.

“We can’t do that, sir,” the officer said, crossing his arms almost self-consciously.

“He’s a seventeen year old child,” Mr. Sanders replied drily. “I think I’ll be safe. I promise I’ll scream if he’s about to murder me, though,” he tacked on, sarcasm thick in his tone. The officer sputtered again, but unlocked the holding cell door like he said, allowing Mr. Sanders to stride into the cell confidently. The door closed behind him.

He came over to sit next to Kane, who had been watching him with a look he was sure was entirely surprise and shock.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked when it became clear Mr. Sanders wasn’t going to start the conversation, having just leaned against the wall behind them casually. 

It was then that Kane noticed his attire. He choked on his own spit.

Mr. Sanders (his teacher!) was dressed like a drugstore emo, complete with ripped black skinny jeans and platform Docs that must have been an inch thick at least, and a purple band shirt that was almost completely obscured by the leather bomber jacket that hung loose of his frame. His hair was still the same, a purple-black ombre that fell into his eyes, but not enough to obscure the fact that he was wearing eyeliner.

Mr. Sanders watched in amusement as Kane tried to recover his breathing, only frowning when Kane winced at the spasm of his chest that caused his ribs to twinge painfully.

“Are your ribs injured?” he asked.

“What are you wearing?” Kane asked in reply, not even purposefully sidestepping the question, just overwhelmed by the level of flabbergasted-ness he was experiencing. Mr. Sanders’ lips twitched upwards.

“I do have a life outside of being a teacher, Kane,” he reminded him, crossing his legs with an indifferent air.

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize that involved… whatever this is!” he exclaimed, gesturing broadly.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was being insulted,” Mr. Sanders said, and Kane backtracked.

“No, no, I mean- I didn’t-”

“Relax, Kane,” Mr. Sanders put his hands up in a calming gesture. “I was joking. I know you aren’t insulting me.”

Kane nodded, then furrowed his eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again.

“I’m here for you,” Mr. Sanders answered easily, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. “Dylan emailed me about what happened, and I called your mom, who won’t be back in town for a few days. She gave me full permission to pick you up and drop you off at your house, or my apartment if you want to stay with me.”

Kane stared at him as if he was speaking another language. 

“What?”

Mr. Sanders smiled slightly.

“I’m here to pick you up, and either bring you back to your house or mine, whichever you prefer,” he simplified. Kane still didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand.” 

Mr. Sanders sighed through his nose, and Kane immediately felt like he had done something wrong.

“Kane,” Mr. Sanders started softly, “you very obviously didn’t listen to my warning. Why was that?”

Kane shrunk in on himself a bit, ignoring the way it made his ribs throb. He didn’t say anything.

“Okay, you don’t have to answer.” Mr. Sanders was quiet for a moment. Kane glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He was leaning against the wall with his legs crossed still, his eyes closed, looking like he could be taking a quick rest in the park, or maybe napping in a café. The dreary interior of the holding cell didn’t match the picture.

“My dad died when I was eleven,” Mr. Sanders finally said. Kane startled, hissing a breath out through his teeth in pain, but Mr. Sanders didn’t react. He just kept talking. “He was my best friend, and then one day he was just gone. It was really hard for us, especially since my mom was pregnant with my little brother. I worked as hard as I could to take care of them, and the way I did that was by going as fast as possible. I graduated as soon as I could, sped through college, and took the first job I could.” He paused. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but being a teacher was never my grand plan. My dad had those.” A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “I was going to cure cancer, or feed millions of hungry kids, or be the first person on Mars. He liked to believe that because I was smarter than anyone my age, I could do anything. Despite the fact that I haven’t done any of that stuff, I think he’d be proud of me. I hope he is,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Mr. Sanders opened his eyes, and turned his head slightly to look at Kane, making eye contact. Kane didn’t know if he could look away. He didn’t know if he wanted to.

“Your dad wasn’t like that, was he.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and suddenly Kane, despite being bigger than almost any other person in the Junior class, despite being seventeen and roughed up after a fight, suddenly felt very small.

Still, he managed to shake his head.

“I’m sorry he was the way he was,” Mr. Sanders said. “I know that hurt you. I understand what it’s like, to have so many feelings and not know what to do with them. I put them into work, to the point that it was unhealthy. You put them into…” he trailed off, not breaking eye contact. Kane was filling in the blanks without even realizing he had started talking.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything that he would hate. Anything that made me seem cool, that made sure people wouldn’t pick on me.”

“Pick on you like he did,” Mr. Sanders elaborated, and Kane felt himself nodding. Mr. Sander’s eyes were green. He’d never noticed that before. “Your mom’s worried about you.”

That was what finally let Kane break away from the eye contact, the statement causing his head to duck ashamedly, almost involuntarily.

“I know,” he muttered. He didn’t mean to worry her, but he just couldn’t help it. He almost didn’t know how to do anything other than smoke and skip and fight, even though he knew she hated it.

“I told her you didn’t mean to,” Mr. Sanders said, and Kane was starting to wonder if he was psychic or something. He told him as much, which made Mr. Sanders laugh loudly. Kane felt himself smiling too, despite the fact that it pulled on the bruises on his cheek uncomfortably.

“It’s my special teacher powers.” Mr. Sanders winked, and Kane huffed out a laugh. Mr. Sanders smiled at him, then started to get up. Kane followed his lead. 

Mr. Sanders called for an officer to let them out, and soon Kane was being led by his Lit. and Lang. teacher to the front desk at the police station. On the way there, an officer handed him a bag of all his belongings, and he gratefully slipped his phone into his pocket, strapping his watch on as he walked.

“I’m picking up Kane Barns, “ he said smoothly, professionally. “His legal guardian, Bella Barns, should have called earlier giving permission.”

The receptionist nodded amicably, typing away on her computer.

“Yes, Ms. Barns called. Are you paying the bail or is she?” 

“I am,” Mr. Sanders answered, pulling his wallet out and handing over his credit card, as well as his license. The receptionist took both with another nod, both of them acting as if Kane wasn’t having a heart attack right next to them.

“Um, what,” Kane croaked out, feeling as if he was dreaming. Mr. Sanders just spared him a careful glance.

“I’ve already discussed it with your mother,” he said. “She was very thankful, and gave me full permission.”

“I can’t- you shouldn’t- but-” Kane stuttered, trying to find the right words to say ‘what the fuck is happening, I can’t let you do that, you’re so nice what’s wrong with you???’

“Kane,” Mr. Sanders interrupted, giving him a smile as the receptionist handed him back his card and license. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t be doing this if I couldn’t afford it, or if I didn’t want to.”

Kane opened his mouth with a rebuttal on his tongue, but Mr. Sanders just gave him a look, and before he knew it he was closing his mouth and following Mr. Sanders quietly out of the station and up to a plain black car parked close to the doors. Mr. Sanders unlocked it, then slid into the driver's side as Kane awkwardly dropped into the passenger seat.

Kane stared at the little black bat plushie hanging from the rearview mirror as Mr. Sanders pulled out of the parking lot, watching it swing back and forth.

“I’m assuming you know how to get to your house,” Mr. Sanders said after a moment, breaking the silence. Kane jumped a little before he comprehended the words, then nodded. 

“Turn left in two streets,” he replied quietly. That was how they passed the fifteen minute drive, in silence that was only broken by Kane’s muttered directions. Kane let his mind wander throughout the ride, keeping his gaze on the world outside. It was dark, the clock on the radio reading ‘8:45pm’ already. Kane sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to his empty house.

Eventually, Kane was telling Mr. Sanders to stop in front of a plain looking townhouse. It was on the smaller side, even for a townhouse, and it wasn’t as nice looking as the others around it, but not so much that it stood out as an outlier. 

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Sanders,” Kane said truthfully, hoping Mr. Sanders would understand the hidden meaning behind the words. ‘Thank you for everything, thank you for not being disappointed in me, thank you for paying the bail, thank you for still caring.’

“You’re welcome,” Mr. Sanders replied with a smile. He glanced back at the townhouse. “Do you want to stay here tonight or stay at mine?”

Kane paused on his way to opening the door, turning back to his teacher in surprise. 

“What?”

“Your mom was worried about you staying home alone,” Mr. Sanders explained. “She gave permission for you to stay with me until she gets back in a few days. You can call her, if you’d like,” he added. 

Kane nodded slowly, pulling out his phone. He dialed her number.

She was worried about him, which he wasn’t surprised about. She seemed understanding, though, and confirmed everything that Mr. Sanders had told him. She encouraged him to stay with him while she was gone. 

“I don’t want you alone right now,” she said, concern evident in her voice. “I want you to stay with someone, and Virgil seems like he’s a very sweet man. I trust him with you.”

Kane glanced over at Mr. Sanders, who was on his phone, turned away from him. Obviously trying to give him the semblance of privacy.

“Okay,” Kane finally conceded quietly. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

“It will,” his mom replied quickly. “I’ll let you get settled there, but call me before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Kane said again. 

“I love you, honey,” his mom finished softly, and Kane muttered a quick ‘love you too’ in return. He hung up, and turned to Mr. Sanders.

“Guess I’m staying with you.” He tried to put as much levity into his voice as possible, and could here himself fail. Mr. Sanders didn’t comment, just gave him another smile. He pocketed his phone and gestured to Kane’s house.

“You can run in and pack a bag with clothes and toiletries, I’ll sit out here.”

Kane nodded, opening his door and stumbling out of the car. Before he was able to close it, though, Mr. Sanders called his name. Kane bent down so he could make eye contact.

“You do realize that this means you aren’t going to be allowed to do any of that shit anymore, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Kane nodded.

“I know,” he replied, because he did.

“Are you okay with that?” Mr. Sanders pressed. Kane paused, then dipped his chin in a slow nod.

“I am,” he said, realizing only after the words left his mouth that they were true. He really was fine with changing everything around.

“Good.” Mr. Sanders leaned back in his seat. “Don’t take too long, we’ve got a rave waiting for us back at my apartment.”

Kane let out a surprised laugh, barely even noticing the ache in his ribs. Mr. Sanders smiled at the sound. 

“Sounds exciting,” Kane quipped, smiling back happily. He slammed the door shut, and started up towards his house, grinning the whole way.

————

hopefully you liked it! honestly expect a lot more sneaky fanfictions that i wrote for creative writing in the future.

reblogs and notes are my life blood so i appreciate them all. i also have an ao3 (thepenguinclub) if that's your thing, i'd love to hang over there.

remember that you are loved, and appreciated, and if you've been online for a while maybe take a little break, yeah? i hope you have an amazing rest of your day!!! <33

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[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.

[two-am-outlines-only]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the piece that inspired this work and support them with reblogs so they’re work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this work and truly making it so much better with their suggestions. Thank you!

Chapter Summary: Logan plans a surprise for Virgil on their anniversary, only to receive one instead.

Day 1 Prompt: Debate/Anniversary

Warnings: food mention

Word Count: 1320

AO3 link

Chapter One: Did You Forget?

Logan adjusted the flowers in the vase one last time, stepping back before he nitpicked the setup to death trying to get every last detail right. Neither of them liked big, fancy occasions so he always tried to get the details right down to the wrinkles in the cloth so it would be special for them regardless. Frowning he stepped forward to wipe a bit of chipped nail polish off the pristine silky tablecloth, wincing as he looked at the state of his nails. Sometimes he hated how much he worked with his hands that polish never seemed to last half as long as it should, but then he thought of Virgil holding his hands while they watched a movie or their current binge show, carefully applying each color and keeping a hold of his hand while it dried even if it wasn’t strictly necessary- the image made him blush right down to his shirt collar and duck his chin against the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He couldn’t afford to get distracted at the moment- at least not for too long. Everything was set, all he needed was for Virgil to come home.

He’d been surprised coming out to the backyard to set everything up only to find the lawn swept clean of debris and fairy lights strung up, twinkling in the late afternoon sun. He had wondered what Virgil had been doing, running off to the store after dinner. He’d spouted something about an errand, pecking him on the cheek and leaving before Logan could think to ask what he needed to be going out for at six o’clock in the evening.

Admittedly he’d been a bit distracted with his own plans, digging for a lighter he knew they had to light the candle on the cupcake later. Thankfully said cake was holding up perfectly in the back of the fridge where he knew Virgil wouldn’t see it. Standing on the porch he smiled softly as he looked around, the backyard turned into a magical scene thanks to Virgil’s efforts. He hadn’t thought to set the lights up when he had planned his own surprise, so he was glad Virgil had made it even better.

Not a moment too soon he heard the car pull into the driveway, making a giddy sort of happiness settle in the center of his chest. Never had he been so enamored with someone that the mere thought of their presence lit up his nerves with a pleasant hum that left him dizzy and anchored in the same moment. But here he was, shifting anxiously from foot to foot waiting for his soulmate to come through the door. He only had to wait a minute before Virgil stepped out onto the back porch, confusion settling over his features before he shook it away and a somewhat nervous smile took its place. Smiling himself as he drew near, Logan held out his hand which was taken immediately and gently squeezed. The air was similarly squeezed from his lungs when he finally locked eyes with Virgil, his deep brown eyes glittering along with the purple eyeshadow applied underneath them with a darker shade of lipstick painting his smile.

Blushing slightly, he ignored the other's amusement and tugged him towards the table. “Did you forget what day it was?” He teased.

“Considering we ate dinner in suits- hardly. I was just surprised to find you out here, usually we eat dessert inside.”

“You had already set up the fairy lights. I thought it would be an opportunity missed if we didn’t celebrate our anniversary outside on such a lovely night.”

Virgil smiled softly and ran his thumb over his knuckles. “I’m so glad that I have you in my life, this is perfect. So much better than that auditorium where we first met.”

“Debate club was hardly the ideal circumstance for us to meet.” Logan chuckled.

“I don’t even remember what the subject was.”

“I believe it was one of the duller practice ones asking whether or not peanut butter was ethically sourced- to which you argued you were allergic and therefore should get a passing grade regardless because asking you to talk about it was unethical in and of itself.” Laughing at the memory he watched as Virgil only huffed in mock annoyance.

“It was a good argument!” Screwing his mouth to the side Virgil nudged him playfully. “It was a dumb subject anyway no one had any good counterpoints.”

“I did!”

“So did I, that’s not the point Lo.” Laughing outright at the seething look he received, Virgil held his hands up in mock surrender.

“You did, actually. I remember you doing very well for not having prepared anything.” Logan sniffed indignantly. “Mine were just better.”

Smirking, he leaned back into the table as Virgil’s expression morphed into a “challenge accepted” glare, eager to see where this would go. He always loved getting Virgil into debate moods, he became so animated and focused- a far cry from when he first started and thought hissing was a legitimate debate tactic.

“I’ll have you know,” Virgil stepped forward purposefully, petite stature making it not nearly as intimidating as it was meant to be. “I’ve learned much better debate tactics since then anyway.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Logan smiled. “Oh have you-”

He cut himself off with a choked gasp as Virgil was suddenly holding his hand while down on one knee, a small box held open in his palm to reveal a ring with a stone that twinkled gently with the fairy lights behind them. He snapped his mouth shut as Virgil smiled that gentle smile, the same smile that Logan had counted himself the luckiest person in the world to see the first day he had seen the emo teen slouch his way up the stage and behind the podium, nerves clearly telling him to listen to his fight or flight reflex but instead choosing to put those around him at ease any way he could.

“Logan.” He was snapped out of his thoughts with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “Do you remember how we had to shake hands after the debate?”

“I do .” Logan breathed.

“I saw all of you in that moment, every second we’ve spent together since our souls first met. I’ve loved you in every single life before this and in every single one I love you more still. I know it isn’t necessary but- I want to have a day that makes the fact that we’re soulmates everyone else’s problem.” Virgil held Logan’s gaze earnestly as he choked back a laugh. “Logan, will you marry me?”

“Virgil- of course!” Later he wasn’t sure if Virgil had tugged him down by his tie or if he had gripped it when Logan leaned down, but it didn’t matter as there lips connected and Logan could feel his boyfriend’s, no his fiancé's- his soulmates heart racing underneath his fingers as his place a hand to his cheek in an attempt to pull him closer.

Pulling away for a moment he laughed gently at the lipstick smeared slightly, reaching forward to try and fix it. “Virgil, that is not a legitimate debate tactic.”

“I’m taking it as a win anyway.” Virgil reached forward as well, pushing his glasses up to rub away a few stray tears Logan hadn’t noticed collecting on his cheeks. He leaned forward to kiss him again, and again, and again while the candles Logan had forgotten he had lit on the cupcake burned themselves out on the icing and the engagement ring was placed on the table in favor of holding each other as close as they could. And as Logan buried his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck and felt the other’s embrace tighten he knew that in all the lifetimes they had and would share, there was nowhere else he would rather be.

Next

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the piece that inspired this work and support them with reblogs so they’re work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this work and truly making it so much better with their suggestions. Thank you!

Chapter 1: Did You Forget?

Chapter Summary: Logan plans a surprise for Virgil on their anniversary, only to receive one instead.

Day 1 Prompt: Debate/Anniversary

Warnings: food mention. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1320

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Logan adjusted the flowers in the vase one last time, stepping back before he nitpicked the setup to death trying to get every last detail right. Neither of them liked big, fancy occasions so he always tried to get the details right down to the wrinkles in the cloth so it would be special for them regardless. Frowning he stepped forward to wipe a bit of chipped nail polish off the pristine silky tablecloth, wincing as he looked at the state of his nails. Sometimes he hated how much he worked with his hands that polish never seemed to last half as long as it should, but then he thought of Virgil holding his hands while they watched a movie or their current binge show, carefully applying each color and keeping a hold of his hand while it dried even if it wasn’t strictly necessary- the image made him blush right down to his shirt collar and duck his chin against the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He couldn’t afford to get distracted at the moment- at least not for too long. Everything was set, all he needed  was for Virgil to come home.

He’d been surprised coming out to the backyard to set everything up only to find the lawn swept clean of debris and fairy lights strung up, twinkling in the late afternoon sun. He had wondered what Virgil had been doing, running off to the store after dinner. He’d spouted something about an errand, pecking him on the cheek and leaving before Logan could think to ask what he needed to be going out for at six o’clock in the evening. 

Admittedly he’d been a bit distracted with his own plans, digging for a lighter he knew they had to light the candle on the cupcake later. Thankfully said cake was holding up perfectly in the back of the fridge where he knew Virgil wouldn’t see it. Standing on the porch he smiled softly as he looked around, the backyard turned into a magical scene thanks to Virgil’s efforts. He hadn’t thought to set the lights up when he had planned his own surprise, so he was glad Virgil had made it even better.

Not a moment too soon he heard the car pull into the driveway, making a giddy sort of happiness settle in the center of his chest. Never had he been so enamored with someone that the mere thought of their presence lit up his nerves with a pleasant hum that left him dizzy and anchored in the same moment. But here he was, shifting anxiously from foot to foot waiting for his soulmate to come through the door. He only had to wait a minute before Virgil stepped out onto the back porch, confusion settling over his features before he shook it away and a somewhat nervous smile took its place. Smiling himself as he drew near, Logan held out his hand which was taken immediately and gently squeezed. The air was similarly squeezed from his lungs when he finally locked eyes with Virgil, his deep brown eyes glittering along with the purple eyeshadow applied underneath them with a darker shade of lipstick painting his smile.

Blushing slightly, he ignored the other's amusement and tugged him towards the table. “Did you forget what day it was?” He teased.

“Considering we ate dinner in suits- hardly. I was just surprised to find you out here, usually we eat dessert inside.”

“You had already set up the fairy lights. I thought it would be an opportunity missed if we didn’t celebrate our anniversary outside on such a lovely night.”

Virgil smiled softly and ran his thumb over his knuckles. “I’m so glad that I have you in my life, this is perfect. So much better than that auditorium where we first met.”

“Debate club was hardly the ideal circumstance for us to meet.” Logan chuckled.

“I don’t even remember what the subject was.”

“I believe it was one of the duller practice ones asking whether or not peanut butter was ethically sourced- to which you argued you were allergic and therefore should get a passing grade regardless because asking you to talk about it was unethical in and of itself.” Laughing at the memory he watched as Virgil only huffed in mock annoyance.

“It was a good argument!” Screwing his mouth to the side Virgil nudged him playfully. “It was a dumb subject anyway no one had any good counterpoints.”

“I did!”

“So did I, that’s not the point Lo.” Laughing outright at the seething look he received, Virgil held his hands up in mock surrender.

“You did, actually. I remember you doing very well for not having prepared anything.” Logan sniffed indignantly. “Mine were just better.”

Smirking, he leaned back into the table as Virgil’s expression morphed into a “challenge accepted” glare, eager to see where this would go. He always loved getting Virgil into debate moods, he became so animated and focused- a far cry from when he first started and thought hissing was a legitimate debate tactic. 

“I’ll have you know,” Virgil stepped forward purposefully, petite stature making it not nearly as intimidating as it was meant to be. “I’ve learned much better debate tactics since then anyway.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Logan smiled. “Oh have you-”

He cut himself off with a choked gasp as Virgil was suddenly holding his hand while down on one knee, a small box held open in his palm to reveal a ring with a stone that twinkled gently with the fairy lights behind them. He snapped his mouth shut as Virgil smiled that gentle smile, the same smile that Logan had counted himself the luckiest person in the world to see the first day he had seen the emo teen slouch his way up the stage and behind the podium, nerves clearly telling him to listen to his fight or flight reflex but instead choosing to put those around him at ease any way he could. 

“Logan.” He was snapped out of his thoughts with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “Do you remember how we had to shake hands after the debate?”

“I do.” Logan breathed.

“I saw all of you in that moment, every second we’ve spent together since our souls first met. I’ve loved you in every single life before this and in every single one I love you more still. I know it isn’t necessary but- I want to have a day that makes the fact that we’re soulmates everyone else’s problem.” Virgil held Logan’s gaze earnestly as he choked back a laugh. “Logan, will you marry me?”

“Virgil- of course!” Later he wasn’t sure if Virgil had tugged him down by his tie or if he had gripped it when Logan leaned down, but it didn’t matter as their lips connected and Logan could feel his boyfriend’s, no his fiance’s- his soulmate's heart racing underneath his fingers as he placed a hand to his cheek in an attempt to pull him closer.

Pulling away for a moment he laughed gently at the lipstick smeared slightly, reaching forward to try and fix it. “Virgil, that is not a legitimate debate tactic.”

“I’m taking it as a win anyway.” Virgil reached forward as well, pushing his glasses up to rub away a few stray tears Logan hadn’t noticed collecting on his cheeks. He leaned forward to kiss him again, and again, and again while the candles Logan had forgotten he had lit on the cupcake burned themselves out on the icing and the engagement ring was placed on the table in favor of holding each other as close as they could. And as Logan buried his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck and felt the other’s embrace tighten he knew that in all the lifetimes they had and would share, there was nowhere else he would rather be.

Next

[tulipanthousa]

Pretty in Pastel

After years of pressure build-up, it only takes one spark.

And they have way more than one.

Pairing:romantic prinxiety

Word count: 3162

Warnings: distracted driving (no wrecks or anything)

Notes: missing scene from Leather and Lavender, which is sfw and can be found on my main @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors

thanks to my friend @wisherbysharlight for beta-reading and for also introducing me to the Brat Virgil Agenda because hot fucking damn

---

“I’m already yours.”

It was too much – too much, too fast, and not nearly enough at the same time. Roman surged up, catching Virgil’s bottom lip between his teeth with growl, relishing the way it made Virgil moan and squirm even closer, their whole chests pressed together, no space left between them at all.

If Roman had his way, there would never be space between them again. Roman would keep Virgil right here, in his arms, in his lap, kissed and flushed and perfect forever.

Cupping Roman’s jaw in his palms, Virgil deepened the kiss even further, breathing his moans right into Roman’s lungs. Roman slid his hand up Virgil’s thigh and then simply couldn’t resist the temptation to keep going, sliding his hand up under Virgil’s dress and then yanking the tights down out of the way so Roman could grab the bare skin of Virgil’s ass.

Gasping, Virgil’s hips bucked, grinding himself against Roman’s front, and the space in the car was rapidly becoming too hot to think. Virgil pulled away with a slow drag of his teeth to Roman’s bottom lip only to look down at him with lidded eyes, panting, and do it again, deliberately grinding down with a beautiful moan.

“Virgil,” Roman hissed.

“Now,” breathed Virgil, “Now, Roman, I’ve wanted you so bad for so long-”

Roman groaned in frustration, squeezing Virgil’s ass and unsure if it was a warning or an encouragement.

“A bed,” he growled,  “I’ve- you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to make love to you, Virgil, I am damn well going to do it in a bed.”

“I probably,” breathed Virgil, “Have a better idea than you think.”

Virgil surged forward and kissed Roman firmly, fierce and dazzling, before abruptly pulling away and clamoring out of the car before Roman could even react.

Virgil ducked his head, giving Roman a cheeky grin where he remained, stunned, in the back seat.

“This bed better be worth it, Princey,” he said coyly.

Roman scrambled to follow him, barely able to take his eyes off Virgil, rumpled and hair-mussed and grinning as he moved around to the passenger seat and climbed in. Following, Roman slid in the driver’s side and immediately groaned when Virgil plastered himself to Roman’s side.

“What?” said Virgil innocently, running his nose along the column of Roman’s throat and grinning smugly and still wearing Roman’s fucking jacket – he was temptation incarnate, sent directly into the world to drive Roman to distraction in the most fantastic way possible.

Pulling out of the parking space, Roman tried his damnedest to keep his focus on the road, which was next to impossible with Virgil languidly nuzzling him, his breath puffing across Roman’s collarbone, and then his lips, pressing chaste, sinful kisses to Roman’s shoulder.

“Virgil,” he groaned, “Do you want me to wreck the car?”

“You won’t.” said Virgil sweetly, grazing his teeth against Roman’s shoulder to punctuate it, “How will you fuck me if we crash?”

“Oh, you are a minx,” breathed Roman, “I cannot wait to get my hands on you, I’m going to take you apart completely-”

“Hmm, promise?” crooned Virgil, stroking Roman’s thigh.

By the time Roman pulled off the road to park in front of his duplex, Virgil had worked his hand under Roman’s shirt to scrape his nails against Roman’s stomach, shimmied out of the top of his dress enough that his whole shoulder and half his chest were exposed, and left a constellation of bruises on Roman’s own shoulder that Roman was definitely going to count and repay ten-fold.

And just like before Virgil zipped away, disappearing out of arm's reach before Roman could grab ahold of him.

Roman threw himself out of the car, stalking around to where Virgil was standing with his hand outstretched for Roman to take – Roman grabbed it, yanked Virgil into his arms and pinned him against the car before sealing their mouths together.

Virgil melted, his body relaxing and mouth opening perfectly under Roman’s on a soft moan, arching his back to press into Roman’s touch. Roman bit sharply at his lip and Virgil’s breath and hips stuttered.

Gripping the backs of Virgil’s thighs, Roman lifted him off his feet, pinning him even more firmly against the door as he licked into Virgil’s mouth. Virgil’s hands scrambled to lock around Roman’s shoulders, his chest heaving as Roman rolled their hips together and kissed the breath from Virgil’s lungs

“Roman,” Virgil whined.

“Yes?” Roman replied, dragging his teeth along Virgil’s jaw.

Virgil opened his mouth to respond but then Roman bit firmly at the hinge of his jaw, and Virgil’s voice instead came out on a strangled keen.

“Is that all?” Roman teased.

Virgil laughed, breathless and brilliant, the sound that had gripped Roman’s heart a hundred times, a thousand, and now apparently also made him hard as a rock.

“Are you gonna fuck me here then?” Virgil breathed, “Right here on the street where anyone could see us?”

“What if I did?” said Roman, practically purring in Virgil’s ear, “You’re mine aren’t you? What if I want everyone to know it?”

Virgil’s nails scrabbled at the back of Roman’s neck, back arching and another gorgeous moan falling from his lips.

“You did,” said Virgil breathlessly, “Promise me a bed.”

“That I did,” growled Roman, placing one last burning kiss against Virgil’s mouth before pulling away and practically dragging him to the front door.

Pulling Virgil inside, Roman slammed the door shut and immediately crowded him against it, savoring the taste of Virgil’s lips against his, finally, after what felt like agonizing centuries of dreaming about it, craving it, desiring it more than anything else in the world. Roman could hear his own heartbeat, feeling almost feverish with the intensity of how fiercely he wanted anything and everything Virgil would let him take.

Virgil yanked artlessly at Roman’s shirt until Roman broke away just long enough to drag it over his head and pull Virgil back in, unable to not smirk slightly as Virgil ran his hands over Roman’s chest and moaned.

Taking Virgil’s hand, Roman began walking backwards and pulling Virgil with him, a stumbling half-dance of slanted, messy kisses and roaming hands, teasing bites and pleading moans. Roman stumbled into the mail stand, knocking it over, and he only cared  enough to grab Virgil and lift him off his feet to carry him to Roman’s bedroom instead.

Roman let Virgil slip out of his arms onto the edge of the bed with a little bounce, and Virgil grinned daringly up at him, leaning back on his hands. Dropping to his knees, Roman couldn’t help but smirk when Virgil’s eyes went wide and a beautiful flush spread across his cheeks.

Roman reached both hands under the skirt and hooked his fingers in the waistband of the tights, grinning smugly up at Virgil.

“Can these come off?” he teased.

“Shut up,” whined Virgil, “Yes, obviously, like I haven’t made it painfully clear I want you to fuck me like an hour ago-”

Roman slid the tights and Virgil’s underwear down his thighs in one smooth motion, making Virgil's voice come out on a startled, broken moan instead. Pulling them the rest of the way off was actually made more difficult by Virgil’s own attempts to kick them off, but his desperation was too hot for Roman to remotely care.

“Oh, fuck,” hissed Virgil, burying his fingers in Roman’s hair as Roman licked a slow stripe up his cock.

Roman took just the head in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and just barely sucking. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d woken up, so hard he ached, the phantom dream taste of Virgil’s cum on his tongue – it didn’t compare, didn’t even come close to the real thing, the silky skin under his mouth or the salt on his tongue, Virgil’s nails desperate against his scalp or the gorgeous sound of Virgil’s cries of pleasure in his ears.

Roman pressed forward to take Virgil’s cock as far as he could, only just barely not smirking at the pitched, cracking moan that came out of Virgil’s mouth, before pulling away completely and yanking open his bedside drawer.

“Roman,” Virgil whined, making one, hapless grabby hand in Roman’s direction that was so heart-stoppingly endearing that Roman abruptly felt faint. “Come back here.”

Roman held up his prize - Virgil’s eyes widened, and he started squirming on the bed.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded petulantly as Roman took his place again and flicked open the lube, “Acceptable reason to leave me here. Barely.”

“I’m glad you forgive me, my love,” crooned Roman, grinning at the way it made Virgil flush and whine, tossing his head as Roman slowly kissed and nibbled his way up the inside of Virgil’s thigh.

Roman circled the first, generously lubed finger around Virgil’s hole with those kisses, up one side and down the other with only his breath touching Virgil’s hard, leaking cock.

“Please,” whined Virgil, bucking his hips against nothing but air.

“Hmm,” Roman hummed, pressing in a little, “Well, since you asked so nicely,”

He took Virgil back into his mouth and pressed his finger in to the first knuckle in one motion, and Virgil let out a breathy moan that tempted Roman to take his own cock in hand even though he knew he would never last long that way.

“Yes,” gasped Virgil, “Yes, please, Roman, so good, your mouth-”

Roman bobbed his head in time with the gentle thrusts of his finger, coaxing Virgil open and letting the feel of Virgil’s hands in his hair, his hip under Roman’s palm, the sounds falling from his mouth guide him.

What made him gasp? What made his hips jump and his voice break, what made him writhe and moan and beg?

Roman felt drunk on the knowledge he gained with every passing moment – he would learn all of it, memorize Virgil’s body and pleasure until he knew it like his own, spend the rest of his life hoarding every single detail like the treasure it was.

Roman went back for more lube, compensating for Virgil’s disappointed little whine when he pulled his finger away by taking his cock further into his mouth and sucking hard. The whine became a moan, deepening when Roman pressed two fingers inside this time, Virgil just barely fucking Roman’s mouth in shallow thrusts.

“Do you have any,” said Virgil, quietly breathless, “Any idea how many times- how many times I dreamed of your fingers inside me, stretching me for your cock?”

Groaning, Roman pressed his fingers deeper, sucked harder, all heat and slick, and Virgil kept rocking his hips into Roman’s mouth.

“A hundred,” breathed Virgil, making Roman’s heart stutter at the unknowing echo of his own thoughts, “A thousand, I don’t even know how many- I’ve wanted you, loved you for so long-”

Roman curled his fingers, finally finding the angle, and Virgil’s back arched perfectly, his sentence breaking on a wail.

“Now,” demanded Virgil, “Now, I want you to fuck me now.”

Roman pulled off Virgil’s dick with a slick pop and a groan, burying his forehead in the crook of Virgil’s groin and digging his nails into the outside of his hip.

“Just a little more,” said Roman, reaching for the lube.

“No, now,” whined Virgil, “Please, I want to feel it, I’m ready now.”

“Greedy,” Roman growled before he could stop himself, grinning when it made Virgil whimper and arch on the bed.

“Please,” he breathed, “Please, now, Roman.”

Roman moaned, clamoring to his feet. Virgil let out a half-delirious laugh, scrambling backwards across the covers, and Roman shoved his pants and underwear down his legs, kicked them off, and followed him up onto the bed.

Roman sat at the head, his back to the wall, moaning again when Virgil immediately threw one leg over his lap and settled there, wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck

“You’re, uh-” said Virgil breathed, “Checked up, and everything, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Roman half-laughed, cupping the back of his neck, “I haven’t- haven’t even thought about anybody but you in years.”

“I- Roman.” said Virgil, voice shaking.

“I mean it.” gasped Roman, “So long, Virgil-”

“How long?” said Virgil breathlessly.

“The day I met you,” said Roman, remembering the exact daffodil-yellow-and-lavender get-up Virgil had been wearing, “You were talking to Logan and I called you-”

“‘-yet another flower-crown wearing cupcake.’” said Virgil, grinning.

“Yeah,” said Roman, smiling back and pulling Virgil forward to grind against him, “And you-”

“I kicked you- in the shin!” laughed Virgil, stuttering in the middle with a quiet moan, “You’ve got to be kidding me, Ro.”

“I’m not,” said Roman, voice low, guiding Virgil until they were grinding their cocks together, “Not even a little. I saw that fire in your eyes and I wanted you under me so badly I could taste it, wanted to see exactly what you looked like under all that lavender.”

“Roman,”

“And then-” said Roman, voice breaking as he cupped Virgil’s ass, “And then- you just had to go and be perfect, sharp and witty and beautiful and everything I ever wanted, I wanted you desperately and it took less than a week for me to love you just as much-”

“Roman,” Virgil moaned again, “Please, please fuck me right now.”

“Gladly,” growled Roman, grabbing the lube and drizzling it artlessly over his cock, knowing he should probably overdo it since Virgil had been so impatient.

Virgil sat up on his knees, whimpering when Roman nuzzled his throat as they clumsily maneuvered themselves together. Roman lined himself up and the first inch as Virgil sank down onto him made sparks flare behind his closed eyes.

He wrenched them open, unwilling to miss a single moment. Virgil’s head was thrown back, the long line of his throat exposed and his mouth open on a silent moan. Roman ran his hand over Virgil’s bare hip under the dress – and wasn’t this a long-dreamt fantasy come to life, Virgil about to ride Roman while still wearing one of his many petal-colored skirts – leaning forward to bite at Virgil’s pulse as Virgil slowly fully seated himself on Roman’s cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” moaned Roman.

“I couldn’t wait anymore,” said Virgil breathlessly overwhelmed, “Not another minute, we’ve waited enough and I’m never letting you go again."

“Fuck,” hissed Roman, “You’re perfect, perfect, better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Virgil mewled, rocking just barely and then gasping, and Roman’s whole world had narrowed down to the tight, slick heat around his cock and the impossibly beautiful creature in his arms. Taking Roman’s face in his hands, Virgil met his mouth in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, all tongue and moan.

Virgil rocked again, slowly finding a rhythm. Roman broke away from his mouth to instead trail hot, biting kisses down Virgil’s throat as they began to move together, hips rolling – Roman bit Virgil’s pulse and then sucked the bruise between his lips.

Grabbing Virgil more firmly by the hips, Roman lifted him a little, and Virgil keened.

“Yes,” he whined, “That, keep- keep doing that-”

Roman put more strength behind it, lifting Virgil and then pulling him firmly down, fucking him on Roman’s cock. Licking up the column of Virgil’s throat, Roman kept up the rhythm, reveling in the gasps falling from Virgil’s lips as Roman fucked him, every whimper when Roman bit his collarbone, every stutter of his hips when Roman thrust up and pulled him down to join them together.

“Harder,” breathed Virgil, his eyes glazed, “Harder, more, please.”

“God,” moaned Roman, “Look at you, how bad you want it, it’s so hot-”

“Picking on me,” Virgil muttered, half-laughing and then gasping as Roman gave a particularly firm pull.

“Beautiful,” breathed Roman, “Taking my cock so well, baby, so greedy for it, I love you so much-”

“Love you,” gasped Virgil, “I love you too, please-”

And they fell apart completely, losing the rhythm – both of them too desperate to anything more than claw and writhe against each other, gasping into each other’s mouths and biting at each other’s lips and sliding their tongues together, sloppy and uncoordinated and the hottest thing Roman had ever experienced in his life.

“Touch yourself,” said Roman.

“No,” Virgil shot back instantly, “You do it, I want you to touch me.”

“Bossy,” Roman growled.

“Please?” said Virgil, and oh, if he’d thought he wanted Virgil when he was being sassy and sharp it was nothing compared to Virgil sweet, soft, begging and looking at Roman through his lashes, and what could Roman do but indulge him?

Roman took him in hand, groaning at the slickness from Virgil’s precum that made the slide of his fist over Virgil’s cock so beautifully easy. Virgil clung to his neck, thrusting into Roman’s fist and then fucking himself back in his lap, perfect and stunning.

It snuck up on him – Virgil whined, jerked, and then groaned, long and low and his ass fluttering around Roman’s cock as he spilled into Roman’s hand.

He was too beautiful, flushed and breathless, and Roman practically snarled before grabbing him by the hips and flipping them, pinning him to the bed and thrusting into him.

“Fucking hell!” spat Virgil.

“Too much?” groaned Roman.

“Not enough, please don’t stop-” whined Virgil, his voice half a sob, and Roman didn’t need any more encouragement than that.

Roman worried his teeth against Virgil's collarbone as he fucked him, grasping bruises into his hips and grinning at every overwhelmed, overstimulated whimper that came out of Virgil's mouth. Virgil's own mouth found Roman's shoulder, kissing him messily, wet and hot with his breath puffing across Roman's shoulder in little pleased gasps every time Roman thrust into him. Virgil bit down, and Roman fell apart, his rhythm stuttering until he came with a groan with one final, firm press inside him.

“Kiss me,” breathed Virgil, and Roman did immediately, propping himself up and sealing their mouths together with a soft moan. Virgil cupped his face, sighing happily and running his tongue behind Roman’s teeth.

“Virgil,” Roman murmured into his mouth, “Sweet Virgil, I love you so much-”

“Yeah?” said Virgil, something frighteningly vulnerable in his voice.

“Yes,” said Roman fervently, “Yes, never doubt it. Not once.”

Virgil gave him a tremulous smile.

“I love you, too,” he said softly, “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Roman kissed him again, firmer, and the move made Virgil squeak as Roman’s cock shifted inside him. Roman groaned, shocked to find he could already feel himself working his way up to a second round.

“What, already?” Virgil teased, but Roman could feel the way his breath hitched.

Roman pressed his lips to the shell of Virgil’s ear.

“Did you really think,” purred Roman, “That I was going to let you leave this bed tonight?”

Virgil shuddered, and Roman grinned.

“Well,” said Virgil breathlessly, “You had better start giving me reasons to stay, shouldn’t you?”

---

ko-fi

Main Taglist

@glitterandgaybriel @deniedmysign @a1t-ernative @agirlinthegalaxy @slitherynchiken @jerrythefroggy @coquettishcass

[max-is-tired]

Misconceptions: A Show

Pairing: Intrulogical

Characters: Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders.

Words: 3.941

Warnings: sympathetic Deceit & Remus, swearing, some graphic talk bc it’s Remus, screaming in caps

Notes: Finally, I can post this monster of a fic -hey there, @princeyssash, guess who was your secret santa? This fic was honestly so much fun to write, I swear -I loved all of the prompts I had, but this one just called to me,,, I had to,,

Big thanks to @purp-man for betaing this fic for me and listening to my 3am rambles, and shoutout to @afulldeckofaces for helping me flesh out some plot points, like Virgil memeing his way through Roman’s plans. You’re the absolute best <33

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!!  My Discord server!!  AO3!!

It was a normal day in the mindscape.

Patton was humming happily in the kitchen, shuffling around with a pep in his step as he mixed the batter for some cookies. In the living room, Logan and Virgil were enjoying each other’s company while doing their own thing, may it be reading or half-slouching on the couch while scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr.

Everything was peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

“YOU DIRTY LITTLE SEWER RAT GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!!”

Everyone jumped at the sudden shout, Virgil going as far as tumbling off the couch with a startled yelp. From upstairs, Remus’ unmistakable laughter bounced on the walls, followed shortly after by the twin himself bolting down the stairs with a maniacal grin on his face.

“Oh god,” Virgil groaned from the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose, “what the fuck did he do now?”

“Language, kiddo,” Patton called, emerging from the kitchen with a confused frown on his face. 

Turns out, they didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“REMUS!!” Roman screeched, running down the stairs. He looked thoroughly pissed, eyes flashing dangerously as he glared daggers at his brother.

Virgil took one look at him, blinked, and then promptly broke down cackling.

“Stop laughing, Hot Topic!” Roman exclaimed, cheeks flushing red. Not that his blush was very noticeable, due to the various scribbles and crude drawings covering his face. “Look at what he did to my beautiful face!”

“You just don’t understand real art, brother dearest,” Remus snickered, waving the marker in his hand around.

“Oh, I’ll show you real art,” Roman muttered darkly, unsheathing his sword as he stalked down the last steps of the stairs.

At the sight of the unsheathed sword, Virgil’s eyes widened in alarm, his body tensing slightly as it became clear the situation was starting to escalate. Beside him, Logan looked at the two brothers, sighed in resignation and snapped the book in his hands shut.

“That’s quite enough, you two,” he said, staring the two brothers down with a raised eyebrow.

“Specs, he drew penises on my face! Multiple times!!”

“Which you can easily snap off with a wave of your hand,” Logan pointed out, “I do not believe there is any need for all this screaming, or for weapons to be brought into the picture.”

“Logan, you don’t understand, I gotta fight him now! For my honor!!” Roman exclaimed, waving his arms around -and therefore further proving Logan’s point by almost cutting Deceit’s head off as the side rose up to check what the commotion was about.

“Oi, watch it!” Deceit called out, ducking to avoid another accidental swipe of Roman’s sword, “who are you, Zuko?”

“If Roman’s Zuko then Logan is totally Uncle Iroh,” Virgil added, still lying on the floor.

Logan shrugged. “If we are referring to the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender then yes, I can see the similarities.”

Roman squinted at them, finally lowering his sword. “There is an insult somewhere in that phrase. I don’t know where, but I know there is.”

“It’s because you’re a dumb-head, bro!” Remus cackled, once again calling the attention to himself.

Roman growled, looking more than ready to stalk through the room and tackle his twin to the ground, but Logan anticipated him before the situation could escalate once again.

“Remus, I believe this is quite enough,” he said, turning towards the aforementioned twin.

“Aw, but Logan, I’m just having some fun!”

Logan simply raised an eyebrow, staring him down.

“Ugh, fiiiine!” Remus finally groaned, throwing the marker somewhere behind himself, “that does not mean I’m happy about it though!”

Then, he sank out.

Peace once again established, Logan hummed and leaned back on the couch, going back to reading his book.

Or at least that was the plan.

“What the fuck just happened?” Virgil asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“Virgil, language!!”

“Sorry Padre, but I gotta agree with Cout Woelaf here,” Roman said, sword laying limp in his grip, “that was nothing less but weird.”

“I honestly do not understand where all of this apparent confusion is coming from,” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You told Remus to stop!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his arms up, “and he listened to you!!”

“Roman, your sword!” Deceit hissed in frustration, having had to duck for the third time to avoid being cut in tiny scaley pieces. “If you don’t put it down this instant I might just try and stab you with it, do not try me.”

Roman grumbled but complied, making the sword disappear with a wave of his hand. Then, he crossed his arms, looking once again towards the logical side. “My point still stands though. Remus never listens to anyone, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I think I have to agree with them here Lo,” Patton said, still standing under the kitchen’s doorway, “that was a little weird.”

“Well, I do not know what to tell you,” Logan countered, “I asked him to stop, he complied and then sank out -it’s as simple as that.”

“If you say so,” Roman said, squinting at him in suspicion.

From the other side of the room, Deceit gave him A Look, appearing to be torn between amusement and concern. Logan subtly raised an eyebrow in response, making sure the others would not notice their silent exchange.

After all, it wasn’t like he could just tell them the truth, could he?

+++

When Logan finally sank up in his room, sometime later, he was not surprised to see a very familiar side sprawled on his bed, head hanging from the side of the mattress as he threw a tiny dagger up and down in the air.

“Lolo!!” Remus grinned, spotting him, “took you a while, I was starting to get bored!”

“I wanted to finish this novel first,” Logan said, putting the book in question back to its place in his large library, “it was rather interesting.”

“You know what would be interesting?” Remus asked, not looking away from the other as he kept playing with his dagger, “to find out what would happen if this dagger hit me in the eye!! Do you think it would reach all the way to my brain?”

“I suppose it would,” Logan hummed, sitting beside the creative side and quickly catching the dagger out of the air when Remus threw it again, “but between proving that hypothesis and spending the rest of the day with my not-injured husband, I think I prefer the second option more.”

“Oh really?” Remus grinned, sitting up -a slim silver chain fell out of his shirt with the movement, the golden ring hanging from it twinkling in the light of the room. “And tell me, how would you like to spend that time, my dear?”

Logan hummed, the light pressure of his own ring hiding under his shirt bringing a smile to his face. “Oh, I’m sure my dear husband will have some ideas of his own to share.”

“Oh, you are wicked,” Remus said, before leaning in to capture Logan’s lips in a kiss.

+++

For a while, it seemed like whatever had happened in the living room had been forgotten -the others were still confused by how easy it was for Logan to make Remus listen to him, but most of them waved it off as Logic easily overpowering Intrusive Thoughts with rationality and all that shit.

(Deceit knew better than that, but that was mostly because lying to him was next to impossible and Logan had been smart enough to let him in on their secret as soon as it had started to become a serious thing, both to help the couple lie to the other sides and to avoid him finding out on his own and potentially jeopardizing their cover.)

Point is, no one had yet discovered the real reason between the apparent chemistry between the two sides. But that didn’t mean they weren’t starting to notice things.

The first one to start suspecting something was, surprisingly enough, Virgil.

He had been sneaking to the kitchen around 3am, planning to grab a quick snack from the pantry and then tip-toe back to his own room, all the while hoping not to alert anyone of his nighttime escapade -he had already been at the receiving end of several stern talks about his fucked-up sleeping schedule and did not want to have to sit through another one, thank you very much.

What he had not been expecting, was to find himself staring at Logan’s back, the logical side looking busy filling two mugs with steaming water.

Virgil froze on his tracks, eyes wide in alarm as he tried to figure out how to sneak back out of the kitchen and up the stairs without being noticed. Unfortunately, Logan seemed to have other ideas and turned around before the anxious side could make up his mind about the next course of action.

“Uh,” Logan said, blinking in surprise, “hello, Virgil. I have to be honest, I was not expecting to meet anyone at this hour of the night.”

“Likewise, I guess,” Virgil shrugged, giving the other a tiny smile, “why are you up at this hour anyway? Weren’t you the one waxing poetry about the importance of a regular sleep schedule?”

“I got sidetracked, I guess. One late night won’t harm me in any way or form, I assure you.”

Virgil snickered. “I’m telling Patton you said that.”

“I don’t think you will,” Logan countered, calm as ever as he put down the kettle and moved to grab the two cups, “because if you do I will tell Patton about you sneaking into the kitchen at 3am with, as it appears, not a single ounce of sleep in your body.”

“... harsh, L. Real harsh.”

“Just stating facts,” Logan said, before walking out of the kitchen.

Virgil stared after him, watching the logical side leisurely cross the living room and walk up the stairs until he could not see him anymore. Then, he shrugged, quickly walking to the pantry and grabbing the snack he had come for.

He straightened up, holding triumphantly a bag of chips, only to freeze up again when a tiny detail finally struck him.

“Wait, why the fuck did he have two mugs?”, he wondered, turning back to glance at the stairs. Then, he turned towards the kitchen counter, noticing a little bag sitting just to the side of where Logan had been standing just a few seconds before.

“Kuding Tea” read the caption on the front of the bag, the inside filled with slim, dark tea nails.

Virgil frowned, rolling the name around in his head. He was sure he had heard it before, but where?

+++

The second one was Roman.

He had been strolling idly around the Imagination, humming a song under his breath as he walked along a path in the woods. Of course, his guard wasn’t completely down, not now that he was so near Remus’ side of the Imagination -while his relationship with his brother had greatly improved in the last year or so, he was still very much aware of the dangerous creatures lurking in his brother’s domain, and Roman had no desire to be caught by surprise by one of them.

Could you imagine the teasing, if Remus ever were to find out?

So yeah, he was still being very attentive to his surroundings -that’s probably half of the reason why he found himself hesitating when what sounded like distant laughter reached his ears.

Roman stilled, focusing on his surroundings. But all he could hear was silence, and after a few more seconds he was about ready to shrug it off to his imagination.

Then, the same, faint sound echoed from somewhere in the forest.

Curious, Roman started following the sound, watching his steps as his hand moved to hover over the handle of his sword -better be safe than sorry, he figured.

It didn’t take long for him to reach his destination, the forest receding just a few feet in front of him to make room for a vast, lush clearing. What he found, however, was something he could have never fathomed.

In the middle of the clearing, sitting on the grass in front of each other, were Remus and Logan, looking way too engrossed in their own conversation to notice the stunned prince staring at them from just behind a tree.

Remus seemed to be showing Logan something, looking completely enraptured by whatever Logan was saying.

The logical side was talking animatedly, waving his hands around with a grin as he occasionally gestured to something sitting between them. And Remus, well, he was staring at Logan with an expression Roman was pretty sure he’d never seen on his twin’s face.

He was looking at Logan like he was the sole holder of every secret of the universe, like he was everything he could see and hear.

He looked absolutely, utterly smitten, and Roman did not know what to do with that information.

+++

For Patton, well, it was more of a gradual realization.

He may not be the smartest in the group, but he was not by any means an idiot. He had noticed right away the potential chemistry between the two sides, the way Logan never seemed to be fazed by Remus’ shenanigans or the way Remus seemed to enjoy poking fun at the logical side.

Initially, he had not been very thrilled about it. But as time went on and they started to get closer to the dark sides, he could see how those two being friends could be highly beneficial for everyone, Remus and Logan included.

And he thought that was all it was -a blossoming friendship!

But the more time passed, the more Patton started to realize how that wasn’t exactly the case.

He didn’t know what initially tipped him off, really. Maybe it was the shared glances when one of them thought the other wasn’t looking, or the smile both of the sides seemed to fight down when in the presence of the other.

Maybe it was the subtle change in Logan’s demeanor, the way he’d grown calmer, happier, metaphorically softer around the edges ever since he and Remus had started growing closer.

Something was starting to bloom between the two sides, and Patton was not so sure it was a simple, innocent friendship anymore.

+++

Things came to a head one fateful Saturday afternoon, with Logan stuck revising schedules with Thomas and Remus doing who-knows-what in the Imagination.

The other sides were all lounging in the living room, all doing their own thing.

Then, Roman spoke up.

“Do you guys think something’s going on between Remus and Logan?”

Virgil, who was very much not expecting to hear something like that in the foreseeable future, jumped up from where he had been sprawled on the couch, headphones hanging limp from his neck as he stared wide-eyed at the creative side.

“Please tell me you’re not implying what I think you are implying.”

Roman shrugged, looking away as he scratched the base of his neck. “I don’t know what to tell you, Panic! At The Everywhere -I’m just asking.”

“If I have to be completely honest, actually,” piped up Patton from his place on the floor, stopping the episode of Parks & Rec they had been using as a background, “I have noticed some strange things too.”

“Right??” Roman exclaimed, “I saw them in the Imagination, last week, and I swear to god at one point Remus’ expression almost rivaled the way Logan usually looks at a jar of Crofters.”

“Whoa there Princey,” Virgil said, “don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little?”

“I know what I saw, J.D-lightful.”

“And I think Logan could be developing some feelings for Remus, even if he probably hasn’t quite realized it yet,” Patton added.

Virgil went to argue, but suddenly a realization struck him.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered in shock, suddenly looking like he was reevaluating everything he’d ever known.

“What?” Roman asked, confused.

“I caught Logan down in the kitchen, the other day,” Virgil explained, “he was brewing two cups of tea -which I found rather strange, really, but it was something like 3am so I didn’t question it too much. But I saw the name of the tea he brewed, and it felt familiar but I didn’t connect the dots until now.”

“Well?” Roman prompted, “We’re on the edge of our seats here, Marilyn Morose.”

“It was Kuding Tea, aka Remus’ favorite,” Virgil revealed. “He made us brew it all the time, and he was the only one able to drink that stuff because it’s one of the most bitter things you could ever try to swallow.”

Patton hummed, looking deep in thought. “Looks like those two might be closer than we thought.”

Roman grinned, something akin to mischief glinting in his eyes. “How about we help them grow just a little bit closer, uh?”

“We can discuss all of that later, Ro, but first there’s another thing we need to talk about,” Patton said, before turning to look at Virgil with a stern look on his face. “Virgil Sanders, what’s this I hear about you being up at 3am again?”

(Engrossed as they were in the new revelations, none of the sides noticed the tiny smirk stretching on Deceit’s face as he watched the scene unfold. He could have tried to stop them from trying to meddle, sure.

But where would be the fun in that?)

 +++

As it turned out, not a single one of the sides’ plans came even close to its goal.

First came Patton’s idea, which was arguably the most subtle. They set up a family dinner, pestering the two sides until they confirmed their presence at the table. Then, very last minute, everyone gave random excuses as to why they couldn’t come. Everyone was sure it would work, even if they didn’t stick around to find out -knowing Remus’s tendency to make things rather… spicy, they didn’t want to find out what would happen after the two finally confessed their feelings.

However, when, the day after, they asked Logan how the dinner had gone, the logical side simply leveled them with a confused stare.

“Since you all weren’t there we just agreed to bring the food back to our rooms and keep doing our work -I still had some possible scripts to read through so it worked just fine for me.”

So, it looked like plan A had been a failure.

Roman, in all of his finesse and “romantic prowess” (his exact words), decided to put his own plan in action -which consisted of not-so-subtly shoving the two sides in the same room and “accidentally” break the doorknob, effectively trapping them inside.

(“Wow, a true Cupido alright.”

 “Oh, shut up, you Emo Nightmare.”)

However, Roman’s incredible, astonishing, foolproof plan (again, his exact words) did not account for one specific aspect, aka Remus’ tendency of not letting puny, material things like doors keep him trapped.

In less than five minutes, the two sides were free once again, easily sidestepping what little remained of the door with Remus still holding his morning star in his hands.

And just like that, plan B joined its predecessor down the metaphorical toilet.

Last came Virgil’s plan, which was quite different from the other two’s -it was succinct, concise, and the farthest thing from subtle you could ever think of.

“Hey L,” he called one day, not even looking up from his phone, “what if you went and kissed Remus?”

Logan slowly looked up from his book. “... I apologize, what?”

Virgil shrugged, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. Unless…?”

Logan blinked at him, looking thoroughly confused. “Virgil, are you unwell? How many hours of rest did you get last night?”

And that’s how plan C joined its sibling down in the metaphorical sewer.

(“Your plan was a meme??”

“At least I didn’t try to cliché them into a relationship, Princey.”) 

Point is, by the end of the week the three sides had still to come up with a tactic that could actually work. So, they planned another brainstorm question in the living room.

Only, they appeared to have greatly miscalculated Remus and Logan’s whereabouts.

“Alright, you guys want to share with the class what the fuck is going on already?”

The three sides jumped in unison, whipping their heads around to stare at the two sides standing at the bottom of the stairs. Remus was leaning on the railing, looking at them expectantly, while Logan was standing just beside him with his arms crossed in front of his chest, one single eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“Uuuuuh…” Patton spoke up, looking at the other two in search of help, “language?”

“Pat, I think my language is the least of our problems now,” Remus retorted, refusing to drop the subject, “so, who wants to start talking first?”

The three sides, who looked like three deers caught in the headlights, seemed to grow more panicked by the second, searching for a possible explanation and coming up empty-handed.

“We found out you guys have a crush on each other and wanted to help you two get together!” Roman finally blurted.

“Roman!” Virgil growled, turning to glare at the creative side.

“I’m sorry!” Roman squeaked, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“You could have been a little more… tactful about it, kiddo,” Patton said, smiling nervously as they all waited with bated breath what the two’s reactions would be.

Logan and Remus blinked, dumbfounded. Then, they turned to look at each other, before Remus decided that the best course of action was, of course, to break down into hysterical giggles, compete with wheezing and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

As for Logan, well, he limited himself to chuckling, looking downright amused by the whole situation.

So yeah, not exactly the reactions the others were expecting.

“... what?” Virgil asked, “please tell me I’m not the only confused one right now.”

“Apologies, Virgil,” Logan said, as Remus kept merrily cackling his lungs out on the floor, “we just thought something serious was going on, since you have all been acting strangely during the last week or so. Discovering that the reason behind your strange behavior was that, well, is rather amusing.”

“Wait, is that your way of telling us you actually don’t like Remus?” Roman said.

“Actually, I do like him, in a romantic sense,” Logan chuckled, throwing a fond look at the side wheezing on the ground. “We have been engaged in a romantic relationship for a while now.”

“... I know I probably sound like a broken record but what?”

“He wants to tap this booty, Vee!” Remus cackled, “and I’m 100% down for that!”

“ By the horn of a unicorn, please spare us the details,” Roman muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So that means you guys are already in a relationship?!” Patton exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he clapped his hands in obvious delight, “oh my gosh, that’s so cute! I’m so happy for you guys!!”

“I don’t know if I want to be angry because you guys didn’t tell us or because my brother somehow managed to score a boyfriend before me,” Roman grumbled.

Logan and Remus shared a glance at that, mischief twinkling in both of their eyes. Then, once it appeared they were both on the same page, Remus spoke, barely stopping himself from giggling in anticipation.

“Actually we’re married, but go off I guess.”

Silence fell, seconds ticking by as the news started to sink in.

“Now hold on a second you guys aRE WHAT-”

And then, chaos.

[today-only-happens-once]

Scutum

Title: Scutum

Word Count: 9424

Summary: Sci-Fi AU. Roman sees the weapon first. The rest is just instinct. Found family. Platonic Logince, Platonic LAMP/CALM. Features Cartoon Therapy characters + Remy/Sleep.

Warnings: cursing (a lot woops); whump/angst/hurt/comfort; violence a la sci-fi/sci-fi weapons; science stuff that’s like 10% research and 90% made-up; sci-fi colonization stuff; passing mention of drunkenness; poison/being poisoned; feelings of guilt and misplaced blame and stuff like that; talk of death and dying; Elliot is briefly a little bit of a jerk but they’re anxious/traumatized and also kinda young so they’re doing their best; injury and blood; let me know if I forgot any.

A/N: Have some sci-fi escapist found family hurt/comfort. This took forever, wow. Several weeks and three drafts later and here we are. Glad it’s done! My huge, undying thanks to @creativenostalgiastuff for all of her help as my beta for this fic and answering my many, many questions and dealing with my general self-doubt. First time writing sci-fi. Would love to know what you think! <3

…

Captain Logan Sanders scrubs a hand underneath his glasses and leans his head back against the glass of the circular window. The metal of the spaceship—affectionately coined Foster by the ship’s medic, Patton Hart—creaks with a dull groan. The captain usually uses the window in the ship’s armory when he needs a moment alone, as its size allows Logan to comfortably lean up against the glass and look out into the “void of space”, as their pilot—Virgil Shea—tended to describe it.

Their relations officer and navigation coordinator, Roman Prince, usually hated looking too long at it. Logan had the feeling it made him feel lonely, or homesick. Maybe both.

Logan doesn’t mind it, though he also wouldn’t have necessarily called it a “void”. Billions of stars and the occasional swirl of color meant a certainty of life that existed out there. The universe is always teeming with it, and Logan finds a greater comfort from this distanced reminder than the crowded, bustling bazaars that Roman seemed to thrive in.

Logan hears the door swish open, his head swiveling over towards the sound. The light that floods into the room illuminates the dusty iron walls and the shelves of weapons—phasers and guns lined up beside one another, boxes of ammo on the shelf above—and Logan sees a familiar figure silhouetted against the light.

“Hey, Captain,” Kai Dwyer greets, unfazed by the sight of Logan sitting in the window.

“Kai,” he replies, pushing himself up to his feet off the window ledge. He grimaces slightly as he stretches his back, having forgotten how stiff the metal makes him when he sits too long.

Kai grabs a clipboard off the wall adjacent to the door. “Thought I’d do a quick inventory check before we dock.”

Logan frowns. “Are we close?”

“Virgil said we were still a few hours out. But I wanna be thorough. Make sure I know everything we need before get on planet.”

Logan inclines his head, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering stiffness before he crosses towards the door. “Acceptable. Carry on.”

Kai gives a small mock-salute. “Roger that, Cap’n.” The door slides shut behind Logan.

Foster is an old ship. Even to someone unfamiliar with the schematic, it’s evident in the grated flooring, the worn metal walls and beams that hold it together, the way the pressurizer hummed on occasion. Newer models tended to be sleeker, more streamlined, and generally brighter than the dark iron walls that adorned Foster’s interior.

Logan would never admit it—even to his own crew—but he trusted Foster more than he trusted other ships. Logically, he knew it was ridiculous. In the vast majority of cases, Logan believed that newer generally meant improved. But when it came to Foster, Logan had never even considered trading it in for a newer model. Instead, if something needed fixing on the ship, then Logan would consult Virgil and their engineer, Remy, to give Foster the needed updates. The ship was as much a part of the crew as any of the rest of them and it had gotten them through it’s fair share of close calls. As far as Logan was concerned, Foster had earned the loyalty of the crew.

But of course… that an inanimate object could earn loyalty didn’t make logical sense. So Logan kept that particular sentiment to himself.

Logan hears a familiar sound of the door swishing open down the short pathway and sees Roman duck out of his room. The relations officer is wearing his white and red armor suit, and Logan arcs an eyebrow when the officer meets his gaze.

“Hey, Specs.” Roman gives a small salute that echoes Kai’s a moment ago. Logan rolls his eyes.

“Greetings. Might I inquire as to why you’re wearing armor? My understanding is that we’re about to dock for a benign venture.” Logan pauses. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

“What? Oh.” Roman glances down at himself as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Sorry to disappoint, Logan. Patton wanted to check the monitors in the suit, so I’m supposed to wear it around for a little bit. Make sure the readings are all right.” He bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ve gotta say, Kai’s upgrades to the armor are pretty cool. Check this out.”

Roman stretches an arm out to his side, and Logan has barely registered that his palm has started to glow when something bright shoots out from it and Logan throws an arm up to protect his face.

A moment later, Logan lowers his arm to see a glowing hole through one wall of the ship. Through that hole, Logan sees the med bay and Patton staring out at them with wide, startled eyes. Picani is standing on the other side of the med bay, a ukulele in his hand, having just startled out of the chair he was sitting in. Logan clenches his jaw, turning a frustrated gaze at Roman before he hears the metallic clang of footsteps climbing up the ladder and the unmistakable voice of the ship’s primary engineer.

“Girl, you better not have busted a hole in my ship again!”

At the end of the hall, Remy García’s head pokes up with a glowering look as he pulls himself up onto the top layer of scaffolding. His dark goggles are pushed back into his hair, and he’s got streaks of grease smudged across his forehead and along his cheek.

“Your ship?” Logan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His comment goes ignored as Remy stalks down the pathway and Roman starts stammering out either an apology or an excuse.

“You’re lucky you didn’t punch a hole straight through the outer shell or we’d all be dead.”

The intercom announces its presence with a familiar click and faint static before Virgil’s voice chimes through, echoing slightly off the metal walls. “Yeah, Remy and I might’ve fixed the damage from last week but we’d rather not test it while we’re floating through the great abyss of space.”

Roman’s holding his hands up in surrender. “It was an accident!” He glances through the hole in the wall. “Sorry, Patton. Sorry, doc!”

Patton waves. “It’s okay!” he calls from inside the med bay.

Picani chuckles and waves as well. “Nobody’s hurt!”

Remy sighs and looks to Logan. “That won’t be the cheapest fix, Cap, and we maxed on the budget for ship fixes last time we docked. That pirate gang did a number on Foster.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Roman, it’s coming out of your pay.”

Roman opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it before nodding. “No, yeah. That’s fair.”

Remy gives Roman one more glare before turning and heading back towards the ladder that descends to the lower deck. Logan is about to head to the bridge when he hears Roman say, “I mean… you gotta admit that was pretty cool.”

“I will admit no such thing,” Logan replies dryly as he heads in the opposite direction of Remy. “At some point, I’ll have peace and quiet on my ship again.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that!” Roman calls after him brightly.

…

“We’re probably about 3 hours out from docking, Captain.”

Elliot—Virgil’s co-pilot—makes the announcement as the door to the ship’s bridge swishes open. The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly, always impressed by Elliot’s ability to know who was coming through the door without looking. Anytime Logan asked them about it, they merely shrugged.

Foster’s bridge is relatively small. Green, red, and blue dots of lights cover both walls above a row of seats with harnesses for emergency cases. Each dot of light was information about how Foster was functioning, and Logan scans both walls quickly. Everything seemed to be operating efficiently.

“Understood,” Logan replies to Elliot.

A few feet past the emergency seats along the walls are the two pilot chairs, occupied by Virgil and Elliot. Virgil flips a small metal switch, then glances over his shoulder at Logan. Virgil had been the last person to join his team when Logan was first recruiting—Picani, Kai, and Elliot didn’t join until a few months ago. Logan had been uncertain when someone whose call sign was “Anxiety” responded to his flyer in search of a pilot. But word on the street had been that Virgil was the best of the best, and Logan was running low on potential candidates that measured up to his expectations.

Virgil had more than proved the rumors. Logan owed his life to him and his piloting skills more times than he cared to admit. The entire crew did.

“So why exactly are we docking in Vannaheim?” Virgil asks. “Not that I’m not, like, totally jazzed to be going to a planet that’s 99% desert.”

Logan crosses the short distance to stand between the two pilots chairs. “Vannaheim’s dune pattern is being impacted by gravity shifts that they can’t explain. We’re there to take some observations and perhaps help their scientists develop a solution.”

Elliot glances at Virgil, then snorts at the look on his face. “You’re just mad because you can’t wear your hoodie.”

Virgil points a finger at them. “I can, and I will.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan interjects with a pointed look. “I will not have one of my best pilots suffer heat stroke.”

“It’s my aesthetic and I like to suffer.”

Logan shakes his head, looking out above the ship’s controls to the window that spanned in front of the pilot seats. It was a similar view to the one Logan had been enjoying a moment ago in the armory window, with the addition of Vannaheim in the distance—a small, red and orange planet that was approximately half the size of Earth. Hot and dry, but slightly higher oxygen levels than were present in Earth’s atmosphere.

Logan had been to Vannaheim six years ago when an old friend of his, Corbin Wright, had requested his help with developing vegetation alternatives given the arid biosphere of the planet. He’d been concerned at the potential ecological ramifications should they introduce flora and fauna that were not native to the planet. Instead, he and Corbin and a few other scientists spent a few weeks researching the native vegetation and fauna and determining what options were most compatible with human nutritional needs.

The effort had been met with some resistance from a minority of the colonists on the planet. They formed something of a resistance group—called themselves the ‘Retribution’, which Logan still thinks is a bit excessive—that started with some minor disagreement at community meetings, but quickly devolved into accusations that their ‘way of life’ was ‘under attack’. Which was ridiculous. Logan left as things continued to escalate, knowing that his presence on the planet was likely to only heighten the tensions. It was Logan’s original idea, after all.

When Corbin reached out about the gravitational shifts, he’d said tensions had remained after Logan left—even reaching moments when Corbin worried it would turn violent—but that things seemed to have mostly settled down in the recent weeks. Logan had asked if Corbin was sure that Logan returning wouldn’t have an adverse effect on the peace in the colony.

One way to find out, Corbin had replied dryly. Logan didn’t find it particularly comforting.

…

Two and a half hours later, Logan is passing by the med bay when the click through the ship’s intercom perks his ears.

“Heads up. We’re T-minus 27 minutes until we’ll be pulling into dock.” Elliot’s voice is distorted slightly by the static hum.

It clicks off in the same moment that the doors to the med bay swish open. Patton steps out, looking down at a chart that’s projected flatly from the gauntlet on his wrist. He glances up and smiles.

“Heya, Cap.”

Logan arcs an eyebrow. “Greetings. Everything satisfactory?” He inclines his head to the chart Patton had been looking at.

“What, this?” Patton glances back down. “Yeah. Just going over the charts from the new suit readouts. I was gonna have you try yours on before we docked, but Roman’s little… surprise earlier did some damage to the chest plate as I was downloading the software.” Patton laughs. “Kai said he can fix it, but not before we dock. I did manage to salvage your helmet, though. Ya have a minute?”

Logan follows Patton through the entryway into the med bay. Perhaps “med bay” was a bit of a gracious term for it. The room was relatively small, with two gatch beds fixed to one wall, and a variety of medical equipment and read-outs that Logan only vaguely understood how to use. The room was well-equipped for as small as it was, but Patton was also the only medical doctor on the ship.

On the left gatch bed, Logan sees black armor with blue accents—and the half-melted chestplate. It resembles, in style, to the white and red armor Roman had been wearing earlier.

“I updated the heartrate monitor display, plus the one for oxygen intake,” Patton is saying behind Logan as he minimizes the chart he’d been looking at and moves to a monitor on the far wall. “I also added a body temperature gauge and a toxin sensor since you can never be too careful, y’know?”

Logan nods, lifting the new helmet and inspecting it. The exterior of the helmet looks the same as before Logan had turned it over to be updated. A dark visor shields the face, the rest of it black with dark blue accents. It matches the damaged suit that sits in pieces on the gatch bed.

“Ya like it?” Patton asks. Logan looks over his shoulder at the doctor, who had stopped what he was doing on the monitor to look expectantly at the ship captain.

Logan glances back. “It appears to be the same helmet.”

Patton grins. “Looks that way. It’s cooler now, though. I also added in some ecological monitors. Simple stuff, at least for now. Atmosphere make up, surface temperature. Working on some other stuff, but that seems like enough for a prototype, don’tcha think?”

“I suppose it does make sense to limit variable additions when testing new technology.”

“Try the helmet on for me? Oh, and you should probably take your glasses off. Kai made sure the display will adjust for your vision.”

Logan obligingly slips the dark armor helmet over his head. He reaches up to his temple on the outside of the helmet and presses in. There’s a high-pitched blip and Logan’s vision goes from dark to a bright, staticky blue. Logan instinctively shuts his eyes against the blinding onslaught.

“Yikes!” Patton yelps, and Logan senses him suddenly standing beside him. A slight pressure on his left temple, a quiet blip, and Logan’s vision goes back to black. “I’m sorry, Logan. Not sure why that happened. I’ll have Kai take a look.”

Logan slips the helmet back off. “Not to worry, Patton. I’m confident in Kai’s engineering capabilities.”

Patton gingerly takes the helmet from Logan’s arms and sets it back on the gatch bed in front of them. “Yeah, but still. We were so close to all of you getting to try the new suits!”

Logan rakes his fingers through his hair to pull it back under control from its disheveled state. It was always a mess when he took his helmet off. He slips his glasses back onto his face. “Nevertheless. Roman and Elliot’s test runs on Vannaheim should still be adequate in assessing whether the new software you’ve developed will serve its functional purpose adequately.”

Patton gives Logan’s helmet a sad pat. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, thanks for giving it a shot, Cap! Good luck down there.”

“Your luck is unneeded, but appreciated. Thank you, Patton.”

…

The blast of arid heat stings Logan’s eyes slightly as Virgil lowers the ship’s docking track. Logan smiles politely at Corbin—slightly aged from the last time he saw him, but unmistakable regardless—and the two other individuals that stand with him. Roman and Elliot linger closely behind him as Logan descends the ramp and shakes Corbin’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, Logan,” Corbin greets with a faint smile. “Allow me to introduce you. This is my partner, Sloane. And this is Valerie.”

Logan shakes both of their hands, thinking idly that Sloane’s evident excitable energy rivaled that of Patton’s. Valerie has her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, which isn’t necessarily a surprise given the heat. The orange and yellow sands stretch into rolling dunes in the distance, unheeded by the small colony network they’d docked in. A bright blue sky stretches above them, and Logan sees Elliot slip on a pair of sunglasses out of the corner of his eye. Roman squints and brings up a hand to shield his own vision.

“Rainwall’s gotten bigger,” Logan remarks as Corbin leads them from the dock and further into the colony.

The last time Logan had been here, it had barely been a few temporary settlement structures—really just glorified tents, in Logan’s humble opinion--cohesive enough to call a colony network but only barely. The structures look more permanent now, and there are certainly more of them. Pathways between them are not paved but are certainly worn enough with foot and vehicle traffic, and Logan is pleased to see that they put his prior suggestion of solar panels to use. The roofs of nearly every building—most of them white and domed structures of varying sizes—are covered with them.

There’s a gust of wind, kicking up the sand and dust at their feet. Logan turns his face into his shoulder to keep from inhaling. Roman coughs behind him. “Oh great,” he says with an air of drama that makes Logan roll his eyes. “This planet is going to ruin my hair.”

“You get used to it,” Valerie says.

“I definitely do not want to get used to it.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks. “We could return to Dal’tera, Roman.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of Dal’tera again.”

“You and Virgil agreed to never speak of what happened on Dal’tera again. I made no such promise.”

Although Logan doesn’t turn around, he can feel the way Elliot’s gaze flickers between Roman’s face and the back of his head. “What happened on Dal’tera?”

“It was four years ago—”

“Which is why we are leaving it in the past!” Roman cuts in insistently. “Unbelievable. The lack of trust. First, Kai disables the cool blaster-thingy on my suit, now my own captain is betraying my trust.”

The accusation is empty and with a certain familiar affection underlying the dramatics, but Logan holds his hands up in mock surrender regardless. “To Kai’s credit, you did damage the ship less than half an hour after having the technology made available to you,” he says, and Roman makes an affronted noise behind him.

“It was an accidental—”

Elliot interrupts him, sounding amused. “Did you just call it a blaster-thingy? Really?”

Logan glances over his shoulder in time to see Roman look down at his armored hand. “I don’t know the name for it.”

“It should be named something cool.”

“Yes, I agree. Perhaps we should come up with some options to run by Kai when we return.”

As they pass one of the vegetation fields, a pair of colonists wave at them from a distance. Logan sees Sloane wave enthusiastically in return out of the corner of his eye. Corbin lifts a hand in a more subdued greeting. A pair of children cut out between the buildings in front of them and barely dodge Logan and Corbin at the front of the group, shrieking with laughter.  Behind him, Elliot and Roman chat about potential names for the new technology that Kai had inputted into the suit.

It’s a familiar thrum of background noise as they make their way through the settlement. The excitable chatter and increasingly ridiculous suggestions for naming technology makes Logan vaguely grateful that Kai tended to name his own tech rather than leave it to those two. Regardless, Logan is content to let them chatter away. Especially if it kept their attention occupied as they navigate through Rainwall.

As much as the colony had grown since Logan had last seen it, it doesn’t take them too long to reach the far end of the small town. They’re led to one of the white domed structures at the far end of the network of buildings and worn pathways. Corbin inputs a four-digit code into the keypad beside the door, and Logan hears a lock click before the door swishes open.

…

Logan feels the beanbag hit the back of his head for the fourth time and doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Sorry, Captain!” Roman says, also for the fourth time.

Logan, Corbin, and Valerie had been pouring over data spreadsheets, charts, graphs, and notes regarding the anomaly in Vannaheim’s dune pattern for the past three hours. Roman and Elliot both had tried to assist for the first hour and a half, but while they were extremely bright and intelligent people in Logan’s opinion, neither were particularly practiced or well-versed in theoretical physics or planetology. Elliot’s understanding of piloting had been helpful briefly in identifying some smaller anomalies in the gravitational shifts in the planet’s atmosphere, but that was about the extent that their expertise could help.

The pod—as Sloane had been calling the one-room building they were in—was small and simple on the inside, but certainly functional. The couch and table towards the front of the pod had been pushed against the wall to make room for the game that Roman and Sloane had started with a beanbag that Sloane happened to have handy. Towards the back were several computers, and a few chairs. Corbin sits in one, scanning over the contents of the most recent read-out, and Valerie sits in the other. Logan stands and paces in the space between them and the game of beanbag. There were a few unpacked crates blocking part of the pathway, having previously housed brand-new computer parts.

Roman sheepishly jogs the short distance between himself and the beanbag at Logan’s feet, snatching it up. Logan opens his mouth to say something when Elliot cuts him off, sitting up a bit from where they’d been lounged against the couch.

“Did you guys hear that?”

Logan frowns, but it’s Valerie who speaks up, looking up from the tablet in her hands. “Hear what?”

But then they do hear it. It’s distant, but rapidly getting closer. Shouting. Someone screams. And—

“Was that phaser discharge?” Sloane asks, his face draining of color. Elliot scrambles to their feet, crossing towards Logan and further away from the door.

“Corbin, take Sloane and get out of here,” Logan says immediately. “Valerie, you too. Get somewhere safe.”

The shout is right outside the door. Corbin grabs for Sloane and yanks him back behind him as the door swishes open, fumbling to pull the phaser out of the holster at his belt.

Logan barely has time to register that the strangled cry from Roman is his name before he feels a weight slam into him, sending him crashing to the floor just as phasers go off. Logan doesn’t know who fired first, his ears ringing slightly and Roman, a heavy weight, on top of him.

“I knew he’d come back!” a new voice—grating and sharp and a little hysterical—shrieks. “I knew fucking Logan Sanders couldn’t keep his distance! You’ve ruined our way of life one too many times you fucking piece of—” Corbin fires his phaser, a streak of green light slamming into the figure’s chest. Even through the chaos, Logan can see the switch set to stun.

“Roman,” Logan grunts as he shoves his relations officer off of him, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Roman rolls off him with a tight grimace, an arm wrapped around himself. He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t sit up, and it’s only then that Logan sees the skin of Roman’s waist—a sickly green and black—exposed between his fingers and broken armor.

Logan’s mind kicks into overdrive, the shouting between Corbin, Valerie, Elliot and the intruders overlapping with exchanges of phaser fire fading into background noise.

Logan goes to reach for his comm at his belt before he realizes that it’s been shattered into pieces. Parts of it are melted, apparently having taken some phaser damage. Unusable. Logan changes tactics immediately, pulling the identical equipment piece off Roman’s shoulder and clicks in.

“Foster Crew,” Logan says, clipped and urgent. “Come in. We have a Code Black. Repeat: Code Black. We need immediate assistance.”

“Fucking shit,” is Virgil’s instant response, muffled from static. “What’s your location?”

Logan looks to Elliot on his left, who is staring at Roman with wide eyes having heard the call go through the comms. “Elliot,” Logan says. “Send our location.”

They blink quickly and nod, pressing a button on the gauntlet on their armor before firing another round of their phaser. It cracks against the wall. Elliot ducks back behind the create as the corner of it splinters into shards with a ricocheting crack.

Logan reaches for the wound on Roman’s waist, but Roman won’t move his hands. He’s pale, already with a thin sheen of sweat, and when his eyes flutter open, Logan doesn’t miss the glassy look in them, nor the way that they don’t seem to focus.

“Roman. Hey.” Logan taps his face, then pulls Roman’s hands away. “Look here.”

“Cap?” Roman’s voice is distant. Hazy. Confused.

When Logan yanks Roman’s hands away so that he can better assess damage, Roman makes a noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t sound fully human.

Logan doesn’t respond. The wound isn’t just phaser damage, from the little Logan can see. Phasers didn’t generally turn skin into that green-black mottled mess. There appears to be several tiny puncture wounds. Toxin, Logan thinks, and reaches for Roman’s comm again. He helps Roman sit up and lean against the crate behind him.

“Patton. Come in, Patton.”

Corbin is shouting something from where he’s taken cover against the wall on the opposite side to Logan’s left. He fires twice more.

“Roman’s vitals are all over the place,” Patton answers without having to ask what Logan needed to know. “Toxin levels are elevated and climbing. What’s happening down there?”

“Virgil, what’s your ETA?” Logan says instead of answering. He’s on autopilot, his mind racing. He can barely keep up with his own thoughts. Flashes of green phaser fire streak overhead and leave scorch marks on the white walls of the pod.

“Two minutes but it looks like you guys are pinned down. We’ll do what we can. Might be two and a half before you guys can get out.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” Logan asks to the open air.

“Not yet,” Corbin replies, ducking as another round of phaser fire hits overhead. “They’re Retribution though. No mistaking that.” He aims again, fires a few more rounds. Logan hears something heavy slump to the ground. Roman grunts and leans his head back against the crate he’s propped up against. His breathing is fast and shallow.

Despite himself, Roman gives Logan a pained smile. “I got pretty good reflexes, huh?”

“This situation hardly classifies as a testament to your reflex speed.”

“Virgil always said….” Roman grimaces. Shudders. Tries again. “Virge always said he was fastest but I could give ‘im a…. a run for his money.”

Logan frowns. “Your speech is slurring.”

“Sorry.”

Roman starts saying something about the last time he was drunk—Logan was there; they’d been celebrating Virgil’s birthday—but Logan has mostly tuned him out. His mind is still spinning. Toxin-equipped phasers were new technology to Logan. He’d heard there was potential for it, but he hadn’t looked much into the tech or its development. For it to be possible, then they’d need access to existing natural toxins. Synthetic ones wouldn’t pair as well with the phaser tech and would risk overloading or overheating the weapons. What natural toxins existed on Vannaheim?

More than one, from Logan’s memory. It had been a subsection of his research when looking into native vegetation options from the planet six years ago.

“Logan? Come in. Logan?” Patton’s voice over the comms not only interrupts Logan’s sprinting thoughts, but also causes Roman to cut off his slurred, barely coherent speech.

Logan grabs the device. “Here.”

“Roman’s getting worse. I think he’s panicking, ‘cuz his heartrate is through the roof, but that could also be the toxin. Do you know what it was?”

“I don’t. If I were to guess, based on the damage and situational factors, I’d probably assume it was a hemotoxin or necrotoxin but without more information or the ability to run tests, I cannot be certain.”

Virgil’s voice cuts into the conversation. “T-minus one minute.” Even distorted from the static, Virgil’s voice sounds strained in its own right. “Fuck, I’m going as fast as I can, Logan. Tell Princey he’s not allowed to die before I have the chance to kill him myself for being an idiot.”

Roman scoffs, but it’s weak and pained and sounds a lot more like a cough. “An idiot?” he demands incredulously.

“Message received,” Logan says dryly before setting the comm down. “Roman, take a deep breath.”

Roman sucks in a breath—shaking and thin—and winces. “Ow. Shit.” Roman’s arm wraps around his torso and he tosses a shaky smile to Logan. “I can’t believe I’m really gonna die having never beaten you at chess.”

It’s Elliot that answers him first, their voice tight and strangled and desperate. “You’re not going to die.”

“You’re not going to beat me at chess,” Logan adds. He can still hear shouting outside the pod. Roman gives a breathy laugh before his eyes unfocus again, blinking owlishly. Logan sets a firm, grounding hand on his shoulder. “Focus. Roman, tell me five things you can see.”

“Tell me five things you can see.” Roman blinks hard, then looks around uncomprehendingly. “Where… am I?”

“Vannaheim,” Logan replies smoothly despite the way his chest clenches. He cannot panic. Logan takes a breath.

Roman makes a face. “I hate Vannaheim.”

“Because the wind messes up your hair. Yes, you’ve told me.”

The door swishes open and Logan grabs Roman’s phaser from its holster and fires a shot. It cracks against the wall of the pod slightly to the left of the intruder. Logan had left his phaser on the ship. An oversight on his part. Deal with it later, Logan tells himself firmly.

“A prince has got to slay,” Roman says, his words slurred. He takes a breath that seems to tangle in his lungs, and wheezes out a cough.

“You’re wearing a uniformed suit of armor,” Logan finds himself saying. Wasn’t enough to protect him, something hisses in Logan’s mind. Logan shakes his head quickly. He’d deal with that thought later. “If you’re that worried about your appearance, wear the helmet.”

Logan estimates that it’s been about twenty seconds since his last communication with Virgil and Patton. They hear the door swish open. Valerie fires. There’s a startled cry and the door closes.

“I like the—” Roman cuts himself off with a clench to his teeth, his body visibly shuddering. He curls around himself, his head nearly pitching straight into Logan’s chest. The captain catches Roman’s shoulders, holding him steady until the trembling is back to a more manageable level a second later. He guides Roman to sit back again.

Roman’s head leans back to thump gently against the crate, his brow pinched. “Logan… you’re shaking.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies distractedly, trying to tune in to the conversation Corbin and Valerie are having on the opposite side of the small pod given the lull in combatants. They can still hear the fight raging outside. Someone screams. Pounding footsteps.

Sloane is typing frantically into one of the computers. A second later, there’s a click by the door. “Doors are locked. Should at least slow them down,” he says.

Corbin glances back at Logan, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. His jaw sets when his eyes flicker to Roman slumped against the crate.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” he says. “Valerie and I will cover you. As soon as Anxiety gets here, make a break for it. They’re not here for a war. They’re here for you.”

Logan opens his mouth to reply but Roman’s strained, slurred speech interrupts him. “Logan… give m’ th’ phaser.”

“Why?”

Roman’s brow furrows together like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “Figured I’d take a few of ‘em down with me while… while you two…” He grimaces again, but Logan gets the picture.

“No.”

Roman levels a look that would be a glare if his eyes would stay focused on Logan. “Be logical, Captain.”

Logan doesn’t deign the challenge with a response. He just stares at Roman—the sheen of sweat, the shallow and rapid breath, the way Roman can’t seem to support the weight of his own head—and then looks back at Corbin. “If we flee and they’re here for me, it’s not impossible that they’ll give chase.”

“We’ll ground as many as we can,” Valerie says, quickly adjusting some calibration on the phaser in her hand.

“Captain,” Roman insists, but Logan ignores him.

“Virgil will just have to shake the rest,” Logan says grimly.

“T-minus five seconds. Incoming.” Virgil’s cracked, staticky voice breaks through the comms on Elliot’s and Roman’s shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Let’s move,” Logan says, crossing back to Roman.

He figures that offering a hand to help Roman stand up wouldn’t be enough support, given that Roman seemed barely capable of holding up his own head. A fireman’s carry? Seemed excessive, at least for the time being. Perhaps Logan would default to that should Roman lose consciousness.

“’m gonna slow y’ down.” Roman’s voice is quiet, and it takes Logan a moment to decipher what he said given the way the words run together.

Logan crouches down and takes Roman’s arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and bracing one hand against Roman’s armored chestplate. “Think you can stand up?”

“Not lis’ning.”

“Answer the question, Roman.”

Roman swallows. Shudders. His arm tightens around his waist. “Yeah.”

“Three. Two. One. Up.” Logan stands, bracing most of Roman’s weight into his side. Roman nearly pitches into the floor, but he manages to get his legs underneath him and though Logan can feel him shaking with the exertion of effort, Roman is standing.

Progress.

“I’ll wait to unlock the door until you guys are right in front of it,” Sloane says and if there’s a bit of strain to his voice—if he casts a long glance at Corbin—well, Logan doesn’t say anything about it.

“Logan,” Roman says. “Lemme… lemme st…” Roman spasms, and nearly pitches right out of Logan’s grip. His hand on Roman’s chest is the only thing that keeps Roman from tumbling to the floor.

Logan goes to take a step with him—he can see black bleeding up through Roman’s neck like spilled ink and it tightens something in his chest—but Roman doesn’t move. Logan gives Roman a sharp look, opens his mouth to explain that they didn’t have time to waste, but there’s something fiery and bold beneath the haze of pain and poison that clouds his gaze.

“’m not worth—”

“It’s not your decision!” Logan cuts him off sharply. Furious. His gut twists against what he knows was the rest of Roman’s sentence. Roman releases a breath that would sound annoyed if there wasn’t a bit of a hitch to it.

“Doors opening in three. Two. One.”

Corbin and Valerie duck out first, and it’s a mess of dust and wind as Foster’s engine roars overhead, touching down as close as it reasonably can. Logan hears the reverberating pops of phaser fire exchanged somewhere in the cloud of dust. Streaks of green light criss-crossing in the sand-clogged cloud around them. Corbin yells for them to go. Elliot fires off a few shots of their own, sticking close to the two of them to fill in the gaps of phaser coverage left between Corbin and Valerie.

They run.

Or, as best as they can manage. It’s barely a loose jog, really, with Logan having to support most of Roman’s weight. But Roman manages to put one foot in front of the other and from his strangled breathing and how hard he’s shaking, Logan knows it’s about all Roman can manage to do.

Logan estimates that the distance between the pod and Foster is about a hundred or so meters. At the rate they’re moving, it should take them about twenty seconds to reach the docking ramp that Virgil lowers as soon as they touch down. Maybe less than that, if they can push the pace a bit more.

It takes ten seconds before Logan feels bright heat rip through his upper right bicep. Warm liquid spills down his arm.

“Captain!” Elliot yells, alarmed, over the chaos.

“I’m fine,” Logan grits out. “Go! Go!”

Patton meets them on the docking ramp, his eyes wide, and takes Roman’s other side to help Logan get him the rest of the way up. Elliot fires their phaser twice more as the ramp closes before ripping their comm unit off and calling into it.

“Virgil, punch it. We’re gonna have tails.”

“Fuck. Everyone accounted for?”

Logan grabs Roman’s comm. “Affirmative. Get us out of here.” Logan braces himself, and Roman, for the shift as Virgil lifts them off and takes off.

Roman sways.

Patton reaches for his wound. “Ro—”

The navigations officer collapses. Logan grunts as he and Patton both catch him before he crumples entirely, the effort tearing at the wound in Logan’s arm. Bright, hot pain ripples down his arm and up through his shoulder. Logan clenches his teeth against the sharp cry that tries to tear up his throat.

“Roman!” Elliot steps forward, but Logan holds up a hand, trying to get his breathing back under control from the fresh wave of pain.

“No, Elliot. Pilot with Virgil.”

“But I want to help!”

His arm is throbbing and Logan glances down at it, noting with a certain level of detachment that it just looks like a normal graze. No sign of toxin damage. “Help Virgil,” Logan tells them firmly, leveling a steady gaze that leaves no room for argument.

Elliot’s expression darkens before they turn and head towards the cockpit.

“I gotta get Roman to med bay,” Patton says quietly. “And get you patched up too.”

“I’m fine,” Logan says, helping Patton hoist Roman up from his half-collapsed state on the floor. “Just a graze.”

“But still.”

“It’ll heal, Patton.”

“Logan.”

Logan’s jaw snaps shut. He gives a single, stiff nod in return.

…

The next several minutes are frantic.

Patton and Logan carry Roman to the medical bay and Patton immediately pries Roman’s suit off him to get a closer look. It’s a flurry of movement as he hooks Roman up to various machines to read off information about his vitals, extracting some of the toxin from his system so Patton can run different tests on it separate from Roman’s body, all of which is made more challenging by the frequent shift in g-force as Virgil and Elliot try to lose the ships that had followed them off Vannaheim.

Logan is still on autopilot. He doesn’t stop moving. Logan helps Patton as much as he can, and it’s not until Patton is very gently helping Logan into chair to bandage his wounded arm after Roman has been fully equipped that Logan realizes the warm liquid that he’d felt down his arm was his own blood. Logan stares at Roman on the gatch bed with numb detachment and lets Patton clean and wrap the wound in his arm. It’s while Patton is tying the knot on the bandage wrapped around Logan’s bicep that Virgil clicks on over the intercom.

“I think we’ve shaken the last of them. Status update on Princey?”

Logan and Patton exchange a glance. Patton offers a sad smile and slight lift to his shoulders. Logan stands from the chair and walks to the intercom on the wall. He presses the button, waiting for the click before he speaks.

“No change. Did we take any damage?”

It’s Remy’s voice that answers him. “She’ll hold together, but Foster’s warp drive is out of commission until we can dock and I get some parts. What the hell was that all about?”

Logan swallows and leans his head against the wall for a moment. A damaged warp drive meant that getting to the next planet would take a bit longer than originally planned. He glances over at Patton, whose lips press into a grim line. Logan swallows before he answers over the intercom. “It appears that some prior work I did on that planet in an effort of sustainability warranted a minority of individuals harboring some… hostility.”

Behind him, Patton is peering at the monitors with Roman’s vitals. “Seems like more than just some hostility.”

“And we’re sure Wright is gonna be fine down there?” Virgil asks.

“Reasonably,” Logan replies. “Their hostility was directed predominantly at me.”

“And yet Roman—oh, wait. Hey, Cap, you might wanna come up here. We’ve got a message inbound from Vannaheim.”

Logan sighs. “I’ll be right there.”

Logan isn’t sure what to expect. He can’t fairly say that he is surprised. It made sense that they would attempt contact, especially given that they had successfully evaded their trail. And expecting the message to wait certainly wouldn’t have made sense—they’d be out of signal range within a few minutes. Logan considers, briefly, letting the message go unanswered. But there couldn’t be any harm in talking, right? Perhaps Logan could even appease them enough to quell some of the hostile action that could—had, did—put innocent people in harm’s way.

His arm throbs. Logan looks over his shoulder at Roman, prone on the gatch bed. Pale, except for the side that got hit being a smattering of mottled green and black. The black bleeds in curling tendrils across his chest, up his shoulder, his neck.

Patton catches him staring and gives him another one of those sad smiles. “I’m doing what I can for him, Captain.”

Logan swallows and nods. He squeezes Patton’s shoulder on his way out.

He tries very hard to not look at the hole through the wall that Roman had blasted earlier today. Instead, he focuses on the weight of his measured, calculated footsteps against the grated scaffolding. The very faint and yet oddly familiar, comforting scent of iron that lingered on the inside of the ship despite Patton’s best attempts to fix it. He counts in his head how many steps it takes from the door of the med bay to the cockpit.

The answer is eighteen.

The door swishes open and Virgil cranes his neck around. Elliot doesn’t even show signs of having heard the door opened at all.

“Ready, Captain?” Virgil asks, his finger poised over one of the buttons in front of him.

Logan steadies a hand on the back of Virgil’s chair and nods. “Yes.”

The screen in front of them blips on and Logan stares in surprise as Corbin, Sloane, and Valerie’s faces fill the frame. “Hey, they made it!” Sloane says brightly. Logan can still feel tension pulling his shoulders taught.

“Barely,” Elliot says, so quietly Logan almost doesn’t hear it. Logan sees Virgil glance at them, his brow furrowing.

“How’s Roman doing?” Valerie asks.

“We’re working on it,” Logan says.

“You mean Patton’s working on it,” Elliot cuts in.

“Yes,” Logan acquiesces. “I do mean that. Our ship’s medic, Patton Hart, is doing what he can. How are things there?”

“Our earlier assumptions proved accurate,” Corbin replies with a shrug. “They followed you. The ones that didn’t were angry, but hostility tapered off once they realized they were outnumbered and that you were gone.”

“I apologize for bringing you under some fire. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not like you could’ve known,” Sloane says with a dismissal wave.

“We’re about to lose signal,” Virgil says quietly.

“Hey, keep us updated about Roman, will you?” Corbin asks.

Sloane and Valerie both nod. “We’re just as worried about him as you are!”

Elliot mutters something under their breath that Logan doesn’t quite catch, but from the suddenly furious look Virgil shoots them, perhaps it was better that he didn’t. Logan assures them that they will let them know as soon as there’s any change to report. Virgil cuts the feed and flexes his grip around the ship’s controls.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil demands suddenly. For a moment, Logan frowns in confusion before he realizes that the question was meant for Elliot and not himself.

“Forget it,” Elliot replies with a quick glance to Logan.

“Bullshit,” Virgil shoots back. His grip on the controls look too tight to be comfortable. “You’re not good with confrontation. Fine. But you don’t get to sit there and make passive-aggressive jabs at our captain after the shit-show we just dealt with. One that he got you out of, I might add. What’s wrong with you?”

“Okay—” Logan says, placatingly, but Elliot interrupts him.

“What’s wrong with me?” they demand, waving a hand towards Logan. “What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t seem phased in the slightest! Roman was shot trying to protect him and he just acted like he didn’t care—”

“Because that’s his fucking job!” Virgil turns a glowering look onto Elliot.

“Virgil,” Logan tries, bewildered at the argument, but they both seem to have forgotten that Logan is even there.

Virgil continues, tearing his gaze back to the stars stretching in front of them. “He’s the Captain, Elliot. It’s his job to make sure shit gets done, and that is especially true when one of us gets hurt. Logan doesn’t fall apart during a crisis but don’t you dare suggest that means he doesn’t fucking care.”

Elliot is silent. Logan doesn’t know what—if anything—he should say. Virgil heaves a sigh and rakes a hand through his long bangs. “I mean, shit. Look, I know today has been a lot. The past two hours have been a lot. And you haven’t been with us very long. But if you don’t know anything about our Captain, know this: Logan speaks how he cares in his actions. All you have to do is pay attention.”

Logan blinks. He forgot sometimes how closely Virgil watched other people, including himself. He’d noticed it in the beginning when Virgil had first joined, but Virgil had mostly dismissed it and said it was an “anxiety thing”. Logan didn’t know that he believed that, but over time, Virgil’s steady, watchful gaze had become less unsettling and more comforting. Until Logan forgot entirely just how much Virgil paid attention to the people around him.

Elliot sighs. They don’t look up, but Logan hears their words regardless. “I’m sorry, Captain. I was… unfair.”

“It’s understandable,” Logan replies, surprised at being suddenly addressed. His mind is still reeling. Too full of information that is racing through his mind to fully process the argument that just ensued.  “Take a breath, Elliot. Get some rest.”

“I…” Elliot looks like they want to argue, but they seem to change their mind. They stand up and look to Virgil. “Are… you good?”

Virgil glances at them, and something softens in his expression. “Yeah, kid. I’m good here.”

Elliot nods absently, then disappears through the cockpit doors. Virgil glances over his shoulder at Logan. “You should get some rest too, Captain.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil sighs. He doesn’t press him.

…

Days go by. Patton manages to get Roman to stable vitals and Logan thinks he can hear the collective sigh of relief across the ship when the announcement comes over the staticky intercom. But Roman doesn’t wake up, and Patton tells them that he isn’t sure when—or if—it’ll happen. Logan spends most of these days in the med bay, doing what he can with his scientific knowledge to assist Patton’s tests on the toxin. Kai joins them for short periods of time, putting his knowledge of weapons and tech to some use in the long hours.

They manage to come up with an antidote somewhere around what would be a little past two in the morning Earth-time of the second day. It cleanses Roman’s system of the poison, but damage had been done. It was difficult to ascertain exactly how much.

Logan doesn’t sleep much. He thinks Patton notices, but whenever the doctor tries to bring it up, Logan shrugs him off. His usually rigid circadian schedule had been disrupted by bad dreams that echo with Sloane’s pale face and Elliot’s shaking hands and Roman’s strained words. The last words he’d gotten out. I’m not worth—and every time, Logan wakes up before Roman can finish the thought. So Logan gets enough sleep to function, and he spends the rest of his time in the med bay and around the ship making himself useful.

All the crew find time to stop in on occasion as the days press forward. Virgil and Elliot take shifts. Picani makes sure that Patton and Logan are eating, and sometimes sits and talks to Roman’s unconscious form. Patton does that too—talk to him. Whenever he gives Logan an update with a new chart read out, he speaks as if Roman can hear him.

When Logan eventually asks him about it—if he thinks Roman can hear them—Patton lifts a shoulder and replies, “I don’t know. I hope so. And it helps me to talk to him anyway, y’know?”

Logan tries it when Patton goes to bed that night. He sits in the chair that Remy had grabbed and set beside Roman earlier that day and listens to the way the silence of the ship at this hour seems to echo against the old metal walls and bracing. Foster had been quieter in general in the past several days. Less laughter. Less teasing. Less… vibrant.

“That’s your fault, you know,” Logan says quietly, looking at Roman. “As much as I always complain about your insufferable noise level, I’ll admit I had grown… accustomed to it.”

Roman’s face is still startlingly pale, but it had lost the sickly sheen of sweat. He breathes evenly. Regularly. Logan listens to it for a moment, grateful that it at least wasn’t the shaking, shallow wheezes it had been on Vannaheim. The black-and-green stain on Roman’s skin had mostly faded. He’d have a scar, Patton said, on his waist where the initial hit happened. But the rest of it should go back to normal in a day or two.

“Now the quiet just seems…” Logan sighs. He listens again as the ship groans. “It seems heavy. Though you’d probably mock me for the use of the chremamorphism. Ordinarily, I’d qualify it with literal or figurative, as I know that silence cannot carry a physical weight, but…” Logan breaks off. It feels like a literal weight, hanging over the ship like a fog and darkening the iron walls. Weighing on the shoulders of those who move within the space.

Logan sighs. Scrubs a hand across his eyes under his glasses with exhaustion. “There’s something that has been bothering me, Roman. Something that I need to say to you.”

Logan leans forward. Bows his head. “You tried to tell me that you weren’t worth the risk of getting you to safety. Which is, honestly, bullshit. I don’t leave my people behind, Roman. You, of all people, should know that. And you… you shouldn’t have taken that shot. That was meant for me.”

Logan wonders, now that he’s said it aloud, if the weight on his shoulders from the silence is really the weight of his own guilt. Poised over his head like a pendulum on the verge of snapping.

Bearing Roman’s weight on Vannaheim had not felt this heavy. Logan realizes suddenly that his hands are shaking. He clasps them together in front of him between his knees.

“I’m the Captain,” Logan says. “It’s my job to keep you all safe, and I let you down. That’s on me. And… I am sorry, Roman. I am sorry for my shortcomings as a leader and as a friend. Because if you felt unworthy of being saved, I’m afraid I have failed in both responsibilities.”

A voice from the door to the med bay startles Logan. “It isn’t your fault, L.”

Logan looks over his shoulder towards the sound and finds Virgil leaning against the entry way. Logan blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even heard the doors open. Virgil just watches him with a quiet, unwavering gaze, even if there’s something a little softer in his eyes than Logan is used to seeing.

“Virgil,” Logan greets, pushing his glasses further up his nose and standing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Virgil shrugs a shoulder, glancing to Roman. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check in on Princey.” He pauses, his gaze flickering back to Logan. “And you, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“He doesn’t blame you for what happened,” Virgil says, stepping further into the medical bay and letting the doors swish shut behind him. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his purple plaid-patched hoodie.

Logan shakes his head. “But I do. I should have been more vigilant.”

“Weren’t you the one who taught me that dealing with ‘I should have’ is a dangerous and unproductive thought pattern?”

Logan hesitates. He can’t argue with that. He remembers the conversation from years ago. “Roman shouldn’t have been put into that situation.”

“He did it to protect you.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But—”

“Logan,” Virgil cuts in, tossing his hands up in exasperation, “All of us? On this ship? We’re a family. You didn’t ask for that, but it happened. You are not the only one who cares about other people on this ship.”

“I know that.”

“Then know that any one of us would do what Roman would do if meant protecting you. We look out for each other.” Behind him, the door swishes open again but Virgil doesn’t even turn around. “We protect one another. All of us. You protect us, we protect you. That’s how this shit works.”

Patton steps into the med bay in a cat onesie. His pajamas. He pads quietly into the room, tugging the hood off his head. “Virgil’s right, Cap. We’re a family here. Like it or lump it.”

“And while this may be your ship,” Virgil says as Patton crosses to the monitors on the wall. “We don’t plan to go anywhere any time soon. You’re stuck with us.”

Despite himself, Logan cracks a faint smile.

“Yeah,” croaks a voice from the gatch bed that makes Logan whirl around. “Couldn’t get rid of us if ya tried, Cap.”

Roman’s eyes are open and glinting with something that Logan can’t quite decipher in the dark. Amusement, but something softer too. Patton gasps and rushes over, helping Roman sit up a bit more and grabbing the glass of water with a straw that he’d been refreshing each day for this very event. Roman takes a grateful sip and leans his head against Patton in silent gratitude. Patton smooths his hair with a gentle pat before helping Roman lean back in the bed again.

“How do you feel?” Virgil asks.

“Like I was shot.”

Virgil snorts.

Patton asks him a series of questions that are a bit more pointed—“Any dizziness, Roman? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? Are you feeling nauseous?”—and adjusts some of the machines to accommodate for an awake patient. Roman is a bit slow with his answers, and a bit slower still for the orienting ones, but he answers them accurately and cracks a few jokes in the meantime, and Logan just watches, feeling some of the tightness in his chest ease a bit.

When Patton makes a joke and the ship hears Roman’s laughter for the first time in almost a week, Logan thinks maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep through the night.

 ...

Tags: @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig, @secretlyawyvern, @puddinglec4t

[sebthesnipe]

A Very Patton Christmas

Other works by me (AO3)

Tumblr Master Post

To @gilby-the-geek-girl for being the best friend a person could ask for. For without whom my writing would be riddled with errors and inconsistency, and whose gift of friendship has been the greatest thing to happen to me in a very long time. While I know you’ve read this (cuz you beta for me like the boss bitch you are) I still hope that you know that it was written with love for you. (I really don’t have time to write for anyone else XP) One day I hope you’ll have a friend at least half as good as you are (because we both no I ain’t it XP) I hope your Hanukkah wasn’t a miserable one and that you Christmas is the highlight of your 2020 (because we both know there isn’t much competition).  Prompt: Explain why Patton’s Sweater this year is so damn ugly.

Patton shifted under the mountainous pile of blankets atop him. It was early, or rather… late? He hadn’t really slept. How could he?! His favorite day of the year was here! Well, it would be.

He shifted again, this time wiggling towards where he thought one of the blankets ended and poked his head out to look at his frog shaped Wisoee alarm clock. Its dim light smiled at him reading 3:37 AM.

He held back a squeal as he ducked back into this warm cave of comforters. He couldn’t watch the clock.

A watched pot never boils,he reminded himself.

He went over the day’s schedule in his head:

Logan would already be awake and emerge at precisely 4:00 AM, as he always did. Today though, was the only day out of the year the Logan broke his (otherwise) usual routine.

Logan would skip his usual jog, replacing his gray sweats for the pajamas Patton had bought him for his birthday (a blue plaid pair of pants and a grey tee  with the text ‘Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Vote.’ printed on the front) At which point, he would make his way to the kitchen where he would start a pot of coffee for himself, Virgil, and Janus.

That would be where Patton, came in!

Patton would already be in the kitchen to start his homemade hot chocolate for himself, Roman, and Remus (With Logan’s help of course. He didn’t want another incident like the baking fiasco from a few months ago).

By the time they finished, Roman would be up, no doubt singing everyone into wakefulness. Then it would be time for hot cocoa and presents!

Patton got them all Christmas sweaters just like he did every year! He loved picking them out for each of his friends and watching them all spread out in the living room, all snug and cozy to watch their usual Christmas movie marathon!

They always let Patton pick the first movie, but there were so many good ones he usually couldn’t choose! Logan would probably chime in with the Nutcracker, not because he was a fan but because it was the only Christmas movie Roman and Remus agreed on, making  it the popular choice.

Then it would be Logan’s actual turn. He usually chose The Polar Express. Patton was pretty sure he only chose it because there were really only two Christmas movies based on books and Janus always chose A Christmas Carol. That and because Patton really liked it!

Then came Janus and finally Virgil, who was Jewish and didn’t have personal stock in Christmas, but participated for the others (which was another reason he was Patton’s favorite ,not that he’d ever admit it). Virgil always wanted to watch Die Hard, but knew Patton didn’t care for the violence much, so he usually settled for Rudolf, which warmed the fatherly figure’s heart to no end (Which was probably why Patton had bought him the collector’s edition box set of the movie). During the previous year’s viewing of the movie Virgil and Logan ended up in a discussion regarding how the song Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer was (according to Virgil) one of the only times a big corporation did what was right. Patton usually tried to follow this kind of discussion, but he usually got lost when Logan started in about percentages and underpaid artists. It just really hurt his little heart to know so many talented people out there were struggling.

The movies, as a matter of fact, were why Patton chose the sweaters he did for them this year! Each of his friends would be gifted a sweater to mirror each of their favorite Christmas movies! (Die Hard being the exception of course!)

After all that, the group would settle in for-

The alarm clock croaked loudly, signaling the arrival of 3:45 AM.

Patton’s previous thoughts evaporated into excitement as he attempted scramble from the mass of comforters, reaching to shut off the alarm.

His leg tangled in one of the large downeys and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. He paid no mind to his bruised ribs as he wrestled himself from its grasp, smacking the flashing frog to silence it.

A moment later he threw open his door, intent for the stairs.

He never made it though. At least, not at first…

Something was off.

He paused in the hallway, skin prickling at the coolness of the air.

He had only made it a few feet when he noticed it.

Roman’s door was ajar, the dark shadows of his messy room an indication of his absence…

Remus’ too. Though it was only slightly. Patton noticed the smell more than the sight.

Was everyone up before him?

He moved towards Virgil’s room, giving a soft knock before shouldering open the door.

“Hey, Kiddo. You up?” He whispered softly before noticing the unmade empty bed.

“And what would you know?!” the ‘kiddo’-in-question’s voice came in a harsh snap, drifting up from the living room.

“Keep your voice down!” Janus’ own snapped back, matching Virgil’s volume though the tone was a mock attempt at a whisper in his tone.

Patton inched closer, concern playing on his features as he flattened himself against the wall at the top of the stairs. He certainly didn’t want to intrude on his friends’ conversation, but there was obviously something was wrong.

“Bite me, snake boy!” Virgil snapped in return, though his voice was lowered.

“Don’t tempt me,” Janus hissed.

“Wait! Let me get the camera! Pics or it didn’t happen!” Remus’ voice came in a giddy giggle. “Okay, make sure you draw blood.”

“Gross,” Virgil huffed, heat gone.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Stormcloud, I think Ser Lies-a-lot is right,” Roman sighed softly. 

“You can’t be serious!” Virgil grumbled. 

“I believe he is,” Logan’s calm voice interrupted. “Statistically speaking, twenty three percent of christmas gifts in America in a given year are unwanted but kept.”

“That’s reassuring,” Virgil growled. 

“I wasn’t finished,” Logan retorted. “Given that statistic, along with the fact that individuals are more likely to gift items they like themselves, and factoring in the number of gifts we’ve received over the years. That paired with the fact that it was commissioned from an independent artist, supporting their work directly: I would say that there is a ninety-two point six five present chance that Patton will find the gift quite adequate.”

“Did you really just do all that in your head?” Janus asked curiously. 

“Actually, no,” Logan admitted. “I calculated the odds when the idea was brought up months ago, as I do with each of your christmas gifts.”

“Is that why I got socks last year?” Remus chirped. 

“Yes, well… I found that the other options would cause unease with the others,” Logan clarified.

“Boring!” 

“Don’t worry Remus, he didn’t get you a dissection kit this year to make up for it,” Janus commented sarcastically.

“What?!” Roman spat as Remus gasped excitedly. 

“I’m not even sure how you know that,” Logan sighed, probably straightening his glasses like he usually did when something annoyed him. “And I’m not sure I care to know.”

“We’re getting side tracked. He’ll be up any minute,” Virgil interrupted once more. “The fact is, it’s one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen and it’s too late not to give it to him.”

“I like it!” Remus argued.

“See!” Virgil huffed, using Remus’ opinion as evidence to the validity of his statement. 

“Ugh, maybe he has a point Teach,” Roman agreed. “I could put together a card for us to sign instead?”

“No, it’s too late for that, beside I am certain this is all an overstated concern.” Logan countered.

“Perhaps, a vote wouldn’t be appropriate?” Janus offered. 

“I agree, all in favor of giving Patton the gift we already agreed upon?” Logan asked. 

There was silence as Patton assumed a few of the boys raised their hands. 

“All opposed?” He continued.

“Remus you can’t vote twice!” Roman snapped. 

“You’re no fun!” Remus whined. “I’ll stick with J-anus then!”

“Please, continue to call me that. I just love it,” Janus deadpanned. 

“The ayes have it then,” Logan decided. 

“What eyes?” Remus chirped excitedly, but no one paid him any mind. 

“Roman, if you would be so kind as to finish wrapping the gift, I have a pot of coffee to finish,” Logan dismissed.

“I have some extra ribbon in my room. Want to help, Stormcloud?” Roman asked, making Patton tense as they headed his way. 

He didn’t wait for V to answer as Patton hurried back to his room and closed the door softly behind him. 

He really shouldn’t have eavesdropped. 

Guilt filled him as he leaned against the frame, processing everything that had been said. 

The group had never agreed on a gift for Patton. Usually Logan and Roman were the only two to get him anything and they just included the others’ names on the presents (not that Patton ever called them out on it. Why would he?). Patton didn’t mind of course, he knew they had trouble buying for him.

Logan usually got him a new hoodie or something practical like a flamingo pen, or oven mitts (though those usually only lasted about a week before Patton caught them on fire or melted them!). Roman always made him something, like the card he had mentioned, and just had the others sign it. Patton didn’t mind of course, he loved everything they gave him. It was the thought that warmed him! Even the fact that Remus refrained from his usual off the wall habits to try and make Patton more comfortable meant the world to him.

The fact that the group was so torn over his opinion broke his heart. How could they think that? What had he done to put that doubt in their mind? He had to do better! Whatever it was, he would show he loved it more than anything they had ever gotten him before.

His brows furrowed in determination. 

This would be their year!

He took a moment to gather himself before plastering on a smile and throwing open the door once more, running straight into a surprised Logan. 

Logan gave a small grunt as Patton bumped him, the mug of hot cocoa sloshing over and onto his hand. 

“Oh goodness!” Patton gasped in shock, “I’m so sorry Lo’! Are you alright?” The smaller man hurriedly took the mug from his friend’s hand and set it on the small table next to the door, frantically searching for something to clean up the mess. 

“I’m fine, Patton,” Logan reassured, producing a blue handkerchief from his pant pocket and wiping the warm liquid off his hand. Leave it to Logan to have his handkerchief with him despite wearing pajamas. “I made sure the liquid was at an acceptable temperature for this exact reason.”

“Oh! I hope I didn’t ruin your new PJs!” Patton cried, already pushing Logan’s arms up to examine the flannel. 

There wasn’t a stain to be found. Logan arched a brow as he waited for Patton to satisfy his need for the inspection before sighing. 

“Truly, Patton, I’m fine. Are you?” Logan asked, his neutral expression turning to one of concern. 

“What?” Patton hummed, glancing up to meet the taller man’s eyes. “Of course! I wasn’t the one holding the cup!” 

“I wasn’t referring to the cocoa,” Logan pointed out, lowering his arms. “It’s 4:17. It isn’t like you to be so unpunctual on Christmas day.” 

“Oh…” Patton whispered, lowering his gaze in shame. Should he tell him? It wasn’t right to keep secrets. Would he be upset if he found out Patton had been eavesdropping? No… Today was their day… He wouldn’t do anything to upset them. “No. I’m fine!” Patton reassured, suddenly as chipper as ever as he offered out a smile. 

Logan eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to wearily accept the answer. 

“Well, I thought your traditional cup of cocoa would help if anything were amiss,” Logan nodded towards the cup, bringing Patton’s attention to it once more. 

Logan had made it without him? 

Patton could feel the mask around his heart start to crack a little as his stomach sank. He supposed it made sense that Logan wouldn’t really need him to make it… Still, that was Patton and Logan’s Christmas tradition… It hurt that he had been left out of it. 

“Aw! Thank you Logan!” Patton forced out in his preening voice as if nothing was wrong. 

This was their day, not his. 

“That’s so sweet!” He added, collecting the mug and taking a small sip. Somehow it didn’t taste as good as it usually did. 

“You’re very welcome, Patton,” Logan replied with a small tilt of his lips. 

His crooked smile also seemed to soften his features; Patton loved that about him. It made his sudden disappointment worth it. 

“I know we usually have a schedule for the holiday, but…” Logan paused as if he were nervous. What an odd look for the scholar. “Well, the others requested a change in plans.”

Patton’s heart sank. What kind of change? Did they not like the way they usually celebrated Christmas? Why hadn’t they told him? Was his idea of Christmas really so one sided? How had he not noticed this before? Was that why Logan was so nervous?

No… It didn’t matter. This was their day, not his.

“What kind of change, kiddo? I’m sure whatever it is will be great! It’s Christmas after all!” Patton responded, despite the way his stomach knotted. 

“Well,” Logan began, stepping aside. “Perhaps it would be best if they explained it.”

Patton hesitated before nodding taking the lead as they walked down the hall. What if they didn’t want to do hot cocoa and movies any more? What if they didn’t want to celebrate Christmas at all?! Was that why they came together for a gift? To appease Patton? They were all getting older and it wasn’t as if they had children. Maybe they felt like Christmas wasn’t for adults…

That was ridiculous, Patton knew that. But still…

He headed down the stairs, a smile still glued to his lips as he caught sight of Remus and Janus whispering over a small box. 

“I told you, it's for you!” Janus hissed at the mustached man next to him, fending him off the plain white box in his hands. 

“I helped pick them out! I should be allowed first dib-” Remus cut himself off as Janus elbowed him in the ribs pulling his attention up to Patton, just as he took the last step on the landing. 

“I didn’t lick them, I swear!” Remus called out, smiling broadly in his stained Oscar the Grouch onesie. “Okay maybe a few.”

Janus rolled his eyes, dressed in his usual suit and hat, not bothering with a comment. 

“Good Morning, Patton, slept horribly I hope?” Janus asked pleasantly. 

“Hey, kiddos. You’re up early,” Patton offered, feeling more uneasy than ever; something that must have shown because at that moment Logan leaned down to whisper in the smaller man’s ear. 

“Are you sure you are alright Patton?” he asked softly. “If you’re not feeling well then perhaps you should rest. I’m sure we can put this off unti-”

“Hola, Padre!” Roman’s voice came,  cutting off Logan’s words. 

Patton glanced up at the two figures standing at the top of the stairs. Roman, straight backed, hands behind him as he stood tall in his prince pajamas; Virgil behind him, using him to practically hide his small form, dressed in his Jack Skeleton onesie. 

“Roman, Virgil! You’re up already! This is a surprise!” Patton feigned excitement.

“Definitely a Christmas miracle,” Janus sighed. 

No one paid the comment any mind as Roman hurried down the stairs. Grin wide.

“Well this is a special day, Padre!” Roman explained as Virgil followed after, rolling his eyes. 

“Bah-Humbug,” the black and white clad man grumbled in response. Though it may have been Patton’s imagination, but Virgil's eyeshadow looked a few shades lighter than usual. 

“Feliz Navidad Patton! Merry Christmas!”Roman sang, producing the present from behind his back and offering it out. 

Patton’s heart skipped a beat, hesitating as he glanced around the room at each of his friends. They all looked so nervous… Even Janus. 

His attention went back to the gift being presented. It was a decent sized package with rainbow wrapping paper, black and white striped ribbon, and a green and blue bow that sat just above a small yellow tag that read ‘To: Janus From: Patton’.

Despite Patton’s dread and apprehension, he couldn’t help but smile at the packaging. They had even come together on the wrapping. It was very sweet. 

He glanced up at Roman who nodded eagerly, indicating that Patton was welcome to it. 

“You guys! You didn’t have to do all this!” He whispered in awe, voice cracking as tears began filling his eyes.

No matter what happened, Patton was awed by the fact that the boys went to so much trouble for him. They had come together for him. It didn’t matter if they were too old for Christmas!

He tugged at the ribbon, finding it firmly in place, before turning it over and trying again. After flipping it once more he heard Logan give a small chuckle. 

“May I?” his soft calm voice came. Patton nodded, handing over the package to Logan and wiping away a tear he felt rolling down his cheek. 

Logan’s nimble fingers loosened the bow and the surrounding ribbon, careful not to ruin them (he knew Patton loved to keep them and hang them above his mirror to admire later). Logan set the ribbon aside before handing the package back to the smaller man.

“Thank you,” Patton murmured weakly, gently tearing the wrapping to slide the sleek white box from inside. 

“This is worse than waiting for a magnet you swallowed to come out the other end!” Remus chimed in excitedly. 

“Ugh! Does he really have to be here?!” Roman whined, causing Patton’s grin to turn genuine.

The momentary distraction had him feeling a bit better as he slid a nail under the lid of the box, breaking the tape there and pulling open the lid. 

Wrapped loosely in a thin tissue paper lay a DVD copy of The Shop Around the Corner, a mug that, when you sip it, makes the drinker look like the bottom half of their face belongs to a puppy, and some kind of knitted fabric.

“Ah! You guys!!!” Patton squealed, tears beginning to fall as he collected the mug and movie, setting them aside and pulling out the sweater to get a better look at it. 

The light blue knitted midsection was covered in what, he assumed, was supposed to be some kind of icing pattern? Or perhaps whipped cream? Lace? He wasn’t sure. There was also a brown bow tie that was maybe supposed to be chocolate? Down the center was a line of pink chocolate chip cookie buttons. The bright pink sleeves had much of the same design though instead of pink cookies they were light blue.

It may have been the ugliest excuse of a sweater Patton had ever seen.

Silence fell in the rooms everyone waited for Patton’s reaction. 

“We know it’s not as good as the ones you get us,” Virgil chimed in nervously. “But we thought that maybe you’d like one of your own?” 

“The mug, of course, is so you won’t have to make so many trips for more cocoa,” Logan added with a soft smile. “I thought the others would like to help us make the rest after you change, of course. If you’d like.”

“The rest?” Patton asked, breath hitching as the tears threatened to fall. “You mean… You didn’t make it without me?” He sniffled.

“What?” Logan blinked in surprise. “Of course not, Patton. Making hot chocolate for everyone is a tradition I enjoy spending with you. I would never-”

“Well, it's just… you brought the mug up… So, I thought…” Patton let his voice fade as he watched understanding flash over Logan’s features.

“I was worried there might be something wrong. I thought waking you with your own mug would be a nice surprise.” Logan explained. “I apologize if I gave the wrong impression, Patton. I only made the one mug. I know you find a great deal of happiness in our customary time in the kitchen. I would not want to take that from you.”

“But…” Patton murmured, eyes shifting to the others. “Everyone’s already awake… And you were all together… I don’t want to impose on-”

“¡Espera! ¡Espéra! ¡Espéra!” Roman interrupted, looking both surprised and concerned. “I did not wake up far before my beauty rest was done to hear this slander especially from Mr. Spirit of Christmas, himself! Patton, with you there is no Christmas.”

“Roman is right, Patton,” Virgil shrugged, shrinking a bit lower into his hood. “I certainly wouldn’t be celebrating and we definitely wouldn’t have come together to get you the gifts. 

“I know Shop Around the Corner isn’t usually on our Christmas Merry Marathon list, but you never really get to pick a movie and I know it’s your favorite,” Roman pitched in. “At least, that's what Janus claims.”

“I totally didn’t check your browsing history,” Janus shrugged.

“And I edited the email to the artist!” Remus added proudly.

“That… explains a lot,” Logan whispered under his breath softly.

“We also didn’t bring you cookies from that bakery you hate.” Janus stated, setting the box he had been holding down on the small table next to him. 

Patton was silent throughout the exchange, burying his face into the soft fabric as he began to shake silently with his sobs. 

“I told you he wouldn’t like it!” Virgil cried desperately.

“No!” Patton responded, voice breaking. “I love it! I love all of it!” He dropped his hands just enough to rush forward, wrapping both Virgil and Roman into a great big hug. “Thank you so much! It’s perfect!” 

Roman gave a boisterous laugh, returning the hug as Virgil couldn’t help but smile; both grunting as Remus piled atop them. 

Logan approached, resting a hand on Patton’s shoulders in reassurance. 

“Well, this is certainly a disgusting sight,” Janus sighed, though he was grinning as well. 

“I love you guys so much!” Patton laughed, the weight on his heart lifting to the point of forgetfulness. How could he have ever thought these men didn’t need him or wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with him. They were his family!

“Is it just me or is this oddly arousing?” Remus purred.

“Ugh!” Roman and Virgil both scoffed at once, shoving the rank smelling man away from them. 

“Why do you have to ruin everything?!” Roman growled, dragging his brother away.

Patton didn’t mind the outburst, however, far too busy hurrying up the stairs to change so they could get their Best Christmas EVER underway…

The End...

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die - Chapter 2

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 2)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Names are powerful things--and after ten years, Logan's has acquired quite a bit. The restoration of his power is something he has to fight viciously to keep secret...But he's not the only necromancer who's in hiding. Above his head, Roman is being introduced to the people of the Kingdom's as his father's successor--but someone in the shadows is coming for the royal house of Sanders, of which Roman is part.And Logan will not stand for someone laying figurative hands on anyone that belongs to him.

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. In this particular chapter, CW for angst--I’ll post what kind at the end if you want to avoid spoilers, but I’m warning because for me? It’s a triggery subject. Be safe, you’re all so sweet and ILU.

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.

1025, A.A.

“Berry?”

Logan was yanked from a sound sleep by the utterance of his name—not the sound, but the feeling of it. Crawling around inside his skull like ants, static electricity shocking his neural pathways and the core of his essence. It was red strings and his first meal after that one stretch in the dungeon's blackout cells after he punched the guard that dislocated his shoulder.

Logan Berry. Logan Berry. The gift from his guardian angel was two years old at this point...and Logan was starting to wonder if it was more than just a small reminder of his personhood, to keep the harsh world around him from breaking his spirit.

Sitting up, Logan rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses where they sat on the floor beside his pallet. When they had finally given them back to him two weeks after his arrival, the right lens had been all but shattered. The guard who had returned them—the same one who injured him—smiled far too wide for Logan's liking, inciting the attack that had gotten him punished.

“I am awake.” he announced softly, sliding his glasses on and rising from his pallet to approach the bars of his cell. Squinting in the low torchlight, he searched...

A point of bright yellow sunlight, slit down the middle by a reptilian pupil gleamed in the shadows before the body it was attached to came into view. Swiftly, it was joined by another eye, very much human and dark as chocolate. A sweep of hair as black as Logan's own fell across his forehead, and the torchlight gleamed across the burnished surface of the scales that covered half of the young drake's face and neck.

“Of course.” the drake shot back dryly, not quite managing to hide the sibilant accent inherent to his species. “That's why you were snoring.”

“What do you want, Janus?”

The eighteen year old Janus narrowed his mismatched eyes at Logan—but quickly gave up on trying to look intimidating. He hardly needed it, being not only older, but the son of the captain of the guard.

“A favor.” he admitted, sparking enough of Logan's interest to banish the last of the cobwebs lingering in his head. Janus didn't like being indebted to anyone—and, to that end, usually came to Logan for favors, as Logan was always perfectly willing to trade his assistance for some commodity, be it books, food, or the repair of his glasses.

“What is the favor?” Logan asked.

Janus said nothing for a long moment, staring into Logan's face...no, not his face. Squinting, he realized Janus was quite deliberately avoiding direct eye contact by focusing on a point just above Logan's eyes, somewhere around his forehead.

“Janus?...”

Shutting his eyes, Janus ducked his head.

“I...need a name.”

“A...what?”

“A name, all right? Like the one you picked for yourself.”

Logan was startled by that request—he told no one about the boy who came to him, claimed he made up his own surname to replace the Name that was stripped away. Some of the guards disliked it, stirring fresh retellings of the legends of the Lazari: necromancers with the power not merely to raise the dead, but craft true, living souls from sheer force of will.

He even heard some new ones about the Animata: a theoretical balance to the Necromata, magic practitioners that could manipulate life the way necromancers manipulated death. From the stories Logan overheard while pretending to sleep with guards outside his cell, the Animata had been wiped out by the rise of the Animator, the First of the Necromata, leading to his rise and attempted enslavement of the Kingdoms. With the Animata gone and unable to keep the balance in check, the king had been forced to slay the Animator and had outlawed necromancy soon after.

All stories, of course...but over the last two years, as his name wormed through his brain the way the power of the prison mages had, it sometimes made him wonder. After all, mythology and legend served two functions in human history: explaining natural phenomenon that were not yet understood, or hyperbolic retellings of one or many actual events.

So the prison guards talked, wondered if Logan had designs on restoring his own Name through the adoption of a new one—but Janus, for all his trust issues and ilicit dealings, was an intelligent boy with a good head on his shoulders. He wasn't one for fanciful stories—only those that he could tell in the name of manipulating others.

Perhaps that was why he felt some measure of shame or embarrassment for asking Logan this favor? There was clearly some...unidentified emotion behind the request, and Logan wasn't particularly good at coping with emotional issues. He highly suspected that, when he still had a Name, he had been essentially the same.

“...I want to be allowed to keep books in my cell.” He hadn't meant to say anything indicating agreement—but the words fell out of his mouth without any conscious permission.

Janus's head snapped up sharply. This time, he met Logan's gaze with an intensity that was decidedly threatening.

“That's all?” he asked, squinting after a long moment. “No...commentary?”

Logan shrugged. “You know I do not care for sentiment. Your obvious flirtation with it, in this situation, does not interest me so much as what I can gain from the moment of weakness on your part.”

“Are you sure you're only fourteen? You sound way too much like my grandpa sometimes.”

Logan rolled his eyes, declining to rise to the bait. Instead, he gave the matter what he felt was a comically superficial amount of consideration.

“Hart.” he finally decided.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, mismatched eyes losing focus for a moment before he nodded to himself.

“That...works surprisingly well.” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than anything. Refocusing on Logan, Janus straightened and once again resumed his attempts at exuding as commanding a presence as he could manage.

“You'll get your books.” Janus assured him. “I always pay my debts.”

“Past performance indicates this is an accurate assessment. Hence my request.”

“Oh...go back to bed.”

“Gladly.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Ladies, lords, non-binary royalty, and all of my valued subjects!”

By the gods, I'm going to throw up.

Roman stood behind the curtain on the balcony, his heart in his throat. Every part of him was screaming to run, to hide, to sink into the floor and vanish through sheer force of his desire to not be there—to push Remus out to take his place when the king made his proclamation. Already, he could feel the weight of his impending responsibilities threatening to crush him, the world narrowing and the walls closing in...

He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready. He wasn't smart like Remus or as patient as his father, he wasn't commanding enough—he couldn't be king.

But he would be. One day.

Peering through the curtain, he saw his father turn...and though the pride in his face only made the terror worse, at the same time...

He could do this. He had to.

Smiling, King Thomas Sanders IV extended a hand towards him in silent encouragement. It was the same hand he offered to those subjects that knelt before him at court to have their grievances heard, the same hand he offered to both Roman and Remus as children when they felt shy or had fallen down while playing...

...or leading him back into the house when he was out to hunt a Lazari...

“I give you your future king—Prince Roman Sanders!”

A hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

“Give 'em hell, Ro Bro!” Remus hissed gleefully in his ear.

It was strange, but some of the weight lifted itself off of Roman's shoulders, with his brother's hand there instead as he stepped out onto the balcony and into the sunlight.

For a moment, it was...magical. The ghost of Remus's fingers pressed into his shoulder, his father's hand curling warm around his nape—the people of the Kingdoms below, smiling and cheering in a symphony that filled his lungs as readily as it filled his ears, turning his heart into pure starlight.

For a moment, basking in his father's pride, his brother's confidence, and his people's love—he didn't just feel like he could do this, he knew that he could.

For a moment—that was all he got before his heart stopped beating.

It happened suddenly, but somehow it felt as natural as breathing. The tension of that missing engine powering the body and soul, the inability to draw breath. It was the peace of sleep, the flow of one step into the next while walking down an evenly paved road—he knew something was wrong, and yet he could not escape the manner in which it felt so normal.

Standing there, dying in front of the very kingdom he was meant to serve with no rhyme or reason for it.

Let it go...it felt so right, it felt proper.

As his vision began to dim, and the hand he'd raised to wave to the crowd started to fall by his side, he felt the urge to fight sliding out of him, eyes already slipping shut...

Easy as existing. Getting dark, time to sleep.

Until he heard a sigh next to him that was chilling.

The king.

Death no longer felt so inevitable, nor did it feel right. It was wrong, but...it was inside him, twisting and warping to form words that echoed inside his head. Something was slipping into the void left behind by the absence of a heartbeat, speaking to him in the Reaper's voice...

The necromancer.

**********

Logan was only aware of it in passing—however, Logan wasn't supposed to be capable of even that, and had to take such painstaking care to make sure that no trace of his magic could be felt anywhere. He had to keep the fact that he had power hidden, had to beat back every trace of it.

So he was aware of his magic, far more than he was aware of the distant stars that were the lives of every creature within the palace and beyond.

And the feel of his power waking, straining towards death? That hit him hard, made him focus on that awareness of what was happening.

“Lo? You okay?”

Logan spun in his seat and stood, stalking up to the bars of his cell. It was little more than a voice in another house, reaching him barely through thin walls and great distances...but it was growing closer, crossing that distance, too close too close too close...

“Logan? You're scaring me.”

Patton was at his side, watching him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Someone is killing the king.” Logan breathed.

“What? How can you possibly know that?” Patton hissed.

Logan opened his mouth...and nothing came.

Until that voice, hollow and honeyed, was suddenly in his house and in his veins and in his...in his.

For the first time, Logan understood why the Necromata were so feared—why he was locked below ground, why he had no Name of his own and why it was so desperately important to make sure no necromancer could ever practice their art.

The moment he sensed that foreign power encroaching on something that belonged to Logan alone, everything was chilling instinct and cold, calculating fury. The power swept up and took over, took action to reclaim what was being stolen.

The king was dying, but so was the Green Man.

Logan's last rational thought before an eerie blue light swallowed up his eyes and the power wiped his mind clean was that, if the Green Man was close enough to the king, he might actually be able to save them both.

********** The necromancer in the dungeons. Roman could feel it, he was certain of it...it felt cold and airy, thick morning fog swirling through his marrow yet rendering his mind strangely clear. It was familiar, not all that different from the way it felt when they touched in Roman's dreams.

The necromancer was there. He was...helping Roman.

You have to get to the king.

He didn't know, even after all these years didn't realize who Roman was, and that was the way it ought to be, and yet...he was warning Roman, he was--

The wrongness of it filled his chest in the space of a blink, filled his lungs, forced breath into his body. The fight squeezed every muscle, including his heart, in a steady rhythm that started his blood moving again. Roman tried to clutch at his chest, but he couldn't.

He felt cold all over, but his body was working, warring with some outside force, struggling to stay alive.

His body was no longer his to control, he realized with a rush of fear. The necromancer...chill fog, thick and light and clear, in his head and his veins and his heart...

Roman's body was turning, his head swiveling around, obeying an order he did not give.

The necromancer was animating him now, manipulating his every move—and all Roman could do was stand there and let it happen--

Go.

...Father!

This time, when he tried to move, his body obeyed him, his will and that of the necromancer uniting as one.

He rushed forward, reaching out...

In just enough time to catch the king as he fell, a corpse gone cold by the time the both of them reached the ground. ((CW: parental death--but this IS a necromancer AU. Just keep that in mind. XD))

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Paperwork

 Part 3 of the Reba au. Pat one and part two.

Summary: The weekend comes and Janus deals with paperwork, one-night stands, and meeting his ex-husband's new boyfriend. 

A/N: So I went on a vacation to see @forever-forgotten-angel and took a break from writing. But I'm back and writing! Special thanks as always to @amazon-me-bitches and my qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this fic! And now, without further ado, my fic.

~

When Janus woke up on Friday things seemed almost normal. He dropped Emile and Remy off at school, Patton agreed to pick them up. Virgil had ridden with Thomas, which meant that Janus didn’t have to worry about any pickups today. That was good, considering he was working late. He had a trial coming up in two weeks, a factory worker who’d been injured on the job due to company negligence of machinery. Janus had been happy to take the case. 

 Of course, it meant that he wasn’t leaving the office until 8 PM. Janus yawned as he left the office, ready to get home and sleep. It would be lovely. A full night’s worth of sleep and then the weekend. Not that he wouldn’t be working of course. But his home office was far superior to the one he had at work. Maybe he’d take the boys out for a picnic if he had time. That would be nice. Emile had been wanting to go to the park and see the ducks before it got too cold. They could feed the ducks.

Janus was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud clang. He reached for his pepper spray, better safe than sorry. There were clangs, seeming to come from a dumpster next to the parking lot. It was most likely a raccoon but Janus wasn’t taking any chances. He began quickly walking to his car, eyes trained on the dumpster the whole time. He was halfway to his car when the source of the noises showed itself.

 Janus prided himself on his eloquent speech but all he could find it in himself to say was, “What?”. Brilliant Janus, just brilliant. 

 It was a person, taller than Janus. They had dark curly hair from what Janus could see, and a mustache as well. They held a possum in their arms. Janus blinked, “What did I tell you about running off Tallulah? You’re not going to find any tasty treats in a law office’s dumpster. We have to go to taco bell for that. The only thing you’ll find in there is paper, office supplies, and-”, they looked up and made eye contact with Janus, “And the sexiest man alive.”

They’d ran up to Janus before he had a chance to react, “Hello sexy. Are you a lawyer? Because it’s illegal for someone to be as sexy as you are.”

 “Sorry about that. I tend to get over-excited.”, they offered a hand out to shake, “I’m Remus. He/him pronouns.”

“Janus.”, he found himself saying, “He/him pronouns. What exactly were you doing in the dumpster?”

“How dare you insinuate that Tallulah is merely a pet. She is my baby.” 

 “Oh! Tallulah here thought she could get snacks in that dumpster over there so I had to get her out.”, he held up the possum in his arms.

“Right. And Tallulah is your pet?”

 “Well, it appears your baby wants to eat office supplies.”, Janus reached out to pet the possum in question,  scritching her ears. He smiled as she leaned into the touch. He smiled at the sight.

 “Believe me she doesn’t want that. I’ll take her to taco bell. She enjoys their burritos. You’re more than welcome to join if you want?”, it was a stupid idea. They’d just met, Remus was a total stranger. He could be a serial killer for all Jan knew.

 Message sent to Patton at 8:23 PM.

 “Hey Pat, don’t wait up for me. I’m gonna get take out on the way home. Make sure Remy’s homework is done before he plays on the Switch.”

 ~

Taco Bell, Janus thought, was best enjoyed at night. They’d gotten fast food and now sat out in the parking lot, a feast of fast food laid out before them. He watched as Tallulah happily ate her promised bean burrito. It was nice, relaxing even. Janus smiled as he watched, “So how does one end up with a pet possum?”

Remus grinned, “I birthed her from my womb.”, seeing Janus’ unamused expression he turned serious, “I rescue animals. She was rescued from an exotic pet dealer. She can’t be rehabilitated into the wild, unfortunately.”

“I see. She’s very sweet.”, Janus continued petting the possum in question, “So what do you do with your time? Besides rescue possums and climb into dumpsters of course." 

 “I’m a midwife actually.”, Remus grinned. Janus looked over to where he had unhinged his jaw to deepthroat his burrito like a snake. He waited for Remus to finish before speaking. 

 “A midwife?”

 Remus nodded, “Yeah. I make bank. Which is nice cause it means I can foster lots of animals.”, he continued deepthroating the burrito.

 Well, that was unexpected. Janus stared at the man in front of him delivering babies and truthfully he couldn’t picture it. Remus seemed more like the type of person to go into a job that didn’t involve babies. He seemed more likely to own a demolition derby, “You don’t seem like the type. Can I ask a dumb question?”

 “Sure.”

 “Well, it’s not a question. I just didn’t know men could be midwives.”

 “It shocks a lot of people actually. Most people don’t think women would be comfortable working with me.”

“I’m guessing that’s not true.”

 “I work with trans men mostly. Having a trans midwife is reassuring. I know what they’re going through. And sometimes cis midwives can be judgy.”

“You’re trans?”

 “Is he?”

 “Yep.”

“Well then.”, Janus took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully, “My son’s pregnant.”

 “Yeah. It’s been super stressful because he’s 17.”, Janus sighed, “How much would it cost for you to work with us? Any resources would be helpful.”

 “For you? I’ll do it for free. I know all too well what it’s like to be a pregnant teen. And I think you’re cute.”, he winked and Janus felt his face warm in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

 “You- you got pregnant as a teen?”, he forced himself to get out. Remus nodded and for a brief second Janus thought he saw a tear in his eye. 

 “Yeah but I miscarried. Lack of resources and all. So now I make sure that no one else has to go through what I went through.”

 Message sent to Patton at 11 PM

 “That’s amazing. You have to let me pay you though.”

“I told you, helping a cutie like you out is payment enough.”, he leaned forward, “I wouldn’t mind a kiss though. That is, if you’re agreeable?”, Remus leaned forward and Janus could smell his cologne. The warm, spicy, citrus scent drove him wild. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the abyss below. And Janus was happy to fall.

 Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.

 ~

Patton Picani-Hart had never been a morning person. Sure, he wanted to be; but late nights at the restaurant and his sleep schedule meant that he had trouble pulling himself out of bed in the morning. It also meant he could barely function without at least three cups of coffee. He was currently standing in front of the coffee maker, staring at it as if he could will the coffee to brew faster. 

 It had been a long night. Janus had to work late, which meant it was up to Patton to pick up Emile and Remy from school and drive them home. Luckily Virgil and Thomas had agreed to watch them because then he had to rush back to the restaurant for the dinner shift. He got back by 11 to all of the kids asleep and leftover greek food waiting for him. He’d been so tired that he’d eaten the food and fallen asleep immediately, never seeing the message he had from Janus.

 He hadn’t seen it until the morning when he awoke to Emile sitting on his chest asking for food. A quick check of his phone revealed it was 9 am and Janus had stayed out all night. So Patton did the only thing he could do; he got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast.  Six breakfast burritos later, and he was beginning to wonder where Janus was. Clearly, he’d had a good night if he was gone for this long. At least he hoped it was good. Regardless, it was good for Janus to start exploring romance again if he was ready. Hopefully, the relationship would be good for him. He couldn’t wait to hear the details. 

 Patton was considering calling him when there was a jingle of keys at the front door. Janus walked through the door. His hair stuck out in multiple directions, his suit was unkempt, and Patton could see multiple hickeys on his chest. It had been a good night after all. He handed him a cup of coffee, “Good morning. Looks like you had a good night.”

 Janus blushed and Patton knew exactly how good of a night he’d had. He grinned as he watched the man in question try to come up with an excuse, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”, his ex may have had a silver tongue, but that all went away when he was flustered. 

 “I’m not mad. You seem to forget that we’re separated, soon to be divorced. Going out is healthy.”, Patton handed him a plate of food with a smile, “So who is he?”

 “His name is Remus and we met last night. He’s nice. I invited him over for dinner Tuesday night.”, Patton frowned. Having a one-night stand was one thing, heck dating was fine. But bringing this guy around the kids after one date didn’t seem like the best idea. 

 “I support you dating Jan, but don’t think you should date a little bit longer before bringing him home. Virgil won’t mind but it might confuse Emile and Remy.”, it was the truth. The boys would be confused if Janus introduced them to a new boyfriend and then it didn’t work out. Best to wait until it was serious. That was what Patton had done.

 Janus blinked as if it was a new idea to him. “Pat, I’m not introducing him as my boyfriend. He’s a midwife. I invited him over to meet Virge. I thought it might be a good idea to have a midwife as well as an OBGYN.” 

 Patton sighed in relief; he didn’t want to sound like a jealous ex, especially when he’d been the one to ask for the divorce. This Remus coming over as a midwife was different though. And it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry if the kids would be confused. Speaking of the kids, Emile ran in at that moment, practically bouncing in his shoes, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

 ~

 Janus smiled at their youngest, picking him up and balancing him on his hip, “Yep. How about you go get your brothers and then we can eat.”, Emile nodded and ran off as fast as he could. Janus nodded and went to leave the kitchen, “I should go change.”

Pat nodded, a thought coming to him, “Virgil wanted to come to help me prep for lunch rush today at the restaurant. Could you pick him up before the dinner rush? I don’t want to stress him.”, Janus nodded before leaving, leaving Patton alone to wonder what this Remus was like.

Janus hummed as he drove to Pat’s. He’d spent most of the day in the office today, getting caught up on his paperwork. He’d promised to take the boys to the park tomorrow for a picnic, which meant he had to get it all done today. Thomas had luckily agreed to watch Remy and Emile once Pat and Virgil left to prep for the day, giving Janus ample time to work. 

 Soon 5 o’clock came around and Janus was leaving to go pick up Virgil. He was sure that Virgil would be ready to go home. Janus had seen just how busy the restaurant could get during the dinner rush. Virgil may have wanted to be a chef, but he wasn’t ready for that. Especially right now.

 He pulled up behind the restaurant, parking in the employee parking lot. Inside he could see the kitchen was a flurry of work, prepping as much as possible before it got truly busy. Waving to the kitchen staff, Janus headed to the back office where he knew Patton would be finishing paperwork before he went to go work in the kitchen. Virgil would most likely be in there with him. Only he didn’t see Virgil when he entered the office. 

 Patton stood in front of his desk, kissing an unfamiliar man as if his life depended on it. Janus blinked before realizing this must be the Logan he’d heard about. He quickly realized he was staring and, unsure of what to do, coughed to announce his presence. Patton jumped and turned around, Logan blushing and looking down. 

 “Janus, hey, what are you doing here?”, Patton looked flustered, like they weren’t divorced, “This is Logan, I told you about him.”, behind him, Logan nodded, still blushing too much to properly speak.

 “Nice to meet you, I’m here to pick up Virgil. I said I’d be here at 5, remember?”

 Pat’s eyes went wide, “Is it 5 already? I need to go get started in the kitchen.”, he moved away from Logan and ran to put on his chef’s coat, “Virgil was taking inventory in the fridge. Janus nodded and left the office, hearing Logan saying he should get going as he left.

 He did in fact find Virgil in the freezer, stocking ingredients and taking note of what was low. Upon seeing his dad he handed the list to a cook before standing up to leave. They got to the car, Virgil getting in, and Janus was about to when he heard someone call his name.

 Logan stood in front of him, looking made together and not at all how he looked when Janus had seen him earlier, “Yes?” 

 Logan took a deep breath before speaking, “I just wanted to apologize that we had to meet like that. I wanted to meet you and the kids properly, not having you walk in on me kissing Patton goodbye.”, Janus nodded in understanding.

 “It’s fine. Patton and I were separated before you two started dating. Just treat him right. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about him. He has a good heart and I don’t want to see that heart broken.”

 “I never want to hurt him.”

 “Then we’ll have no issue. Goodbye then.”, Janus got in the car, giving the man a wave before driving off. He turned to Virgil, who was listening to music next to him, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

 Virgil looked up at him, taking off his headphones before speaking, “What’s up?”

 “How does Indian sound for dinner?”, Virgil nodded and Janus set off to get take out. There was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, “Virgil, you don’t mind if your father and I date again, right? I mean date people that aren’t each other.”

 Virgil shrugged, “It doesn’t bother me. You two are getting a divorce, dating seems to make sense. And I know you’ll both always be here for me and Remy and Emile.”, Janus nodded, comfortable in the fact that he knew at least one of his kids was ok with him dating.

~

A/N: We finally meet Remus and Logan. All that's left is Roman, who will be in the next part.

 Disclaimer: Possums are not pets, they are wild animals. Furthermore, I do not know their diet but I'm taco bell isn't part of it. Tallulah is a magical possum and real-life rules do not apply to her. Do not inbox me saying possums don't eat bean burritos. 

Besides that, I'm taking prompts for this verse, so if you have prompts send them in! I'd love to see your hcs for this au. And as always, if you like this fic, leave a comment. Thank you for reading!