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eury--dice · 4 years ago

Text

history, huh?

chapter 4: proxime

check the notes for links to other chapters and ao3!

(also would like to note a general cw for alcohol and child abuse in this chapter - see ao3/message me for more detail and please be safe and avoid if necessary)

Adam kind of wanted to go back and slap his former self before he could announce anything was “perfect.”

It was only once the turkeys were deposited in his room by blank-faced handlers that he began to regret his decision. The turkeys stared ominously at him, eerily silent for all of five seconds before they started to move and gobble.

And they didn’t stop.

SOS, he texted Ronan simply, receiving a lone question mark in reply.

iMessage chat to HRH shitty bird boy

Resumed 28 November, 2019, 12:36 am

It’s the turkeys. I saved taxpayers needless expense and now they’re going to peck me to death.

told you to stop playing the hero, Parrish.

NOW IS NOT THE TIME

CORNBREAD IS EYEING ME

Some support would be appreciated here

i’m going to assume that cornbread is one of the turkeys and not a sentient loaf of cornmeal?

No, Your Highness, I’ve been performing a complicated experiment involving a snack to see if it can gain intelligence. The crocheted eyes appear to be working.

No shit, Sherlock, good assumption.

And excuse you, in the South, we make cornbread with real corn.

if you’re going to jest don’t include hobbies that seem plausible

The science experiment or the crocheting?

both.

When would I do either of those?

fuck if i know, that’s your business.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit

Meatloaf is gobbling again.

Is gobbling a precursor to attack?

Would google it but I’m too afraid to take my eyes off of the dinos.

gobbling is widely known as a war declaration amongst turkeys

i’m surprised a smartarse like you wouldn’t know this.

Oh, fuck it, Adam thought, and before he could talk himself out of it and resign himself to a night of gobbling, the dial icon had been tapped and the glass of his phone felt cool against his hearing ear.

“Have you ever shared close quarters with a turkey?”

Adam could feel Ronan’s unimpressed silence through the phone. “No, I have not. Why the hell would I?”

“Privileged,” Adam muttered. “You don’t know how sadistic these turkeys are.”

Cornbread chose that moment to gobble rather loudly and antagonistically. Adam’s eyes snapped to the bird, his muscles freezing in pure fear. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“Christ,” Ronan said, and his tone had softened somewhat. “Did a turkey make that noise?”

“Yep,” Adam breathed.

“That is not natural,” he insisted. “What the fuck?”

“I told you!”

A squawk sounded on Ronan’s end, and when Ronan spoke his voice was a great deal gentler than it had been. “Good baby, your noises aren’t demonic…”

“I’ll assume you’re not speaking to me.”

“Fuck no. Every word out of your mouth comes straight from hell.” There was a muffled rustling nose, something that was probably feathers against skin.

“Your bird?”

“Raven. Keep up, please.”

“Ravens are birds,” Adam said, but it was probably futile. “What’s its name again?”

There was a brief pause on Ronan’s end. “Her name is Chainsaw.”

Adam’s voice fell flat in response. “Chainsaw.”

He heard a kerah. “Something wrong with that?” Ronan said, his accent drawing out the o in ‘wrong’ like it was already a guilty verdict .

“It just doesn’t seem very...royal. Or bird-like.”

“It’s a good cry better than cornbread and stuffing.”

“I didn’t name them,” Adam defended. “Blame the American people.”

“But I already blame them for so much.”

“Add it to the laundry list.” Adam flinched back as the other turkey squawked deafeningly.

It was the first time he and Ronan had spoken on the phone, and until then, he hadn’t even realized it. All it took was Cornbread’s evil gaze to snap him into reality.

Silence settled between them for a moment. Adam barely dared to breathe between the awkwardness of his conversation with Ronan and his clearly impending doom at the hands of something only distantly related to dinosaurs.

“If you get mauled by those turkeys, may I give the eulogy at your funeral?”

Adam snorted, drawn back to the feeling of the phone clenched in his hand. “Ignoring the fact that I’m the son of the President and you’re the Prince of England, absolutely.”

“Good. I’m already drafting turkey-related jokes.”

“Don’t you dare dishonor me by bringing up the cause of my demise.”

“It’s a good thing Cornbread will have clawed your esophagus out and you’ve no possible way to object.”

“Jesus.” Adam shivered. “Now I have a third part to my nightmare.”

“I would trade you Chainsaw, but she goes for the eyes and I have the feeling you’d rather keep those.”

“Your feeling is correct.”

“Also, I would fucking die for her.”

“...Strong feelings, apparently, for a bird that doesn’t seem royal-approved.”

“That’s half the reason I love her,” Ronan admitted. “Most definitely not approved.”

“Just like your tattoo?”

The line went quiet for a moment. “Yes,” Ronan finally said. “Just like my tattoo.”

That line was back, and Adam inched ever-closer to touching it with his toes.

“No trade, then. I’ll just slowly perish alone in my room. If this causes a fiasco in the press be sure to make fun of me properly.”

“Of course,” Ronan said, just as Stuffing let out a deafening gobble. “Can’t you get Sargent to intimidate them into silence? Or, wait, is it charming them into liking her? I can’t figure her out from your description.”

“Knowing Blue it could be either,” Adam admitted. “And she’s...busy.”

“Busy how?”

“Back in Virginia busy.” Adam stretched out his shoulder, keeping a wary eye on the turkeys.

“Virginia? With family?”

“Most of her family is Maura, and she’s still here,” Adam hedged, weighing the little he knew about the Sargent family with what he could say to Ronan. “But yeah, of a sort. Thanksgiving’s a rough time of year. She’s trying to help out, even though it’s not technically where she’s from. Raising money, ensuring shelter, I think she’s even got a protest planned.”

“Different shade of Sargent, then.”

“Same shade,” Adam corrected. “Different circumstances.”

Ronan hummed on the other end of the line. Adam scrambled for words, trying to lighten up the air. Stuffing squawked as though to mock his tied tongue.

“She’s been busy for the last few weeks, anyway.”

“What type of busy would this busy be?”

"Just start a new sentence. You sound ridiculous." Ronan stayed silent to his jab, clearly electing to ignore him. “...Date busy.”

“Good for her,” Ronan said, but he must have heard something else in Adam’s silence because he continued. “Wait. No. No fucking way. Not with Gansey?”

“Yes with Gansey.”

“Wow, third wheeling’s gotta be even more fucking awkward, huh?”

“God, I hope not.”

“The way you described them I thought they’d never wake up to it.”

“Me too,” Adam said. “And I’m thrilled for them, but I’m also very offended that their feelings are getting in the way of saving me. Gansey went with her.”

“Oh, you drama queen. Just sleep in Gansey’s room if the gobbling is that bad.”

“They can escape, Ronan, I swear to you. They’re like the raptors-”

“They’re named after fatty foods. You’ll be alright. Go the fuck to sleep.”

“...Yeah, alright. But you need to sleep too.”

“Wouldn't dream of letting you sleep alone,” Roman replied, his tone dry. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

As Adam let his phone fall onto his pillow, Stuffing chose to bash her wings against the cage. After almost falling out of his bed in fright, Adam quickly decided that Ronan might have been onto something about sleeping in Gansey’s room.

If he made it through the night, he owed Ronan a thank you.

***

Christmas rolled around with a mighty fervor.

It felt like one moment, Adam was sitting back down in class after Thanksgiving to crack down on some new essays, and the next he was watching evergreens and pine decorations get thrown up along White House walls in perfect synchrony.

The normal White House Christmas was an ordeal, one that did its best to stress family but mostly stressed political strategy. Nothing changed that year to make it different, but they did have a smaller affair in addition to all the festivities. Christmas Eve was, in many ways, the eye of the storm. An extreme amount of chaos was behind them, and a deluge to follow come Christmas morning, but Christmas Eve dinner was dependable, private, and blessedly relaxed. Adam, somehow, found himself looking forward to it.

He sat on one of the staircases - it really didn’t matter which one, as they all blent together, only distinguishable by where they could take him - with the decorations hanging around him and a book in his lap. For once, there wasn’t any work, and even the most work-centered version of himself was forced to concede and enjoy a few hours of pleasure reading. He had grabbed the first book he could find off of his shelf and set off. Apparently, his hand had gravitated towards Fahrenheit 451. Not exactly light enough to match the twinkling reds and golds he spotted in his periphery no matter how he turned, but a personal choice all the same.

“If you keep sitting on staircases, someone is going to walk into you,” came Gansey’s voice from behind him.

“It’s their fault for not watching their way,” said Adam. “I’m sitting with my back to them. How am I expected to know?”

“By not sitting on staircases,” Gansey repeated. The air rustled as Gansey lowered to sit on the step next to Adam. “Some nice, light reading?”

“Yes. Everything okay?”

“Grand. Mostly just avoiding Helen unpacking and my parents stressing over napkin rings.”

“Gansey Christmas sounds wonderful,” Adam said dryly. “I assume they’ll all be here tonight?”

“Of course. They’d never miss it.”

“Helen is well?”

“Fantastic, apparently. Primed to get engaged soon, she says, and the helicopter’s got a new paint job.”

Adam could almost forget how much the Ganseys looked like a new Kennedy-like dynasty, but their swarming every year always reminded him. Their Christmas photos, too - always at DC landmarks, bleached teeth and ghost-pale skin and all-American born and bred grins. And the occasional snap stories from Helen of her mid-piloting a flying vessel didn’t help.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, not surprised to find the words genuine.

He got to see the Gansey family anxiety for himself only a few hours later, donned in an ugly Christmas sweater Blue had insisted on. Mr. Gansey cast a discerning eye around the room while Mrs. Gansey smiled tightly at his side, dressed pristinely. Helen chatted idly with Blue, though Blue looked prepared to bolt at a moment's notice.

“Ho-ho-horseshit?” Maura questioned, snapping him away from his reverie and gazing around like a caged animal. Her eyes traced over the pattern on his shirt.

“Blue’s homemade gift,” he said by way of response, to which Maura only sighed heavily. Her sudden appearance reminded him he had a task to perform, the small handled bag digging into his palm suddenly given a purpose. He held the bag out to Maura with a small grimace, watching one of her eyebrows quirk. “I was told to give you this.”

Maura withdrew an identical sweater from the bag. “Sending you to do her dirty work, hm?”

“I suppose so.”

“Hm,” was all Maura replied, until she lifted her analytical gaze to him. “Thanks, Adam,” she said, and in one of the greatest surprises of the night, slid her arm over his shoulders and drew him into a quick hug. “Now sit down. We’ve gotta start wrangling dinner if we want this to end before midnight.”

Adam took his place next to Gansey at the smaller table, unfolding a napkin and laying it across his lap. The gals at the table slowly began to fill in as Gansey chatted about the recent tabloid conjectures.

“The youngest is back in the tabloids, you know, trying to get him on drug use again.”

“Oh, really?” Adam muttered, eyes scanning idly over the periphery of the room. His eyes snagged on the Christmas decorations, simpler than the majority of the White House decor. A few string lights here and there, hanging baubles, the occasional pile of fake snow. His finger tapped at the stem of his empty wine glass.

“Last time he disappeared for public for a while. Heaven knows if that’ll happen again.”

He felt an itch inside his deaf ear, one he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach. “Disappeared?”

“Yeah, just...gone, no public appearances…”

It was a vague memory, or perhaps a memory of a memory. Just a snatch of something that made the hairs in the back of his neck stand up. He tried to focus on Gansey’s words, but all at once they started sliding around, unclear and blending with the too-loud noises of dinner being served. A cacophony of clacks and laughs and voices. His head burned.

Gansey’s voice lowered. “Are you alright, Adam?”

He scooted his chair backward quickly, muttering something like “back in a minute” to Gansey before rushing away. He felt eyes on the back of his head, but he didn’t pause or slow until the door to his bedroom shut firmly behind him and he leaned against it, completely alone.

“Parrish?” Ronan’s voice said in his ear, low and urgent, and oh. Adam hadn’t even realized his phone was in his hand, much less that he’d managed to press Ronan’s contact or raise it to his ear. He did briefly remember the ringing, but then words were falling out of his mouth and he didn’t waste any more brainpower on how he reached that position.

“I don’t want to…to bother you,” Adam said, and only someone who had known him for a long time would know how much it took Adam to say those words despite the fact that it was a mantra in his head repeating infinitely. Blue, who had known him since the age of five, had heard him say it only a handful of times. Gansey had heard it perhaps a handful more, though that was mostly because Adam felt strangely indebted to Gansey no matter how much he tried to change it. Ronan should not have known, but Adam had a feeling he would anyway. “You hate phones and it’s Christmas Eve and-”

“Adam,” Ronan said abruptly, and the use of his first name stopped him short. “It’s two in the morning. I’m just with Matthew. Talk.”

“Hi, Adam,” came a cheerful voice, somehow sounding like an even better picture-perfect British monarchy member than Ronan or Declan. “Ronan’s told me everything about how he-”

Adam missed Ronan’s ensuing muttered comment, something that most likely resembled a threat, but soon the voice that Adam assumed to be Mathew let out a trailing laugh, the sound growing fainter as he likely moved away from the phone.

“And fuck you!” Ronan called, with his mouth moved away from the receiver, before his attention returned to Adam. “He’s gone now.”

“It’s okay,” Adam said. “I didn’t mind.”

“I know,” Ronan said simply. “But I thought it might be easier. Now go.”

“I-I just,” Adam fumbled with his words for a moment, his free hand curling into a fist on his thigh. He felt, strangely, like he was back in Aglionby PE class trying to participate in a football scrimmage. He’d always come just short of catching the ball. He’d known what he was supposed to do, where his hands were supposed to go, the sequence of events following the initial contact, even the proper footwork. But whenever the ball reached him, he felt the disconcerting motion of closing his arms around nothing, always a second too early or too late, leather slipping from his arms like butter in a hot pan. “Couldn’t be at that dinner any longer.”

“Why?” Ronan asked, and it was a good question, a good question that Adam had avoided so many times over he barely knew how to respond. He almost deflected like he always did, but Ronan asked the question differently than everyone else. There was no expectation in the question, no real drive to know the answer other than making Adam feel better, no guarantee of hearing the full truth or any version of the truth at all. Why. Why respond now?

“I was little,” he said, and fuck why did he go down this road at all? “And everything was overwhelming when I was little, and everything is overwhelming now, but it’s even more overwhelming at Christmas.” Ronan didn’t say it again, but still, it traveled across an ocean to hover over Adam uncertainly. Why?

“I don’t remember a lot about it. I don’t know if that’s because of...how it was, or just because I was so small. Younger than three, I think.”

“I barely remember anything from then,” Ronan said, the closest thing to reassurance Adam had received from him.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “Yeah. I guess. But I remember...I remember the double-wide. The great American double-wide in the great American trailer park with the great American alcohol and the great, raging American father.”

Ronan’s breath shifted ever so slightly.

Adan screwed his eyes shut. “I don’t...my mother wasn’t there. But she was the one who put the Christmas lights up. I couldn’t stop staring at them. I can still remember...they made the tan wall look almost golden. Just where the lights touched it, of course.” His voice trailed off, realizing how tangential it sounded. Softly, he added “I don’t know why I remember those lights.”

“Our minds remember random things,” Ronan said, perhaps to bring Adam back to the story.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, blinking quickly. “Yeah. He didn’t...he didn’t like that. Me looking at them, I mean. So he...he took them down.”

The silence pressed in at his ears, threatening to close in on him just like walls.

“I see,” Ronan said.

“And he…” Adam swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple scratch tightly against his neck. He pressed his free hand to his deaf ear. “I don’t remember a lot after that, either. But the bulbs were...hot. It was freezing inside, so they should have been, too, but they were lightbulbs, I guess, and so they were hot. At some point, I fell into a railing. It burst my left eardrum.” At that moment, he could feel that second in startling clarity - pinpricks and needles and blood vessels dancing on his skin, sharp, pointed, wild attacks, and the loudest noise he’s ever heard in his life, making him collapse to the ground and forget everything else. Pain, bright and white and flashing and throbbing in time with his heartbeat until he wanted to melt into the floor. Adam was the better part of two decades removed from it, and still, the thought of that moment made his stomach turn over and over.

Adam knew he didn’t imagine Ronan’s intake of breath then.

“And my mother got home, and when she saw we left and never came back.”

The walls pressed closer to him until Ronan said “Well, shit. Fuck. Jesus.”

Adam brought his hand to his mouth, pressing it until the pressure began to ease up in his gut. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, muffled against his fingers.

“No, shit, Parrish. Don’t you dare apologize.” There was a quick exhale, something that sounded like leather sliding down a headboard. “That’s what you remember of Christmas?’

“Yeah. I don’t - I don’t remember a whole lot.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

Not even Blue and Gansey knew that story. They knew the vague details, of course, how his smiles turned tight around the White House decorations and he preferred to slip into his room early on holidays. And that Robert was the reason for his being deaf in one ear. He could just never get the entire story out around them.

Telling Ronan about it was easy, though, in a way that it shouldn’t have been. He was supposed to hate Ronan, even if it became more clear with every passing day that he was far from hatred.

“I guess I should. It’s not like I’ve done any of that in a long time.”

“You don’t have to.” A slight pause. “I can.”

Adam tried to keep the doubt out of his voice. “You can?”

For a brief moment, Adam thought Ronan might hang up on him. But then he said, “Can I tell you a secret, Parrish?”

After everything I just put on you, you could tell me a thousand secrets. You know I’ll keep every single one. I’m trusting you with a story that no one else knows, that no one else will ever know. I could do nothing less than keep your secret.

All he said was “Of course.”

“You know my Irish father? My Irish storytelling father? My Irish-Catholic father?”

“Right.”

“He passed down more to me than just his Irish stories.”

It took Adam’s brain a moment to catch up. “I...see.”

“All three of us...well, behind closed doors, that’s what we practice. Believe. Whatever shit you want.”

“Right. So no… C of E.”

“On the record, of course. Off the record...no. None at all.”

Adam hummed in response. He couldn’t think of what else to say.

“So...I will. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah. Of course.” A knock sounded on the door, sounding suspiciously like Gansey’s familiar tapping. He rose slowly, crossing to fall onto his bed. “I should probably let you go. Don’t want you to have too prolonged contact with any screens.”

“Disgusting,” Ronan said. A beat passed. “Are you a bit better?”

Adam shut his eyes, feeling the tension coiled in his chest ease up slightly. The line between the two of them materialized at his feet, on the backs of his lids, and he could nearly touch it with the toe of his shoes. “Yes,” he admitted. “Thank you.” And of all the words for Adam to say, they were the easiest and hardest to accomplish.

“Thank you,” Ronan said, and if Adam didn’t know any better he would think the words sounded harder to say for Ronan than Adam. But the line clicked and fell dead before Adam could say anything. He stared at the phone for a moment until the screen switched off from disuse, leaving him in the dark. Only then did he stand and cross the room to perch on the edge of his bed.

Gansey’s head poked through his doorway. He hesitated as though asking for permission, and Adam nodded.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

“It’s fine,” Adam hedged. “We were wrapping up.”

Gansey fell heavily into Adam’s desk chair just as he always did. “Everything alright?”

“Now it is, yeah.”

He seemed to be trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. “That wasn’t Noah, was it?”

“No, of course not.”

Gansey nodded once. “So it was Ronan.”

“What?” Adam sat up a little too quickly, blood rushing to his head. “Why would you say - how do you-?”

“You don’t exactly have a wide circle of friends. Guessing is easy.”

“I hate your knowledge of my loneliness.” He swallowed roughly. “And we’re not... friends.”

Gansey cocked one eyebrow. His thumb raised to run over his lower lip. “Really?” He challenged.

And, well. No. Not really. Adam thought of their strings of messages, the trade of information between them so easy and simple. He couldn’t pretend that they were enemies anymore, or that their general feelings weren’t positive.

“Really,” He said, launching himself up off of his bed. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants, he glanced back over to his friend. Gansey was studying him with a distantly memorable expression, as though trying to discern a difficult Latin translation but determined not to ask for help.

“Well,” Gansey said, blinking once, twice. He stood abruptly, noting Adam moving towards the door. “Let’s off, then.” “You’re not British, Gansey, don’t say that.”

“Mm, you’d know all about their phrases, wouldn’t you?”

“Do not.”

Before Adam reached the door, Gasney stopped him, saying his name so lowly Adam almost missed it. He turned and waited for Gansey to speak.

“Are you sure you can go back?” Adam mustered a smile. No, he thought, but Ronan’s voice echoed in his head. Don’t apologize. Maybe he could make it through after all, have a slightly better memory of Christmas. “Yeah, I am.” And he turned the doorknob to let them spill out into the hallway.

***

iMessage chat to HRH shitty bird boy

Resumed 29 December, 2019, 5:17 pm

Look. I’m just saying.

Ignoring the fact that bearer bonds haven’t been legally in use since 1982

That henchman says that they’re valued at $100,000 USD

(£75,700 for your British ass)

and then Alan Rickman says they earn 20%

When the interest rate on corporate bonds was 9% when Die Hard came out??

And also there’s never been a US bond worth more than $10,000??

stop letting sargent force you to watch die hard

for the love of god stop

it’s a MOVIE

It’s not Blue, actually.

It’s your best friend.

henry??? how??

Netflix party

He got my number (thanks for that)

And wouldn’t stop texting insisting we watch it

Or he (as threatened) will “release the bees??”

I’m not sure what he meant but here I am.

Accidentally desecrating Alan Rickman’s legacy.

Blue’s here too but it’s not her fault, at least.

that asshole

how dare i not be included in everything he does

“Why the hell is Ronan on the guest list?” Adam demanded, casting his eyes over their virtual list for what felt like the hundredth time. Planning for their New Year’s Eve fundraising event/PR dream/blowout party had been well underway since before Christmas, but crucial developments always occurred in the weeklong stretch between Christmas and New Year’s. Like the inclusion of the Prince of England on their exclusive invitation list of all the most famous and powerful twenty-somethings from around the planet.

Blue, seated sideways in an armchair and eating a container of strawberry yogurt at a glacial pace, said “I thought you added him?”

Adam wouldn’t put it past her to add him and feign innocence - she had some hidden agenda with him and Ronan, anyway, one he wasn’t quite sure of - but her ignorance seemed genuine. At once, they both turned to Gansey. He kept his face blank.

“Good question, Adam,” he said, refusing to back down under their stares. “But the real question is why didn’t you invite him?”

Adam, too, did his best to look passive. “Why would I?”

“He’s your only friend that’s not currently in this room?”

“Plus he’s great for the press,” Blue chimed in.

Adam just looked between them, and Gansey sighed.

“Look, Adam, it’s - it’s great that you actually get along with him. Like him.”

“Do not,” Adam retorted automatically. His phone buzzed, and he felt his cheeks darken a little with the knowledge that it was probably Ronan. Gansey and Blue were probably staring at each other and having one of their silent conversations, but he didn’t trust himself to look at them without giving anything away. Not that there was anything to give away. “You invited Cheng too, right? Ronan won’t come if he doesn’t.” “Thought you didn’t care?” Blue asked, and he shrugged.

“They’ve both RSVP’d yes, Adam, so I’m sure your best friend will be there.”

“Lovely,” Adam muttered, ushering them along the rest of their planning.

Just before eight PM on the thirty-first of December, Adam curled into his desk chair with a textbook perched on his bent knees. Blue, already dressed and made up while laying spread-eagle on his bed, fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She’d managed to convince PR that a self-designed outfit would make a splash, and Adam had to agree with her - she really did have a knack for design and upcycling.

Technically, they should have been heading down to play host to all types of young, influential people, buttering them up for cash and future favors. But much as the media loved their wild parties, none of the White House Trio were particularly fond of them. They preferred a quieter scene, but quiet didn’t raise money and make headlines.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t hole up and enjoy the peace and quiet before then.

Gansey, who by far had the greatest social battery, was therefore left to field early attendants and the press on the lawn. He’d come and drag them out of Adam’s room soon enough, of course, but before that time came there was relative peace.

“I guess we’ll get one more of these,” Blue said. “At least.”

Adam lifted his eyes from the book and looked at her. “Yes,” he said softly. “I think I’ll miss them?”

She laughed, a deep laugh that eased a bit of the pre-party anxiety in his chest. “I won’t. I hate this party.”

“But don’t you like flirting with all the daughters of Oscar-winning actresses?”

Blue hummed. “That is fun. They’re never ready for it.”

“They never are.”

“I’ll be doing less of that this year, though.”

“And hopefully forever?” Adam teased. The sudden air of wistfulness descending around Blue gave him a hint of pause. She took a moment to respond.

”Maybe,” she muttered. “Shut up.”

Adam let it go for then, sensing genuine distress in Blue’s stiffened shoulders.

“They wouldn’t be so bad if everyone didn’t get so blacked out.”

“Well, we have liability waivers now. And I think you mean it would be worse.”

Adam sighed. “I guess no one would show up without the promise of alcohol.”

“Exactly.”

Contrary to how Blue and Gansey made him live, Adam really didn’t enjoy drinking that much. When he did, he preferred to do so quietly - sitting in the music room with the rest of the trio, celebrating a good grade with his family, breaking out something to make a night-in a little more exciting. Events like the Royal Wedding were a one-off, where he needed distraction and alcohol presented itself.

He didn’t want to think about the need for distraction just then, with Ronan and Henry Cheng most likely en route to the White House.

A few quick, precise knocks came at the door. Gansey. He popped his head in.

“You two need to show up soon or it’s going to look suspicious,” he greeted. Blue made a tiny noise of discontent and made to turn her face into Adam’s pillow, but must have remembered her makeup and decided otherwise.

Adam heaved a sigh and stood, smoothing one hand over his hair. He’d straightened and smoothed it down for the event, knowing the cameras preferred him in all of his polished glory. He glanced between Blue and Gansey, but their gazes didn’t flicker from each other. Something about the hunger in their eyes made Adam ache, a tight knot settled in his chest. Gansey moved into the room and Adam out of it. He cast a glance through the doorway over his shoulder, trying to gauge if he should wait for them. By the low, urgent whispers carrying between them and Gansey’s hands rested on Blue’s elbows as they stood nearly flush, his presence was no longer necessary.

Adam trailed down the hallowed halls until he reached the mingling mass of people in the East Room. He turned on his smile, trying his best to become invisible. It didn’t work. At every turn, another person grabbed his shoulder to catch up, another drink pressed into his hand, another question hurled his way. At some point, he started to feel a bit numb in the fingers, tiredness and giddiness from the schmoozing seeping into his bones.

Blue appeared at his side. Her smile had dampened somewhat, but he could tell she was enjoying herself from the set of her brows. Something, however, was off at just that moment. She inclined her head behind her, and that was all the explanation Adam needed.

Ronan often had that upsetting effect on people.

Adam took a moment to observe the scene. Ronan and Henry Cheng stood several feet away, engaged in conversation with Gansey, who walked backwards tidily through the crowd as though herding them towards Adam. Ronan’s face remained passive, clad in his black-leather best. Adam’s skin felt hot and itchy under his shirt, and he looked instead to Cheng. In his Madonna t-shirt, Cheng drew attention to himself in waves. Between his eccentric origin story and absently friendly expression, not to mention the excited manner in which he partook in whatever Gansey was saying, Cheng would surely be the hot commodity of the party.

“Making friends?” Adam asked Blue, pulling a face at the same time she did.

“He’s your best friend,” she replied just as Gansey reached them. Blue reached out a hand to stop him from colliding with them, stretching her arm so that it was almost straight, and he caught her hand easily with a squeeze.

From what Adam could tell, their conversation centered around some vague school memory from Eton, but it dissolved as soon as Blue and Adam broke their circle. The brief silence was broken quickly by Henry Cheng, who announced, “Well, if it isn’t the man with the worst opinions about Die Hard.”

Against his will, Adam felt the corners of his lips twitch. “And the man who cried over Alan Rickman dying in Die Hard.”

Henry shrugged. “I wear my emotions proudly.”

“We fucking know,” Ronan said, breaking his silence. Adam hated how nicely the tight leather jacket accented his pale skin and high cheekbones, looking almost regal in his rebellion. “You monologued about the unbridled joy in your heart over the Madonna song playing when we first arrived.”

Henry grinned. “I will not apologize for being stable in my masculinity, Ronan, unlike all you repressed British types.”

“I need a drink,” Ronan declared loudly, plucking one from the closest tray and downing it in one graceful motion as one might serve a tennis ball. Henry did not appear phased by the sudden dramatics.

“Now, let’s see if I get everyone.” He turned his head to Gansey, moving around the circle. “We’ve got King Ganseyman, of course. Adam Parrish, the least valid person I can think of for purely petty reasons. And of course our dear Periwinkle.”

Adam cocked a brow and subtly shifted his eyes to look at Blue. She looked fit to claw out someone’s eye even though her own eye scars were obscured in makeup; her hand had tightened significantly around Gansey’s, and he gave no indication of pain from the movement beyond the barest twitch of his mouth.

“Clever,” she said at last, sparing him a tight, sarcastic smile. “I’ve also read the labels on nail polish to pick up a few new words. It’s nice to know you can read.”

“Yes, well, you have to start your journey to literacy somewhere,” Henry said grandly. “I appreciate your support, of course.”

Adam caught a flicker of amusement pass of Blue’s face. He had a sinking suspicion that maybe Blue wasn’t as averse to Cheng as she put on a show of.

“Are you literate enough to read off a drink order?” she said.

Henry grinned, white teeth lining in rows in his mouth. “I suppose I can string a few words together.”

Without letting go of Gansey, Blue surged forward, looping her other arm in Henry’s. The three of them trailed off towards the drinks, Blue and Henry moving determinedly and Gansey, bemused and grinning at their sudden acquaintanceship, lagging a step or so behind. Adam gazed after them for a moment, but Ronan took a step closer to be heard over the music and he turned his head to look at him.

“She’s gonna have them wrapped up all night.”

Adam raised a brow. “You can read her that well?”

Ronan gave his head the tiniest, nearly imperceptible shake. “No. I know Cheng and Gansey.”

The heat of the room was starting to cling to Adam’s skin; he rolled one shoulder uncomfortably. “Of course. Eton gang’s reunited.”

“For better or worse,” Ronan agreed lowly.

Adam meant to ask what he meant by that, but he never received the chance. A hand tapped Ronan firmly on the shoulder, and Adam watched as he turned automatically. His face broke into an uncharacteristic grin at the sight of the person behind him. Adam felt his forehead crease as the figure wrapped their arms around Ronan’s shoulders and he hugged them back almost as enthusiastically. For a moment, the only sight was the overlapping of pale and dark skin, the stranger’s feather-pink jacket contrasting with the black leather Ronan wore.

Then the two separated, and between the black bralette, exuberant eyeshadow, and tight-coiled hair shining under the strobe lighting, Adam recognized Hennessy - up-and-coming London artist, an occasional nuisance. and precisely the type of person that thrived at these parties.

“You bastard,” she said to Ronan. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“Henry was live-tweeting the whole flight.”

She scoffed lightly, rubbing at an invisible spot of dirt on Ronan’s cheek. “I've had him muted since uni.”

“Don’t let him hear that you haven’t been keeping up on his page.”

“Aww, it’s sweet you worry for me, little fox, but I can take that pissant any day of the week.”

Ronan pulled back slightly. “Of course you could, but Henry goes more for psychological violence.”

“Yes, well, I can get him in that too.” Neither acknowledged Adam standing nearby. Hennessy shook her head, curls bouncing with the movement and picking up all kinds of strobe lighting. “Where is he, that shadow of yours?”

“Cheng could never be anyone’s shadow. He’s too out there.”

“And you’re the one he chooses not to abandon, hm? How sweet.” When she smiled, she looked very much like a painting, striking and set and venomous enough to burn at the slightest brush. Ronan appeared impervious.

“He’s making friends.”

“Hm. How boring.”

Ronan’s voice lowered, but Adam thought he could hear him say “Jordan’s not here?”

Hennessy’s lips, the same vibrant shade as her lids, pulled a little tighter. “Nah,” she replied, casual enough. “Working on some deadlines, poor thing.” Her eyes flitted away from Ronan’s face for the first time, landing squarely on Adam instead. Her grin widened. “Well, there’s our treasured host. Late to your own party?”

“I have learned a few things from you over the years, Hennessy,” Adam replied, slipping a hand into his pocket in an attempt to appear more casual than he felt.

“Fuck, I guess you have,” she admitted. Compared to Ronan’s accent, her voice sounded slipperier and rounder, sliding through the air until it reached his ears. She lifted a hand to land one last pat to Ronan’s cheek before gliding on to land a similar one to Adam. She paused briefly in front of him, lowering her hand.

“You look happy,” she noted. Waggling her fingers in a wave, she turned back so both Adam and Ronan could see her. “I need a drink to get through all these boring political types. Ta, darlings,” she said, before disappearing back into the crowd as quickly as she had arrived.

Adam exchanged a look with Ronan. “So you know Hennessy?”

“I’d hope so, yeah,” Ronan said, but he didn’t elaborate. “You?”

“We've met a few times.”

“Pity,” Ronan said, standing like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands.

Adam rolled a few words around on his tongue - questions, mostly, infused with the sudden jealousy he felt simmering low in his gut - but instead all he said, so out of character, was “Do you want a drink?”

His shoulders seemed to soften slightly. “Can’t let Sargent have all the good ideas, I guess.”

“I’ll tell her you thought it was a good idea.”

“Fuck off.”

Ronan appeared a little more at ease with a drink in hand, and eventually, Adam lost him to the crowd. He stood stranded for the briefest of moments before Henry Cheng appeared, for the second time that night, at his side.

“Adam Parrish,” he said, handing off a drink that looked clear and deadly. It took his fingers a moment to remember to grab it rather than letting it splash to the ground.

“Cheng,” Adam said, letting the déja vû wash over himself. “Thought we already had our introductions.”

“Of course,” Henry replied, tone too even and pleasant for the chaos around them. “Just wanted a chat with the movie critic, is all.”

Adam cast a skeptical eye around the room. “You’re sure this is the best place?”

“No time like the present, my friend.” Henry threw an arm around his shoulders, guiding Adam towards the dance floor and obscuring his own voice further. “How about you down that there drink and enjoy yourself? You look positively coiled and ready to strike.”

“I’d really rather not. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, if you’re so connected to sobriety, so be it,” Henry said, stealing the drink back. He nodded over Adam’s shoulder as he lowered his head back down from the drink, and when Adam glanced he saw a flash of Ronan’s leather among the crowd. “Our Ronan is looking fit, no? I’m proud of him for getting out of the house.”

“Some house,” Adam muttered, not expecting Henry to hear. All the same, his companion let out a startled laugh.

“Could say the same to you. But yes,” he said, leaning closer, “between you and me, the palace is always quite disarming.” Straightening and throwing a wave over his shoulder, Henry added, “Perhaps you have more reason to get used to it than I do, however.”

“More reason?”

Henry smiled, then, and somehow it appeared as menacing as Hennessy’s had earlier. Maybe he’d learned from her. “Friends of the royals make quite frequent trips, I’m afraid.”

“What, you’re not approved enough?”

“‘Fraid not. Heir to a fortune is not the same as First Son, Parrish, and I believe you’ve a wonderful slip of parchment ensuring just how approved you are.”

“I can’t find it in myself to be surprised you know.”

“Well, imagine being me if I didn’t!” Henry exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few popular influencers as he splashed a drink in their direction with his aggressive gesturing. “I was only on the receiving end of the HRH’s rants for three bloody years before you wrestled each other in frosting at the greatest wedding of the decade-”

“We didn’t wrestle-”

“And then you turn up a week later, acting all buddy-buddy for every camera you find - well, it would look suspicious had I not known!”

“Mhm,” Adam drawled, cutting his eyes back to Henry. “I bet Ronan can’t keep a secret from you.”

Henry grinned again, baring his teeth. “You’ve read him so well, McClane.” He sighed theatrically barely a moment later. “And debunked my argument succinctly.”

“That’s the price to pay for knowing all of Ronan’s thoughts, I suppose, Gruber.”

“Among many others. I’d expect his Niamh to know that well enough, though.”

Adam felt himself freeze as Henry’s hand came in contact with his shoulder, a friendly pat. His Niamh. As if that meant anything, as if those words fit together in any logical pattern. His Niamh, and his mother’s voice - almost golden.

“Or you will soon enough, mate,” Henry said. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

And Henry Cheng disappeared into the crowd, popping up laughing with Blue a few feet away.

Adam surrendered gaining any grip on this night right then.

At some point, Hennessy found him, pressing a drink into his palm - what was with all his friends and acquaintances plying him with alcohol? - and said, “Well, I’d think you were avoiding me as you have at the last two of these parties.”

“Never avoiding,” Adam defended, mustering a smile as he lifted the drink to his lips without thinking. “Just generally indisposed at events.”

“You’re making some good choices, then.”

“What’s done must be done.”

She raised a single eyebrow. “Rather defeatist of you, Golden Boy. Don’t remember that from your time on the campaign trail.”

Adam grinned. “I’m a fully realized creation. I have the capacity to change.” “There he is, bringing out the philosophy at parties.” She nodded to something that might have been Ronan if Adam focused his eyes and squinted enough. “Don’t remember him, either.”

“Have I mentioned you look fantastic?”

“I know, darling, and I note your deflection.”

“My point stands.”

“And it’s valued.” She slid an arm over his shoulders, uncomfortably warm, to lean closer to his ear. “But we’re gonna have a conversation when you’re not overwhelmed at a party you don’t want to throw. I’m serious about the ignoring.”

“I know you are.”

“Mhm. And if I were you, I’d go check on your boy. But I’m not you, so I’m going to enjoy myself.”

As quickly as she’d appeared, she slid off into the crowd, joining the numbers of people Adam had completely lost to the mob. Everyone seemed able to navigate it but him.

As the clock neared midnight and another drink disappeared from Adam’s hand, leaving his blood buzzing pleasantly through his veins, he slipped out one of the ornate double doors. He breathed in fresh air like a man coming across water in the desert, the haze around his mind clearing with every breath. He ambled to a free bench, his legs still stiff and straight from overuse. The stone bit into his long fingers as he curled his hand around the bench seat, but he welcomed the feeling because it was so far from the thriving mass of bodies indoors.

At some point, he opened his eyes again. His eyes had briefly registered another figure outdoors by the statue when he first exited. Only once his eyes were open and scanning did he recognize the figure, a silhouette of black leather cut harshly from the ethereal white exterior of the Residence.

“Everything okay?” He called to Ronan.

“Yeah,” Ronan replied without turning to face him. “Just...getting some air.”

It was easier to associate this Ronan with the one he heard on the phone - so far from that royal persona projected everywhere, a voice in a face with no expectations on it. Ronan could have been anyone, his accent lax and his posture eerily straight in a contrast that made Adam feel a bit winded.

“It’s loud in there,” he admitted.

Ronan didn’t respond, but Adam’s statement wasn’t one that required response.

“I thought this would be more your scene,” Adam finally said, challenge creeping into his voice. He wasn’t sure if it was a genuine challenge or if he was just falling back on old habits instead of saying something he might regret.

“And I didn’t think it would be yours.”

“Fair enough, since it’s not.”

Ronan threw him a glance over one shoulder at that. “Makes perfect sense to throw this function, then.”

“Well, the media doesn’t exactly eat up overpriced textbooks and econ calculations, so I do what I can.”

“Mm,” Ronan hummed in something that sounded like agreement. “They do love the sex, drugs, and rock and roll, even in places it’s not happening.”

Adam stood, placing his hands on his knees like he had bad joints. “Unless if you actually went to 239 parties last year, I’d guess you know all about that exaggeration.”

“Do you stalk my tabloids, Parrish? The fuck?”

“No, Gansey does. With everybody. He just reads all his findings to me.”

“Terrifying,” Ronan muttered. “If I die of mysterious circumstances, you’ll both be on the shortlist of suspects.” “What?” Adam challenged. “You’ll keep it in the breast pocket of your blazer?”

“Sure,” Ronan replied. “I have to keep it folded up close to my heart, of course. Keep your lovers close but enemies closer.”

Ronan tilted his head in the direction of the statue, silently beckoning Adam to stand by him. It felt a bit like a confession, like his permission implied passing some silent test.

Briefly, in his buzzing brain, he wondered what side of that spectrum he fell on.

“Did you get sick of watching Blue and Gansey?”

Adam shrugged, pulling to a stop just next to Ronan. He kicked absently at the ground with his toe. “A bit.”

“That has to have been a weird development to get used to.”

“A bit,” Adam repeated.

“Still, it hasn’t been too long.”

“I think they’ve been a thing for longer,” Adam admitted.

Ronan turned his head, and suddenly Adam felt the icy cool of his eyes trained on Adam’s face. “Why?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems obvious, looking back. They’ve clearly been together for a while. August, at least.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the December-January chill suddenly settling over him. “I think they were...protecting me.”

Ronan snorted, the gesture not a bit princely. “Protecting you?”

Adam fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt.

“I’m damaged goods, Highness,” he said at length. “I’m fragile.”

Even though Adam didn’t turn to him, he felt Ronan’s eyes probe deeper as though imploring Adam to look back to him. “That’s a fucking lie,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Adam snorted, but Ronan was not deterred.

“You’re not fragile,” he repeated. “If you’re fragile, the world is being held up by - by dental floss and craft glue. No, a weak person couldn’t do what you do. Bullshit for the cameras at least once a week, keep up your grades, work on policy with Czerny, keep up your ratings so that they never dip - that’s too much for someone who is fragile.”

“Oh, then you must be superhuman, with all the bullshitting you do.”

“Of course I am, Parrish,” Ronan said, turning his eyes up and away from Adam.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, elbows rested on the cold metal fence guarding the statue. The night sky hung above them, pale in all of the light pollution of the city, but if Adam strained he could see the faint points carving themselves into the sky and drawing themselves into pictures and promises. Ronan’s heat radiated next to him, leather almost snagging on cotton. The fact that this was their first time seeing each other in person since the hospital photo-op did not escape Adam’s notice, but neither did the easy way in which they managed to coexist despite the time and distance removing them from that point.

When the moment grew too heavy, he said, “Did you look at my Wikipedia page?”

“No.”

Adam arched an eyebrow.

“...Matthew may have done some light Googling.”

Adam laughed. It wasn’t his carefree camera laugh, the ones that kept up his ratings, but it was a laugh nonetheless, one that dispersed through the air as though worried it could be stolen away at any moment. Ronan’s face shuttered abruptly. His expression became inscrutable, and Adam didn’t realize he’d looked happy until he no longer did.

All at once, Adam remembered the line separating them, and he felt certain they were touching it with their feet almost overlapping, face to face and chest to chest.

“You didn’t have to come,” Adam said softly, his normal voice suddenly feeling far too loud for the little bubble forming around them, devoid of anyone else. “Not if you didn’t want to.”

Ronan didn’t speak for a moment, by choice or to gather his words, Adam didn’t know. “I did.”

Adam just shook his head, choosing to stand in comfortable silence. A star winked in the sky.

“Non est ad astra mollis e terris via,” Ronan whispered, his lips barely movin g. There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

“Itaque imus ad astra, per aspera,” Adam replied, barely thinking about it. So we go through hardships to the stars.

Ronan visibly started at his use of Latin. Adam smirked as if you say you’re not the only one with a posh education.

“Shooting for the stars, Highness?”

Rona turned his eyes back to the sole bright star. “I might as well be.”

“I’d doubt whatever it is that’s bothering you is as hopeless as that.”

Adam couldn’t take his eyes off of Ronan, noting the way his lips thinned. “Oh, but it is. In my position. In my life.”

“Non ergo qui in vobis sunt terminum tibi.”

Ronan turned his head toward Adam again, and Adam felt a spark of fear over what he might do if he turned his head to meet Ronan’s eyes, blue as a never-ending lake stretching on and on until he drowned against the sand.

He turned his head anyway. The stars suspended above them, the leaves ceasing to rustle and shuffle, the party inside fading away until everyone disappeared into nothingness. Ronan lifted one hand from the railing and slid it along Adam’s cheek, his skin heating and jolting at the touch like Ronan himself was made of electricity and stardust, like the galaxies that Adam had once been were meeting their long lost particles in Ronan’s hand. In Ronan’s eyes, he could have sworn he heard words turning over and over.

Adam heard him whisper, then, the words that must have been bouncing in his head. “Pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death,” he muttered, the tail-end of something Adam couldn’t quite place. He parted his lips to speak just before Ronan kissed him.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, he didn’t worry that he was kissing someone - kissing Ronan . For once in his life, he forgot about everything else. He didn’t worry about anyone inside or what anyone might think. That would come later.

Ronan’s lips pressed to his, and he tried to string a coherent thought together but was instead met with abstract, overjoyed ideas floating aimlessly in his brain instead.

The press of Ronan against him was hard, sharp lines and corners poking into his chest and his hips and his legs, but his lips were soft and Adam tasted whiskey and powdered sugar on Ronan’s tongue and Ronan’s teeth flashed against his lip and he thought he might die, that the feeling may kill him if he did that again.

He didn’t have a chance to test that hypothesis, because Ronan pulled back and stepped away so quickly Adam almost fell forward onto his face. And then he hurried away, leaving Adam standing like an idiot outside of the White House ballroom at a party he was supposed to be hosting after just kissing a male member of the monarchy.

His only thought was, absently, if they’d kissed at midnight.

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tobashiarg-blog-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Turns Out Being a Super Hero Is Actually Really Gay! - Chapter 5

Hey kiddos, I’m back! Your main bitch here has NOT been in the best mental health as of late :) My boss at my current job is driving me up a wall and I may need to find a new one since he might not be able to pay me for the hours I do, my depression is kicking my ass, and my dog was going to have puppies but then had a miscarriage and it turns out she can never have puppies again or risk dying next time. Soooo yeah, I’m probably not okay, but that’s okay because we are back with another chapter of your fav spiderbois! Again, huge thanks to @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil for their wonderful au! Also shout out to @khadij-al-kubra for helping me appropriately write Logan and his family! They gave me some awesome advice and insight into Muslim culture and you should totally check out their blog and read their Thomas In Wonderland fan fic, it’s super cute! Anyways, now with that out of the way please ENJOY!!!!

Master Post

Beginning

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

The boys collapsed on to the couch in Thomas’s living room in one heaping pile of uncoordinated limbs and groans. They were absolutely exhausted, aching joints and sore muscles which they were careful to move slowly. Thomas, meanwhile, leaned over the back of the couch, suit still intact but mask off, smiling amusingly at the tired teens.

“So, third day of training went well,” Thomas snickered, the boys groaned in response causing the older man to laugh again “yeah, you’ll get use to it eventually. Just because your muscles are stronger doesn’t mean they aren’t prone to getting tired when worked out.”

“I take back every nice thing I said about you,” Virgil murmured, face down across the couch “you are the absolute worst and I’d rather take Ms. Green’s Saturday day classes.”

“I ache all over.” Patton whined.

“The body takes about a week or so to get used to routine work out,” Logan groaned out “but as you do you adjust it so that you don’t get used to it and extend your bodies limit. But even so this training fucking sucks!”

“Agreed,” Roman grunted “I have so many regrets.”

“Toughen up boys, you all wanted to be super heroes,” Thomas tutted “besides, we haven’t even gotten to the hard parts yet.”

“The worst!” Virgil hissed “Terrible mentor! Zero out of ten!”

Thomas chuckled, “If it helps, you all are doing great. I’m really proud off all the effort and hard work you’ve been putting into this. Now, weather that’ll stay throughout the entirety of your training is to be determined but I have faith in you all.”

The boys stayed quiet for a long while, faces flushed red though it wasn’t from the intense work out they just had, mostly. They’ve all been doing their damnedest to show how serious they were about becoming heroes, wanting to prove to Thomas and everyone else that they weren’t messing around. And even if it’s only been a short while it was nice to know that Thomas had faith in them and wanted to see them succeed. It was pretty fucking sweet to know that your hero and now mentor had your back.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too sappy, you still suck.” Virgil grumbled, but the blush on his cheeks plus the smile he kept trying to hide told a different tale.

“Oh well, if I’m the worse them I guess you guys wouldn’t be interested in any of the ‘after work out’ sandwiches I made,” Thomas said innocently, turning to walk towards the kitchen “plus, a banana and strawberry milkshake but it’s probably not that great cause, you know, I’m the worst and all.”

The boys were silent once more before suddenly jumping off the couch and racing after Thomas towards the kitchen.

“Best teacher! Twelve out of ten gold stars!” Virgil called out.

“I’m not all that achey!” Patton said, a slight wince in his step.

“Well really the body shouldn’t ever get used to a work out too much,” Logan informed “and the routines you’ve set up for us will really balance out our bodies.”

“Best decision of my life! Absolutely, no regrets!” Roman cheered.

---

The boys lazed around in the kitchen, chatting as they ate their mountain of sandwiches and delicious milkshakes and Thomas couldn’t help but feel kind of domestic. He didn’t usually have much company besides Joan and Talyn and even then, he was sometimes too busy to properly hang out with them. But they understood, even before they found out about him being Rainbow Weaver Joan and Talyn were always supporting him and Thomas will forever be grateful for that. But there was just something about having a room full of people, chatting and laughing, with a mutual understanding of each other’s situation that made Thomas feel…less alone.

‘Welcome to parenthood fucker!’ A voice in Thomas’s head, that suspiciously sounded a lot like Joan, cackled.

“Shush.” Thomas mumbled quietly as he shook his head to silence the voice before returning to the conversation at hand.

“The whole movie is basically a promotion on Stockholm syndrome!” Virgil exclaimed.

“She stayed on her own accord so she could save her father!” Roman shot back “Plus he did let her go after she went into the forbidden room only SAVE her when she was in danger! She could have left after he passed out but no, she went back again WILLINGLY to nurse him back to health!”

Roman and Virgil had been arguing about the story line of various Disney movies for the better part of an hour now. Thomas, Logan, and Patton sat as the audience, occasionally throwing in their own opinions but staying out of it for the most part. Even if the debate seemed intense it kind of looked like the two were having fun in their own strange way. Currently they were discussing the elements of Beauty and the Beast.

“Yeah, because it’s either get mauled to death and freeze in the woods or be trapped in solitude!” Virgil quipped “She just chose the better half of a bad situation that would provide her with food and shelter!”

“But they fell in love!” Roman cried.

“Yes, because a prisoner falling in love with their capture is totally healthy and cool if you add bunch of dancing silverware!” Virgil snarked.

“Ugh! You are impossible!” Roman groaned “How is it you claim to like Disney but have all this bad to say about it?”

“Because it’s literally the whole reason I like it in the first place,” Virgil snorted “there are so many dark elements to it that people over look. Especially if you read the original fairy tales that inspired them.”

“You just want to make everything dark and edgy,” Roman grumbled “not everything has to have a dark side.”

“Everything does have a dark side, Sir Sing-A-Lot.” Virgil smirked.

“Ha, I like that nickname and I’m gunna use it!” Roman huffed.

“Not that it isn’t great that you two are getting along,” Logan said sarcastically, finishing his milkshake and grabbing another sandwich “but me and Virgil got to get going or we’ll be late for dinner and I would rather not endure my mother’s wrath.”

“Oh shit, that’s today?” Virgil asked as he began to pack his stuff.

“What’s today?” Patton asked curiously.

“My brother is coming over for dinner,” Logan replied dryly “we haven’t seen him in a while.”

“You don’t seem too excited.” Thomas said.

“It’s not that I’m not excited to see him after so long it’s just…” Logan paused, fidgeting over uncomfortable feel of emotion running through his brain, wondering if he should even bother discussing this any further. Eventually, he chose not to, “Nothing, it’s just, you know, tired from all the training and…stuff.”

Thomas knew there was something more to the whole situation, as did Patton and Roman, but out of politeness nobody said anything. They instead looked to Virgil to see if he could clue them in on something, they were missing but the purple clad teen only shrugged and shook his head. So, they were quick to change the subject.

“What are the rest of you doing this evening?” Thomas asked.

“My brother Alex said he was gunna take me and Georgie, my other brother, out somewhere,” Patton sighed, rolling his eyes “that’s usually code for he wants to impress a girl by showing what a ‘cool and caring’ brother he is and will fail miserably. But hey, I’m not gunna look a gift horse in the mouth, usually he takes us to cool places.”

“My mom and sister are working late again so I have to pick up and babysit the twins,” Roman replied before suddenly remembering something and turned to Virgil “Virgil what are you doing?”

Virgil paused, giving Roman an odd look, “Uh, besides dinner at the Quinn’s, nothing much afterwards. Why?”

“Good, because you need to come over so we can finish up that stupid essay due on Monday and I can’t have you over on Sunday because we have church and a baby shower to go to.” Roman said as he casually munched on another sandwich.

“Shit, that’s still a thing,” Virgil groaned, looking to Logan for help “have you even started on that?”

“Oh yes, me and Patton finished it recently.” Logan replied coolly.

“We video chatted since me and Lo had other stuff to attend to and couldn’t come over to each other’s houses.” Patton added.

“That’s why you flaked out on movie night yesterday,” Roman said in a moment of realization before pouting “you chose a study date with your boyfriend over me?”

Logan choked on the sandwich he was still munching on whole Patton squeaked and flushed a dark red. Virgil snickered as he went over to pat Logan’s back until he stopped coughing while Patton blubbered and waved his hands around, shrieking how “it’s not like that Roman, you know that! We just- we study a-and – we aren’t, uh…” Logan was soon to join in once he got the proper amount of air in his lungs, face just and red and sputtering just as embarrassed.

Thomas bit back a laugh while Roman and Virgil, the little shits, out right smirked in that smug way all best friends do when they see each other suffering. It was painfully obvious that Logan and Patton a “thing” for each other but were just too shy and awkward to acknowledge it. It was easy to push their buttons and was also extremely entertaining to watch. Still, Thomas was merciful and kindly decided to redirect the subject again.

“Well, while you kids enjoy your evening plans, I’ll be out on patrol,” Thomas said, stretching out a bit “so if you need to contact me and I’m a little slow to respond you’ll know why.”

“Might pass by that ally way again while patrolling?” Virgil asked innocently, though the devious smirk on his face was a dead giveaway “You know, just to make sure there’s no one in danger?”

“Yeah, like a certain cute barista?” Roman snickered.

Thomas’s cheeks colored pink and he regretted his previous act of mercy because those little vipers turn head so fast it’s as if they planed it. “You know we could just spend a whole day doing laps next training day?”

“We could, but that still wouldn’t erase the fact that you’re too gay to function around attractive males.” Logan smirked.

“Aw, but wouldn’t it be cute if they went out on a date?” Patton gushed, his comment was genuine but that didn’t make Thomas any less flustered. “You should try and talk to him, like for reals. Maybe ask him out on a cute little coffee date?”

“I am like flashing back to so many Coffee Shop Au fics it’s not even funny,” Virgil laughed breathlessly “anyway, Roman, text me your address and I’ll swing by after dinner. See ya gays later.”

“Don’t you mean guys?” Patton asked.

“I know what I said.” Virgil replied as he and Logan made their way out of the kitchen.

Roman shrugged, “He isn’t wrong though.”

---

They arrived at their apartment building in record time, Vigil having informed his parents before hand that he’d be at Logan’s for dinner before heading out to Roman’s to finish up the essay. Though at the moment neither of them were in any hurry to get to where they were going, taking a dramatically long time climbing up the stairs instead of taking the elevator.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along with you and Morgan after dinner?” Virgil asked for the tenth time that day “I really, really don’t mind flaking out on Roman.”

“As much as I would like that you really do need to finish your essay,” Logan sighed “it counts as a major grade for your science class.”

It wasn’t that Logan’s brother was a bad guy, on the contrary he was actually really cool and easy to talk too, but the constant comparisons made between them by their parents made Logan kind of resent him, just a little. Don’t get him wrong, Logan loved his older brother and wouldn’t mind spending more time with him but as of late the closer Logan got to graduation the more his parents…“pushed” him to follow in his brother’s footsteps. He couldn’t even mention about applying for colleges around them because then they’d go into a spiral about all the colleges Morgan got excepted to at his age and how he should apply for those and go for this program that Morgan did and maybe he could study abroad like Morgan did. It’s not like they did it on purpose, Logan knew his parents loved him and were proud of him, they only wanted what’s best for him so that he could succeed and gain opportunities that they couldn’t when they were young. But sometimes it just…got a bit much.

“Come on, let me procrastinate,” Virgil whined, though it was more to make Logan laugh then being serious “I don’t want to spend my whole afternoon with Roman.”

“It’s not my fault the teachers chose him as a partner for you,” Logan chuckled “at least he’s willing to do work and not slack off like others. Plus, better him then Dolion.”

“Mmh, true,” Virgil grumbled “but stiiiill! The only reason you’re not complaining is because you got to be all buddy-buddy with Patton and make heart eyes at him all day.”

As expected, Logan was a blushing, sputtering mess, “I-it’s not like that!”

Vigil continued to tease his best friend all the way up until their destination, then everything got tense again. Logan took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he went over the most likely scenarios that would happen during dinner, none of them were good. But Logan just had to get through dinner then an awkward night out with his brother and after he could just sulk in his room the rest of the night. His train of thought was broken by a gentle hand squeezing his own and he turned to find Virgil smiling at him sympathetically.

“I got your back if that means anything?” Virgil shrugged.

Logan gave him a tiny, appreciative smile, “It means everything.”

“Great,” Virgil turned towards the awaiting door in front of them “let’s face Hades together.”

“You know, Hades wasn’t an evil god,” Logan began to explain “he was just god of the Underworld and-”

“You know what I mean.” Virgil scoffed as he opened the door to Logan’s apartment.

Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Quinn were in the living room enthusiastically entertaining their special guest of the evening, Morgan Quinn. Looks wise, Morgan and Logan looked pretty similar, tall lanky build, neat trimmed hair, and thick square glasses. Personality wise, they couldn’t be more different, Logan was always the more serious of the two while Morgan tended to be the more goofy, social butterfly. Despite being polar opposites, they got along pretty great, Morgan was the one that introduced Logan to his love of space and it was that mutual love that formed an incredible bond between them. They’d always go up to the roof and look at the stars through their telescope, read up on NASA’s latest discoveries and plans, or just binge watch a bunch of space documentaries. But lately, Logan’s been looking at the stars less, it’s been moths since he’s looked into what NASA’s been up too, and he’s kind of been avoiding space documentaries all together if he’s honest.

“Lolo!” Morgan exclaimed excitedly as he rushed to hug his brother “Salaam alekum!”

“Waalekum salaam,” Logan replied, a small smile appearing on his face despite his internal conflict “welcome home.”

“Geez, you sprouted up like a bean stalk,” Morgan laughed as he pulled back to look over his little brother “what are Ummi and Babá feeding you?”

“All required nutrition regiments,” Logan quipped “though I can only assume your stunted growth is due to the college dietary restrictions of coffee and instant noodles.”

“Quit exposing me,” Morgan chided playfully before turning to Virgil with his arms open wide for a hug “Virge, salaam alekum!”

“Waalekum salaam,” Virgil replied, tentatively accepting the hug though Morgan knew he wasn’t one for physical affection so he didn’t linger long “how you’ve been?”

“I’ve been great, tired but great,” Morgan chuckled “and you still haven’t grown? I though Ummi was stuffing you down with the same thing she’s been feeding Logan?”

“Gunna take a lot more then forced self-care to make me into a functioning human being.” Virgil smirked.

“Speaking of eating,” Mrs. Quinn cut through the chatter as she made her way to the kitchen “I made your favorite Morgan, kufta and rice. Shall we eat now?”

“Please,” Morgan half begged “I’m a starving college student.”

They family plus Virgil gathered around the table, filling their plates with the lamb meat balls, rice and side salad put in place. It was all pleasantries at first, catching up on each other’s lives and reminiscing on the past and how it compared to the present. It was nice, laughter and chatter filled the room as other’s ate to think of more conversation topics.

Then Mrs. Quinn asked, “How has your internship been at Oscorps?”

And so it began.

“Oh, it’s been amazing,” Morgan gushed “I’ve been learning so much about bioengineering and genetic research. There’s been so many advances made in the medical field and it’s just fascinating to see the behind the scenes of everything.”

“You know, Logan and Virgil went on a field trip to Oscorps this week,” Mr. Quinn said, unknown to him that Logan’s eye began to twitch waiting for the inevitable “I would have hoped they’d see you there in action.”

“Oh no, I’m usually in the back with the researchers,” Morgan explained before looking to his brother “but if you would have texted me earlier, I could have given you and Virge a secret tour of the latest project we’ve been working on. It’s awesome, you would have loved it Lo.”

“I, um…” Logan began, fiddling with the food on his plate.

“Logan, I thought we told you to call your brother and ask about the internship requirements?” Mrs. Quinn asked.

“I forgot.” Logan said lamely.

“Babá you can’t afford to be forgetting these things,” Mr. Quinn scolded gently “you have to build up a good college resume and a company like Oscorps will get you accepted into any school you want.”

“Yeah, I know.” Logan mumbled, having stopped eating all together and was now just staring at his plate.

“Well, he’s still just a junior in high school,” Morgan cut in before more could be said by either of his parents “an internship like this is not easy to come by. Some people are on a waiting list for years and even then, they might not get accepted.”

“But didn’t they offer you a position when you were in high school?” Mrs. Quinn asked “Surely if Logan took an extra class or two, he could have one too.”

“What they offered me was an errand boy that made print outs and got coffee,” Morgan explained, secretly watching as the tension in his brother’s shoulders relaxed just a bit “they’re not gunna let a high schooler into a research lab no matter how smart he is. Maybe once he hits college but even then, he could get a much better offer from somewhere else. I hear the robotic engineering program in Carnegie and Brown are real buddy-buddy with Stark Industries.”

Logan smiled, just a little, tentative and quiet, “Really?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Quinn butted in, and just like that the tension in Logan’s shoulders returned “Stark Industries is sketchy at best, especially with all that Avengers mumbo-jumbo going on. Besides, wouldn’t a job in the medical field be more secure financial wise? All I ever see that Tony Stark do on the news is make new toys for him to play with and destroy the city.”

“Saving the world from an alien invasion and government corruption,” Morgan explained “pretty sure that’s kind of important Ummi.”

Mrs. Quinn shrugged, “I guess so.”

“But what about that whole mess with the Avengers?” Mr. Quinn asked “Or whatever’s going on there? There’s always some kind of conflict with them.”

“It’s been cleared up now,” Morgan informed them “plus I hear Stark Industries are partnering up with a famed research facility in Wakanda. They’re supposed to have technological advances years beyond us. I’m sure Logan will be snatched up in an instant.”

Mr. and Mrs. Quinn seemed sort of swayed but they surely still had more questions and probing statements to say. Thankfully, Morgan was quick to jump in and change the conversation. “So Logan, Ummi and Babá were telling me how you, Virge and some friends made a club together, how’s that been going?”

Not a topic Logan wished to discuss in great detail but he’d chose that over the previous one. “Uh, great, we’ve been making excellent progress.”

“And what of the other guys in your group?” Morgan asked, genuinely curious “How are they like?”

“They’re…great,” Logan chuckled awkwardly “just two classmates from our school, Patton and Roman, we all head a group project together and we got discussing on some issues and of course one thing led to another.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool,” Virgil added “and we’re getting…stuff and things done. It’s small but nice.”

“That’s good,” Morgan smiled “I hope to meet these new friends someday, I’m getting kind of tired of just Virgil at our house all the time.”

“You know we all thought the same thing with you,” Virgil rolled his eyes but gave an easy smirked “thank god you left for college.”

Morgan laughed, “Geez, Virge, tell me how you really feel. Also, I heard you guys were being sponsored by Thomas Sanders, unless Ummi and Babá got the name mixed up?”

“Yeah, we didn’t believe it either at first,” Logan chuckled nervously, him and Virgil sharing a knowing look “but the school district recommended him and he accepted so it was only logical of us to accept as well.”

“How hard did you and Virgil fan girl? Be honest.” Morgan teased.

Logan pouted (though he’d deny it till his dying day) and promptly returned to his dinner, “Suddenly, I don’t remember the details.”

“It’s like it never even happened,” Virgil added dramatically “Thomas Sanders who? What club?”

“Aw, come on guys!” Morgan chuckled, playfully shoving his brother’s shoulder “I’m only kidding…mildly, though seriously how hard did you fan girl? Cause I’m pretty sure Virge has a fan about him that’s just as big as Rainbow Weaver.”

“You know what, go back to your internship and shove your head in a toxic waste tank,” Virgil quipped with flushed cheeks “nobody wanted you here anyway.”

“Hey, you never know, I might gain powers like Rainbow Weaver,” Morgan smirked triumphantly “then I’ll be the one meeting him.”

Logan smirked mysteriously, “Doubtful.”

---

Roman had just finished cleaning the last of the dishes when a buzz was heard throughout the apartment. He was quick to wipe his hands as he moved pasted the kitchen table where the twins were doing homework, ruffling Marco’s hair in the process. The younger gave off an annoyed whine as he swatted his older brother’s hand away who chuckled to himself as he reached the buzzer box and pressed the call button.

“Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s Virgil, buzz me in.” The voice responded.

“Sure, give me a minute,” Roman replied, pressing another button before heading off towards his room to retrieve his backpack and set up in the living room. He did not for the life of him trust the twins by themselves, little demons could get into loads of trouble the second you look away from them.

“Who’s that?” Jenni asked, inspecting over her macaroni art project.

“A…friend?” Roman said tentatively “We’re gunna do homework, that’s all you need to know so keep the noise down to a minimum when you guys are done, okay?”

“Is it Patton?” Marco asked excitingly, he always liked when Patton came over, Patton usually spoiled the two with homemade treats.

“No, it’s not Patton.” Roman said, rummaging through his back for the notes Logan gave him.

“Then who is he?” Jenni asked, curiosity finally pulling her away from her glittery macaroni art disaster. Roman groaned at the thought of having to clean that up later.

“Just, uh, guy from a club I’m in,” Roman explained begrudgingly “we have to do a project together, that’s all.”

“Why didn’t you pick Patton as your partner?” Marco asked, half disappointed he would be getting sweets but also curious as to who this new person was.

“Because the teacher chose them for us.” Roman responded bluntly.

“Why?” Jenni asked.

“Because the school system is a dumb-dumb.” Roman said tiredly.

“Why?” Marco asked.

“Why are you guys so invested in this?” Roman snapped, he didn’t mean to but he was already on edge as it was. Virgil and him had a rocky relationship as it was, they were co-workers at best after the whole spider power thing, but even so he had no idea where he stood with him. He knew exactly where he stood with everybody else; Patton was his best friend, Thomas was his mentor and Logan was a nuisance though still fun to poke at. Virgil was just a wild card, sometimes they got along and sometimes they didn’t, it was a weird line they walked and Roman had no idea what step was the wrong step and which one was the right.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jenni sang, Marco giggling beside her as Roman’s face lit up in red hot flames. “Absolutely not!”

---

Vigil found himself once more taking his time climbing up the stairs when there was a perfectly functioning elevator. The realization of what he was doing and where he was going finally hit him after seeing Morgan and Logan out after dinner. He was going to Roman Marigold’s apartment, Roman Marigold, quite possibly the most annoying human being in the entire school next to Dolion.

It’s not that Roman seemed like a bad guy, he was actually pretty decent when his giant ego was in check and wasn’t jumping off buildings unexpectedly. But for some reason he just got under Virgil’s skin and knew what buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. Though he had no ide if he was doing it to be mean or it was just this weird thing between them. When Roman fought with Logan you always kind of got this vibe that they…not liked each other though it seems like they had mutual respect. But when he and Roman fought it varied on what the situation was, sometimes it could be Disney banters, playful bickering, full on heated debates, or just poking insults. It was weird and Virgil had no idea what to do with it.

He finally reached the door and just as he was about to knock, he heard giggling and a high pitch screech. “Absolutely not!”

Maybe this was bad time, he should probably go back, Virgil didn’t want to be caught in the middle of any family disputes if this was what it was. But he didn’t move to leave, nor did he move to knock again, he just stood there frozen in perpetual confusion and panic, listening to the conversation beyond the door.

Tiny voices sang in a jumpy school yard tune, “Roman’s got a boyfriend! Roman’s got a boyfriend!”

“I do not!” Came the embarrassed reply that Virgil could only guess was Roman.

Virgil clasped a hand over his mouth so as to repress the giggle threatening to slip. It was absolutely hilarious to hear the pristine ego maniac that is Roman Marigold get flustered and loss his cool due to, what sounded like, a bunch of little kids taunting him. Even so it wasn’t very appropriate of him to be eavesdropping on people’s conversations, no matter how hilarious or ridiculous they may seem, so he made quick work of knocking on the door.

It opened almost immediately, a red cheeked Roman staring intently at him, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I buzzed you like five minutes ago, remember?” Virgil smirked “We’re you talking to someone?”

“No! No, just…you know,” The flamboyant teen made a vague gesture with his hands “things?”

“Things?” Virgil echoed with an odd look.

Roman nodded and it was suddenly quiet for a long time. Virgil awkwardly standing in the hallway while Roman fidgeted against the door frame, both staring intently at each other without blinking. Finally, a cough from behind Roman snapped them both out of their stupor. They turned to find two smirking children peeking out from behind the living room couch, no doubt Roman’s siblings, they were practically mini carbon copies.

Roman glared at them while Virgil gave a shy wave before asking, “Can I come in now?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Roman stuttered, quickly stepping aside to let Virgil in.

---

Morgan had gotten them tickets to the planetarium viewing of Dark Universe at the American Museum of National History as well as general passes for the rest of the museum. Logan was admittingly excited to go, it’s been a long time since he’s been to a planetarium especially one as grand as the Hayden Planetarium. But on the other hand, the awkward silence between Logan and his brother during the entire taxi ride here was very heavy and uncomfortable. Not that Morgan wasn’t trying to make conversation it’s just that Logan was snubbing them out as quickly as he was thinking them.

Dinner with other people was one thing, an outing by themselves was another. There weren’t other people to buffer out the awkward when things got slow or stale. They use to go on outings together all the time, talking endlessly for hours and hour far into the night, discussing the universe, life, and anything else they could think of. But that was then, this was now, and as of now they haven’t hung out properly in a long time plus Logan’s parents weren’t really helping him warm up to the whole situation. Regardless if Morgan was able to diverge the conversation near the end or not there was still that…tension.

“So…have you ever seen Dark Universe before?” Morgan asked as the lazily walked inside the building, the display of planets across the outside of the planetarium quiet distracting. There were two entrance into the museum, at the front where the famed t-rex statue was displayed and the back where the Earth and Science exhibits were.

“They were going to take us last year for a school field trip but the bus broke down and we missed the showing.” Logan shrugged, looking around at all the displays of planets, stars and solar systems.

“Ah, well that means it’ll be a first viewing for both of us,” Morgan said cheerily, dramatically raising a fist in the air “a bonding experience we shall never forget!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at his brother’s weird display who in turn shyly put his hand down, “Uh, anyway, how’s life? How’s school? How’s that club you got going?”

“It’s fine,” Logan said simply “everything is functioning as it should, it’s only the beginning of the first semester so nothing much has happened. Well, except for…a complication.”

“Yeah, mom and dad told me what happened,” Morgan sighed, a bitter sneer on his face “I still can’t believe there’s jerks like that out there.”

“Indeed,” Logan nodded “but it’s nothing to get worked up over, it’s not like it was the root of the whole ordeal. I was merely…defending a friend from certain public humiliation.”

“Who were they anyway?” Morgan asked before clarifying “The friend you helped out, are they in that club you made?”

“Uh, yes,” Logan said bashfully, a light pink dusking his cheeks “his name is – Patton?”

Logan froze in his tracks, his brother taking a second to notice, because there near a display of Halley’s comet was Patton Foster. He was wearing a stunning high waist space print skirt, black leggings, a soft looking baby blue crop top sweater, and black boots. He also wore sparkly silver star droop earrings and a matching moon neckless, as well as glittery silver clips in his hair. Patton had yet to notice Logan staring, too enraptured in reading over the little facts beside the display, and the genus will forever be grateful for that.

“Who’s that?” Morgan asked, snapping Logan out of his daze.

“Uh, no one,” Logan said much too quickly “l-let’s take a short cut another direction, I think I saw a map that showed the way.”

Morgan smirked deviously, “They don’t look like no one, you obviously know their name.”

Logan was screwed.

“H-he’s just a friend from school, I don’t want to bother him,” Logan sputtered nervously “let’s just go somewhere else so we won’t disturb his evening.”

“Hey, there’s no harm in saying hi,” Morgan chuckled, grabbing onto his brother’s arm so he wouldn’t scurry way “plus, he’s looking this way already.”

“What?” Logan squeaked.

True to his word, Patton had seen them and was now waving at them with that big, bright, beautiful smile of his. Morgan, the devil, waved back just as enthusiastically as he dragged Logan along with him because he’s was half certain Logan was frozen stiff. As they got closer Patton seemingly decided to meet them half way, bright eyed and springy as ever.

“Hey Lo, I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Patton smiled, he looked to Morgan curiously “is this your brother?”

“So, he does talk about me,” Morgan joked and Logan died “all good things I hope.”

Patton giggled, a pleasant bell to Logan’s ears, “Only in passing conversation but being that your brothers I can only assume you’re just as smart and amazing as he is.”

Morgan smiled big and wide, leaning down near Logan in an exaggerated whisper, “I like him, keep him around.”

Logan wasn’t a violent man by nature but annoying sibling could just so easily get under your skin and drive you to murder. “What brings you to the museum Patton? It was my assumption you were on an outing with your brothers.”

Patton pouted, blowing out a huff of air, “Yeah, Alex went to flirt with receptionist lady and Georgie left to drag him back. Alex won a raffle at work and won tickets to this show at the planetarium called Dark Universe. I’m honestly kind of nervous, I don’t really know what it’s about and the title doesn’t seem too pleasant.”

“No need to worry Patton,” Logan assured “it’s simply a documentary displaying the wonders of our universe while providing commentary. Nothing scary or abnormal, I promise.”

“Oh good,” Patton sighed in relief “I was worried that-”

“Ahk, Georgie! Put me down!”

“Stop behaving like a child and I’ll think about it. Where’s Patton?”

“I think he’s over there? Hey! Hey, Pat! Yhoohoo! We’re over here!”

Patton’s face morphed into something between embarrassment and annoyance as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be actively avoiding making eye contact with the two squabbling giants heading towards them. They looked to be the perfect size for professional football players or basketball players or both, point is they were huge compared to petite Patton who landed just under Logan’s nose. Then again, Logan was pretty tall though not as tall as those two…where were they?

---

Out of all the places and times to run into Logan outside of school and/or hero training this would have been the perfect place but it was simply just the WORST time. Patton didn’t mind evenings out with his brothers, he liked spending time with them and the outings were usually fun. Their antics, specifically Alex being troubling making dork while Georgie forcefully drags him out of trouble and Patton watches helplessly by the sidelines, were amusing at best but annoying most of the time.

Don’t get Patton wrong, he loved his brothers with all his heart but sometimes they (*cough*Alex*cough*) had no shame what-so-ever. Great for Georgie who wasn’t afraid of a few staring eyes when pulling his brothers out of trouble, not great for Alex who is such a drama queen he makes Roman look tame. Outing with his brothers were not meant to be witnessed by anyone but the strangers of Manhattan who they’ll never see again, NOT cute boys that Patton kind of sort of had a crush on.

Patton gave Logan and his brother his best smile, though it was very obviously forced, “Excuse me.”

He quickly whizzed around to face his brothers, forced smile still displayed on his face, “I heard you the first time Alex, everyone could.”

Alex, who was hazardously draped over Georgie’s shoulder like a sack of flour, simply pouted as he wiggled out of his elder brother’s grip, “Just making sure, you seemed distracted. Who’re the nerds?”

Georgie smacked Alex across the head, “Be polite.”

“Ow, geez,” Alex whined, rubbing his sore skull “you can kill someone with those hands Georgie. Like in that movie Green House!”

“Green Mile.” Georgie corrected cooly.

Alex snapped his fingers, “That’s the one, anyway, back to the nerds.” Another smack “Ow, hey! I didn’t mean it, it was a joke! See they ain’t bothered!”

Patton took a deep and steady breath as he turned back to the Quinn brothers with an embarrassed smile, “Logan, Morgan, these are my older brothers: Georgie and Alex. Georgie and Alex, this is my friend Logan and his older brother, Morgan. They came to watch the space show too.”

Georgie nodded while Alex gave a false salute, “Sup.”

“How do you do?” Logan said politely as he and his brother stuck out their hands to shake.

Georgie was quick to shake both their hands as was Alex but he paused when he got to Logan, leaning down to intensely stare at him. Patton wanted to scream, truly he did, but that would just let Alex figure everything out that much quicker as well as cause a scene.

“Logan, huh,” Alex hummed as he leaned forward and Logan visibly gulped as he leaned back “where have I heard that name before? I know you ain’t related to that Paul guy from YouTube because you actually look respectable.”

Patton slapped a hand over his face, “Oh my god…”

“He’s one of the boys in the club Pat’s help make.” Georgie said helpfully, not at all fazed by his brother’s borderline interrogation on poor Logan.

“Oh yeah,” Alex nodded, finally letting go of Logan’s hand and giving him proper personal space “you guys made that, uh…what’s the politically correct term for this? I don’t wanna offend anyone.”

“To late.” Patton mumbled grimly.

“LGBTQ+ Youth Group.” Georgie provided.

“Jesus that’s a mouth full,” Alex sighed before pondering once more “nah, but other then that I swear I heard Patton mention that name before just…can’t remember.”

Patton sighed in relief, Thank god!

“Wait I know!” Alex exclaimed.

Shit!

Alex became giddy with excitement, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that just spelled doom for Patton. “He’s that bo – mmhf!”

Georgie was swift yet casual as he slapped a large hand over Alex’s mouth and began to drag him away, “The show is starting soon, we should grab seats together.”

Internally Patton was crying, Georgie was a saint and he definitely deserved a special cake baked in his honor. Externally Patton sighed tiredly once more, giving Logan and Morgan an apologetic smile. “Sorry about them, well, mainly Alex. He’s…a lot sometimes.”

Morgan shrugged, “Brothers, what can you do about them? This guy was a terror when he was younger, he would use his diapers as – oof!” Morgan groaned in pain as Logan elbowed him in the stomach, eyes shut in annoyance and left brow twitching.

Patton giggled, glad not to be the only one being teased by his older brothers, “Older brothers huh?”

“Quite unfortunate are we, huh?” Logan chuckled breathlessly.

“Seriously, what are mom and dad feeding you? I almost puked my guts out!” Morgan wheezed.

---

This was a terrible idea! This was a terrible, awful idea! Why did Thomas think this was a good idea? Why was he even listening to Patton’s advice, he was pretty sure the kid was mostly joking? But here her was at that same damn alley way, in civilian clothes, looking across the street into a familiar little coffee shop with a familiar red headed barista taking down orders behind the register. Thomas groaned, scrubbing his heads over his face, he looked like a fucking stalker, seriously!

He had convinced himself to take a quick brake before heading out on patrol again, maybe grab a cup of coffee to wake him up a bit. It wasn’t his fault the shop just so happened to be near by and hey if that cute guy just so happened to be working there at this time it wasn’t like a big deal. It wasn’t like he knew who Thomas was so he could just be casual, order a coffee, strike up a conversation, nothing big. But now he was here across the street and he saw the guy smile and laugh at something his co-worker said and Thomas just got weak in the knees.

“Why am I here?” Thomas groaned, leaning back against the grimy alley wall “I don’t even know his name! All I know is that he can’t seem to stay out of trouble!”

He looked back into the coffee shop, it seemed to be a slow day, only three or so customs lounging around in the sitting area as cute red head wiped down the counter. Okay, so the good news was there wasn’t much people so Thomas didn’t have to rush when he inevitably stuttered out his order. Bad news was he still had to muster up the courage to go in and talk to him and that was never gunna happen.

It was then he noticed a shady looking guy walk past him and across the street, his hood flipped up and shoulders scrunched in. He looked like the typical grumpy New Yorker that only seemed threatening but Thomas is spidy sense told him otherwise. Plus, he was definitely not hiding that gun, which was tucked in the back of his jeans like some stupid idiot wanna-be gang member, very well.

Thomas was quick to sprint across the street without the hoodlum seeing him, just beating him to the door by a moment. Thomas swung the door open at about half strength smacking the criminal right in the face. An audible crack was heard sending the criminal falling backwards with a bloody nose and maybe a minor concussion. Thomas made sure to ham up his clumsy civilian act.

“Oh gosh man! I’m so, so sorry!” Thomas gasped, helping the man up right with the intention of sneaking a hand around to disarm the gun “Are you alright?”

“Do I fucking look alright you stupid idiot!” The man snapped, much to distracted with the pain of his face to notice the faint clicking noises behind him. Talyn had shown Thomas how to dismantle a gun with one hand their freshman year of college, he doesn’t know why they know that but he’s thankful for it because it makes his job so much easier.

“Sorry dude, can I do anything to help?” Thomas asked in an artificially sweet voice.

“No, fuck off!” The man growled, quick to turn head with his tail between his legs, embarrassed by job never done.

Thomas watched him leave down the alley way, depositing the bullet clip he swiped into a nearby trash bin before heading inside. He noticed the speckles of blood on the glass door as he entered and grimaced with guilt. Once fully through Thomas finally noticed that the red head was staring at him and it dawned on him that he probably witnessed the whole ordeal and though he was a clumsy oaf.

“Uh, sorry about the door,” Thomas said, rubbing a hand behind his neck “If you got some paper towels, I’ll, uh, clean it up for you guys if you want?”

The red head’s eyes were wide with shock, steel blue eyes piercing into Thomas is soul, “That guy was gunna mug us.”

Thomas sputtered in response, “Uh, he – um…”

“I saw him across the street openly stalking the café all day today,” The red head scoffed “he wasn’t really subtle about it. He was probably waiting for us to wind down for the night.”

“Wait,” Thomas squinted suspiciously “if you knew he was gunna rob the place why didn’t you call the police?”

The red head rolled his eyes, “We did, but to them he wasn’t doing anything wrong until now. Stupid cops…” He smiled charmingly “but you came down here pretty quick and practically bashed his skull in. What are you, some sort of vigilante?”

“N-no!” Thomas gulped “I-it’s just I…I saw his gun and I couldn’t just stand there!”

“Well, you could have gotten yourself hurt too.” The red head countered.

Thomas gave a breathless chuckle, “Trust me, I’m not as defenseless as most people think I am.”

The red head giggled, placing his chin to the palm of his hand, “Oh yeah?”

“If it helps, I disarmed his gun before anything?” Thomas said bashfully, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

The red head’s eyes went wide again, “What, did you do it with one hand?”

“Yeah?” Thomas said hesitantly, this guy was way more observant then Thomas previously thought “If you wanna check, the gun clip is still in the trash bin.”

The red head laughed joyously, a beautiful melody to Thomas is ears, “You really are something! So, what can I get my hero tonight? On the house of course.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to bother-” Thomas began only to get cut off by another joyful laugh “Bother all you want, you just saved my ass from being mugged.”

“It was no trouble,” Thomas shrugged, a goofy smile surely on his face “it-it really wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well it was a big deal to me, practically saved my life,” The red head smiled, grabbing a large cup and a sharpie “so what’s your name Tiger?”

Thomas’s stomach filled with a million butterflies at the mention of the familiar nickname before clearing his extremely dry throat, “Uh…Thomas…Sanders.”

The red head paused a moment, sharpie delicately poised over the edge of the coffee cup as he chewed over his bottom lip in thought. A ghost of a smile formed across his face, that seemed very familiar now that Thomas thought about it, giving out a breathless laugh. “Thomas Sanders, huh?”

“Uh, yeah?” Thomas knew that he got recognized often but by fans but it was usually by his face not by his name. Not to sound vain or anything but a lot of times he didn’t need to tell people who he was for them to recognize him. But this guy didn’t seem like he was a fan…still, he looked vaguely familiar.

“Well, I’m MJ, in case you didn’t notice.” He pointed to the name tag on his chest that Thomas was now just recognizing because he was too gay to look at anything else but this guys cute face.

“What does that stand for?” Thomas asked curiously.

He paused again before that same smile returned to his face, “Matthew Jones…Watson.”

“Matthew Jones Watson,” Thomas said aloud, rolling the words of his tongue as if testing out how they sound in his voice “MJ…I like it.”

And obviously that was a stupid thing to say aloud because it made him sound like some sort of weirdo who goes around judging names. But MJ giggled, light and airy, with a smile that could light up all of Manhattan. “Thanks…I’m glad.”

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#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders side fic #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #prinxiety #spiderverse au #tobashiarg!

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