#and when logan indulges it even as he's chastising it

[lefaystrent]

Virgil wanders into the living room looking for something to do. Or someone to terrorize. Eh, he's not really picky at the moment.

He finds Logan sitting on the couch with a paperback book and pencil in hand. So entranced is he that he doesn't stir at Virgil's entrance. He marks something on a page. His foot idly rotates where he's got it crossed at the knee.

"Whatchya up to?" Virgil asks.

Logan's eyes remain focused. "Sodoku."

"Bless you."

Virgil has the satisfaction of seeing Logan's eye twitch. "Virgil, I know that you know what Sodoku is."

"Yeah, but can you prove it?"

"Yes, but as you are being willfully obstinate, I feel no inclination to."

Virgil snorts good-naturedly. He ambles closer and kind of sways back and forth. He's in a good mood and doesn't feel inclined to take Logan's dismissiveness to heart. Besides, if he's being a true bother, Logan would plainly tell him.

"Willfully obstinate is a step up from anxious mess, so hey, I'll take it."

Logan frowns and glances up now, but when he sees Virgil's smirk, he levels an unamused stare that shows he clearly knows what Virgil is up to. He lowers the puzzle book. "Virgil, you seem to have an abundance of free time at the moment."

"I wouldn't say abundant, but yeah, I'm free."

"Fantastic. You should join me in my downtime. Perhaps you will glean the intricacies of Sodoku via observation."

Virgil rolls his eyes. "Yeah, L. I'll help you with your puzzle."

Virgil doesn't sit down so much as falls onto the cushion, letting his body drop against Logan's side. Logan bounces slightly and adjusts, but doesn't move away or discourage the closeness. He holds the book up so Virgil can see from where he leans his head against Logan's shoulder. There are some squares filled in with numbers, but overall there are only two rows completely filled in. Most of the other blank squares have tiny numbers penciled into the corners. Probably Logan's way of systematically ruling out possibilities.

After a moment of scanning, Virgil ticks his tongue. "I see where your problem is."

"What? What do you see?" Logan asks, way too invested at the thought he may have overlooked something or made a mistake.

Hiding a grin, Virgil points at a random square. "This one is supposed to be eleven."

There's a pause in which Virgil definitely does not cackle. His amusement is all inward, but he watches Logan like a hawk for the beautiful moment of realization.

Logan doesn't disappoint. He goes on an entire face journey that starts with, "Oh, maybe Virgil's right," and ends with, "how dare you." The last bit is directed straight at Virgil and Virgil merely gazes back innocently. It's not a look that comes across naturally on him and he knows it, but that's not the point.

Virgil shrugs. "Then again, what do I know about Sodoku?"

Logan bookmarks the page with his pencil, then reaches up to tap Virgil on the nose. "Ob-stin-ate." He punctuates each syllable with a gentle tap.

Virgil giggles afterwards, airy and care-free, but he'll deny it later.

[part-time-zombie]

Out Of Sight

pairings: none

summary: logan decides some spring cleaning is in order, and he hopes that clearing out his room will be just what he needs to get back on track.

tags/warnings: logan centric, literally he's the only character in this, angst, hurt no comfort, kind of an unhappy ending, logan is not doing as well as he says he is, this is basically a vent fic sorry

word count: 1366

Logan liked to keep things organized. It was good to keep everything in a system so you could always find what you needed quickly without having to sift through a cluttered mess first. Everything had its place, and if there was no space left for something then there was no point in letting it take up room where it could distract you from what was important.

He needed to go through his things and sort out all the stuff that didn’t serve him anymore, the things he no longer needed to hold on to. He had his notebooks and journals, all filled with valuable information and entries regarding Thomas and the sides, and the problems they faced and how they solved them. No, he couldn’t get rid of those. He sorted them and stacked them neatly in a drawer, not letting them take up any space on his bookshelf. The bookshelf in question currently housed a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, all of which have proved to be helpful or would undoubtedly be useful later. He kept those, though he significantly downsized on his fiction novels. He had already read most of them and he didn’t need them to further distract from his studies, from his job. He needed to be productive, first and foremost.

That was what this was all about, ultimately. He needed to make his room more organized and efficient so he could better focus on his work. It was clear that his current level of capability wasn’t enough for Thomas and that he wasn’t fulfilling his role as well as he ought to. It was only fair to assume that if he stopped letting himself get preoccupied with foolish hobbies and focused entirely on his commitment to Thomas’ productivity, then maybe he would finally be listened to. He could be respected again if he was better equipped to fulfill his role as logic.

He certainly needed to work on that. Logic was infallible, it was absolute. Logic spared no room for complications like sentiment or emotion. Logic isn’t designed to feel, only to know. The problem came from the unfortunate fact that Logan could still feel. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he could still feel all the same. He felt anger, sadness, fear, disappointment, excitement, happiness. All of those feelings were nothing more than distractions. Things to sort out and filter through to make room for efficiency. He had no space for them.

Logan knew he couldn’t just snap his fingers and wish away his feelings in an instant. That would be too easy, and nothing was ever kind enough to be easy for him. He couldn’t just get rid of his feelings out of nowhere, but he could get rid of the reminders of those feelings. It was a good enough start anyway, and he planned on boxing those reminders away.

He grabbed his unicorn onesie, holding it close and relishing its soft comfort. It made him feel warm and held in a way none of the other sides did, and it helped him relax after a particularly rough event. He almost thought about keeping it, at least for the purpose of de-stressing at the end of a long day. Then the memory of when Thomas and Patton caught him wearing it came to mind. The shame he felt as Thomas chastised him for indulging in something so childish and Patton mocked him for being so immature still burned a hole in his chest. No, it was just another juvenile toy he needed to outgrow and get rid of. He folded it neatly and put it in the box.

The screenplay Roman had written for him was next. Four hundred pages of intrigue and excitement, all catering to Logan's tastes in storytelling and characterization. It was one of his favorite things to read, when he had the chance. He had reread it plenty of times, committing the mystery to memory by now. The interest and enthusiasm he felt when Roman first gifted it to him lingered even now, a reminder of the one time Roman cared about him. With that knowledge came memories of the numerous other times Roman had interrupted and disregarded him, and the pain and anger he had felt every time. He didn’t need to feel that anymore; it didn’t matter if he was hurting, anyway. All that mattered was that he was useful. The screenplay followed the onesie.

He looked over at his desk, eyeing the Crofters jar he had emptied and cleaned to hold his stationery. It was the first jar of loganberry jam Thomas had given him, the one that filled him with such exuberant delight that he couldn’t help but burst into song. And maybe a few puns. He was never going to live that down now, how immature he had acted in front of the others. How on earth would anyone possibly take him seriously after that? He was a joke now, to the others and to Thomas. He replaced the jar with a proper pencil case before securing it in the box.

Virgil's newspaper was placed on the other side of the desk, folded under a Rubik's cube. Logan had managed to solve all of the puzzles, though it was far more difficult than he had originally expected. Virgil really had outdone himself with how challenging some of the riddles were. Logan couldn’t help but smile at the memory of him decoding the last secret message well into the night, forgoing sleep in favor of the satisfying rush of discovery. In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have done that. He needed to be well rested and focus on his work instead of a silly puzzle. He had tried to prioritize Thomas’ gift to Nico over the puzzle first, but his mind kept wandering back to those simple circled letters and the surprise they had in store for him. His interests were nothing more than a distraction, one he needed to filter out of his life if he was ever going to be taken seriously.

He grabbed the newspaper from the desk and something fell to the floor with a clatter. He picked it up, examining the trinket he had discovered at the end of the puzzle trail Virgil laid out for him. It was a small charm of an image of the Milky Way, roughly half an inch in diameter. It would have looked nice on a keychain or as jewelry. He was honestly very touched by the gift, and had planned on finding a good use for it so he could make the most of it. No ideas came to mind that were good enough, not even now. He put it in the box next to the newspaper.

It was getting easier to box things away. His Sherlock outfit, the jacket he had used for his Halloween costume, his cogitating cap, his old necktie from the earlier videos, even his favorite book. Each item was a reminder of an interest, passion, or hobby that did nothing other than distract him and make him look foolish. They all robbed him of respect and reception, the two things he needed most to win Thomas’ attention. All of them were now placed in the box, ready to be stored somewhere far away from Logan's room and his work.

He looked around the now much emptier space with a satisfied sigh. Now that there was nothing left to distract him or bring up old memories, he would surely be far more productive and successful. Thomas was bound to listen to him now, and maybe the others would too. He wasn’t hoping for any miracles, but it was a good start in the right direction. He sank down into the Mind Palace, a place forgotten by most of the others, and tucked the now full and sealed box away into a dark and quiet corner, where no one would bother to look for it. It could be forgotten and out of the way here, and Logan could be the best version of himself without sentiment or emotion.

Logan gave the box one last fleeting glance before returning to work, distraction free.

@britt-ish123 @nico-the-overlord @rougeside4 @new-zee-land @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @can-i-take-a-stab @keitaisghost

[hazel-light]

Chapter Word Count: ~7,400

Total Fic Word Count: ~30,000

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn’t mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: You thought I'd skip all the possibilities and tropes that come with the holidays?! Of course not. This is the final part to Yellow Lights. Thank you all for making my return to writing and posting so wonderful. I am so, so, grateful. I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. <3

The next month and a half passes by uneventfully. I try not to spend all of my time thinking about how great Rachel's wedding was, and equally try to ignore the wistful feeling Henry’s wedding left me with. Having Daniel be my fake boyfriend in front of my family showed me everything that I’d ever wanted; someone who fit in seamlessly, who loved me for me, with the perfect balance of romance and friendship. Whatever crush I had successfully buried when Daniel and I first met is now achingly hard to avoid. I curse my active imagination and optimism for letting me indulge in the moments of pretend, leaning too comfortably into our façade.

As a result, I don’t talk to Daniel much. He is busy finishing filming his project in London, and I try to focus on my life in LA. I’ve become paranoid that every text I send him is one too many, too annoying, or too bothersome. I figure I can reassess things when Daniel comes home from filming, and try to find my footing in our friendship again.

This seems like a solid plan until I’m on Zoom with my family for Thanksgiving. Since I’ve already flown back once this year for the wedding, and I’m planning to fly back again next month for Christmas, staying put for Thanksgiving was the economical choice. The call is mostly uneventful until the subject of Daniel comes up.

“Where’s that boy?” Aunt Judith crows from her spot at the dining table.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“She means Daniel.” Ryan rolls his eyes, bringing the iPad closer to her.

“Oh! Right.” I try to recover. “He’s still away filming his new project, actually, but I was able to fly out to see him at the end of September for another wedding, actually.”

Aunt Judith frowns. “That’s a long time to not see someone that handsome—” I start to laugh, “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you?”

Oh shit. It’s in this moment that I realize Daniel and I had never “broken up” as far as my family knows. I hear the rest of my family start sputtering in the background.

“Aunt Judith— you can’t just—”

“That’s awful, I—”

“It is kind of a long time, huh?—”

I try to keep a straight face. “Guys! It’s okay. He’s an actor, it comes with the territory. I expected this.”

“So you aren’t sure that he’s not cheating on you?” Ryan frowns.

“That isn’t what I meant, Ry. Daniel and I are fine. We’re really good, actually.”

“Well I certainly hope you’ll be bringing him home for Christmas then.” Aunt Judith huffs.

“It would be nice to see him,” Rachel speaks up for the first time, and her husband Nick nods. “I didn’t get to talk to him a whole lot at the wedding.”

I clear my throat, my mind racing. “You know, we haven’t actually talked about what we’re doing for Christmas yet; I’ll have to see what he’s doing— if he’s going to spend it with his family.”

“But you’re still coming home,” Ryan states.

“Yes, I am still coming home, no matter what.”

Ryan and Rachel’s mom, my auntie Kim speaks up. “I think it’s pretty common for a boyfriend to defer to his girlfriend’s family for the holidays. I mean, Ryan splits the day with Katharine of course, but Nick always came here with Rachel.”

“I hear you, Auntie Kim, but Daniel never gets to see his family so I’m not sure— all I’m saying is I’m not sure. He may very well come, and I will let you all know as soon as I know.” I smile tersely.

“Well hurry up, and find out,” Auntie Kim chastises. “Christmas is only a month away.”

When I hang up with them, it’s 7pm and I’m feeling antsy. How could I have forgotten that my entire family still thought Daniel and I were together? I’m not sure how to get out of this one. Tired of panicking alone in my head, I pick up my phone and dial Daniel before I can talk myself out of it. It rings and rings, and my anxiety that he won’t answer grows with each tone.

Eventually I hear rustling on the other line.

“Lauren?” Daniel’s voice crackles through the phone.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“What? Uh— yeah, I just needed to talk to you about something—” I glance at the time on my phone. “Oh god, no. What time is it there? I’m so sorry— I didn’t even stop to think about the time difference, I—”

I hear him suppress a yawn. “Lauren. It must be pretty important if you’re calling me AND rambling like this.”

“No, no, it can wait, I’m sorry— uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Lauren,” he stops me softly and firmly. “Stop apologizing. What’s going on?”

I sit quietly, feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Lauren, come on. You can tell me.”

“I— we… we never broke up?”

He laughs. “Sorry, what?”

“We never broke up.”

“Am I still asleep, is this a dream?”

“My family still thinks we’re together and they asked me if you’re coming home for Christmas.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Oh.” is all he says.

“I talked to them for Thanksgiving, and they were asking about you. I realized too late that they thought we were still together— because I never told them we broke up. I didn’t think it through this far.”

“Right, I didn’t either.”

My phone starts ringing, telling me Daniel’s trying to FaceTime me.

I accept, and I’m faced with a dark screen.

“Why are we FaceTiming?”

I hear a lamp click on and suddenly Daniel’s face is illuminated as he lays in bed, lines from his pillow still on his face.

“Figured we should at least be able to see each other if you’re going to break up with me in the middle of the night,” he teases.

I shake my head. “Not funny, this is serious, D.”

“I know, I know.”

“If I break up with you, they’re going to yell at me and tell me I’m a stupid idiot.”

Daniel laughs.

“And if you break up with me they’re going to hate you, which means they’ll hate that we managed to ‘stay friends.’ And if it’s mutual…..” I shake my head, thinking. “They’ll think we were lying.”

“Which we were.”

I sigh, “Which we were.”

“So,” Daniel pulls his blanket up higher. “What are our options here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

I watch him stare off into space and reminisce about when I got to see this sleepy Daniel firsthand in Cape Cod.

“I could come for Christmas…” he trails off and I frown.

“That seems like asking a lot. You’ve already given up a lot of your free time this year for me.”

He shrugs into his pillow. “Do you not want me to come for Christmas?”

I pause. “I mean, that isn’t really the issue here. You have to be tired of being in love with me by now.”

He laughs loudly — a stark contrast to the quiet of his room. “Yes, being in love with you is very exhausting.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m kidding. Being in love with you is not exhausting. At all.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing. “I don’t think I can bear to break your family’s hearts at Christmas of all times.”

“Man of the year.” I drawl. “What are you supposed to be doing for Christmas? Going home?”

“No, usually I travel somewhere, but I hadn't decided yet.”

I hum in response.

“Kind of leaning towards traveling to Massachusetts now, if I’m honest.”

I look at him incredulously, only to see a playful grin on his face, but I know he’s serious.

“I’m not going to stop you if you really want to come. But I—” I swallow. “Eventually we’re going to need to plan for whatever happens after Christmas.”

He nods. “I know, we will. Let’s just enjoy Christmas together, first.”

I smile. “Okay. We can enjoy it. Together.”

He clears his throat. “I hope I’m not too rusty at this boyfriend performance, it’s been a few months.”

“Daniel Sharman has performance issues… I hope that doesn’t get out to the press.”

His eyes flash. “Bold, for you.”

I shrug. “You walked into that one, baby.”

“Well, you’re lucky you’re cute, darling.”

We look at each other for a moment, and I hope my eyes don’t give away how fond I am for this man who is willing to commit to fake-loving me, and putting up with my family, and who is setting the bar way too high for any actual real relationship I could hope for.

So much for reburying my feelings.

I break eye contact first. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Sorry again for waking you up.”

“Do Not Disturb doesn’t apply to you, Lauren. Call any time.”

I smile softly. “Sweet dreams, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

I’m standing in the Boston Logan airport waiting for international arrivals; specifically Daniel’s flight from London. According to the board, his flight landed 15 minutes ago, so he should be coming to the lobby any time now. I bounce on my feet, simultaneously eager and nervous to see Daniel for the first time since parting ways after Henry and Claire’s wedding.

Eventually I see the hat and sunglasses I recognize from a selfie he sent me earlier, and I can feel my heart race. I begin walking towards him, and feel my pace quicken as I get closer. Eventually he sees me too and he’s grinning at me with his signature toothy smile that I missed so much.

When we come into contact I don’t know what the appropriate response is, so I simply grin up at him.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“Hi,” he smiles back, and before I know it he’s closer than he was before and he’s ducking down to kiss me.

It surprises me but I respond quickly, leaning up to meet him.

When it’s over he pulls back just enough to nuzzle his nose with mine.

“Missed you,” he says softly.

“Missed you most.” I smile.

He stands up straight, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, threading his other hand through mine.

I can’t see his eyes, but I assume he must be looking around when he speaks.

“Oh, are you by yourself?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yeah— well, Ryan’s in the car, circling so he wouldn’t have to pay for parking,” I roll my eyes.

He nods, “Sorry, then—“ he makes an inconclusive gesture. “Suppose I didn’t need to kiss you quite yet.”

My stomach drops and I smile tightly, “That’s okay— better safe than sorry. I get it.”

He tugs on my hand pulling me into a hug.

“I did miss you, though.”

“And I still missed you most.” I tease.

Daniel shakes his head, but doesn’t argue, pulling back from me and reaching for his suitcase with his freehand.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

—-

I bring Daniel upstairs to show him around, and so he can put his suitcase in my room.

“Welcome to my childhood bedroom,” I announce, opening the door and leading Daniel inside.

“Wow, where little Lauren grew up,” Daniel teases looking around. When I first arrived home yesterday, I was quick to tidy up, and hide anything that was too embarrassing, but my room is more or less the exact same as I had left it when I was 18 and moving to college.

I nod. “Yes, many secrets to my backstory can be discovered in here.”

Daniel laughs.

Ryan appears in my doorway leaning against the doorframe.

“Just so you know, Daniel, my bedroom is on the other side of this wall,” he nods to his right. “I can hear everything that happens in here. The walls are thin.”

I frown, blushing, “Ew, Ryan.”

Daniel just laughs and smirks, “Got it, bro.”

I look at him incredulously, “Don’t encourage him.”

The two share a look and shrug, seemingly equally enjoying my discomfort.

“Dinner’s ready!” Auntie Kim calls up to us.

I use that as my cue, brushing past both of them to go downstairs, leaving their laughter behind me.

—-

After Christmas Eve dinner, Katharine stops by and the four of us decide to watch the classic, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I’m the last to arrive in the living room, and when I enter I immediately notice that Ryan is cuddled up with Katharine, and sprawled out over the entire couch, leaving Daniel sitting in the only other seat— the armchair.

I narrow my eyes at them, “Are you guys for real?”

Ryan looks at us and hums innocently, “What?”

“You took the entire couch.”

I see Katharine bite her lip in amusement, as Ryan shrugs.

“I assumed you guys would cuddle anyway. Can you not share the armchair?”

Daniel intervenes, “Of course we can. C’mon Laur.”

He pats his lap. I hesitate briefly before nestling into his lap, tucking my head into his neck.

“Am I crushing you?” I whisper.

“Not at all, you’re keeping me warm.”

I huff a laugh as he puts the blanket over us and Ryan starts the movie. The steady rise and fall of his chest brings me a sense of peace and I have to try not to fall asleep, especially when his fingers gently caress my arm and my leg where he’s holding me to him. I exhale, turning further into his neck and nuzzling into him.

“Tickles,” he breathes, just shy of a whisper.

“You smell good,” I tell him, letting my eyes close.

His chuckle reverberates through his body. “Thanks, darling.”

I feel my eyes shut and sleep take over. I start to come to when I hear the ending song come on, and it drifts into whatever dream I’m having.

“She asleep?” I hear Ryan ask.

“Think so,” Daniel answers.

“You need help waking her up?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks though. Nice seeing you, Katharine.”

I hear footsteps retreat and feel a series of kisses pressed to my shoulder, as Daniel’s long fingers brush hair away from my face.

“Time to wake up, pretty girl. You can go back to sleep once we’re in your bed.”

I shake my head no, clinging to him tighter.

“Like this bed.” I murmur drowsily.

He laughs softly. “Promise we can cuddle there too.”

“Promise?” I ask, peeking one eye open.

“I promise,” he confirms, pressing one more kiss to my shoulder.

I lift my head to look at him, rubbing my eyes.

“There she is,” he smiles gently at me.

I smile back sleepily, the words coming out before I fully think them through.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”

I swallow, letting my gaze flicker down to his mouth for just a moment. “I like cuddling with you.”

“You do, huh?”

I nod.

“Well the feeling’s mutual. Let’s go upstairs and brush our teeth so we can cuddle more in your bed.”

“Okay,” I relent, getting off of him. He stands up after me and I instinctively lace my fingers with his, leading us back upstairs. When we’re brushed and changed, we settle ourselves in bed and I claim my spot tucked into his neck again.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I echo the sentiment and gently kiss the spot on his neck I’m closest to. His arms tighten around me and I’m falling asleep again.

—-

For once, I wake up before Daniel. He looks peaceful as he sleeps on his stomach, his arm across my waist, face half smushed into the pillow. I turn my head to look at the clock to see it’s about 9:30 and know the others will be waking up soon. I turn back to Daniel and card my fingers gently through his hair. Eventually his breathing changes and his eyes flutter open, still clouded with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, our faces just inches apart.

He pulls himself closer to me, nuzzling into my side and closing his eyes again. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again, voice raspy with sleep. “Is everyone else awake?”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anyone up and around… they might be soon. Usually we kind of wander downstairs around 10, and it’s just past 9:30.”

He hums in response.

“You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want,” I offer, still running my fingers through his hair. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go downstairs.”

I start to think he’s drifted off to sleep again when he opens his eyes and looks at me. “No, I can get up. I want to give you your present.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I told you not to get me anything; you coming here like this with me— twice— is more than enough.”

He rolls his eyes, detaching himself from me and rolling out of bed. “And look like the asshole who didn’t get his girlfriend anything for Christmas? Not a chance.”

I sit up. “We could’ve lied about it—”

“Lauren,” Daniel looks back at me exasperatedly, leaning over his suitcase. “It’s Christmas. Please just open your present.”

He pulls out a neatly wrapped, thin rectangle and places it in my lap, sitting next to me on the bed.

“Merry Christmas, Laur.”

I carefully unwrap the package to reveal a framed art print, with a circle of stars in the middle; underneath it says “The Night Everything Changed” with the coordinates of what I assume to be Los Angeles. I look up to him with soft eyes, and he gives a one shouldered shrug.

“Saw an ad for this online— where you can get the night sky documented of any night you want, anywhere you want. I thought it would be nice to commemorate this past year, for us…” he trails off, and I hug the frame to my chest.

“Daniel, I love it— Really, really love it. It’s so thoughtful.” I reach out and thread our fingers together. “I’m going to hang this in my room. I want it somewhere I see every day.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you like it. I actually wanted to talk to you about something— in relation to this. I—”

We’re interrupted by a light knocking on the door, and we both turn.

“Are you guys awake?” Ryan’s voice calls.

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a sec!” I answer.

I turn back to Daniel who squeezes my hand and moves to get up, but I pull him back.

“They can wait; this is special. I want to hear what you have to say.” I smile at him warmly, but he shakes his head, lifting the back of my hand to kiss it.

“It’s alright, I’d rather wait and tell you when we have more time to talk.”

I frown. “Promise me you won’t forget?”

He laughs. “Trust me, I won’t forget.”

He moves to stand, pulling me up with him to go downstairs, but I stop him, wrapping my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you, D. It means a lot to me.”

He returns my embrace, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

When we pull apart, I take his hand again. “Time for Christmas. Your present is under the tree, by the way.”

Daniel laughs. “A present double-standard.”

I shake my head and lead him out of the room.

—-

I think we’re done with presents when Ryan surprises me, coming over to Daniel and I on the loveseat.

“This is for both of you, kind of.” He hands me a thin, narrow gift.

Daniel looks up, surprised. “Thanks, man. That was thoughtful of you.”

He looks at me, silently asking, did you know about this?, and I shake my head no.

I unwrap the package to find a small frame, with a one hundred dollar bill matted in the middle. I look at Ryan and furrow my eyebrows.

“It's the hundred bucks I said I’d give you if you brought a real date to Rachel’s wedding. Seeing as the same guy is here for Christmas I figured you earned it. Thought I’d frame it— but you can take it out and spend it on a date or something, I don’t care.”

Auntie Kim squints. “Sorry, you told her what?”

I roll my eyes and try to avoid the way my stomach sinks at the reminder of how this all started.

I feel Daniel’s hand on my knee. “Clever, Ryan.”

I look over at him to see him flashing his polite interview smile, and I instantly know he knows exactly what I’m feeling.

Auntie Kim stands and stretches. “I don’t get it, but I’m going to go start breakfast. Your sister and Nick are picking up Judith soon and then they’re coming over. Katharine isn’t coming until dinner, right, Ryan?”

As Ryan confirms, she walks out of the room. Ryan turns back to us. “Mind if I shower first?”

I shake my head no, still lost in my thoughts, and I hear Daniel tell him to go ahead.

We’re left alone and I feel Daniel’s thumb brushing my knee.

“Thank you for my presents.”

“You’re welcome— I’m glad you like them; they don’t beat your present for me though.”

He rolls his eyes and we sit for a moment, the framed hundred dollar bill still in my hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t know. Just an odd reminder of how this started, and that it’s going to have to end soon, I guess.”

Daniel frowns. “We haven’t really gotten to talk about that. Why don’t we table that for later— we still have a nice day ahead of us. Those are problems for tomorrow.”

I nod and smile at him, and he pulls me in to kiss my temple, and I hear the click of an iPhone camera. I look up to see Auntie Kim in the doorway.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that the coffee’s on. It was too cute not to capture.”

Daniel stands up, offering me his hand. “Make sure you send me a copy. I’ll have to add it to my collection.”

I chuckle as I stand. “Let me guess; the album is called ‘Cute and Shit.’”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

—-

Christmas flies by. It’s filled with good food, wine, and everyone I love. It’s hours after dinner, and Auntie Kim has already driven Aunt Judith home before going to bed herself.

Ryan, Katharine, Daniel, and I are all still seated around the dining room table playing some kind of team card game, and everyone’s faces are red from laughter and wine.

I can’t help but watch Daniel, who is in some kind of hilarious argument with Ryan over some card he pulled. His eyes shine from the light of the chandelier, and his smile is big and bright, taking over his whole face.

It hits me in this moment that I’ve surpassed unlabeled romantic feelings; I am truly in love with this man. The realization consumes me until Katharine knocks her shoulder into mine giggling.

“Can you believe we love these idiots?”

“Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow,” I tease, giggling, catching Daniel’s eye mid-argument. He winks at me and I feel my already red cheeks flush even deeper.

“You two are so cute,” Katharine continues, watching our interaction. She lowers her voice, whispering to me behind her wine glass. “I was kind of worried that when you got a boyfriend he wouldn’t mesh well with our dynamic, ya know? But it kind of feels like Daniel’s always been here.”

Her words vocalize the thoughts that have been ringing in my head all day. “I know what you mean.”

Katharine dramatically clears her throat. “Are you two done? Is it our turn yet?”

—-

We part ways from Ryan and Katharine in the hallway, giggling and shushing each other in the wee hours of the morning. I shut my door behind me and waggle my eyebrows at Daniel.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble,” he teases. “Planning to seduce me?”

I shrug exaggeratedly and he laughs before looking around. “Fuck, where are my sweatpants?”

I giggle. “They’re literally right behind you on the chair.”

“Oh, thanks.” He grabs them before looking at me. “Can I change in here tonight?”

I flush. “Yeah, sure.”

After sharing a room together all this time, this is the first time we’ve changed in front of each other and the thought makes my skin tingle. I make my way over to my dresser, pulling out my own sleep shorts and t-shirt. I wiggle out of my pants and pull on my shorts, glancing over my shoulder to see Daniel, shirtless, adjusting his sweatpants on his hips. My throat runs dry, and I turn around to pull my own shirt over my head, reaching behind me to unclip my bra once it’s on. I bundle my discarded clothes in my hand, walking over to toss them in the hamper. I turn around to find Daniel already looking at me. He’s still shirtless and my eyes drift to his defined chest. He looks down as if noticing for the first time.

“It’s really, uh, hot in here.” He speaks again. “Would it bother you if I slept shirtless?”

I shake my head, mentally screaming. “No, it is warm,” I agree, reaching up to put my hair in a bun on top of my head.

He watches me intently, and I laugh self consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how this was the best Christmas I’ve had in a while.”

My face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I see his grin quirk up, and know something else is coming. “I’d say it was almost perfect.”

“Oh?” I question, finishing my bun. “Go on.”

“We fit in a lot of classic traditions today, but we missed one that I’m quite fond of.”

I look at him, trying to think of what it could be, as he takes a step closer to me.

“There wasn’t any mistletoe.”

I swallow. “There wasn’t.” I pause, my mind racing. Before I can fully think it through I find myself offering, “But we could pretend?”

“Hmm?” He murmurs, taking a step closer to me so he’s right in front of me now. I know he’s giving me a chance to take it back, or make a joke; I’m nervous, but I don’t want to take it back. I just really want to kiss him.

“I’d really like it if you had a perfect Christmas.”

“And you?” He questions softly. “What would make it a perfect Christmas for you?”

Instead of answering him, I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him for a moment, pulling back to look him in the eyes. His eyes meet mine in some unspoken understanding, and then he’s dipping down to kiss me again.

He kisses me softly, delicately, like all the kisses at the wedding. He pulls back briefly to look at me, as if he still expects me to change my mind. I kiss him again, wanting there to be no doubt in his mind, and he kisses me back with purpose and passion, and I’m caught off guard by the weight of it. I gasp, and Daniel uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling me closer. It reminds me of our very first kiss back on his couch. My arms move around his neck, pulling our bodies flush together.

Daniel pulls away first, but barely, breathing hard, kissing down from my jaw to my neck.

This is definitely new territory for us.

I move my hands to his hair, and he groans at the feeling. I can’t help myself as I sigh breathlessly, a shiver running down my back. He grins against my neck, his teeth scraping at my skin and I moan softly.

“Wait,” I say breathlessly, a thought somehow flitting through my mind. “Earlier, didn’t you say there was something else I should know about my present?”

“I can tell you tomorrow,” he murmurs into my neck between kisses. “It’s time for bed.” He tugs me down onto the bed so I’m underneath him, resuming his kisses on my neck.

“This doesn't seem like going to sleep to me,” I tease.

“It is, shhhh, you’re dreaming.”

“That I’d believe,” I laugh, and Daniel smirks, moving so we're eye to eye again.

“Dream about me often?”

“Shhh.” I pull him closer, turning his words back on him. “You’re dreaming, go back to bed.”

“Happily,” he murmurs, kissing me again.

I bring my hands down to his bare shoulders, feeling his warm, toned skin against my fingertips. I gently drag my nails down his chest to his stomach, and I feel his muscles clench at my touch. I can’t help but smirk to myself as he pulls away to rest his forehead on my shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath. I bring my nails around his back, tracing up his taut muscles and across his shoulder blades.

I feel one of his hands come down, pushing my shirt up, his mouth pressing hot kisses to my abdomen. His nose takes over pushing my shirt up, exploring every new inch revealed with his mouth, his hand now running over my thigh, fingers squeezing occasionally, slowly climbing higher. As his hand reaches the bottom of my shorts, he lightly tugs at the fabric. He pauses, his blue eyes tentatively peering up at me.

“Can I…?” He looks nervous, like I’ll reject him. As if I have ever rejected him, or could ever manage to deny him. I’m not even entirely sure what he’s asking but I find myself nodding quickly. As he goes to tug my shorts down we hear a bang on the wall we share with Ryan followed by a crash, a “Shhhh” and a “Shit.”

We both startle and look over toward the wall, before looking back at each other and laughing softly.

“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” I say, shaking my head.

“You probably, definitely don’t.” He smiles at me before pulling his hand off my shorts, and my shirt back down, letting his fingers trace along the waistband of my shorts before he clears his throat. “We should, uh, get some sleep.”

I blink at the abrupt change in mood before nodding awkwardly. “Okay, sure.”

He rolls off of me, and I reach over to shut the lamp off. I’m hesitant to cuddle up to him, unsure if what just happened changed something between us, but I’m relieved when I feel his arm wrap around me the way it always does. Neither of us say anything, and I try not to think about the last few minutes, the firmness of his body behind mine, or the way my body’s buzzing— closing my eyes to try and get some rest.

—-

The next two days with my family go pretty much the same way as Christmas did. Daniel gets on swimmingly with everyone, and my heart aches every time I realize that once the holidays are over, our charade is going to come to an end—a permanent end— this time. I try to ignore that thought and enjoy my time, basking in the coupley moments in front of my family, and leaning into every touch we share.

I never get a chance to ask about my Christmas present; the time never feels right, and Daniel doesn’t bring it up either. Nothing happens between us like Christmas night; when bedtime rolls around we change in the bathroom and go straight to bed. We cuddle, but there’s no after-dark kisses or wandering hands. I wonder if Daniel feels as self-conscious about that night as I do; if he does, he doesn’t show it.

—-

We’re in my room packing to go back to LA in an effort to try to beat the inevitable New Year’s rush at the airport.

“I need to find something to wrap this in so it doesn’t break in my luggage,” I frown, holding up Daniel’s present. “It’s my new prized possession— nothing can happen to it.”

Daniel looks over and laughs. “Want me to wrap it in my sweatpants? That's what I did on the way here.”

“Okay, thank you.” I pad across the floor and pass him the frame, our fingers brushing in the process.

“Of course.” His lips quirk up as he carefully arranges the frame in his suitcase.

A moment passes, and I wonder if now is a good time to ask about my present .

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask—“

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—“

We both stop mid-sentence and Daniel laughs, “Sorry what were you saying?”

I shake my head, courage gone. “No— sorry, go ahead.”

He looks at me curiously but continues, “Henry texted me; he and Claire invited us to their New Year’s Eve party. They’re having it in LA this year.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Us? They want me to go?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, Claire apparently requested your presence specifically.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I usually stay in for New Year’s.”

“It could be fun— if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Daniel teases.

“Ha!" I laugh, "If you aren’t sick of me yet, more like.” I shake my head. “And don’t mind sharing your friends with me.”

“They’re basically your friends now, too,” he argues.

“I’m not sure one wedding constitutes that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You should come.”

I stop and look at him.

“I’ll call a car and pick you up on the way.”

When I hesitate, he softens his voice. “Please come.”

I swallow, “Okay.”

I’m not a big party person, but I also know I don’t have it in my heart to deny him, especially after everything he’s done for me.

He grins. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, let them know we’re coming.”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile and start planning my outfit in my head.

—-

When we arrive at Claire and Henry’s house on New Year’s Eve, I try not to gawk at the size. It’s massive and sits high on one of the tallest hills in LA, away from the noise of the city.

The first person to spot us as we walk in is, unfortunately, Eleanor. I’d hoped she was in London, and away from us, but alas.

“Daniel!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him. “I was so hoping you’d be here.”

“Hi, El,” he placates her with a strained smile. “You remember Lauren?” He gestures back to me.

“Laura?” she asks, disinterested.

“Lauren,” I correct, forcing myself to smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“Eleanor,” Daniel intervenes. “Could you point us in the direction of Henry and Claire, perhaps?”

She frowns, but quickly covers it up. “They were in the kitchen last I checked— we have just got to catch up later.”

“We will!” He agrees graciously. “Let us get a drink, and I’m sure we'll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Daniel puts a hand on my back, guiding me forward and into another room, which turns out to be the kitchen. He’s immediately drawn into a series of bro hugs and handshakes by Henry and some of his other friends.

“Lauren! I’m so glad you came!” I turn to find Claire by a table of beverages.

“Claire! So nice to see you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “I told Daniel he just had to bring you.”

I laugh. “He told me you were quite persistent— I usually have a low key New Year’s at home, but this is a fun change of pace.”

“Can I get you a drink?” She asks, already reaching for a bottle of champagne.

“Sure, thank you.” I catch Daniel’s eye across the room; he’s being clapped on the back and led out of the kitchen. I smile reassuringly, hoping to communicate that I’m fine here. He seems to understand, as he smiles back and nods before turning back to his friends.

Claire giggles, bringing my attention back to her.

“You look at him with such heart eyes, it’s cute.”

I try to keep my face from panicking. “Sorry?” She laughs like my reaction is the funniest thing in the world. “Oh don’t worry, he looks at you just the same, so you’re fine.”

I chuckle nervously. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong impression—”

She shrugs like we’re talking about something commonplace, like the weather.

“Maybe, it’s possible... but I don’t think so. Now come! There’s some other girls I’d love for you to meet.”

—-

I spend a good portion of the night talking with Claire and her friends. They’re all very kind to me, but eventually I excuse myself to get some air out on the balcony.

I’m looking up at the sky — it’s dark, dotted with faint stars and a distant passing plane — when I hear somebody come out and join me. As they settle next to me against the railing I immediately know who it is just by how comfortable I feel.

“Whatcha doin out here, LaurLaur? The New Year’s only a few minutes away.”

I grin at him. “Just getting some air and admiring the stars. From up here you can actually see them.”

He hums, looking up with me.

“It reminds me of a certain piece of art a certain someone got me for Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

“It was very thoughtful…. I wonder if any of the stars are in the same places as they were that night.”

“Which night?”

“The night everything changed. Your birthday.”

Daniel leans against the railing facing me, and looks like he’s about to say something before he changes his mind.

Eventually he speaks again. “Things are going to change again soon, right? You said you’re sure about the break up?”

I swallow, scoffing my shoe against the balcony floor.

“I mean, we still need to figure it out, but you can’t keep fake dating me forever. That isn’t fair to you.”

He smiles wistfully. “It’s not like there was anyone else I was trying to date.”

“I’m a lucky girl,” I lament, and Daniel blushes and shakes his head. “It’s a real shame we’re over, though," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve never gotten to kiss anyone at midnight.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

“Nope,” I pop the p and look down at my feet.

“Well.” He clears his throat conspiratorially. “We can agree not to bring our fake relationship into the New Year if you want, but if the kiss starts before midnight, I think we’d get by on a technicality...”

I laugh. “You really want Eleanor to hate me, don’t you?”

He grins cheekily and shakes his head. “Nah, I think I saw her latched onto some other poor bugger inside. We’re in the clear.”

I roll my eyes, looking back up at the sky. I feel his finger trace my arm, gently using my elbow to turn my attention back towards him.

His voice is softer now, “It’s up to you, but there’s no one else I’d rather kiss at midnight.”

I look into his eyes and realize he’s being sincere. My heart’s beating out of my chest. Yes, I want to kiss him, but I want it to mean something. I keep giving in because I know one day this is all going to go away, and I’ll be left with just my memories and heartache.

He must see some hesitance in my eyes, because he’s taking a step back.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Really.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not trying to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” I trail off, looking over the balcony, trying to swallow my feelings, which have manifested as anxious tears in my eyes. I feel a tear escape, and I hastily reach up to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Daniel says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” I let out a watery laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m…”

I feel his steady stare, and I come to terms with the fact that I’ve really gotten myself into a mess that I can’t just smooth over. I’m going to have to tell him.

I take a minute to compose myself, and Daniel stays quiet giving me time to put my words together as I look anywhere but at him.

“I do want to kiss you, D,” I start slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “but I can’t if it’s just another part of our fake relationship.”

He tugs me closer by hand, gently, so I have no choice but to look at him. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I… know this wasn’t supposed to be real. But it has been, for me.”

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “So then stop trying to break up with me.”

I blink at him, and he continues.

“The night everything changed— your star map— I wasn’t referencing the story we told your family about my birthday.” Daniel looks at me long and hard like I’m missing something totally obvious. “It’s actually the stars from a night a month or so later.”

A month or two— Oh. OH.

“The night Ryan FaceTimed me?” I whisper, afraid to be wrong.

He takes my other hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “Listen— Fuck. I’m in love with you, Lauren.” He looks at me so intensely and my head is spinning. “I love you, and I’m in love with you.”

“What?” I ask dumbly.

He licks his lips. “A wise woman once said to me, you don’t confess to ‘kind of like someone’ when you’ve already been friends as long as we have.”

I stare at him for a second, my cheeks burning. “Well your friend sounds pretty smart.” I swallow. “Because I love you, too.”

He laughs, relief flooding his features. He pulls me to his chest, crushing me and squeezing the air out of my lungs. Eventually he pulls back, hands cupping my face.

He grins and shakes his head. “She is smart, so, so smart, but I don’t want to be her friend anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion, worried that somehow I’ve misread this whole interaction, my relief quickly being replaced by panic.

“Well.” He steps forward, keeping our faces incredibly close. “I’m hoping she agrees to be my very real girlfriend— that is, if she doesn’t break up with me first.”

I hear everyone inside start the countdown to midnight. I’m still looking into Daniel’s eyes in disbelief, my hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

When the countdown hits one, I’ve finally found the words I want to say.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

He’s grinning as he kisses me, and I am too. It’s not our most elegant kiss, a mess of teeth and giggles, and whispered “I love you”s. We never stray too far from each other’s lips, kissing again and again like we can’t get enough— and maybe we can’t.

Eventually, we calm down a bit, and when we kiss this time it’s all-consuming, sucking the air out of my lungs. It feels like my love is fizzling to the top of my skin, and I feel it. ‘It’ being every indescribable emotion in our kisses this past year, but this time I know what it is: true, unadulterated, uninhibited love. I am in love with my best friend, who is now my boyfriend, and I don’t care who knows it— as long as he does.

His fingers press bruisingly into my hips before he pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Can we go home?” He whispers sheepishly, brushing some hair out of my face tenderly. “I’m kind of tired of sharing you with the public.”

I huff a laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.” I lean forward to kiss him one last time before pulling back to lace our fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Please— take me home, D.”

I don’t have to tell him twice.

---

tagged: @rogershoe @heyrowena @yunsh-17 @trenko-heart @dylxnshxrmxn

[exhaustedfander]

I had an idea for a fic request^^ What about Roman and Logan, both being frustrated and sad over all after the whole wedding debacle and venting to each other to then decide they just leave the others to themselves and go hide in the Imagination(maybe in a castel they make). The others then have to try to get them back and shenenigans ensue^^ (If that's too long that's okay and I don't care if you make it shippy or keep it platonic) Anyway, I love your writing and please have a great day❤️

Hey, so this request is probably my favorite that I’ve ever received and I was having a lot of fun writing it but, big shock, this is gonna need to be split off into at least a couple parts. I want to get it right, and I feel breaking it up will allow me to do so. Logince was one of my first major ships in the Sanders Sides fandom, so it’s a lot of fun to return to it (even though it’s well known I’m a major intrulogical stan). I’d love to hear what you think of this first part, and thanks for the awesome Request, Mim! 

A03 link

Word Count: 2,320

Hideaway: Chapter One

Roman paces the floor of his room, hands threaded in his frazzled hair. It doesn’t make any sense! Thomas had taken Jan-Deceit’s side, disregarding any of his hesitations. He didn’t think he was the bad guy anymore. And Roman… for so long, he was sure that he was Thomas’s hero. But now? What can he believe anymore?

Roman stiffens when he hears a knock on his door, the pit in his stomach expanding when he realizes tears have begun to slip down his cheeks.

“I’m – uh, I’m busy!” Roman says, cursing the way his voice cracks. If their wise, whoever’s on the other side of the door will leave well enough alone. But then, a voice pipes up.

“Roman… may I come in?” Logan.

Right now, Roman would be prepared to send anyone else away without much of a second thought. But Logan isn’t anyone else, and there’s a raw, strangely quiet quality to his voice that can’t help but make Roman’s heart pang.

“I – maybe it would be best, if you came back later,” Roman says, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Please,” Logan says, so gentle it’s nearly a whisper, “Please let me in.” Roman couldn’t place it a moment ago, but now he’s identified the strangeness in Logan’s: it’s fear. And while Roman’s body is wracked with shivers, and the tears are slipping down his cheeks despite his will to just stop being so fucking sensitive, he opens the door.

“Listen, Logan now’s not really…” Roman trails off, seeing the broken look in Logan’s eyes. “Oh,” he says because it’s the only word that comes to mind, despite all the other things he wants to express. He steps aside, allowing Logan to walk into the room and shut the door behind him.

“You’re crying,” Logan notes, and there’s a fearful tremor in his voice.

Roman’s gaze flickers to the wall, his hand once again whipping at his eyes, wishing he could stop, praying he’ll be able to turn everything off, for just a moment, and breathe. Such desires are nothing but a fairytale, though, and they have been since the wedding and the horrible conversation that followed.

“No, really?” Roman asks, sarcasm thick and bitter.

He doesn’t want to act this way; he wants to comfort Logan through whatever it is he’s clearly dealing with. He wants to put on a brave face, the way Patton used to do (But that isn’t healthy. Does it matter?) He wants to prove to Thomas that he’s made the wrong decision, that Deceit isn’t to be trusted and that Roman can still be his hero. That he still deservestheir love.

But all he can manage is resentment.  

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, his eyes still cast away from Logan’s prying gaze, “I – I don’t. I’m not trying to be… What was it that you needed?” Roman doesn’t mean to trail off and lose all semblance of what he was trying to say (not that he’s sure what that exactly was), but it happens nonetheless, and it seems he’s made a friend in deflection and distraction.

“I came to speak with you,” Logan says, his voice searching, begging to be let in, but Roman won’t let him, not like this, “After everything that’s happened… the wedding, and… and Janus.” Logan seems to struggle slightly through the name, but the Virgil-Esque growl that Roman delivers in response is telling of his feelings on the matter.

“Deceit mascaraed as you!” Roman shouts, his hands held in the air, “Again! And Thomas sided with him! For the love of Disney; Patton sided with him! Patton thinks, he thinks…”

Roman can’t even bear to face what it is that Patton thinks. That Deceit is worthy of a second chance? That he deserves a seat at the table? It was too upsetting to think about, not without getting worked up to a point of no return. And Roman is already dangerously close to that.  

“He did,” Logan agrees, distaste palpable, “He assumed my identity, once again, and… you all were none the wiser.” The words hang heavy in the air, tension electrified and unsteady.

“Well, he’s – he’s a master manipulator! Cut us a little slack here, Teach! We didn’t – if we’d known, we would’ve done something! I would’ve done something, I-I swear. I just…” Roman collapses onto his ornate bed, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to protect you, o-or Patton, or even Thomas from him. I tried, but… I wasn’t strong enough.” Roman sniffles, fresh tears clouding his vision. “Maybe you should leave.”

“Roman,” Logan says hesitantly, his voice so much gentler than usual. Roman shivers as he feels a dip in the mattress and a hand settle onto the small of his back, the action stiff but still expressing the intent of comfort. “It isn’t your job to ‘protect’ us from Janus, or anyone else, for that matter. I came here because… I was concerned, after what transpired. I was informed that you sunk out after a rather terse point in the conversation, and I thought it best to check-in.”

���I’m fine,” Roman says, despite the fact that his hands are still covering his face and he’s begun to tremble under Logan’s touch, “It’s just… a lot to process. But I’m alright. You don’t – you don’t need to be here.”

“Falsehood,” Logan says, and Roman can’t bear to hear him say that, “Roman… I know you wanted that callback a tremendous amount.” “Y-you don’t –.”

“I do,” Logan says sadly, “I’m not trying to make things more difficult for you, please, understand that is by no means my intention. But you’re going through a lot, emotionally. Feelings are by no means my area of expertise but…” Logan trails off, nearly losing his nerve before he pushes forward, rubbing slow circles into Roman’s back, “… I’m here. I’m here to talk about whatever it is you need to talk about, or to –.”

Logan gasps as Roman turns around and pitches himself forward, pushing them both down into the mattress as he winds his arms around the logical side, his face buried in Logan’s shoulder. Logan struggles for a moment, with Roman lying on top of him and soaking his polo with tears, but quickly he readjusts and resumes rubbing circles into the princely side’s back.

He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. Emotions are a tricky thing, especially the intense, soberingly sad ones, but Logan is fairly sure he’s behaving as he should. He’s whispering words of comfort and reassurance (words he can’t be sure are true or not), and holding him close, and allowing Roman to ‘cry it out.’ He’s heard emotional release is very important, and by the looks of things, Roman’s been in dire need of it for some time.

He tries not to think about the fact that Janus yanked him from the discussion by his crook, or that his low-downs had been ignored, or that a great deal of his advice has been pushed to the wayside for some time now, or –

“Logan?” Roman sniffles, interrupting Logan’s frantic thoughts and oh, he must’ve stopped rubbing Roman’s back, his hand having gone uncomfortably still.

“My apologies,” Logan mutters, “I suppose I was, uh, figuratively lost in thought for a moment there.”

“What is it?” Roman asks, pushing himself into a seated position. There are still tear-tracks on his face, and his skin is rather flushed, but suddenly, all of his attention has been directed to Logan. And Logan doesn’t know if he likes it.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re upset,” Roman says, “What’s the matter?”

“We’re focusing on you right now,” Logan urges, “We’re talking about how you’re feeling at the moment, Roman.”

“Well, I want to know how you’re feeling.”

Roman fails to mention the fact that he’s mind-numbingly embarrassed for having sobbed into Logan’s shirt for so long and breaking down to a point where it feels as though the same fate is imminent to repeat. He’s failed so severely, made so many wrong choices. It feels like everyone’s flipped the script on him. At the trial, Roman was chastised for so much as considering Deceit’s point of view, but now? Now it seems he’s the villain for not seeing eye to eye with the snake. He’s always tried to do everything he can, to live up to the expectations he’s woven for himself, and what he believes the others assume he’s capable of… but he’s failed. How is it that the hero can take such a fall from grace? Was he ever a hero at all?

“Roman…”

“Please, Logan,” Roman says, just edging on begging, “Indulge me. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Logan gives Roman a quizzical look, studying him for cracks in his slipping composure, before letting out a sigh.

“Believe it or not,” Logan begins, crossing his arms over his chest, “The decision to go to the wedding, and the events that have followed have been… less than ideal for me.” Roman tilts his head.

“But I thought you were impartial to either decision? At the trial –.”

“The callback was a rare opportunity,” Logan says simply, hoping, foolishly, that Roman won’t prod any further, “One that is unlikely to reappear. In terms of Thomas’s career…” Logan trails off, seeing the look of hurt flash in Roman’s eyes.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Additionally,” Logan says, fiddling with his tie, “I’ve found that lately, my advice has been… discarded, to some extent. It’s been made explicitly clear that my company is not always desired, and it seems, I’m having a little trouble accepting that.” Logan stiffens when he catches sight of the look in Roman’s eyes and, oh dear, it appears Roman’s portraying a great deal of emotions that Logan has no idea how to deal with.

“Logan…”

“I’m not trying to upset you,” Logan says, “I’m merely explaining what you asked of me.”

“We want you around,” Roman says, his hand reaching out to touch Logan’s, “I want you around. I know we have our disagreements – quite a bit of disagreement, really. But I want you, Logan and, for the record… I’m sorry.” A shiver runs down his back as Roman laces their fingers together, the touch overwhelmingly tender.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For making you feel unwanted,” Roman says, “I’ve gotten so lost in what I want for Thomas, and what Patton says is morally right. And now – well, now everything’s so much. But I am sorry.” Logan wasn’t expecting an apology, or the warm sensation of Roman’s hand in his, buy both things provoke feelings in him that he cannot comprehend.

“I’m sure the others will be wondering where we are soon,” Logan notes, pulling his hand away. Roman frowns. But then, his expression changes and Logan doesn’t quite trust that look in his eyes.

“What if… what if we went somewhere for a while?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You and me,” Roman says, standing up, his face lighting up with a look of hope Logan can’t account for, “What if we went away? Took a break from all chaos and expectations,” the last word comes out just a whisper, sorrow tinting it.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Logan says, still trying to make sense of Roman’s sudden energetic outburst, “Where would we go? Where could we go? Furthermore, how could we go? I don’t think I need to be the one to remind you that we have a job to do, Roman. We cannot leave our posts, regardless of personal issues.”

“The Imagination,” Roman says, as if the explanation clears much up for the logical side, “I have somewhere we can go. Just for a little bit! We wouldn’t be gone for more than a day if that! Just a little time to take the edge off, to breathe. Aren’t you tired, Logan? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I –,” Logan pauses, shuddering under the intensity of Roman’s gaze, “I’m not sure about this.”

“Oh, come on, nerd,” Roman says, grabbing hold of Logan’s arm and pulling him to his feet, “Come with me. I promise, whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen. You can catalog the flora and fauna of The Imagination! Oh, I’ll show you everything. You’re going to love it! Please, come with me. Take a break. I don’t want to be alone.”

Roman doesn’t bring himself to say, “can’t be alone,” but Logan picks it up regardless. Roman is at the end of his tether in so many ways; it would be wrong to leave him on his own now. Dangerous, even. And despite the building hesitations, the idea of some time for themselves, if only for a little while, is more appealing than it ought to be.

“Just for a little while?” Logan asks carefully. Roman nods up and down quickly.

“I promise! A-are you coming?” The desperation that takes hold of Roman’s voice is devastating. Logan doesn’t know how he could tell him no, at least not now. Logan nods.

“I am. I’ll come.” Logan stiffens as Roman throws his arms around him, once again pulling him into a suffocating tight embrace, though Logan isn’t sure he’s entirely opposed to such a thing.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Roma says, taking Logan’s hand, “Let’s go.”

A more rational, composed part of Logan is screaming at him that this is a terrible idea that can only end poorly. Roman’s in an incredibly fraught mental state (Logan’s not sure if he’s much better) and leaving the problem isn’t going to magically fix it. Logan should have better sense than to agree to something like this but… he doesn’t. Not when he’s been so tired for so long, not when Roman’s offering him salvation, not when all he wants is a little peace.

And so, Logan allows Roman to lead him through a door and into The Imagination, foolish curiosity outweighing reason.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar 

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@maryann-draws

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing 

@elizabutgayer 

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist! 

[tempesrature]

Of The Standard Of Taste: Logan and Memes

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Logan Summary: Logan has a terrible taste in memes and Ellie wants to help him.  (A very loose continuation of Communication Degree. But if you don’t want to read that, all you need to know is Ellie and Logan live together and Ellie has a Professor that she hates.) Word Count: 1,924 Warnings: None. Just the buffoonery that I come up with. This is terrible and self-indulgent because I just want some stupid domestic fluff for my two idiots.    A/N: I feel like Logan’s relevant character flaw has to be that he’s probably not too knowledgeable with pop culture and memes (on the run most of his life, has no real need for it, etc) so...here you go. I also reread Hume’s “Of The Standard of Taste” just in case I get into a tussle with Philosophy nerds over my usage of the title (you can fight me but I’ll lose, I didn’t understand much). Also, please forgive me for my poor editing, I may be a millennial but I run on boomer batteries. Happy RoDAW everyone!  @rodappreciationweek @troublemakerinspace​ ~*~

In the silent space of the Langston library, Ellie’s phone pings on her desk and her eyes flit to the device. The name on her screen immediately pulls a wide smile on her lips as she picks up the phone and checks to see what he has sent her. Once she sees the picture, her face falls and she immediately groans before she puts the phone back on her desk.

“Woah, bad news?”

Ellie turns to look at Brooke, her friend and partner for the paper they’re currently working on, before Ellie shakes her head with a small sigh.

“It’s Logan.”

Brooke furrows her eyebrows, squinting lightly at Ellie. “And that’s bad because…?”

Ellie sighs before she picks up her phone and hands it to Brooke. Brooke raises a curious eyebrow before she takes the phone and looks at the screen. Her face morphs into a string of emotions—shock, laughter, cringe—before it settles into pity. “The boy’s taste in memes are terrible.”

“It’s not his fault,” Ellie quickly defends, taking the phone back and staring at the picture that Logan sent her.

“It’s his first Pictagram account and he’s still figuring things out,” Ellie explains as she gives his picture a heart. “You know, developing his standard of taste.”

“From what? The 2010’s?” Brooke cackles as she takes Ellie’s phone, scrolling up their conversation before she bursts into muffled chuckles. “Look at your replies! ‘That’s great baby, it’s really funny’, you sound like his mom!”

Ellie scowls and snatches back her phone, putting it face down on the desk. “He’s trying okay? I think it’s sweet that he sends me memes he finds funny.”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that,” Brooke snickers before she rolls her eyes at the annoyed look on Ellie’s face. “El, just like…send him better memes. It’s not that hard.”

“I tried!” Ellie groans again, pushing her fingers to her temple as she stares at the wooden surface of the desk in dismay. “But memes nowadays need so much context! How will he understand when he’s still catching up on so much of pop culture—” Ellie pauses, an idea swirling in her mind. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Brooke frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. She is scarily aware of Ellie’s face when she starts to plot. “Unless what El?”

“I have an idea,” Ellie declares, quickly gathering her things and dumping them into her backpack as she grabs her phone off of the table. “I’ll send you my part tonight, bye!”

Ellie quickly throws a wave goodbye at the confused looking Brooke as she heads back to the apartment before Logan arrives. Her mind already turning and plotting on how she’ll efficiently enact her plan.

~*~

Logan carefully balances the bag of groceries in one arm as he walks up the stairs, his eyes glued to his phone. He knows he should be more careful, Ellie has already chastised him about using his phone while walking up the stairs to their apartment, but he finds it difficult to pull his eyes away from the endless scroll of memes on his Pictagram feed. Many of which he’s already saved because he plans to send them to Ellie sometime tomorrow during his break.

Logan gives one last double tap of his phone screen to a particularly funny meme when he reaches the door of their apartment before he places his phone in his back pocket. He moves the grocery bag to his other arm before fishing out his keys and inserting it into the doorknob. He hasn’t even fully opened the door when he hears Ellie calling out his name from the living room. A smile pulls at his lips at the sound. Even if it’s been months, he still can’t shake the feeling of utter content at the reality of her waiting for him in their apartment. A scenario he’s only ever imagined in his most indulgent dreams.

“Just a sec trouble. I’m taking off my shoes,” He calls out toeing his sneakers off and kicking it to the side before he walks to the living room with a wide grin. Ellie excitedly greets him with a hug and he easily returns it with a one arm hug.

“Welcome back,” She greets, leaning up to kiss his cheek before she takes the grocery bag in his arm and whisks it away to the small kitchenette in their apartment.

Logan follows behind her, the wide grin still present on his face, as he leans on the refrigerator. He silently watches her place the bag on the counter, start to pull out the groceries and flit by cabinets and shelves to put away the cans and bottles. His heart feels full and sated, the picture of her seeming to bring about emotions that’s both strange and welcomed. Strange in a way that he never thought that this could be his life and welcomed in way that he’s grateful that this is his life.

Ellie pulls out the carton of milk and turns to him, grinning in amusement at the soft and warm look so prominent on his face. An expression she’s seen on him a multitude of times in the time they’ve started living together. She quickly shoos him away from the refrigerator door and Logan merely chuckles as he moves away, placing a passing kiss to her temple before he makes his way to the living room.

His eyes immediately latch on to the papers and books scattered on the coffee table (not an unusual sight) as her laptop lay on the center of the couch. He gently pushes the laptop to the side, careful not to accidentally move anything from its original place as he drops down on the couch and pulls out his phone.

“Are you making another report for Professor Hardass, El?” Logan calls out, absentmindedly scrolling through his Pictagram feed.

“Huh? Oh…no. Actually,” Ellie answers back before she walks back into the living room. She grabs her laptop, balancing it on one hand, as she scrolls up and starts the presentation. “It’s for you.”

Logan pauses before he looks up at her in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Me?”

“Yes,” Ellie plops down next to him and sets her laptop on his lap, angling the screen to him as the title ‘Important Points in the History of Pop Culture and its Relevance on Memes’ flashes in big black text and stares back at him.

Logan blinks once, twice. His brain frying as he tries to decipher what she just presented him. “I don’t understand Ellie.”

Ellie nods, expecting this reaction before she clears her throat. Her voice takes on the tone she always uses when she presents her reports as she starts the plan that she has been preparing for since she arrived in the apartment three hours ago.

“You see Logan, I love you and I care about you a lot—”

“—this sounds like a break up speech.”

“And,” Ellie emphasizes with a grin, lightly hitting his arm as he looks back at her with a teasing smile. “And I want you to get a better sense of what memes are popular and funny right now.”

Logan opens his mouth, closes it and frowns. Finally picking up what she’s hinting on. “The memes I send you aren’t funny?”

“Oh baby they are,” She leans forward, placing gentle hand on his arm as she tries to keep her voice loving and sympathetic when she delivers the devastating truth. “But like…funny if its ten years ago.”

Logan blinks, pausing for a moment, before a burst of laughter escapes him. Ellie frowns at his reaction and he shakes his head, turning away from her as he muffles his laughter behind his hand. He really didn’t mean to laugh. But the image of his girlfriend, the love of his life, hunkering down and taking a considerable amount of her time and day just to create a presentation to teach him about memes of all things creates a feeling inside him that he’s never felt before.

In his most vulnerable and loneliest nights, he went through a list of the most domestic and romantic what-ifs with her—already resigned that they would never be his reality—that ranged from the simple to the ridiculous but sitting down on the couch of their apartment learning about memes through a PowerPoint presentation from her was something that never crossed his mind.

But somehow, this is the one that hits him the hardest. This is the one that makes him imagine a life beyond their tiny apartment. A house, a dog, kids’ maybe…all of it. If it’s with Ellie Wheeler, he’s ready to want it all.

“Okay troublemaker,” He finally says, turning back to her with a wide grin. “Or should I call you professor now?”

“Behave,” She admonishes playfully before she scoots closer to him and lays her head on his shoulder. He easily wraps one arm around her waist, his hand settling on her hips as he leans his head on top of hers and waits patiently for her presentation.

Ellie immediately launches into her first slide and Logan listens intently, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing nonsense circles on her skin over her pajamas.

As the minutes pass, it leaves him in awe at how much effort and love has gone into this presentation just for him. There are pictures, gifs, and videos all for him and he’s willing to admit that his feed seems to pale in comparison. She goes through the resilience of SpongeBob memes and the “rickroll”, the diversity of Kermit the frog memes, and the brief and fleeting existence of Vine memes. And she laughs and cringes at the particularly older ones and he laughs and takes note at the particularly funny ones as the late afternoon slowly stretches into evening.

By the end of it, she’s cuddled up next to him, her laptop laying open on top of her books on the coffee table, as they both scroll through a better array of pages for him to follow on Pictagram to broaden and expand his taste of memes. They laugh, talk, and tease each other under the dim lights of their tiny apartment and Logan can’t help but feel the kind of warmth and happiness that settle and seep right down to his bones.

~*~

Brooke bursts out in laughter but quickly clamps her mouth shut to avoid disturbing the other students in the library. “I can’t believe you did that! You gotta give me the file!”

Ellie smiles in triumph, crossing her arms in front of her as she leans back on her chair. “Laugh all you want. If it worked then I’m the real winner here.”

Brooke shakes her head in amusement, looking at Ellie with a teasing look. “If? So you haven’t seen the results yet?”

Ellie opens her mouth, ready to reply, when right on cue her phone pings on the desk next to her books. She picks it up when she sees the flash of his name on the screen and she smiles. Her eyes land on the latest picture he’s sent her, her heart squeezing in an ache so powerful she clutches the phone to her chest as she falls forward on the desk with a helpless groan and a silly smile. Brooke sees her reaction and chuckles before she reaches out her hand.

“Give me, I wanna see too.”

Ellie hands the phone to her and Brooke’s eyes land on the picture and she grimaces.

“Now he’s just being cheesy,” Brooke comments dryly.

“He’s too good,” Ellie laments helplessly, lifting her head off of the table with a huge grin. “I made him too powerful.”

Brooke rolls her eyes as she hands Ellie her phone back. “Can we please just finish this paper today?”

“Fine, fine,” Ellie takes her phone back and quickly types out a message and finds a photo before she hits send. She places the phone back on the desk and goes back to working on her part of the paper with a smile she can’t seem to wipe away even if she tried.

[pathetic-ts-trash]

A teaser...

Ramblings:  I haven’t written in years and have little will to live, let alone improve my writing style or edit... nevertheless,,, here’s the start of that fic based off of this prompt list.  Bother me incessantly if you want more, I typically only do this sort of thing for my own self indulgence.  Roman and Virgil are in a kind of ambiguous relationship, that may change, I plan to have eventual logicality as well.  Thank you a lot if you read, lemme know what you think, it’d mean a lot <3

oh, also, it’s g/t, I’m weak what can I say

CW’s: slight arguing, starvation mention, slight language warning, mortal fear, panic, slight exhaustion, feeling/thinking one is dying, somewhat graphic imagination of one’s death

Enjoy!..or don’t, same honestly.

“We have to get the thread.  One of our hooks has already broken!” Virgil had whisper-yelled, stopping in front of the sewing box that reached higher than both borrowers stacked atop each other.

“Virgil, for the last time, we’re already running late, and we just replaced the one that broke!” Roman barely slowed, passing his borrowing partner without hesitation. “We can get it next time, we have to leave.”

Roman felt a tugging on his arm and turned back to see a frustrated pale face lightly glaring at him.  Virgil said, “But we won’t be able to if mine or the replacement breaks beforehand, and then we’ll just have to pray the right amount gets dropped or starve to death!”

Roman rolled his eyes and tore his arm away. “We won’t starve.  It’s one day, and if one of the humans come home early, we’ll be dead by their hands, and I feel like both of us would hate that much more.  Now,” He turned heel, not even looking back, “get your ass in gear and join me before then!”  He walked to the entrance behind the coffee maker, loaded his supplies into the hole, and only then did he look back.  To his exasperation, Virgil was not only not right beside him, he had somehow hoisted himself up to lean over the edge of the box, looking in and grabbing for something within.  He planted his hand to his forehead, feeling a stress headache coming.  He was about to yell something to chastise, when the sound of keys fumbling outside the apartment made his heart stop.  He looked up in time to see his black-clad friend staring in the direction of the noise with unabashed horror writ in his features.

Immediately, Roman was on the move.  He sprinted the distance from the entrance to the box, which was far too long for his taste in this situation.  Virgil was struggling to get down, the box bending under his weight, making his footing uneven and giving him next to nothing to grab or push to get himself out alone.  Roman heard the click of the lock and doubled his efforts, eventually skidding to a halt just beneath Virgil’s frantically swinging legs.  He could hear Virgil’s panicked breaths from here, and his heart jumped in protective panic.  “I’ve got you, come on, Star!” The lower borrower hissed, trying and failing to latch onto the makeshift shoes on the other’s feet.  Just as Virgil had wiggled enough for Roman to reach a strap of his boot, both heard the damning sound of the front door opening.  They only had a few seconds to get back, and the run over would take just over that time if they were lucky.  With a harsh yank, Virgil tumbled onto the countertop and upon Roman with a huff.  The pair didn’t have time for pain, though, and immediately, Virgil stood and beat it for the opening.  Roman wasn’t far behind, at least, at first.  However, the running over and jumping and yanking had taken a bit out of the small man, and adrenaline could only go so far.  He was substantially slower, and just as Virgil ducked behind the kitchen apparatus, a bespectacled man in a dark blue tie rounded the corner into the kitchen, then almost instantly locked eyes with Roman, who was only half the distance to the entrance.  Roman caught a second wind and used the man’s stunned pause to his full advantage.  He got tunnel vision, all that mattered was what was in front of him, the coffee maker and the entrance and his friend’s arms, waving him over desperately.  Every cell in his body burned, but he couldn’t stop, not if he wanted to live to feel anything again.  Finally, he was almost there, just a few more moments, if he just jumps-!

*

Logan couldn't believe his eyes as he turned into the kitchen and saw a tiny humanoid standing on the counter.  His shock could only last so long before instinct kicked in as he saw the man booking it towards his fridge and coffee maker.  The little thing was fast, but Logan covered the distance between himself and the creature just as it was ducking for the wall.  Without thought, Logan’s hands dropped his keys and shot out in front of him, trapped the creature between his fingers.

*

Roman whimpered involuntarily.  The air was knocked out of him, his vision blurred, and he could feel immovable heat clasped around him, no doubt ready to squeeze the life out of him.  He closed his eyes, the world around him fuzzing out as all he felt was panic, panic, panic panic panicpanicpanicpanic-

*

Logan blinked at the thing in his hands, slightly shocked he actually managed to catch it.  He felt something akin to wonder, similar to when a child manages to catch a firefly for the first time, surprised at his dexterity.  Within the moment, though, he raised it to his eyes, still not quite believing what they were seeing: a tiny man wrapped in white and red patchwork, in a sort of makeshift poncho, or at least a long shirt.  The whole body couldn’t have been longer than ⅔ of his outstretched hand, wrist to fingers.  His hair was dark brown and slightly matted, with sweat, Logan realized.  At the same time as that registered, Logan became cognizant of the state of the creature.  He could feel it’s panting and shaking, see it’s face contorted in distress, and hear small whines every exhale it seemed to make.  It’s terrified, he recognized with a start.  He looked around for a moment, then began to take his newfound specimen to the couch in order to hopefully allow it to feel a bit more secure rather than have it dangling five feet off the hard tile floor.

*

Roman was distantly aware that he was moving through the air in the human’s hands, but his senses were barely functional at this point.  He heard someone, maybe it was himself, yelling, but he couldn’t be sure.  His head was filled with static, and he couldn’t feel his limbs.  Is this what it felt like to die?  Was he being crushed to death, or had the human decided to toss him into a wall and watch him splatter like a fly on the window?  Would Virgil make it without him?  Would Virgil do something stupid out of vengence or sorrow?  His world was darkening, and he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.  He wanted his last thoughts to be of Virgil, of their friendship, of their happiness.  At a loss, he sobbed out, “I’m sorry!” before finally succumbing to whatever the human had done to him.

To be Continued (probably)

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Dreaming Pt.4

Summary: Virgil hates his dreams for showing him what could be. He avoids sleeping at any cost- until it becomes inescapable.

AO3, Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Virgil’s powers are stupid. He controls what makes Thomas anxious, and how anxious Thomas gets over any one thing, but he does it to himself too in the process. It’s dumb. If he were truly evil, shouldn’t he, oh he doesn't know, be laughing maniacally in the background instead of shivering on the floor of his room after a nightmare?

Virgil sobs again, convulsing so hard he almost dry heaves against his carpet. He doesn’t remember falling off the bed, but he’s pulled the blankets with him and is hopelessly entangled. His skin burns under too many layers of blankets and sheets and his hoodie and shirt. But he can’t get up, doesn’t have the strength to do anything more than keep the door to his corner of the mind shut tight. Shadows of his power lick at the edges of the doorframe; Virgil can feel them wanting to trickle out and control Thomas, dying to warp his thinking.

This is exactly what Virgil has worked so hard to avoid.

“Stop it!” He thunders, getting enough of his control back to sit up, even as his hood pushes sweaty hair into his eyes and his tears obstruct his vision. His face feels hot and feverish in the way only fear and crying can make it, and his breath hitches up under his ribcage uncomfortably when he yells. He yells anyway. “Stop it right now!”

The shadows flicker and flee, chastised.

“It was just a dream,” Virgil tells the darkness of his room. The words sound even hollower than they did that morning--afternoon? He’s not sure how much time has passed.

Are you sure? Whisper the shadows. Their words reverberate through his skull, making him wince and clutch at his ears. The tears flow again. His lungs won't expand properly. The only thing he can think to do is curl up tighter, but the blankets pull at his limbs and he thrashes, suddenly convinced he’ll never be free again. The darkness deepens around Virgil. How can you be so sure?

He looked so horrified, says a tiny, shining part of Virgil, the part that made all those nice dreams seem possible for so long. Roman would never hurt you if it made him look like that, would he?

Before, when Virgil was in his (somewhat) right mind, those words would have made sense. Now he just garbles out some inarticulate scream and tries not to pass out.

He doesn’t hear his door open, but he does feel it when his fears begin scrambling to get out again; Virgil stops breathing for a moment, concentrates hard, and pulls. They shrink back from the light of the rest of the mindscape, wrangled into dark corners and nooks and crannies, properly scared of his authority over them. He’s getting better at this.

The door closes with a light click and Virgil doesn’t even have time before an arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him upright against the side of his bed. The blankets encase his arms, making it futile to struggle and he must look so pathetic right now, wriggling like a worm, it’s got to be Patton holding him because he’s the only one kind enough not to say anything, or Roman because he feels bad about making this happen even when it’s Virgil’s fault, all stupid Virgil’s fault for having a nightmare that felt real, he can still feel the burning in his gut, the need for more air, his hair is wet his face is wet his eyes are wet he can’t breathe and someone is holding him up--

It’s not Patton. It’s not Roman.

“You are experiencing a panic attack.” Logan enunciates clearly, face exactly three inches from Virgil’s. “I have not previously seen you experience one of this magnitude, nor has Thomas ever had one this bad, so I have come to offer my assistance. I must commend you beforehand, however, on your ability to keep this from Thomas. It was...sneaky. And unexpectedly thoughtful.”

“You--you--” He still can’t breathe, but the tears have stopped, more out of surprise than anything else.

“We must get your breathing under control before we have any more conversation,” Logan decides, and settles, stiff but comfortable, against Virgil’s side. “I have heard that physical contact can help during an attack, but feel free to push me away if you are so inclined. Now, shall we start with counting your breaths?”

The whole situation is bewildering, but it is easy to fall into the familiar experience of in-hold-release, five-seven-eight, so Virgil does. His tears stay away but the breathing is harder to control, after having indulged in the panic for so long. But Logan is patient, and his arm is a heavy, reassuring weight across Virgil’s shoulders. Their knees knock together where Virgil’s are still bent awkwardly inside the sheets and Logan has sat down cross-legged.

Remember what happened last time, say the shadows of his room. Remember. Don’t forget.

I’m not dreaming. I’m not even asleep.

Are you sure?

Virgil’s shivers redouble, his throat constricting, and Logan’s brow furrows. He places a hand on Virgil’s chest and Virgil balks, eyes rounding. Like this, he's almost encircling Virgil, the back of Virgil’s head brushing the other side’s shoulder. He was too warm before, but no it feels like he’s boiling alive but Virgil can’t find it in himself to ask Logan to stop it. What is he doing--

He’s checking my heartbeat, he realizes when Logan frowns again and glances at his watch. Keeping time. He knows my pulse is too fast.

What do you think this is doing to Thomas? That’s why Logic is here to help, right? Do you think maybe Princy will come back and finish the job if you don’t get your heart rate under control?

Stop it, Virgil thinks. It is much harder to stop his fears when he’s the one they’re attacking.

“Is there anything more that I should be doing for you, Anxiety?” Logan asks. His voice is quiet, softer than it has ever been when addressing Virgil--gentle, almost, if Virgil were the type to use that word--and his tone is even and controlled. Exactly the opposite, then, of Virgil.

“Water,” Virgil croaks, and winces when he hears his own voice. It is raspy and broken and terrible to hear. He has been crying for a long time. “Please.”

Logan’s lips twitch at the polite afterthought, but all he does is incline his head and conjure a glass. When Virgil manages to wrest one hand free of the linen prison he’s constructed for himself, it is cool against his fingertips. He almost expects his skin to sizzle upon contact. The air is so still in his room, but he can’t exactly open the door to get some circulation.

He tries to take the glass for himself, but his fingers are weak, and he still isn’t getting air to his brain properly and he almost drops the glass. His other arm is twisted awkwardly around his own back and he doesn’t have the strength to get up and put himself to rights, so Virgil has a split second to resign himself to the fate of being slightly damp for a few hours.

He doesn’t have to, though, because a sure, steady hand folds around his, catching the water before it can fall in his lap. “Careful,” Logan says, but with how gentle he’s being--like Virgil is a newborn colt, which would be aggravating in any other context but makes that small, bright part of Virgil curl up in his chest and shudder pleasantly now--it doesn’t sound like an admonishment.

“Sorry,” Virgil rasps anyway. Just to be safe.

Why is he doing this for you? It’s not like he likes you. Patton probably put him up to it. Or he wants to make sure you don’t hurt Thomas.

Logan shakes his head but keeps his silence and helps raise the glass to Virgil’s lips. His eyes are keen behind his glasses, watching for any sign that Virgil is uncomfortable. His face is tight, lines drawn from how hard Logan is concentrating and his cheeks are--

Virgil splutters, pulling back from the glass with a gasp; it had tasted strangely musty, but that’s not the issue. Virgil’s mouth is probably the origin of that strangeness. There are only a few sips left, thankfully, so he doesn’t make too much of a mess of himself. He feels the other’s bicep tense beneath his head but he’s too busy scrambling back to see Logan’s face more clearly to apologize.

“You don’t have any bags under your eyes,” Virgil says. It must seem like quite the non sequitur because Logan’s brows jump, and he disappears the glass with a wave of his hand. Virgil stammers under the scrutiny. “You--you should have--”

“Not all of us are able to due to the nature of our very beings,” Logan tilts his head in Virgil’s direction, “but I happen to get the optimal amount of sleep every night, hence why I do not have the same shadows under my eyes as you do. Although--and please don’t take this to mean I am prying--but you seem to not be getting enough sleep these days. More than usual, in fact.”

“I--how do you know about that?”

“Irritability, irrationality, sluggish movements, decreased appetite, and trouble concentrating are all signs of lack of sleep,” Logan lists off. He still hasn’t moved very far but Virgil’s body must be uncomfortable to hold like this, all bunched up fabric and jutting bones. “Although it is hard to differentiate these symptoms from those of the nature of who you are, Anxiety, yours have increased dramatically over the past few days to weeks.”

Virgil’s stomach drops even further but there’s something strange here, something his paranoia has latched on to and if he can just figure out why Logan’s face is bothering him so much he could figure it out.

It’s his eyes, whisper Virgil’s shadows. You know it’s his eyes. No one can stay here for so long without getting tired of you, Anxiety. What’s wrong with his eyes?

“You’re not feeling the effects of my room,” Virgil realizes. Every bone in his body is made of lead; he can’t seem to move. Even if he could, where is there to go? “You should be--you should be freaking out right now. Why aren’t you--what’s happening?”

Virgil’s body isn’t listening to him anymore, the panic from before and his new terror rising to wrench his control away. The tears are back, streaming from the corners of his eyes, unbidden, unheeded. Logan doesn’t even react to them beyond a head tilt, a quirk of the lips. Virgil sags against the other side's arm and shoulder, the bedframe digging into his upper back. What is wrong with him? He’s been having trouble moving all this time but not like this, not so much that he can’t even feel in control of his own limbs. His lungs still feel pressure, but it's foggy now, like they’re not a part of him anymore. His brain is cloudy. There’s foam in his mouth.

The water, Virgil realizes, a second before his brain catches up with him. He tries to thrash and twist away from the other’s grip, but Logan just smiles and reaches out to wipe at his chin where the foam is gathering. He tsks under his breath, still smiling but his face is too angular now, too sharp and frightening. Virgil cringes away from those sharp teeth.

“Oh Anxiety,” Logan says, voice too high and sweet as sugar, a tone too saccharine for even Patton. “Don’t you know not to go accepting help from strangers? And here I thought that’s the only thing you were ever good for. I’m sorely disappointed.”

It’s just another nightmare, says that hopeful piece of him, but that too is getting harder to focus on.

Did you even fall asleep this time?

Things are going fuzzy again, for the third time--the final time, some small, dark part of Virgil hopes desperately--but he still has the presence of mind to try to lift his one free, deadened hand and push at Logan’s chest. Anything to get away.

“The only stranger here,” says another voice, too familiar not to be instantly recognizable, “is you. Now if you would kindly unhand my friend here, that would be appreciated.”

It can’t be, Virgil thinks. Logan is sitting right here.

He’d never call you his friend, the shadows agree. They are growing now, filtering in at the edges of his vision, clawing their way across his ceiling and over the bedspread, reaching for his fingertips.

“And what if I don’t?” Asks the Logan holding him, smiling all the while. God, but Virgil sort of wants to punch his lights out.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” says the new Logan, and the stern, dangerous tone of voice almost puts Virgil at ease.

Then the convulsions start and he loses track of things for a while. Stress and shock make waves of tingles flood his body, again and again and again and he doesn’t know what kind of poison he’s ingested but it’s making him weak and disconnected but it also makes his insides feel like they’re being set on fire and liquefied all at once. He can feel more foam coming to his lips and filling his throat and tears wash it away from his face. He thinks maybe his nose is bleeding.

There's a flurry of movement, and at the corners of his eyes, Virgil can see sharp jerks of color, flitting in and out of sight like birds. Someone’s fist, someone’s elbow. A pair of glasses, maybe, flying off into the darkness of his room. But then his vision starts going and Virgil can’t get up the strength to turn around and look at what’s going on.

There are hands on him again and Virgil isn’t sure when he’d been let go in the first place, but these new palms are warm and dry and they wipe away all of the gunk on his face. The weak light in Virgil’s room, dimming fast, glints off of Logan’s glasses. Worry etches plain across his face and there are deep shadows under his eyes.

“Anxiety, can you hear me?” Logan asks, voice urgent and careful. He’s cupping Virgil’s face and his skin is too hot, the waves coursing through him feel like needles now and it hurts so much that his vision greys out for a few seconds. Logan shakes him a little and the colors snap back into place, but his vision is still tunneling. “Anxiety, if you can hear me, I don’t know what's happening but I think you’re hallucinating, or bringing your dreaming into reality or--I’m not sure, I’m sorry, I know it’s my job but just--just wake up, alright? You have to wake up--”

Virgil gasps, reaches one hand up to clench his numb fingers desperately around one of Logan’s wrists, and feels his eyes roll back in his head.

Virgil knows no more.

[theatresweetheart]

What about a tiny who has a massive crush on a giant and he’s frustrated that because of his small size the giant hasn’t even considered him romantically. 😁

Want more? Send me a prompt here! 

Summary: Patton is a borrower that has a huge (pun intended) crush on Logan. Thing is, the human is so darn oblivious to literally everything that’s even remotely related to feelings it’s frustrating!

Warnings: Swearing. (I think that’s it, but let me know!)

Word Count: 1739 words

Pairings: Romantic Logicality

A/N: I don’t usually write romantic g/t stories, but I’ve been wanting to write this prompt for a long time and I finally got around to doing it. So take this self-indulgent romantic fluffiness. 

— — —

It started with little things.

Just little gifts that Patton thought Logan would like. Things that made the borrower think of his human companion when he was out on borrowing trips.

He would leave them on the desk in plain sight. There were even times where he had ventured into the outside, picked little flowers and then left them right where they would be discovered.

It was a romantic advancement Patton had seen people do in TV shows and movies; the man gives his woman a flower (or a whole bouquet of them) and she swoons, looking adoringly at her lover. 

It was something that made him want that same feeling. The feeling of someone adoring him, grinning that fond grin toward him. Holding him close and safe and cared for.

But it had been proven time and time again that Logan was so frustratingly oblivious to literally anything feelings related.

Pick-up lines‌?‌ Went right over his head. Jokes about relationships? Don’t even get him started on how many times he had dropped a hint and the human had either ignored it completely and moved on or didn’t acknowledge it. Puns about romance? Patton would usually just get a groan in response to the fact that he made a joke.

Even now, as he sat on the desktop shelf watching Logan work in silence on his laptop, he yearned to be viewed as more than just a friend.

Sure, being in a relationship with a human when one’s a borrower would be difficult and they would really have to find a way to make it work but he was sure that they could make it work! If Logan would just realize that he was trying so hard to make it obvious.

Patton wasn’t being subtle anymore. He had started subtle. Flowers, little notes (that may have been a bit too small for the human to actually read admittedly), little candies and chocolates and such.

Once he realized just how dense Logan was when it came to emotions, he knew he would have to change his tactics and be more outright about it. Difficult at first, yes, but once Patton also realized just how dense Logan was with obvious expression of emotion, he was a bit more confident and didn’t feel as worried about dropping hints.

It was just as frustrating. 

Patton wasn’t immune to reading people. He could read people’s facial features at the drop of a hat. Take Logan’s friend Virgil for instance!‌ The boy rarely let anyone know how he truly felt unless asked the right questions, and yet Patton was able to understand instantly—and without it being said, no less—that the kid was just nervous and one had to be gentle when talking with him.

Unlike some people.

Drumming his fingers on his thigh as he swung his legs back and forth on the low shelf he was sitting on, Patton decided that if he really wanted to get anywhere, he had to be completely upfront about it. No more dropping hints. He just had to do it.

“Hey Logan?”‌ The borrower finally broke the peaceful silence.

After a moment as he finished typing something, Logan’s eyes turned over to him. “Yes Patton?‌‌ Is something the matter?”

“Not really,” he offered back. He had a lot to say and a lot on his mind, he just had to find the right way to say it. “I was just curious to know if you’d ever date someone?”

Logan tilted his head at the question. Obviously it was something he didn’t think about often. His eyes flickered off of the borrower for a moment, looking as if he was thinking of a correct answer. There really was no correct answer, per say, but there was one Patton was hoping for. “I suppose,” Logan said after a second of deliberation, “if the right person were to happen into my life, then yes, I‌ do not see why‌ I‌ would not give it a chance. Though, romantic relationships are not a concern of mine as I‌ have more important things to divert my attention to.”

“Fair,”‌ Patton allowed, nibbling his lower lip. He could feel heat beginning to creep up the back of his neck. “Does said person have to be…human necessarily? Hypothetically speaking, of course!”

Logan’s brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed slightly, and it seemed as if he was almost looking completely through the borrower, looking exactly at what Patton meant without stating it outright. Logan was incredibly smart, Patton wouldn’t doubt that he did know what he really meant.

Patton felt his heart stammer. The dark hazel eyes gazing back at him, he could see speckles of gold dotted around his iris and he quickly found his cheeks getting warmer. He really didn’t need to pay that much attention to someone’s eyes. He soon found himself diverting his own, trying to look anywhere other than human sitting in front of him.

“Hmm.” The rumbling sound was deep.

However, it finally seemed that Logan had picked up on this hint. Finally. After months of trying, maybe Patton was really getting somewhere.

“I suppose not,” Logan relented, leaning back in his desk chair after a moment, his hands folded comfortably in front of him as his eyes scanned over Patton’s form. The constant looking nearly made the borrower feel smaller than he already was. “Patton, are you trying to tell me something?”

Oh God, Logan was absolutely an idiot when it came to anything. He was so smart but Heaven’s sake, he was so, so dumb.

“Yes!”‌ He finally broke, looking flustered at the suddenness of his words, but not regretting it. Logan blinked, but Patton continued, determined to make himself heard. “I‌ have been trying to tell you for months Logan, months. I‌ tried to be subtle, I tried to be obvious and yet still nothing. I‌ like you—I‌ like you a lot and I‌ have for a long time but you’ve always brushed me and my attempts off as being…childish or just not taking me or my advances seriously when I was really trying to tell you how I‌ felt.” Patton tucked his hands against himself, figuring he was deep enough into this now. “And I— I get it, if you don’t want to date me because I’m so small but the least you can do is take me seriously. For goodness sake, I didn’t think anything could be so frustrating, but good Lord almighty you’re a frustratingly oblivious human being. There. I said it.”

When Patton finally looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, said human looked awestruck. As if he didn’t know what to say at all. Logan shook his head and his eyes shifted down to the desktop, trying to work through everything his accomplice had just admitted to him.

“Patton I—”

“No, Logan, I‌ get it. Why would a human want to be with a borrower?‌ It’s silly and emotional and ugh.” Patton pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his face as he prepared himself for the inevitable rejection. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Now I‌ never said that.” The firmness in Logan’s tone was surprising enough that it made Patton look up, brown eyes meeting larger ones. “You didn’t give me nearly enough of a chance to answer you.”

The human loosened his tie and Patton’s eyes instantly followed the hands that did it, watching quietly as Logan’s Adam’s apple bobbed and feeling helpless and overwhelmed and flustered as all hell. A few buttons of Logan’s shirt were undone and he could see skin and holy shit. Immediately Patton swallowed nervously and moved his gaze away, trying to lessen the embarrassment he felt.

The human leaned a bit closer on his forearms, wanting to be somewhat more on Patton’s level, even as the borrower remained on the shelf and refused to look at him. “I‌ apologize if I’ve been a bit…dense when it comes to your romantic advances, but that does not mean I‌ appreciate them any less. If I‌ have managed to hurt your feelings because of it, I apologize for that as well as that was not my intention in the least.” When Patton didn’t look up at him, Logan dipped into a bit to the side and into Patton’s sight line. In that position, he couldn’t avoid his gaze. “If you’re willing to give me a chance, I‌ would like to treat you out to dinner?”

“You feel the same way?” Patton’s voice was small, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that Logan wasn’t just playing along to toy with him.

Which first of all, that would be cruel. And secondly, Logan did feel the same way now that there had been a word to place what he was feeling. The hot tightness in his chest whenever Patton looked up at him, beaming with a grin, big brown eyes flashing with excitement when Logan told him about something he had learned in one of his classes, the way they would sometimes talk long into the night even if Logan knew better than to do exactly that.

He had always chastised Virgil and Roman for doing the same thing, but Logan had always been more of a ‘do as I‌ say, not as I do’ kind of person. So maybe he was a bit of hypocrite. Sue him.

“I‌ do,”‌ Logan told him, giving Patton a small reassuring grin.

Logan’s chest felt warmer when that blinding smile returned, beaming, bright and handsome.

“You know,” Patton said after a minute, “I‌ don’t think you can really treat me out to dinner.”

“And why is that?”

Logan almost regretted asking as soon as he recognized that mischievous look behind Patton’s gaze.

“Oh, don’t—”

“Because we’d be on borrowed time!”‌ The borrower giggled, finding himself amusing. Logan groaned, of course, as the current onslaught of puns was something he was easily annoyed with. Not that wordplay was awful, just the fact that Patton used puns absolutely non-stop. “That and I’m a borrower. I‌ can’t be seen by other humans.”

“That I‌ am well aware of,” Logan said back, rolling his chair a bit more forward and beginning to type on his computer again. “We could order in and watch a movie? It certainly isn’t anything fancy but…”

“It’d be perfect.” Patton let his legs dangle over the edge of the shelf, leaning more forward, his heart pounding away in his chest at the thought of getting to really date the man he had been enamored with for months sunk in.

They could totally make this work.

[amethystlogan]

It’s More Than Just a Squishmallow

Alternatively - Patton’s Excuse to Buy All of the Squishmallows

Summary - Patton is adorable and gifts his famILY squishmallows. Fluff and comfort ensues.

Warnings - minor anxiety from Virgil towards the end

No romantic ships, a bunch of platonic fluff

Human AU

Patton loves many things. His roommates-turned friends-turned family top the list, but are quickly followed by a variety of small enjoyments, such as cookies, movie nights, onesie pajamas, all manner of fluffy animals, and many, many fandoms. But also on the list is a thing that Patton loves, but can quickly become problematic - plush toys and stuffed animals. The problem occurs because when Patton loves something, he can easily go a little... overboard, to say the least. Usually it’s easy enough for the others to reign him back in, especially when it comes to his collecting such things. After all. the six of them sharing an apartment leaves limited space for him to accumulate too many things. The general rule established was as long as Patton could keep his collections confined to his space, it was fine.

However, all reasoning went out the window when Patton discovered squishmallows. The others knew things could quickly get out of hand the moment he came home from a run to the store with the soft, squishy, cat-shaped blob clutched in his arms, his face practically glowing with happiness and excitement. Not even Logan, who would normally be strict about sticking to shopping lists and not splurging on such unnecessary purchases outside of special occasions, had the heart to chastise him.

The cat squishmallow found its home on Patton’s bed, and the others hoped that would be the end of it. But then Patton came home with another. And another. Almost every time he was sent on a shopping trip by himself, he came back with an embarrassed blush and proclamations of, “But look how cute he is!” and “It’s just one more, Logan. What’s the harm?” 

But now, Patton faced a dilemma as he stood in front of his bed, dinosaur squishmallow in his arms, with no place left to set it down. With his new squishmallows, combined with the other stuffed animals he’d already had, there was barely enough room for him to sleep, let alone continue his new collection. He pouted, looking down and the dinosaur. He needed to figure out something! If there wasn’t room in his space, he needed to justify using the shared space in the apartment. And he knew he could probably puppy-dog face his way into keeping this one, but it would likely be the last.

Patton sighed, sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, dinosaur balanced carefully on his lap. As he sat, smiling softly at this small, cuddly friend, he began to think of his real friends. Of their smiles, their hugs, their moments of happiness and almost child-like behavior that they seemed to save for Patton’s famILY movie nights or pajamas only Saturdays.

From across the room, lying on his bed with his sketchbook in his lap, doodling with Disney songs playing in his earbuds, Roman glanced up and could practically see the light bulb go off in Patton’s head. Roman paused his music and pulled out an earbud. “You good, Padre? For a moment you looked like Logan when he finally solved that twelve sided Rubix cube.”

Patton looked up, his eyes shining with excitement. “I’m good, Ro! Hey, can I ask your opinion real quick?” he asked, bouncing off his bed over to Roman’s side of their room, dinosaur in hand. “Absolutely!” he replied, setting his sketchbook aside, “Always happy to contribute in a moment of inspiration.” “Do you think Janus would like this?” Patton asked, holding up the dinosaur. “Run out of room to keep them yourself?” asked Roman, watching as a penguin squishmallow slowly slid off of Patton’s bed and onto the floor. Patton followed his gaze and shrugged impishly. “....Maybe?” He gave a small smile, and Roman couldn’t help but smile back. He turned back to the dinosaur Patton held. “Hm, I think Janus would love him. He likes all sorts of reptiles, and due to the general blobbish shape of these, he kind of resembles those snakes he is so fond of. This dino could be the perfect companion! Especially for those all-nighters he spends with his nose in his law textbooks.” Patton giggled, “yeah, maybe he’s pillow-y enough to convince him to actually go to bed, before Logan goes after him with his laminated sleep schedule again.” “Excellent idea. I think he’d really appreciate it, Patt.” “Thanks, kiddo! I’ll give it to him when he gets home.”

Janus had accepted the dinosaur with dignified gratitude, trying to express that he liked it without seeming overly excited, as he attempted to maintain his smooth indifference without hurting Patton’s feelings. But anyone could see that the dinosaur had immediately taken residence, metaphorically in Janus’ heart as a prized possession, and literally at his desk as his new study buddy. It was to no one’s surprise when Janus threatened to physically fite Remus after he almost spilled ink on the plush after bumping into Janus’ desk when leaving their room with his arms full of various messy art supplies. Janus could pretend sentimental affection for the toy due to it being a gift from Patton, but it was obvious he was soft for the dinosaur.

Thanks to the ink incident, it was clear to Patton which squishmallow to get Remus next time he was out. He practically squealed when patton handed him the purple, squishy octopus. “He won’t mind if you get ink on him, ‘cause he could use it for camouflage!” Patton explained, as Remus immediately hugged the toy to his chest, regardless of the ink and paint all over his shirt. “I love him!” Remus shrieked, pulling Patton into an equally crushing hug, before running off to his room, proclaiming, “Me and Inky are gonna plunge the depths of the ocean for inspiration! Anglerfish ink prints dead ahead!”

Logan shook his head fondly, failing to hide his smile at the interaction. “I suppose I should refrain from informing Remus that and octopus of such bright coloration would likely not be capable of accompanying him to such depths due to lack of sunlight?” “Oh, let him have his fun.” Patton said, flopping onto the couch next to Logan. “They’re adorable squishy blobs of animals, it doesn’t have to be realistic.” “I suppose there is some truth to such a sentiment, although I’m sure we are both aware he will begin to speak to it as though it is conscious.” “I know, but that’s part of the fun, too.” Logan gave a small smile to indicate understanding, if lack of agreement, before returning to his book.

And so,to cater to Logan’s clearly more scientific and practical preferences, patton got him a unicorn, but in key chain size. He figured Logan would be able to look past any scientific inaccuracies with an animal that wasn’t even real. And they were all aware of Logan’s fondness for the fantastical, as evidenced by his own onesie. Logan had given Patton a look over the top of his glasses rim when presented with it, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He had long ago given up the pretense of being all seriousness all of the time, and found to his surprise that the others respected him no less for it. However, he did choose to only indulge in such frivolity on occasion, such as his onesie only making an appearance at their monthly movie marathons. He did appreciate the mythology and folklore behind such creatures, but was grateful for the smaller, more inconspicuous size of the plush Patton had selected. He chose to attach it to the strap of his shoulder bag for library trips, but carefully tucked the unicorn into the bag. He would never deny sentimentality, but would prefer not to have it on display all of the time. And if Patton caught sight of him gently squeezing the small squishmallow with a fond expression after a particularly stressful day, he chose to make no mention of it.

Roman had honestly been a little trickier than Patton had expected. He’d been standing in that toy aisle for way to long, but it was a difficult choice. At a glance, his eye was caught by a lion squishmallow, which had seemed perfect for their own Gryffindor prince. But sitting behind the lion was a soft, light grey and white owl that drew Patton to reconsider, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain or describe just yet. But the longer he stood there looking at it, the more convinced he was that the little owl was just meant for Roman, even if he couldn’t say why.

It became clear when he got home, and found Roman in their room, almost in tears. He was fighting a major bout of artist’s block, and couldn’t seem to put pen to paper. No idea seemed good enough, bold enough. The white expanse of empty paper intimidated him, and he couldn’t find the courage or impulse that usually drove him through such moments. Even if he could make something, the mere thought of posting it anywhere, it scared him. 

But then Patton came in, pulled the sketchbook from his lap, and handed him that little owl squishmallow before pulling him into a hug. As Roman accepted the embrace, and began to calm down, he looked at that owl, soft and comforting, and he found that moment of reprieve that the others could only associate with Patton. Roman knew that he could always come back to his work later, with a fresh mind and new motivation. For now, he had Patton, and when Patton couldn’t be there, he had that little owl.

When Harry Potter faced hardships, he didn’t need the Gryffindor lion to bolster his courage, but a moment with his friends, or with the loyal owl that was there for him until the end. Hedwig the Second, as Patton affectionately called her, became Roman’s go-to for artist’s block, stress, sickness, or anything where he just needed that moment to regroup.

Virgil knew it was coming, he just didn’t know when. What had started as a simple excuse to buy more squishmallows had grown into a mission of sorts, and Virgil knew it was only a matter of days before he was gifted a squishmallow of his own. He didn’t entirely know what to expect, but hoped it would be a bat, or black cat, or something of the sort that would at least fit his aesthetic. His half of the room he shared with Logan was an emo’s dream after all. He figured Patton knew him well enough to suit the plush to the black and purple scheme he had going. But after Logan’s unicorn, he really couldn’t guess what Patton would do.

The very last thing he expected was the pastel blue dragon squishmallow that might have been as big as Patton himself that Virgil found sitting on his bed when he got home from class. But he couldn’t find it in him to care about his “rep” for the moment, as he was about two steps from an anxiety attack. He’d woken up that morning on edge, it was just going to be one of those days. Class had been awful, he hadn’t understood the lecture, and his fellow students had decided to be louder than usual leaving the lecture hall, only making him more uneasy and overwhelmed. Then he’d nearly gotten run over in the crosswalk coming into the apartment building. It didn’t help that it was one of those rare afternoons when everyone else was out, either in class, at work, or at rehearsal for Roman.

So Virgil stood in the doorway of his room, in an empty apartment, shaking, trying to fight back tears, and found himself facing the light, fuzzy blob of comfort that he knew had come from Patton. Virgil choked out a laugh, wiping at his eyes as he toed off his shoes and climbed into his bed, cuddling the dragon close. He breathed deeply, and slowly. In, and out. He could almost hear what Patton would be saying. He was okay. Logan could help him sort out his class notes. The car hadn’t really been that close outside, the sudden honking was just jarring. He was okay. In, and out. He was home, he was safe, it was quiet. The others would be home soon. He fell asleep shortly after calming down, with thoughts of his friends in his mind and the soft, soothing crinkles of the dragons wings and scales under his fingers.

It may have looked quite out of place in his room, but to Virgil, it didn’t matter. That dragon was his new protection from overrunning thoughts when the others couldn’t be there. And when Patton got home that night, he found himself tackled in hugs, and the dragon found a permanent spot right on Virgil’s bed.

Suffice to say, the others never again thought it a problem that Patton like to collect a few too many of the things he loved, because his famILY was still at the top of his list.

[nekoabiwrites]

Of Princes and Potions 2 - Chapter 2

I’ve found my rhythm with this fic... just before I’m due to fly out to America. Good thing I have two more chapters of this prepared!!

(Yikes I had a real moment trying to post this. I forgot multiple things...)

AU: Royal/Fantasy Pairing: Logince Words: 2359 Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit. Anything else let me know!

Summary: Things are going well for Logan in his relationship. The family love him and accept him, his boyfriend is still as loving as ever, though... someone has requested him?

---

Months passed by and things quietened back down to a relatively normal level. The prince and mage’s relationship was progressing wonderfully, though it may not have looked that way to some of the public. The two had made several appearances and, in each one, they seemed to bicker and argue. Logan did this with his usual stoic demeanour, while Roman got fired up and antsy each time, but it definitely looked as though the two enjoyed themselves in these moments.

Logan was finding his personal life to be changing quite significantly. He was being integrated into the royal family far quicker than he had expected. He was invited to family meals – which also included Virgil from time to time – before being whisked away to assist in various tasks. One of which was instructing the younger of the princes, who seemed all too interested in Logan’s magic and potions.

The mage was walking down the hall, away from the dining room after yet another full family breakfast, intent on getting up to his tower to complete some work. Shouting from behind had him stopping in his tracks.

“MR MAGIC! WAIT!”

“THOMAS! GET BACK HERE!”

Logan turned and saw Thomas come barrelling down the hallway towards him, with Roman hot on his heels. Both of them were definitely not going to stop in time to avoid crashing into him, even though Roman was very quickly catching up to his brother. Fearing the worst, Logan darted away and pressed himself against the wall. It was just in time too, as he could feel the end of his cloak whip Roman’s legs as he finally managed to scoop Thomas up into his arms. His momentum wouldn’t allow him to stop right there, so he continued a few more steps before coming to a halt. Logan stayed leaning against the wall but turned to look down the hallway, still trying to fully process what just happened before him.

Roman, after catching his breath a little, started to chastise the squirming Thomas in his arms, “Thomas, you shouldn’t run after people like that. You could have hurt Logan!”

“No, I couldn’t! Mr Magic would be okay! Put me dooooown!” The younger prince attempted valiantly to wriggle out of Roman’s arms, his eyes shut tight as he did so.

“What were you even going to do once you caught up to him?!” Roman turned to face his partner, “I apologise for my brother, Logan. Again.” Roman glared at Thomas, who stuck his tongue out at his older brother.

Logan finally peeled himself away from the wall, brushing down his cloak in an attempt to avoid looking sheepish, “It is quite alright. I know that he did not mean to harm me, he was simply excited. Though, about what, I am not quite sure…” The mage inquisitively looked towards the child, who stilled immediately and looked up at him with shining eyes.

“I want to see more magic! Please, please, please! I’ll be real good. I promise!” Thomas begged, clasping his small hands in front of his face and attempting an exaggerated – yet effective – pleading look. The way his bottom lip stuck out and the hope in his eyes broke Logan’s resolve far too quickly and he agreed to let the young prince tag along with him for part of the day.

The unlikely pair made their way towards Logan’s tower; Thomas chatting excitedly about what cool spells Logan could possibly already know and if Logan could teach him, to which Logan merely offered a gentle smile and short answer that boiled down to ‘We’ll see if you have what it takes.’ Roman stood still in the middle of the corridor, pouting with his arms folded tightly across his chest. “Now what am I supposed to do?” He huffed and stalked off in the opposite direction, a little miffed that his boyfriend had essentially chosen his little brother over him… but he’d get over it.

Once in the tower, Thomas settled himself in a chair that Logan had pulled out for him and kicked his legs back and forth as he waited beside Logan’s potion desk. His head was following the mage’s every movement as he grabbed various ingredients and bottles and liquids and all sorts of other things from shelves around the room. He asked questions about everything and Logan was more than happy to indulge Thomas’ inquisitive nature. As Logan began to set all his equipment up, Thomas had many questions about each of the ingredients he’d brought over to the desk and Logan listed each of them off alongside their properties and what they were good for. The young prince was utterly fascinated, if the look on his face was anything to go by when Logan turned to glance at him. He’d been silent the entire time that Logan had rambled on and on about ingredients and the mage had definitely become a little worried that Thomas was bored, but it did not seem to be the case.

Thomas was also the perfect assistant to have around for trickier parts of the process. On a few separate occasions, Logan had enlisted the help of Virgil or Demitri – none of which had gone all that well. He shuddered to even remember the disarray his tower had been left in when Virgil had not been able to hold still, or the pure chaos that had occurred when Strix had interrupted and distracted Demitri. Either way, Logan was happy to have such a good assistant now. Thomas listened and did everything perfectly, just the way Logan asked. He even kept his questions until after they’d completed the hard parts – a lesson they’d both learned the hard way a couple of months prior and still had the light bruises to remember it by.

But, in no time at all, lunchtime came, and Thomas was called away to return to his schedule, which left Logan to work on more ‘boring’ things – at least, by the young prince’s standards. His potion was bubbling away nicely and the rustling of the trees outside his open window soothed Logan as he poured over a few new spells in the book he’d been making his way through. He got lost in his comfortable atmosphere until someone gently pushed open the door to his room, calling out to him as they did so.

“Sir Pendry. You have been requested to join the royal family in the dining hall.” The knight in the doorway addressed him, eyes firmly fixated on the opposite wall rather than the mage’s own face.

Logan sighed internally, placed the string as his bookmark once again and reached for his robe, “Thank you for informing me. Please, go on ahead and let the king know I will be present as soon as possible.” He waited to hear the heavy footsteps of the knight descending the spiral stairs before he even considered throwing the robe over himself. As he began his slightly slower journey towards the dining hall, Logan reflected on the changes going on around him.

He had become far closer to the royals than he’d ever even imagined, and it was all seeming like it was working just fine. But then, everyone else in the castle was suddenly far more distant. Yes, they’d always been somewhat formal, most likely due to his reputation and his closeness with the captain. But not once had they treated him quite like they had been ever since Roman’s birthday. It was a little uncomfortable, as it made it more obvious how much had changed while Logan was trying his hardest to make sure not much did. As Logan turned the final corner and saw the ajar door just ahead of him, he pushed the thoughts from his mind. None of the royals needed to know about his silly little worries. Logan was sure it would all be fine in the end anyway.

After seating himself down in his designated chair, Logan was greeted with a soft kiss on the cheek from his boyfriend. It was still new, and a little startling, but Logan had to admit to himself that some of the changes happening around him weren’t all that bad when given a second thought.

Spending dinner with the royals was definitely one of those. His old meals were solitary and isolated, sometimes they didn’t occur at all due to him losing track of time in his studies. But now, his meal times were filled with chatter from the family he’d been welcomed into. Logan was still trying to adjust to it all and, thankfully, all three of the Sanders were allowing him the space to do so.

“Oh, Logan. I had almost forgotten.” Patton addressed him as their plates were being taken away. “Demitri has requested you go and see him whenever you can. Apparently he requires your unique talents.” The king grinned widely and seemed far too excited about something that he wasn’t even involved in.

“Do you have any idea as to what it could be, your maj- uh, Patton?” Logan quickly corrected himself before Patton could give him The Look. Sure, it was clearly teasing, but it managed to get Logan to feel some form of guilt at still continuing to call him by such a formal title.

Patton shook his head with a shrug, “No idea. He didn’t tell me a thing. But I’m sure you’re more than capable! You are the most accomplished magician in the kingdom, after all!”

“Besides all that, you must pass on this message to him.” Roman cut in, stopping Logan from graciously thanking the king for passing on the message. The dramatic prince turned sharply in his chair and quickly grabbed a hold of both of Logan’s hands, clasping them between his own whilst staring deeply into Logan’s eyes – a gaze that was both alluring and frightening to the mage. “You tell him that if he allows any harm to befall you, that if even a single hair on your head be damaged, he shall have me to answer to.”

“Why, Roman, it seems as though you have an idea as to what Demitri is asking me for. Would you mind elaborating?” Logan responded, sarcasm dripping through his deadpan response as his face turned neutral.

Roman gaped for a few seconds, clearly searching his brain for something before theatrically throwing out idea after idea, each one becoming more spectacular and unrealistic as time progressed. Once Roman threw out the idea of Demitri asking him to come along to tame a pack of dragons by ensnaring it’s leader in magical rocks and vines, Logan pushed his chair away and stood.

“All of those theories are quite creative. But please refrain from wasting my time on such stories.” Logan said, the slight twitch to his lips giving away that he was clearly teasing the prince. He headed towards the door, making sure to thank the king for yet another invitation to dinner. Just as he was about to cross the threshold of the room, a hand grasped Logan’s wrist and spun him around, bringing him face to face with the crown prince.

Roman’s voice was soft and low, quiet enough for only Logan to entirely make out the words that were being said, “Is there a way you would prefer me to waste your time? With my active imagination, there are many ways I can come up with to do so… if you so desire.”

Logan’s face immediately flushed as Roman’s words sank in and he was left speechless. Even after all the time before and after the incident with the potion, Logan was still not used to such flirtatious words. It was especially mortifying that they were so close to Roman’s own family members while he was propositioning him in such a manner. Logan let out a slow breath and placed a quick but lingering kiss to Roman’s lips as they hovered so tantalisingly just above his own. “I would be… interested in hearing some of these ideas of yours sometime. However, I have matters to attend to, as you are well aware.” Logan responded, keeping his own voice low in volume too.

“I’ll keep your request in mind.” Roman’s eyes lit up before pressing a feather light kiss on Logan’s hand, which he slowly raised between them. “I shall let you go now. I am so very sorry for keeping you here for longer than you intended, Logan.” Roman’s volume was back to normal, though he was still poking fun at his boyfriend.

“Yes, well… you should consider other people’s responsibilities before you impede on their schedule like that.” Logan cleared his throat as he stepped away, “Now, if you will all excuse me, I shall go and find out what Demitri would like from me. Good evening.” With that, Logan bowed and headed off towards the grounds.

It had taken a while as Logan had to check every building the littered the animal habitat the royals owned as Demitri had clearly not been in his room. Eventually, the mage found the man in the furthest away barn.

“Good evening, Demitri. I was informed that you requested me to assist you in some way?” Logan called out as he entered, causing Demitri to turn in his direction.

The animal handler smiled a crooked smile, getting back up to his feet, “Yes, I did. This is a problem that can only be solved by the combination of our… expertise.” Demitri put extra emphasis on the final word, his smile dropping as he stared into Logan’s eyes, now serious. It seemed to be habit, but Demitri’s hand also came to brush against the scarred half of his face, almost as if he were trying to pick at something.

Logan stepped forward and pushed Demitri’s hand down, bringing attention to the gesture. Demitri flinched away after a moment of realisation and he looked sheepishly down to the ground beneath his feet. Logan thought to ask about it, but he realised that was only likely to push the man away even more, so he refrained. Instead, he asked, “So, how can I help?”

---

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[teacupfulofstarshine]

SPOOKY SCARY SANDERS SIDES 14

@sanderssidesspook

PROMPT: day 14: pumpkin spice lattes

SUMMARY: logan and virgil enjoy pumpkin spice lattes in secret. roman and patton find out. 

WORD COUNT: ~688

TW: none that i can think of! 

read it on ao3!!! 

Virgil wraps his hands around the paper coffee cup and gently blows on it. Steam wafts across the living room, and he leans as close as he dares to sniff the delectable flavor. As far as he knows, the only other boyfriend in his apartment right now is Logan, and Logan’s not gonna judge him for indulging in a guilty pleasure that they both share.

He closes his eyes, presses his lips to the plastic lid, and very gently tips his head and the cup back to allow the sweet, warm drink to slip down his throat. Pumpkin spice floods his mouth, and he shivers a little. It tastes absolutely amazing, and even though he’ll mock it to hell and back, he can’t deny that he enjoys pumpkin spice lattes.

He hears footsteps and freezes, but it’s only Logan, wearing his unicorn onesie and carrying his own pumpkin spice latte. He sits on the couch and tucks his feet up beneath him, happily and sleepily snuggling into Virgil. “Hey, Virge,” he mumbles.

“Hey there, Lolo,” he replies. Logan tilts his head and gently kisses Virgil’s jaw before sipping at his latte. Virgil takes another sip of his own and leans his head onto Logan’s. Patton and Roman are doing something dramatic and Halloween-themed, which means they have the apartment to themselves and their nap and their pumpkin spice lattes.

Logan makes it about halfway through his drink before he falls asleep, and Virgil (who’s been carefully monitoring him) manages to catch his cup before it falls off his lap and spills all over the carpet. He sets the half-full drink on the coffee table and takes another long, contented sip of his latte.

Virgil’s latte is all but gone, the empty cup on the end table next to him, and he’s falling asleep on a lightly snoring Logan when the door opens. He dimly registers Roman’s and Patton’s voices, but he’s too cozy and warm to want to get up. Logan grumbles sleepily and nuzzles into the curve of Virgil’s neck and shoulder.

“Awww, you two are so cute!” Patton coos. Virgil hears the distinctive sharp click! of Patton’s phone camera, but he can’t bring himself to be too bothered about it. Patton takes photos of a lot of weird shit, but Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if this particular photo happens to end up as Patton’s phone wallpaper.

“Allow me to clear this debris from – well, well, well, what have we here?” Roman drawls. Virgil opens one eye halfway to see Roman holding Logan’s half-empty coffee cup and swishing the liquid back and forth, sniffing at it.

“Roman, stop that!” Patton says disapprovingly. “You don’t know what that is!” “Oh, but I do know what this is,” Roman says gleefully. “This, Patton, is nothing other than a pumpkin spice latte, with none other than our own dear Logan’s name on it in Sharpie! And would you look at that – a matching empty cup with Virgil’s name on it! Now, what could be the meaning of this, I wonder!” “Knock it off, Princey,” Virgil mutters. Both of his boyfriends seem surprised that he’s awake, but that doesn’t stop Roman from launching into one of his patented Offended Prince Tirades™.

“You make fun of me for drinking pumpkin spice lattes all the time!” he screeches.

“Ssshhhh, Ro, don’t wake up Logan!” Patton chastises.

“And you have the nerve to go and drink them with Logan behind my back!”

“I’m not making fun of you because you drink pumpkin spice lattes,” Virgil says. “I’m making fun of you because you drink pumpkin spice lattes and you act like a stereotypical teenage white girl. I don’t have an issue with the drinks. You’re just a ridiculous man.”

Roman makes a serious of offended squeaking noises and wild gestures before settling for downing what’s left of Logan’s latte and storming into the kitchen to dispose of the paper cups. “You could be a little nicer, you know,” Patton says.

Virgil grins and curls into Logan, already falling back to sleep. “Yeah, I could, but let’s be honest, Pat – where’s the fun in that?”

[exhaustedfander]

One shot request intruality, Patton and Remus having a conversation about their insecurities. Mostly focusing on how they both have times of struggling to understand the other sides ex. Making some changes

This isn’t exactly what was requested, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I had a lot of fun with this one! 

Word Count: 3,322

Summary: Recently, Patton and Remus's relationship has begun to change. When Patton lets a pet name slip by accident, a much-needed conversation takes place.

ao3 link

Sweet Pea

To say that Remus hadn’t been expecting any of this would be a gross understatement. He is by no means the kind of side to have too many expectations; when your whole thing is being unpredictable, you learn to stop expecting things and simply see what life chucks your way. Even so, having a relationship with Patton of any kind has thrown him for a loop like very few things can.

It isn’t as though Remus has a vendetta against Patton. Sure, the guy is a lot more clean-cut then his style, which is to say, not a rat-man, and he indulges in far fewer of life’s pleasures than Remus does, but he doesn’t hate him. For a while there, he’d been real fun to mess with, knowing Patton was so afraid of him. So much as walking into a room could set the fatherly side on edge, and wasn’t that just the best? He adored messing with any of the others, but Patton was by far the easiest.

The only problem is, it’s become a hell of a lot less fun with Patton since the massive shift that’s occurred between them. When Janus got accepted into the “good guys,” Remus was convinced that his role likely wouldn’t change – which he was totally fine with! He’s been the same old Duke for years, even if Thomas hadn’t known about him for almost the entirety of his life, and that was okey-doke. But… after Janus found himself a seat at the table, so it seemed, did Remus.

It isn’t as though he’s been given the green light to try and convince Thomas to do absolutely anything he wants to do, as fun as that would be. But the weird thing is, Patton had apologized to him. Morality, who’d been so wary of him for so long, had told him that he had been judging him too harshly and that surely, there was a lot of good in him. Remus isn’t one to have expectations, but that had struck him as odd. Why the fuck would Patton want him to be around, considering all he represented? Why would morality want anything to do with him?

As weird as everything is, Remus had been under the impression that Patton was merely tolerating him, maybe in an attempt to make the others believe he was making nice with everyone. At first, Remus kept up his usual behavior, obnoxious and crude, but it didn’t rattle Patton like it used to. Sure, he’d get a surprised shriek or two when he dangled from the ceiling from one of his tentacles or rose up unexpectedly, but then Patton would simply smile at him and say hello.

 Patton isn’t scared of him, not anymore, and Remus doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

He’s used to others being unnerved in his presence, considering who he is. But since Patton has been alright with him hanging around them more and more, he’s noticed them doing more to tolerate him as well. Roman is, well, he isn’t complaining about him quite as much as usual. He’s even stopped chastising him every time he comes into the imagination claiming he’ll “Ruin everything!”, even if it is their shared domain. Virgil still seems fairly irritated with him, but that’s nothing new and Remus doesn’t mind. Logan is being far more considerate of him then he’d think, considering he’d chucked throwing stars at his face before. Janus has always at the very least tolerated him, so that’s just peachy-keen. The other sides are being considerate enough not to complain every time he’s near, but Patton has gone above and beyond in welcoming him lately. And that… is decidedly very weird.

He's invited him to come to dinner, even encouraging that he can eat whatever he wants, no matter how seemingly inedible��it is. It’s certainly amusing to see the looks on the other’s faces when he sits down at the dinner table as if he belongs there; he doesn’t think he belongs there, but that’s beside the point.

Patton does everything he can to keep things civil at the table, to a point where Remus is almost impressed if he weren’t such an agent of chaos himself. He nips blossoming spats between Virgil and Janus in the bud as quickly as they arise and he tells jokes and puns that Remus can’t help but find a little endearing, in a silly, dad way. Remus decides to tell some jokes of his own, and while they are on the harsher and more disgusting side, he elicits a few chuckles from Patton while the rest of them simply roll their eyes.

It doesn’t make any sense; Patton has just stopped being terrified of him, and now here he is, morality, giggling at Remus’s mention of cannibalism. Has the world gone mad? Has he gone mad? Quite possibly.

Things only grow stranger from that point on. Patton speaks often with Remus, encouraging him that they are getting to be “real good friends” and Remus is even invited to movie nights (“I’m afraid your birthday suit is not an acceptable outfit for movie night, kiddo).

It isn’t hard to tell that the others are at least somewhat displeased with him being there, for the most part. Sure, Janus doesn’t have any problems with him, and Logan doesn’t seem to hate him, but Roman is clearly very agitated and Virgil seems to be doing everything in his power to ignore him. And yet Patton, of all sides, continues to provide so much warmth and joy his way it almost made him want to puke.

Remus isn’t used to this kind of treatment. Even with Janus, someone he considers his closest friend, there is very little affection between them. Remus is used to being the gross one, the nuisance, the “problem child.” Being fawned over is a completely new experience and one he can’t decide how he feels about. Patton isn’t scared of him anymore, and that was kind of a bummer at first, but now? Well, now Remus isn’t quite sure what the hell is going on.

After movie night of a few Disney films, everyone else had decided to hit the hay, yet Patton and Remus remain. Remus is sure any moment now Patton will rise from his spot and declare that he is going to sleep, too. Except… that isn’t what happens.

Instead, Patton asks Remus if he has any movie recommendations, something they could watch, just the two of them.

“I don’t think my kind of movies are really your style, Pattycake,” Remus insists, thoroughly shocked that Patton would so much as ask. The fatherly side shakes his head.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t give it a try. I’d like to watch something you enjoy for a change,” Patton says, smiling kindly, “If it’s really that bad, I’m sure I could just let you know.” That seems okay, Remus supposes.

“Yeah, alright. But don’t complain to me when you get sweet little nightmares,” Remus warns, though in actuality he doesn’t plan on showing Patton anything too intense. Before, the idea of giving Patton nightmares was positively delicious, but now – now it made him feel kinda sick, and not in a good way, either.

Remus decides to pop in The Cabin in the Woods, seeing as it is a comedy as well as horror and fairly silly, despite the gore. He’s sure Patton won’t be too much of a fan of it and bail out early on, and yet here he remains, sitting close to him on the couch and looking intently at the screen.

Remus realizes maybe he doesn’t know as much about Patton as he thought he did when he giggles a bit at a scene of people being mascaraed by a large group of monsters running amuck, laughing particularly hard when a character meets a gruesome fate at the hand of a less than conventionally attractive merman. All the while the movie has been going, Remus notices that Patton has been inching closer and closer until his head is resting on his shoulder. The thought of Patton willingly being so close to him sends a strange feeling of contentment through him. For most of their lives, Patton has been so wary of him, and now he’s almost as close as he can get. Why would something as silly as Patton laying his head on his shoulder make him feel so strange?

Remus is almost positive that he is going to burst into flames when Patton smiles at him once the film had ended and says: “I don’t know what you were worried about. That was a really fun movie, Sweet Pea.”

Remus jerks away, scooting to the edge of the couch while Patton shoots him a look of concern.

“Remus, are you okay?”

“What… what did you just call me?” Patton blinks.

“…Huh?”

“You called me Sweet Pea. Why – why the hell did you do that for?” Even in the fairly dark living room, Remus can see the blush that’s spread across Patton’s face, meaning his own flushed cheeks are visible as well. Patton wrings his hands, apprehension present in the action.

“W-well, I dunno, I guess it just kinda… slipped?” Patton offers weakly, praying Remus will accept the answer without fighting it any more than that. Of course, that’s not to be the case.

“It slipped?” Remus asks incredulously. “Why in the world would you use a word like that to describe me?” Patton doesn’t respond for a moment, his eyes settled on his lap, refusing to answer Remus’s burning question. After a minute or so, though, Patton speaks.

“Things have been different between us lately, haven’t they?”

The question hangs heavy in the air. Remus barely knows how to respond. Of course, things have been different; Patton’s actively professed he enjoys hanging-out, to say things hadn’t changed would be a blatant lie.

“I mean… yeah. You’ve been all sweet with me, I guess. Which you get is weird, right?”

“Why would it be weird?” Patton asks, so genuinely it hurts.

“Because,” Remus says as though Patton’s a lunatic for asking the question, gesturing vaguely to himself, “I’m me! Intrusive thoughts, remember? Everything nasty that’s been shut away for the last thirty-years; everything you hate.” Patton’s mouth creases into a frown.

“I don’t hate you, Remus. I… well, I never have. I was just scared of you, once, but I just didn’t understand you then.” Remus scoffs.

“And now you understand me completely?”

“I never said that. But…” Patton hesitates, biting his lip before extending Remus his hand, “I want to. I want to know you better. I was so lost in the belief that I knew best for so long… and I’ll always be sorry for that. I’m sorry for the way that I treated you and Janus; it wasn’t right of me. Not at all. But I’m trying. I want to know you guys. I want to know you, Remus.”

Remus retracts his hand, the warmth in his chest bursting into flames, a fire that’s sure to burn down everything that it touches.

“You don’t want that,” he insists, his eyes training on the wall, eager to avoid the heavy weight of Patton’s gaze.

“But I do!”

“No, you just think you do,” Remus grits through his teeth, the fire bathing him in a horrible warmth, “You – you just think you want that. But you don’t. You’re too sweet for that. Too sweet to know me that way. You’ll quit while you’re ahead if you know what’s good for you.” Remus rises to his feet, positive the fire is enveloping him now, positive to burn him to the ground. With each passing second, he burns a little brighter, skin melting and bones turning to ash. The feeling is something horrible, he realizes, more abhorrent than anything he could possibly conjure.

Remus is falling in love with Patton.

Remus shivers as Patton grabs a hold of his wrist, keeping him from feeling. Doesn’t he get it; Remus is trying to keep him from perishing in the fire as well. He’ll die alone, go up and smoke if it means Patton is safe.

“Patton – let go,” Remus says, the request a beg more than anything else. Patton shakes his head, determination brimming in his eyes.

“I won’t. I’m not letting you leave, Remus.”

Remus pulls harder, shocked by the sheer strength Patton is exhibiting. If it were anyone else, he’d do anything to escape, biting, scratching, and clawing his way out, if necessary. But Patton isn’t anyone else and he’s been stupid enough to develop dangerously strong feelings. Patton calling him something so soft and painfully domestic has awoken something fragile in him, and he intends to put an end to it.

“Why not? Why the fuck are you trying so hard to be nice to me? Why do you care?”

“Because…” Patton swallows the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets go and admits it, “I like you!”

“Wh-what?”

“I said: I like you. I’ve been spending time with you because I want to. I want you to feel welcomed, I want you to know you have a place here. But also because I like you. A lot.” Finally, Patton’s released him, and yet Remus can’t find it in himself to run away.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do!” Patton maintains, his eyes burning with a sincerity that’s scaring the hell out of Remus, “Lately, I’ve seen you light up and… I like that. I like seeing you so much happier, I like seeing you and Jan joking in the commons and at the dinner table. I like it when you greet me in silly ways when you hang from the ceiling with your tentacles or jump from behind the couch. I like the time we spend together; I like that I’m getting to know you more.

“I like you, Remus. And if you don’t feel the same… then I understand. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry… again. But I need you to understand that I want this, I want to hang out, I want to watch movies that you pick out. I want you to be real with me because you can! I’m not afraid of you anymore, and I never want to be ever again. Liking you is much better than that.”

Remus doesn’t know how to respond. The fire is incasing him now, but he’s not sure if he’s going to be reduced to a pile of ashes anymore. Patton is offering so much, more than he realizes. He’s offering the kindness he’s already shown him, offering understanding unlike he’s ever known, offering intimacy unlike he’s ever experienced. And he could turn away and forget this ever happened if he so desired. Patton’s giving him that option, too, no matter how much it’s clear that he doesn’t want to. All because of some sappy nickname being said accidentally, Remus is being extended an opportunity he never envisioned for himself.

Remus has the chance to get to know Patton for everything that he is, faults and all, a chance to see the moral side down to his very core. And, in turn, he’s being given the chance to be known himself, in a way he didn’t think anyone would ever truly be interested. It would be a major understatement to say he’s a little overwhelmed.

“Do you… do you mean it?” He hates the vulnerability in his wavering voice, threatening to break. He hasn’t felt so overrun by emotions of this caliber in years, used to being brushed aside and ignored. Patton smiles, so genuinely Remus is almost positive the heart he wasn’t aware of owning is about to burst.

“With all my heart,” Patton says, and that’s the straw that breaks the Camel’s back.

Remus launches himself forward, throwing his arms around the moral side and burying his face in his neck. Patton stiffens for a moment, caught off-guard before returning the embrace with nearly as much vigor.

“Me too,” Remus says, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he clings to Patton, the fire no less lively but dying down in terms of threat, “I like you too, Patton. A-a lot. More than bugs, or blood and guts, or all the deodorant in the world.” Patton laughs at that, the sound bright and so full of joy as he runs a hand through Remus’s frazzled hair.

“Well, what a lucky guy I am,” Patton says, though his tone is nothing but serious.

After a moment they part long enough to sit back down on the couch, though Remus is quick to place himself right in Patton’s lap, his legs wrapping around the moral side’s waist. Remus has never known much in the ways of personal space and Patton is almost always eager to hug the nearest person to him, combining to an unlikely but very cuddly pair.

“Hey, Remus, how many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?” Patton asks. The smile that’s crept onto Remus’s face and refused to leave grows.

“I dunno, Pattycake, how many?”

“Ten tickles!” Patton says before unleashing an onslaught of tickles onto Remus, earning a trail of giggles Patton is sure is one of the loveliest things he’s ever heard.

“Sta-stop it! knock it off, Pat or I’ll-I’ll claw your eyes out!” Remus warns jokingly, peeling off into another peel of laughter before Patton stops.

“Hey, Sweet Pea?” Patton asks after a moment. The nickname surprises Remus, but this time he’s a little more prepared for it.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, his hands cupping Remus’s face gently. Remus nods quickly, smiling as Patton leans in and closes the gap. The embrace is gentle, perhaps gentler than would be expected of Remus, but it’s nothing short of incredible. Remus relishes in the feeling of Patton’s soft lips, his hands burying themselves in Patton’s curls.

“Hey,” Remus says as they break apart, already intent on kissing Patton senseless the next chance he gets. For now, though, he’s drowning in the warmth that’s surrounding him, in the softness he’s suddenly been allowed.

“Hi,” Patton responds, his smile just as wide as Remus’s.

“You’re a damn good kisser, Cookie.” Patton turns three shades redder in a matter of seconds. “Aww, you got all embarrassed! You like me calling you my cookie?”

“Stop it, Remus!” Patton says with a giggle.

“What? You’re so sweet, I can’t help it.” “Remus.”

“Oh, so you can call me sweet pea, but I can’t call you cookie. How’s about my buttercup? Honeybee? Cutie Pie?”

“Remus,” Patton says, before pressing his lips to the intrusive side’s again, effectively silencing him.

Not long ago, Patton was terrified of Remus. Terrified of what he represented and what that could mean for Thomas. But that isn’t the case anymore, not nearly. Affection has grown between them without either of them realizing. They still don’t entirely know each other, not yet. But they will. Patton’s grown so much, accepting the faults in his thinking, and with Remus’s help, he’s sure he’ll continue to change for the better.

Remus never counted on intimacy, not seeing how it could possibly be in the cards. And yet here he is, embracing someone he hasn’t always understood but is now so desperate to now. Remus doesn’t entirely know if he’s built for this kind of tenderness, knowing that it wouldn’t be impossible for things to shift back and for Patton’s fear to remerge. For now, though, Remus doesn’t focus on the nagging thoughts of what could go wrong, simply embracing what’s right in front of him.

They put on another movie, going to bed at a reasonable time out the window, though it takes very little time for them to fall asleep in each other’s arms, the TV still playing some long since forgotten horror movie.

=+=

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