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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 2 years

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They Call Me Wicked (That Makes Me Glad) (pt 1/?)

That’s right! This is my Light Sides VKs AU!

[Next>]

Word Count: 2016

Rating: teen

Pairings: platonic Anxceit (they’re engaged, but they’re just best friends)

Since it’s the first part I’ll just let you know right now that the endgame ships are Moceit, Analogical, and Rosleep

Warnings: minor swearing, misgendering (by people who he’s not out to), arranged engagement, yelling

~~~START~~~

“Are your shoes polished enough? Maybe we should find you a different pair. And this coat! Are you sure it fits well in the shoulders? You’re a growing prince and you need to–”

Janus was resolved to standing perfectly still until his mother finally satisfied herself. She’d been nervous about this party all day and now that it was finally here, her nervous energy had somehow dialed up to an eleven.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d react once it was time for his actual wedding — much less his coronation!

“I think he looks very handsome,” a new voice cut in, the mocking tone subtle enough that only Janus would be able to pick it up. “Not a hair out of place.”

“Annie!” Mother gasped, all but launching herself at the newcomer, pulling them into a fierce hug.

Janus and ‘Annie’ exchanged a commiserative look over Queen Belle’s shoulder.

Thank you, Janus mouthed. He received a smirk in return.

“You look splendid darling, absolutely splendid!” Mother gushed, pulling away slightly to look over Janus’s fiancée’s dress. “I’m so glad that Janus decided to pop the question!”

“Decided” wasn’t exactly accurate. Janus and ‘Annie’ had been promised to each other since birth, all Janus had done was fulfill his duty and propose to his best friend in the most sickeningly romantic way that both of them had hated with a passion, but had made their mothers swoon. Neither of them got a choice, they had to be the perfect prince and princess that their parents expected.

For now, at least. Once Janus was crowned King in two months, he could change things.

The only thing that stopped Janus’s mother from fretting over ‘Annie’ the way she’d been fretting over Janus was King Adam’s arrival.

“Come, my dear, it’s time to join the party.” Belle was at her husband’s side in an instant, gazing up at him with the same love and adoration she always had when looking at her true love, her husband that she’d chosen herself.

(Janus was not upset at the hypocrisy, what would make you say that?)

“We’ll see you two in a minute,” Belle smiled. “You’ll do great!”

Adam said nothing, but he shot Janus a look that said “make me proud, son,” before he and his Queen turned to the ornate doors that led out to the top of the grand staircase in the ballroom. The doors were opened seconds later, and a harold could be heard announcing “his majesty, King Adam, and her majesty, Queen Belle.”

The doors shut after the King and Queen, leaving Janus and his fiancé alone.

“Boring, outdated pageantry,” Virgil huffed as soon as they were gone, slouching over so far that Janus might think he was about to fall over if he didn’t know the other prince so well. “Think anyone would notice if we just blew this whole party off?”

“Considering it is a party for us,” Janus smirked, barely holding in a chuckle. “I think people would notice. It’s a shame Flora didn’t let you keep the purple, it suited you well,” he mused, tucking a long strand of golden hair behind Virgil’s ear.

Two days ago, Virgil had convinced Merryweather to turn his hair purple — a compromise since no one would allow him to cut his hair short. Unfortunately, Flora had seen it and changed it back before his parents — or heaven forbid, his grandparents — saw it.

Virgil grumbled again, but a page knocked on the door before he could reply. That was the signal, in thirty seconds, the doors would be opened, and “his highness, Prince Janus and his fiancée, Princess Annabel” would be announced to Auradon for the first time.

Janus sighed and offered his right hand, palm up to Virgil as was traditional. Virgil in turn would place his left hand, palm down over it, showing off his engagement ring.

The engagement ring was one of the only things that Janus was allowed to pick out himself… mostly. He’d chosen the black band with inlaid gems himself, but the yellow sapphires were his family’s stone, and a nonnegotiable feature of the ring. The black hadn’t been well received by either of their families, but Janus had pretty successfully argued that the black would make the golden gems standout all the more.

(And while it was true that the black complimented the yellow well, the actual reason was to fit in better with Virgil’s emo aesthetic.)

The pair only had time to plaster pleasant smiles over their mutual loathing of the entire event before the doors were opened and the harold was announcing them.

They held their position at the top of the stairs for a moment as the guests — made up almost entirely of the other (lesser) kings, queens, princes, and princesses of Auradon — clapped politely.

They were a striking pair.

Virgil in a dress made to call back upon his mother’s old dress from her sixteenth birthday, though more modern and in his usual purple (a compromise reached long ago by Flora and Merryweather), with small details of black and gold meant to compliment both Janus and the ring. His long golden hair flowed down his back in loose curls with only his mother’s old crown as decoration. His golden heels, though taller than he would have liked, still only put him at Janus’s nose.

And Janus in his fitted golden suit with a purple silk button up underneath and black details that complimented the ring. His usual bowler hat was replaced with his crown, showing off the soft brown waves of his hair. His black dress shoes were — despite his mother’s fretting — polished within an inch of their life.

Only once the applause died down did Janus and Virgil make their way down the grand — and way too tall, in Virgil’s opinion — staircase. They didn’t so much as pause at the base of the stairs, instead they continued on to the very center of the ballroom where they stopped.

There, the newly engaged couple turned to each other. Virgil moved his left hand to Janus’s shoulder, and Janus moved his right hand to Virgil’s waist. As their free hands interlaced, the band struck up a waltz.

The crowd was silent during the first dance, everyone watching the couple closely — some gazes were scrutinizing, some were bored, most were politely interested.

The first song flowed seamlessly into the second, and neither Janus nor Virgil missed a single step as other couples started dancing around them, their parents included.

After a few more songs, Janus and Virgil were allowed — by social convention — to leave the dance floor and begin mingling. Virgil’s left hand was once again on display as Janus led him off the dance floor and towards the refreshments.

“Congratulations you two,” Fairy Godmother said, intercepting them before they’d managed to reach the food and drink. “You make a beautiful couple and Auradon will surely thrive under your rule.”

Honestly, Janus wished she didn’t sound so cheerful and earnest all the time. If she were anyone else, he would think that the sugar-fairy routine was an act, but unfortunately, he’d known Fairy Godmother long enough to know that she genuinely was just that saccharine.

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother,” Janus smiled, knowing that the only person who would be able to tell how forced it was was Virgil.

“If you need a dress for the wedding, Annie, I know I’ve mostly retired the old wand, but it does make excellent dresses.”

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother, but I think Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather are expecting to be in charge of the dress,” Virgil said, just barely managing not to grimace at the mention of yet another dress.

“Well, if either of you need anything–”

“We know where to find you,” Janus finished.

“Just so!” Fairy Godmother agreed. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’m sure everyone here is eager to congratulate you. Goodbye, dears!”

“Goodbye.”

They didn’t even get a chance to take a single step before someone else was sidling up to them. Fake smiles plastered in place, Janus and Virgil prepared for what would surely be a long night.

They never did make it to the refreshment table; the only reprieve they got from greeting well-wishers was dancing, and the only reprieve they got from dancing was greeting well-wishers. By the time it was time for Janus — and by extension, Virgil — to take the stage, both princes were thoroughly exhausted.

“People of Auradon!” Janus said into the microphone. A hush fell over the crowd.

It was time for Janus to make his first royal declaration, and Virgil, as his fiancé, would be by his side for it. Societal convention now allowed for Janus to no longer be holding Virgil’s hand in his own in an incredibly unnatural way, but rather for Virgil to hold on to Janus’s arm, engagement ring still on display, but no longer the focal point.

“After much deliberation with my parents, my fiancée, and other trusted officials, I have decided what my first official proclamation will be.”

The audience hung on Janus’s every word. The first proclamation was an exciting time, it often told the kingdom exactly what kind of king or queen a royal would be — kind, ruthless, practical. The whole precedence for Janus’s rule would be determined right here.

Only Virgil and Janus himself knew what exactly was coming; Janus was almost as excited for the backlash his proclamation would receive as he was for the actual proclamation itself.

“As future King of the United Kingdoms of Auradon, I officially decree that the children of the Isle of the Lost be granted the chance to live here in Auradon!”

A gasp ran through the crowd, and Janus held up his free hand to quiet them down. Virgil squeezed his arm slightly — in reassurance or in anxiety, he wasn’t sure.

“We start out with a few at first,” Janus continued, raising his voice over the few people who had continued whispering nervously to each other. “Just the ones that need our help the most. I’ve already chosen them.”

This was it; this was the part where the shit would hit the fan, but Janus was ready, and he was strong in his conviction. This was the right choice.

“Their parents are Evil Queen–” out of the corner of his eye he saw Snow White faint “–Jafar–” Abu sputtered indignantly “–Gaston–” his mother’s glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the marble floor “–and Maleficent!”

The crowd lost it, everyone was talking all at once, asking questions of each other, of Virgil, of him, but Janus pushed on.

“Their children are innocent!” He yelled, barely audible over the party’s guests. “They deserve a chance at a normal life!”

“THE CHILDREN OF OUR SWORN ENEMIES!?” His father roared, causing the audience to fall silent under his temper.

“Their children are innocent,” Janus repeated, calmly. “Why should they be imprisoned for crimes that they did not commit?”

King Adam’s face twitched, and Janus knew he had him. He’d backed his father into a corner.

Agree with me, or become the villain yourself.

“I supposed the children are innocent,” he finally acquiesced, his voice booming enough on its own to carry across the room without a microphone. “Very well, four children from the Isle will be granted the opportunity to come live in Auradon.”

Janus smiled. He led Virgil off the stage, hoping the stunned silence would finally allow them to get some food, but his parents intercepted them halfway there.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Janus,” father growled.

“I do,” Janus answered, meeting his father’s gaze evenly.

“I’m so proud of you, Janus,” mother said warmly, squeezing his free arm.

“Thank you, mother. Now, if you’ll both excuse us, Annie and I haven’t been able to get a bite of food all night.”

“Of course.”

“Are you happy?” Virgil asked once they’d cleared his parents.

“Very,” Janus smirked as they finally reached the finger foods and punch. “I have a very good feeling about this.”

~~~END~~~

I got really excited about this idea, and then I wrote like 3k in one day, but it took me several days to have enough time to get my laptop out and edit, so I’ve already got three chapters finished

I’m gonna get the next part up pretty quickly cuz I’m just really excited for you guys to meet the others!!!

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #platonic anxceit #descendants au #thursday writes #my writing #sanders sides fanfiction

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years

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Melted Mask

awitchbravestheverge prompt: I don't know if you're still taking prompts but you are a master of hurt/comfort and would sell you my soul for some of that for Janus. Maybe where he's feeling insecure or like he's worn out his welcome post acceptance, or maybe a little touch starved, or both. Preferably with Virgil or Patton as the comforter, but if not thats ok. I just have a never-ending need for fic where people are soft and gentle with the snake boy, and I love everything you write with my whole heart

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR, focus on anxceit and moceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide I don’t mind

Warnings: uhhh sympathetic deceit and remus

Word Count: 4804

“How many masks of your own face are you currently wearing?”

“At least four.”

Between the gloves, the cape, and the hat, there’s not an awful lot of Janus that is seen most of the time. Not that he particularly minds. There is a certain benefit that layers upon layers of clothing provides. One, they’re perfect for concealing his cane—the others always look so surprised when he summons it from nowhere. Two, he is Dark Side, thanks to Roman’s fantastic naming system. There is an aesthetic standard that must be met. What was he going to do, show up in some ratted old hoodie?

Three, well—there is an awful lot to look at. If the others are focused on the clasps at his throat, the shock of the yellow gloves, the logo hidden under the black fabric, they’re not looking at him.

If they were, they’d see his scales.

He is the only side with a visible animal trait, after all. The scales cover the left side of his face, down beneath his collar. He doesn’t mind the stares—come on, it’s so easy to catch them off guard, how could he?—but sometimes he does wonder if they’ll ever get used to it.

To him.

The scales are a reminder. That he’s different. That he’s not like them. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t look like Thomas, at least not to the extent that they do. Thomas doesn’t have golden scales along the side of his face. Thomas doesn’t have a mouth that curves up along his cheek. Thomas doesn’t have a slit-eye pupil. No, no, Thomas is normal.

How dreadful.

Then, of course, there are the lies.

‘Deceit.’ Such a funny word. And so…polarizing.

‘Deceitful,’ ‘dishonest,’ ‘dastardly’—lot of ‘d’s, here, hmm?—all of the words that just mean he’s a liar. And lying must be bad, right? So it follows logically then, because we simply adore logic in this house, that he must be bad.

He’s not to be trusted, he’s a liar. He’s not honest, he’s a liar. They have to double and triple-check everything he says because he’s a liar.

They always conveniently seem to forget that you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the truthful ones you have to watch out for.

Janus knows he’s a liar. Frankly, he’s quite proud of it. He’s gotten very good at it too; twisting the words together just right in order to tug slightly at a heartstring there, block off just a little rationality there, get the job done. The others always get caught up in his words, too busy focusing on the minutia of it, the details, leaving him free to step around them and speak to Thomas.

They see the gloves, they see the scales, they see the lies.

They see the masks.

Oh, sometimes he’ll put on a little bit more of a show if he needs to make a point, if the normal masks aren’t quite enough to get Thomas to listen. He’ll tie a hoodie around his shoulders, push a pair of glasses up his nose, knot a tie around his neck. Problem is…those ones are a little easier to see through. No matter how hard he tries, all of his disguises end up being a self-portrait.

Which is how he ended up here.

“You know the rules,” Patton says, his hands on his hips, “no impersonating others outside of filming!”

Janus rolls his eyes and idly flicks a speck of dirt off one of his gloves. “Oh, please. You don’t want me to do it during filming either.”

“No, I don’t, but we made a compromise, kiddo, now we both have to stick to it.”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure the others will be relieved to hear so.”

“What have we said about impersonations?”

He sighs. “The others may be idiots—“

“Oi!”

“—but idiots are also deserving of respect,” Janus finishes, glancing at Virgil draped over the back of the couch. “And I would never dream of being anything less than perfectly respectful.”

Virgil snorts. “What do you even get out of it anyway?” He sits up a little straighter. “Wait, you haven’t been tricking Roman into telling you how to impersonate us better, have you?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Janus!”

“What? Like you don’t make a habit of going to the others for advice.”

“There’s a difference between openly asking for it and tricking them into giving it to you.”

Janus levels a stare at him. “I suppose there is, isn’t there?”

“Hey!” Patton steps between them. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, well—“ Janus makes a show of resettling his cape—“if you say so.”

Patton sighs. “Janus, we are trying, okay? You heard Thomas, you’re…well, you’re more welcome now.”

“And you’re doing a marvelous job of that.”

Patton doesn’t quite deflate, but it’s close. “Well, maybe we could all try a little harder.” He gives Janus a pointed look.

“Yes, I’m sure my efforts will be richly rewarded.”

“Well, you could start by showing up as yourself more often.”

“Myself?” Janus gasps theatrically, putting a gloved hand to his scales. “Who’s that?”

“Dude,” Virgil sniggers—Virgil did always appreciate his sense of humor—“how many masks of your own face are you currently wearing”

“At least four.”

Patton lets him go with another verbal slap on the wrist and Virgil flips him off. Janus sinks out, striding down the hallway near his room. It’s quieter here. The walls hum a little less. He can think.

He hadn’t gone to Roman to gets tips on his acting. He’d gone because Roman doesn’t want to talk to Janus.

Janus, the liar. Janus, the manipulator. Janus, the Dark Side.

Janus shuts the door of his room and instinctively slumps, the cape hanging off his shoulders. He knows Patton means well, and Virgil’s…Virgil, but sometimes it stings a little more than it should. Not that the others will ever see it.

He’ll never forget the look on Thomas’s face when Logan said he was the side that acts with the one priority of self-preservation. Of how it instantly demonized the idea of protecting yourself. Of Thomas keeping himself safe.

He looks at his hands, sees the gloves. They still don’t fit quite right, even after all these years. He can’t get the seams to run down the sides of the fingers, not curve around to the front or the back. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. Especially considering how much use he’s gotten out of them.

Lying kept Thomas alive. It kept him safe. He helped keep Thomas safe. When Virgil couldn’t breathe, when Logan faltered, when Patton froze, Janus would quietly make his way over to Roman and whisper a suggestion. Just a suggestion. To lie. To keep Thomas safe. To get them out of here. And it saved them. So many times.

Janus walks over to the mirror. It’s a fairly modest thing; about the size of a small sink, oval, large enough so he can see himself completely if he takes a few steps back. He ignores his own face and reaches for the golden latch on the side. He turns it.

The cabinet swings open to reveal a dark velvet interior with several small podiums. Each has a thin mask laid atop it. They gleam in the low light of the room. Janus reaches out and carefully makes sure each is perfectly centered. As he does so, his gloves linger on the fine print beneath the podiums.

Everyone has masks. Versions of themselves to present to the world when they need to. A mask that keeps you safe, a mask that keeps you alive, a mask that has the courage to speak when you don’t. The mask they wear around their homophobic relatives, the mask they wear when they need to make a phone call, the mask they wear when they need to pretend they’re something they’re not.

Janus is very, very good at making masks.

He never wears these. These are for Thomas. When Thomas needs help, Janus slips one of these out of the cabinet and sets it on the desk in front of the mirror. He looks at it, then at the mirror, and works. These masks are what helps Thomas.

He shuts the cabinet with a decisive click, suddenly confronted with his own face.

Janus is so good at making masks that he doesn’t even need a mask to wear one.

A mask because you’re the bad guy. A mask because you can never be trusted. A mask because when you try to be vulnerable they won’t listen. A mask because they don’t want you, they want the character that you embody to survive.

He pities the others sometimes. They don’t have these masks and they hurt. They can’t distance themselves, pull away just a little more, embody a role so that when it’s over, when they’re safe again, they can take it off and breathe. But they don’t. So they just get hurt. Over and over and over.

Janus’s lips involuntarily curl up into a snarl. The hand on the mirror closes into a fist.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. That’s not how this is supposed to work.

He’s not supposed to hurt them.

Part of him argues that he has to. If he keeps working the way he’s been working he can get right to Thomas, who is who needs the most protection. If he tries to do it their way they risk Thomas getting hurt and Janus won’t have that.

Part of him whispers that this is good for them. If he can make them a little tougher, help them get thicker skin, they’ll be safer. And then it won’t matter if they hate him. They’ll be safe. That’s all he cares about.

The rest of him—

…well, the rest of him is currently the reason he’s having trouble looking in the mirror right now.

The problem with wearing so many masks is that it becomes harder and harder to figure what’s the mask and what’s not. And he’s gotten so good at making them that now…now he doesn’t have to think about it.

A mask for when Logan asks to debate about philosophy. A mask for when Remus wants him to help him and Roman make something new. A mask for when Patton wants to bake. A mask for when Virgil comes to him for help.

A mask for all of them. A mask for none of them.

Janus doesn’t want to wear the masks all the time. He wants them to be warm, to care, to smile when he comes into the room, or even ask where he is. He wants to laugh as Patton smears batter all over his nose accidentally. He wants to listen to Logan ramble about some new advancement in quantum gravity. He wants Virgil to come plop down next to him while everyone else is in the living room. He wants Remus to stay with him while they watch the others get into ridiculous fights over board games. He wants Roman to not be afraid to come talk to him.

He wants.

Janus is selfish.

But he isn’t stupid.

He knows they don’t want him. He knows they don’t want him, even without the masks. Deep down, he knows they don’t need him either.

But Thomas does.

So here Janus will stay, in the dark, in the cold, wearing too many masks of his own face to keep count.

—————————————————————

The Mindscape is cold. It never quite feels solid. Drafts blow in and out of the walls, through the little gaps in the floor, from places that Janus can’t find, no matter how many times he looks for them. He bundles himself up in his cloak and his hat and does his best to hold still, sink in as much warmth as he can. He sneaks up behind the others, pressing himself up near them, purring in their ears, just to snatch their body heat. They always shove him away with flustered protests and blushy little faces. They’re so adorable.

Plus, he knows that’s all he’s ever really going to get from them.

But he’s cold, goddamnit. Why do they keep the air conditioning so high in this house? Snakes are cold-blooded. They get slow. Lethargic. Hypothermic, if it gets very bad.

Janus can’t afford to be slow.

So he wears his gloves, his cape, his hat. He stands opposite the window so he can get the most sunlight. He finds the patches of warmth where none of the others will find him and he can curl up for the warmth he needs...

…and fine, maybe it’s a little more than just being cold.

The others are…touchy. Patton throws his arm around just about everyone. Bumps his hip against theirs. Pats their shoulders, squeezes their hands, kisses their cheeks. Roman sweeps people into his arms, pulls them in for hugs, keeps an arm around their waists for as long as he’s allowed. Remus can and will just tackle whoever he wants. Logan holds himself a little further away, but even he’ll lay a comforting hand on someone’s arm. Janus will admit he was shocked when Virgil started exhibiting spider characteristics. That Side is a cat and you will not convince him otherwise. And everyone knows if a cat falls asleep on you, you’re not allowed to move until it wakes up.

Not that Virgil has fallen asleep on him recently.

Janus is not too proud to admit that at first, he didn’t want their touches. He had a job to do, he didn’t need to be distracted. But now…now he does.

He sees the way they move around each other and it stings. The accidental brushes he gets from standing too close or when they aren’t thinking about it sear through layers and layers of clothing to burn into his skin. When he stays close to them—close, but not too close—his whole side begins to tingle, reaching for them, their warmth, for them. But now it’s too late. His mask is already firmly in place and they know Deceit hates being touched.

That’s another reason for the layers. For the gloves.

Janus knows that if they ever touch him directly, skin to skin, his mask will shatter. And that is too dangerous to risk. With his gloves, his cape, his hat, his masks, the only way that would happen is if one of them tried to touch his face.

And that is certainly very likely indeed.

The clothes give him a barrier. A last line of defense. No touch is better than unexpected touch.

But that doesn’t stop him from being cold.

He can tell it’s going to happen when he can’t quite close his fingers around the end of his staff in the middle of their conversation. His gloves don’t catch on the wood quite right and he has to fumble to grab it properly. He glances up. No one’s looking at him.

Are they ever?

He tucks his hands smoothly out of sight, frantically burrowing them into his cloak to see if they’ll warm up. He locks his knees. No good. His fingers start to hurt as he flexes them. They’re still not moving faster. It’s cold.

He glances at the clock. Two minutes. He can last two minutes. Or so he thinks, until his jaw starts to clench. He clenches it harder, ignoring the protest from his neck, his shoulders, trying to make it stop. He takes a deep slow breath and tries to relax, to stop his muscles from tensing. It works, barely.

One minute.

His hands aren’t responding properly. He can barely move his fingers. He just needs to get out of here. If he gets out of here he can get warm. He has his electric blanket, he has everything he needs. He just needs to leave.

Thirty seconds.

The conversation draws to a close and Janus nods deeply, tossing one last barb over his shoulder as he sinks out, only to collapse in the hallway as soon as he does. A draft flows out right next to his shoulder, freezing fingers dancing up his arm, along the back of his neck, diving into his collar to snatch more of his warmth. He curses, heaves himself to his feet, and makes it to his room. It’s so cold.

Something tugs in his chest. No, no—!

“I suppose there must be a good reason for summoning me back,” Janus drawls, snapping his gloves right back into place as he appears in the living room.

Patton and Virgil stare back at him. Patton fidgets with his hands. “W-well, we, uh, I had a question for you.”

Damn. “Well.” Janus spreads his arms, trying to play off how slow he’s moving for dramatic effect. “I’m here. Ask away.”

“I, uh, a few days ago you mentioned that you didn’t feel as welcome here.” Patton looks at him with such an expression of sincerity that it makes Janus’s tongue itch. “And I wanted to know what I could do to help.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

Patton won’t be deterred, it seems. He stares at Janus, resolute as ever. It’s so cold in here he’s going to start slurring in a moment.

“Janus?”

“That is my name, yes.”

“Are you…are you feeling alright?”

Janus gestures to himself, movements growing slower by the second. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Slow. Too slow.

Patton frowns. He gives him a look. “You don’t seem like you normally are, are you sure?”

“I am entirely in one piece.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Honey, if you’re looking for a straight answer, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Virgil moves. Right, Virgil was here too. Janus is slow. Too slow. He can’t move. He can’t get away. His mask forms a bored expression on his face, quirking an eyebrow. Virgil approaches him and holds out a hand. A cold part of Janus’s chest leaps.

The lips of the mask part. “And what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

“This,” Virgil mutters, and cups the side of Janus’s face.

Everything stops.

Distantly, he feels Virgil’s hand leave his face. Hears something about being too cold. Sees a blur of blue rush away. But all he can focus on is—

Warm. Virgil touched you. Warm. Warm. So warm. Keep the mask on. Don’t let the mask slip. Warm. If the mask slips everything will be ruined. Warm. Don’t you remember how to take the mask off? Virgil. Patton. Warm.

“Janus? Janus!”

Janus blinks. Virgil is still standing in front of him. There’s a little wrinkle between his brows. The mask is frozen in place, iced into a neutral expression.

“Hey,” Virgil says quietly, “you’re freezing, bud. You gotta get warm.”

Janus can’t speak. The mask is so cold.

“You remember what happens when you get too cold,” Virgil continues, taking a step closer. Janus can’t move. Virgil’s frown deepens and he tilts his head. “What’s going on, Janus, you don’t normally let it get this bad.”

Yes, Virgil, we’re aware.

“You could’ve asked, dude,” Virgil says, taking another step closer, a little exasperation mingling with the concern, “any of us.”

The mask smirks. Barely. “Yes, because I’m sure everyone would be so willing to cuddle me so I could steal their body heat.”

“You don’t know that.” The mask doesn’t move. Virgil glances over his shoulder. When he speaks next, his voice is lowered to a whisper.

“You don’t have to keep that on right now, Jan,” he says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s just me. I know you. You can…you know. Emote and stuff.”

Janus huffs a laugh. It’s weak.

“You ever wear a mask so long you forget how to take it off?”

Vigil pauses. “Huh?”

“Ever pretended to be something for so long you forget which is real and which isn’t?” Janus’s smile turns sad. “Made yourself believe it too?”

Virgil’s eyes close for a second. When he opens them, the concern in his gaze takes the last of the warm breath from Janus’s lungs. “Does this have anything to do with…?” He waves in Janus’s direction.

Janus nods, slowly, so slowly. “I can’t. Because I’ve been…I’ve been trained out of it. I built my masks to hide behind. And now I can’t take them off.”

“And we haven’t been good about helping you do that, huh.” He sounds so tired. He’s been through so much…

“I’m…”

The mask won’t let him apologize.

Like they would ever accept it.

“No, no,” Virgil says, “don’t apologize. You aren’t to blame for what you’ve been put through.”

Oh, Virgil…

Virgil glances over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head. “Just…look, go.”

“What?”

“I know this isn’t the time to talk about stuff. You’re not in any sort of shape to do that and Patton will understand. Go get warm.” He gives Janus a pointed look. “You take care of yourself first, okay?”

He tries. He goes back to his room and buries himself in blankets, in pillows, in more layers than he can stand. The pressure is good but it’s still so cold. The weight of the electric blanket is nothing compared to the warmth of Virgil’s hand. Everything in here smells sterile, clinical, detached. It’s all so cold.

You take care of yourself.

The last sentence rings through his head late at night. He wants. But everyone’s probably asleep by now, and god knows they need to sleep. Surely it’ll be alright if he just goes to the living room? That’s not too far, right?

There’s a fire going in the fireplace—since when did they have a fireplace? And there’s someone sitting on the couch. Hmm. Maybe if…if he’s quiet, if he doesn’t make too much noise, he can slip in and soak up some of the warmth.

Virgil turns around.

“Hey, Janus,” he murmurs, standing, and comes over to him. “Can’t sleep?”

Janus shakes his head. It’s warm in here, but he’s still cold. Virgil can see that, apparently.

“Here,” he says, handing him a cup of tea that appeared out of thin air, “drink. It’ll warm you up.”

Janus takes it cautiously. Isn’t it Virgil’s? There’s no way Virgil would’ve know Janus was coming…right?

“This is my third one, figure I should let you catch up first.”

He gestures to the couch, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Sit. C’mon”

Janus does, sinking into the plush couch and cradling the warm mug in his hands. The couch groans as Virgil sits next to him. He can feel Virgil just out of reach, just there…

“I like watching the fire,” comes a low voice from next to him as he sips the tea. “Helps me think. Or stop thinking.”

He keeps talking in that low voice and the warm tea flows through Janus, sapping the cold slowly away from his body.

Distantly, he feels someone steering him down onto the couch, and heavy arms around him.

“Or maybe you just need a cuddle. Go to sleep, Janus.”

—————————————————————

“ — stop twitching, Remus! You’ll make a mistake!”

“Stop tugging his arm all over the place and then you won’t.”

“Will you two pipe the fuck down? You’re gonna wake him up.”

“Says the loudmouth!”

“Roman, stop it.”

“Stop moving his arm!”

What is…? He’s lying on something. It’s warm, really warm. It smells like…coffee, makeup, and…cinnamon? He shifts slightly, and oh he slept on his neck wrong. A low groan escapes his throat.

His pillow stiffens. “Shit. He’s awake.”

“Good going, Remus.”

“You were the one yelling!”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you.” The chest underneath him vibrates. “Shh, snake-face, go back to sleep. You’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

Janus shifts again, trying to look around, but he’s held down by another strong arm. A hand cards itself through his hair—where’s his hat? “Shh, be still, buddy, you’re okay. Can’t we get you back to sleep?”

“What…’s going on?” His tongue feels heavy, swelling up in his mouth.

“I believe the chances of getting him back to sleep will increase if you tell him what you’re doing.”

It’s…Logan? He appears, fuzzy but definitely there, over the back of the couch. Janus tries to turn to make it easier to see him but his right arm is pinned and he can’t move—

“Easy, J, easy, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe, just keep your arm nice and still, okay?” Virgil, it’s Virgil he’s lying on, runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m pretty sure Roman would pitch a fit.”

“Hah.” Roman snorts from somewhere close to the ground. “If this got ruined, yours would be too.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going last,” Remus says, “this wouldn’t’ve been an issue.”

And then he feels it. Something is drawn sharply across his right wrist.

“Shh, shh, Janus, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, damnit, Princey, stop! You’re making him freak out!”

It’s gone, the contact is gone. His arm is still hanging over the edge of the couch but it’s held there by Virgil’s arm and another hand.

“Hey there, Snakey.” Remus appears over Virgil’s shoulder. “You’re okay. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

Roman snorts. “There’s something wrong with how you phrased that.”

Then suddenly Patton appears out of nowhere and doesn’t surprise him at all. Luckily, or unluckily, Janus is far too exhausted and disoriented to react more than rucking up the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie a little. Patton looks at the couch.

“There isn’t room, Pop-star,” Virgil says, lazily stretching so his bulk takes up all of it, moving slow enough so Janus isn’t jostled too much. Then Virgil yelps and their lower bodies are lifted and he can feel the couch sag under another body.

“What the hell, Pat.”

“Now there’s room.” Patton reaches up and ruffles Virgil’s hair.

There are so many people and it’s warm but why are they all here? Did he miss something? Does he need to leave?

“Looks good,” Patton says, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s coming along well.”

Logan clears his throat. “Would someone like to inform Janus about what exactly ‘this’ is?”

“Oh, right, sorry, Snakey,” Remus says, crouching back down, “let’s show you.”

Virgil turns over slowly, lifting his arm and using the leverage to shift Janus onto his chest. “Jeez, Janus, you’re light. Patton, have we been feeding him enough?”

“I suspect there’s been a lack of communication, kiddo.”

“Now is not the time to yell at him, Patton,” Logan says quietly.

“I’m not yelling! But yes, now is not the time.”

Virgil coaxes his head to one side, and Roman lifts his arm by the back of his hand.

Janus’s mouth drops open.

There are little animals drawn on his right arm, from his wrist to his elbow. There’s a navy cat, simple and clean, near the vein. A light blue frog with little glasses. A purple and black spider. A green octopus with large black tentacles. And an unfinished red dragon right near his wrist.

“If I could finish,” Roman asks softly.

“Alright, calm down, here.” Remus lowers his arm and holds it steady. Roman puts the brush back to his arm and starts painting again. Virgil and Remus start arguing about something, probably, but he can’t focus on anything besides the soft bristles of the brush on his arm, the rumble of Virgil’s chest, and the warmth of the weight on his legs.

Logan stands behind his head. “You don’t need to wear a mask here, Janus,” he says softly, “not unless you want to.”

No one else hears him except for Patton. He gives Janus’s leg a squeeze.

It’s warm. It’s so warm.

He wants to watch as Roman paints the dragon but he’s tired but he doesn’t want to sleep yet…not just yet.

Patton reaches towards his face. His finger lands on his forehead and drags gently down the bridge of his nose.

What…?

Oh.

As he follows his touch, Janus’s eyes drift closed.

It’s so warm.

And a warm hand on his cheek wipes the last of the mask away.

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#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #platonic lamp #lamp #platonic dlampr #dlampr #dlamp #platonic dlamp

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emoprincey · 3 years

Text

Live Without You

For the @dukeceitweek prompt: First

Summary: When Janus first met Remus, he didn’t think he’d end up caring about him more than anything...

Characters: Janus, Remus, Virgil, Patton

Relationships: Romantic Dukeceit, platonic (temporarily romantic) Anxceit, past platonic Kingceit, a little bit of platonic Moceit

Warnings: Discussions of grief, food, angst, kissing, brief mention of intestines

Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight

Word count: 9253

Janus refused to speak to either of the new creativities. He didn’t even know what they looked like, and he didn’t care.

Nobody could compare to his friend. His friend who’d been taken from him, split into fragments for daring to be himself. Romulus was gone forever, but Janus specialised in denial. As long as he didn’t see these new… replacements, if he just kept to himself in his own secluded corner of the mindscape, he could pretend this wasn’t real. Romulus was off on an adventure in the Imagination, Romulus was fighting a Dragon Witch, Romulus was anywhere, anywhere that would mean he was still alive.

No matter how many times Patton said it was an accident, that he hadn’t meant to, and even Janus’ own lie-detecting abilities told him that was the truth, he would never forgive him. Romulus had been the only one who’d understood, who’d pushed boundaries, hadn’t been afraid to speak his mind. Hadn’t been restricted by morals as Patton was.

And look where that got him.

Of course, there were others who didn’t like Patton’s insistence on moral perfection, particularly Anxiety. But Anxiety was… well, anxious – too anxious to openly defy Patton, at least at the moment. Janus still had a friend, but his partner in crime was gone.

As the door to his quarters opened, he held his breath, hoping in vain that he’d see a head of spiky hair topped with a golden crown poke through at any moment. The set of rooms he’d created weren’t really his quarters, he supposed; the living room he’d put outside his bedroom was frequented by any Side who needed a break from the strict rules in the general common room, and during mealtimes in the little kitchen-diner he would often be entertaining more than one other Side.

Anxiety spent a lot of time in the living room, usually hunched up on Janus’ couch, so it was a surprise to see him walk briskly through the door, hiding a smile.

“What’s got you so happy?” Janus leaned over the arm of his chair, crossing his legs behind him.

Anxiety giggled, hugging his elbows, though the gesture seemed to be more to do with nervous delight than fear as it often was. “I, um… I met the new Creativity. Well, one of them. He’s very charming, and handsome…” Anxiety sighed softly, fringe flopping in front of his eyes.

Janus’ lips curled into a snarl. “Traitor,” he spat as he stood up from his chair. “I can’t believe you! After what happened to Romulus, you’re fawning over that new- fake Creativity!”

“Wait, Dee. I didn’t mean-”

“Just forget it,” Janus snapped, pushing past Anxiety to leave the room. “I don’t want to speak to you.”

He started running as soon as Anxiety was out of sight, not knowing where he was heading, just knowing he had to get away. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when he ended up in the Imagination. This was Romulus’ domain, and though Janus hadn’t dared to set foot inside since Romulus’ downfall, it felt comforting to be back.

His feet thudded against the ground until he didn’t have the breath to run any further, and he collapsed against the trunk of a tree. Curling into a ball between two of the large roots, he let the tears out. He didn’t know how long he sobbed, only that he was thoroughly exhausted by the time he managed to stop.

Breathing still a little shaky, face still wet with tears, he leaned back against the tree and looked up at the sky.

Only for a boy to drop down from a branch directly in front of him. “Hi!”

Janus yelped in surprise. He hadn’t seen the boy before – this must be one of the Imagination’s characters. Romulus had created a lot of characters over the years, but sometimes they’d just… appear without explanation. He’d explained to Janus once that while most of the other Sides assumed he was completely in control of the Imagination, as Creativity he only had a little input into what it could create – still far more than the rest of the Sides, but most of what the Imagination did was completely out of his control.

“I’m Remus,” the boy said, giggling as Janus recovered from his startled state, but his smile dropped as he looked down at him. “You look sad. What’s up?”

“I’m not sad,” Janus grumbled. A myth echoed in the back of his head, one about twin boys pitted against each other, but he couldn’t quite place the name.

“Tell me, I can help,” Remus said as he sat beside Janus. He seemed earnest, his eyes filled with sincerity – he was a strange sort of character, right down to his outfit of a black tunic, and a sash made of leaves.

“I just… I lost something,” Janus murmured, barely able to bring his voice above a whisper without letting more tears fall. “Something very important to me.”

“Maybe I can help you get it back,” Remus offered.

Janus looked at the ground, a familiar pit of emptiness welling in his stomach. It had been getting bigger since the day he’d found out what happened to Romulus, and he worried that someday the bleakness might swallow him whole. “This isn’t something I can get back.”

They sat in silence for a moment, with only the rustling of wind through the trees around them, but Janus could practically hear Remus thinking.

“Sounds like you need a distraction!” Remus decided, jumping to his feet. “I know! We’ll go on a quest!”

“A quest?” Janus asked incredulously, though he was a little intrigued. Quests weren’t usually his kind of thing, and it must have been years since he’d been on one, but perhaps he could use a distraction. He slowly got to his feet, and Remus immediately grabbed his hand to drag him along. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Remus admitted cheerily. “But I’m Creativity, so I’ll think of something!”

Janus froze, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt. Creativity. This was Creativity. The myth – Romulus and Remus. This was one of the impostors who had replaced his friend.

“Is something wrong?” The false Creativity asked, and in the sparkle of his eyes, the arch of his brows, his wild and messy hair, Janus could almost catch a glimpse of his friend.

“Get away from me!” Janus shrieked, wrenching his hand free of Remus’ grip. Before Remus could react, he ran out of the Imagination as fast as he could.

-----

“Wasn’t Janus the Roman god of doorways?”

Janus rolled his eyes. While Anxiety wasn’t technically wrong, his incredulous tone led Janus to believe that his friend didn’t quite have all the information. “Among other things. More significantly, he was the god of beginnings, endings, and duality.” He waved a hand in front of his face, to indicate the slitted snakelike pupil which had appeared a little over a year ago, and his normal brown eye.

Anxiety nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. It’s a cool name, I like it.”

Janus smiled, tugging at his scarf. He’d taken to wearing scarves a lot recently, to hide the scales which had begun to creep up his neck.

“I’m Virgil,” Anxiety blurted, hands clasped so tightly in his lap that his knuckles turned white. He glanced briefly at Janus, but looked back down at the floor quickly.

Janus could understand the nerves. Though he’d grown up with all the Sides, and had chosen his name years ago, only one person had ever known it until now. “A good choice,” he remarked, reaching to cover Virgil’s hands with one of his own. “After the poet, right? From Dante’s Inferno?”

Virgil nodded, slowly unfurling his fists under Janus’ fingers. “Yeah. Also, there’s nothing confirming this, but it might mean like… vigilant. Which is kind of what I have to be.”

Janus squeezed Virgil’s hands before pulling away. “And you do it well,” he said softly, noting the slight blush that rose on Virgil’s cheeks. “But remember, if it ever gets too much…”

“I know,” Virgil said, his lips quirking into a smile. “You’re the self-care guy.”

“That I am.” Janus confirmed. “Speaking of self-care, I think these name reveals call for a celebration. I’ll make a cake!”

“Do we even have the ingredients for that?” Virgil asked.

Janus paused. They didn’t have a lot of ingredients in the Dark Side of the Mindscape. While all of the Sides could summon basic foods – bread, fruit, rice and the like – only Creativity could create anything more than dietary staples. Since the Split, Janus, Anxiety and the others had grown further apart from the self-proclaimed Light Sides, and Janus didn’t have a Creativity on his side to provide anything. “Hm… you’re right. We don’t have the ingredients.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Janus, you’re not going to steal from the Light Sides-”

“That’s exactly what you’ll tell people when they ask,” Janus interrupted, already moving towards the door.

“What if you get caught?”

“You’ll just have to trust that I won’t,” Janus said, turning back to brush his fingers against Virgil’s cheek. “Do you trust me, Virgil dear?”

Virgil stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. That expression was becoming familiar to Janus, though he tried to ignore what it might mean. “Of course I do, but-”

“Then I’ll be right back.” Janus tapped the end of his nose and flounced out of the room before Virgil could recover the presence of mind to follow him.

Janus smiled softly to himself as he snuck down the corridor. He’d become a lot closer with Virgil over the past few years. And he’d come to notice that Virgil was… cute. Yes, cute was a good word. Cute could be platonic, could let him easily brush off any other feelings that he associated with Virgil.

His daydreaming was interrupted by a thud behind him, and he whirled around to see Remus. Janus wasn’t sure where he could have fallen from – perhaps he’d been clinging to the ceiling, or had simply appeared several feet above the ground.

“What are you doing here?” Janus asked tiredly. He was half used to this Creativity trailing after him by now, but it was still annoying.

“I think the more poignant question, Deceit Dastardly, is what are you doing here?” Remus asked, scrambling to keep up as Janus pointedly strode away from him. “Sneaking around the corridors, heading towards…” He gasped in faux shock. “The Light Side of the Mindscape! Ooh, looks like you’re going to do something naughty.”

“What I’m doing is none of your business,” Janus snapped, speeding up his pace.

Remus hummed in consideration as he skipped along beside Janus. “You’re probably right. But you see, I want to know. And I’m not gonna leave you alone until you tell me.”

Janus groaned, pulling at the ends of his scarf. “Why are you following me?”

“Because I like you,” Remus shrugged.

Janus’ brisk steps faltered – he certainly hadn’t been expecting that answer.

“You’re interesting,” Remus continued, not seeming to notice Janus’ stumble at all. “The Light Sides are so boring, especially my brother – over there it’s only the cutesy, fluffy kind of creativity. And they don’t want me around, anyway.” His expression fell a little, and he let out a sigh. “I know you don’t either, nobody does, but at least you’re cool to hang out with.”

Janus stopped walking. He hadn’t considered it before, but Remus didn’t have anyone at all. The Split had created Patton’s ideal Creativity, pushing away all the parts he didn’t like… and creating Remus. He was the biproduct of an event which was supposed to destroy him completely. Of course the Light Sides couldn’t stand him, Virgil was too scared of his brashness, and Janus…

Janus could talk to him. He understood what it was like to be shoved aside because he was deemed imperfect, but he couldn’t imagine how bad Remus had it, when his whole existence came from being an imperfection in Patton’s eyes. And Remus had been all alone since he was created, since Janus ran away from him that first time they met.

It might hurt to look into the face of someone who reminded him of the loss of his best friend, but Janus could give Remus a chance.

“If you must know, I’m performing a heist,” Janus said, smiling slightly at the way Remus’ eyes lit up.

“A heist? I can help!” Remus jumped in the air, then he turned to Janus with his hands spread. "Okay so, first we’ll cut a hole in the ceiling and lower you down with rope – ooh, would that work with intestines? They’d probably have to be big strong ones, like elephant intestines. Hey, what do you think elephant intestines look like? The same as human ones or…” Remus rambled on, the heist itself seemingly forgotten in favour of wondering about the biology of various animals.

Okay, maybe he was a little endearing, with his curious grin and excited hand gestures. That only made the pit of guilt in Janus’ stomach more intense – he’d shunned someone who was so innocently curious for years, for something that was in no way his fault.

Although listening to Remus’ stream of chatter was entertaining, Janus held up a hand as they neared the kitchen – the Light Sides would no doubt be nearby, and making too much noise would be sure to get them caught.

Remus glanced at the kitchen door, seeming briefly surprised at where they were, and complied, miming zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

Despite this, he seemed to have no concern for how much noise the rest of his actions made. Remus threw open the kitchen door – thankfully, nobody was inside – and immediately began rustling through the cupboards.

“Do you need this?” He asked, holding up a bottle of soy sauce.

Janus chuckled, taking the bottle from Remus’ hand and placing it back where he’d found it. “To make a cake? Surprisingly not.”

Janus glanced into the cupboard, but he didn’t see much that could be useful for baking – it mostly seemed to contain spices. This side of the Mindscape had clearly been refurbished since he’d last been allowed here, and he had no idea where anything was stored.

“Ooh, they have a coffee machine!” Remus remarked, far too loudly for Janus’ liking, and he could hear buttons randomly being pressed. “Do you think it works on anything other than coffee? We should test that!”

While Janus opened a few more cupboards to no avail, Remus began clattering through the ones he’d already checked. Janus decided that while Remus was certainly fun to be around, it would be unwise to invite him on any more covert missions.

After several minutes of sifting through haphazardly arranged supplies – Patton must have been the one to arrange the kitchen, as Logan would never leave anything so untidy – Janus stumbled upon a bag of sugar. He reached to take it when he heard footsteps, quickly approaching, from the corridor.

Whirling around, he sent a panicked glance towards Remus. “What do we do?”

As the door handle began to turn, Remus grabbed his wrist, and Janus felt his stomach swoop as the two of them sunk out.

They appeared in an empty corridor, and Janus leant against the wall with a huff, mentally chastising himself for forgetting he could do something as simple as sinking out and had needed Remus to help him. He was not a damsel in distress, no matter how many times Romulus had made him play that role on their adventures. “How am I going to make that cake now?” he sighed.

Remus perked up immediately. “I can summon it for you!”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I’m Creativity, of course I can!”

Janus abruptly felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. Because while two Sides had upheld the role of Creativity for a good three years now, he’d never thought of it as anything other than Romulus’ job.

But he pushed the pain down, reminding himself that this wasn’t Remus’ fault and he didn’t deserve for Janus to take it out on him.

“What kind of cake do you want?” Remus asked, already waving his hands in an approximation of a summoning motion. “You could do something boring like a sponge cake I guess, but I could always add a fun twist! What about using an actual sponge and-”

“I’d like to make the cake myself,” Janus butted in quickly. He could already tell that none of Remus’ suggestions would be the least bit appetising. “Could you just summon the ingredients?”

“Sure thing!” Remus agreed, and he summoned each ingredient surprisingly obediently as Janus listed them off.

When he had a pile of ingredients for a red velvet cake in his arms, he smiled graciously. “Thank you, Remus. This is very helpful.”

“You’re welcome!” Remus grinned, but as Janus started down the corridor back toward the Dark Side, he didn’t follow.

Janus turned to him, perplexed. “Aren’t you coming?”

Remus looked equally befuddled, tilting his head to one side. “Do you need more ingredients?”

Janus shook his head, something sad twisting in his stomach at the thought that Remus hadn’t even considered he might be invited to try the cake he’d summoned the ingredients for. “Remus, would you like to join us for some cake?”

Remus’ eyes lit up, and he leapt in the air, continuing to bounce on the balls of his feet as he landed. “I’d love to!”

-----

“We watched The Nightmare Before Christmas last week!” Remus whined, flopping back onto the sofa.

“Well, it’s my favourite film, and I want to watch it again,” Virgil shot back.

Janus rolled his eyes at the two of them. Ever since he’d let Remus hang out with them more often, he and Virgil exchanged sniping banter at every opportunity. He nuzzled into Virgil’s neck, curling his arms tighter around his shoulders. They’d been dating for several months now – Remus had convinced Janus to confess his feelings to Virgil, and Janus had needed a lot of convincing, but he was more than glad Remus had intervened. “Darling, we do watch that a lot. Maybe it would be good to try something different.”

He could feel Virgil wavering; that nickname always worked on him. “Fine. But Janus gets to choose,” Virgil said with a pointed look at Remus. Janus almost couldn’t blame him – Remus certainly had an interesting taste in films, and while Virgil liked horror, most of Remus’ choices left him unable to sleep with the light off for several days.

Janus leaned forward to look through the pile of DVDs. He could ask Remus to summon any he wanted – providing Thomas had seen them before – but he already owned all of his favourites. Only skimming the top of the messy heap, since he didn’t feel like uncoiling himself from Virgil to look through properly, he spotted The Addams Family Values. “Re, could you put Addams Family on?”

“Oh yeah!” Remus enthused, leaping to grab the DVD immediately. “I need to rewatch this, I’ve been meaning to replicate some of the scenes!”

Virgil tensed in Janus’ arms, and Janus carded a hand through his hair. Though Remus had asked Virgil several times to help him with his experiments, it was clear that Virgil wanted no part in anything as dangerous as the things Remus found interesting.

As the theme tune started up, Janus glanced over at the coffee table, and waved a hand to pause the TV. “I left the popcorn in the kitchen,” he remembered.

��I’ll get it!” Remus jumped up before he had chance to move, which Janus was grateful for. He was slightly less thrilled by the excited expression on Remus’ face.

“Don’t add anything to it!” Janus called after him, prompting a disappointed groan to emerge from the kitchen.

Virgil snuggled against Janus’ shoulder, taking a quick glance to make sure Remus was out of the room. “Does he have to be here?”

Janus settled himself to sit up a little straighter. This might turn into something of a serious discussion. “Do you not want him here?” he murmured into Virgil’s hair.

Virgil shrugged, the movement nudging Janus’ arm. “I don’t know. It’s just, some of the things he talks about… and I keep thinking, he’s the product of everything Patton didn’t think was acceptable, so maybe…” He trailed off with a noncommittal noise, his voice small.

“Patton thinks we’re unacceptable,” Janus reminded him. He tried not to sound too cold – Virgil’s fears were nothing Janus hadn’t considered before. “His opinion isn’t the be all and end all of morality – much as he likes to think it is.”

“I know,” Virgil murmured. “I just sometimes worry… what if he’s right? About everything, about me…”

Janus tightened his hold on Virgil, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Sweetheart, don’t talk about yourself like that. There’s nothing wrong with you. Or with me, or Remus, or anyone in the Mindscape. We’re just… a little different. And that’s a good thing. If we all behaved like the goody-goody Light Sides, we’d never get anything done.”

Virgil chuckled, though it was a little choked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Janus smiled, brushing a hand over Virgil’s fringe. “And listen. I want you to be comfortable, but Remus is my friend. He deserves a chance as much as anyone else, and to be blunt we’re all he has. Could you try to be a little more accepting of him?”

Virgil nodded against Janus’ shoulder. “Yeah, alright.”

“I’ve got the popcorn!” Remus announced, bursting back into the room with an expression far too gleeful for someone who hadn’t just added something obscene to the bowl of snacks.

As Remus placed it down on the table, Janus leaned forward to look, and was surprised to see that only sweets seemed to have been added. M&Ms, skittles, and gummy bears were littered liberally throughout the bowl, with melted chocolate drizzled on top.

“That looks… not disgusting,” Janus commented. “Who are you and what have you done with Remus?”

Remus cackled, taking a messy handful of sweets and popcorn. “I’ve been wanting to make this for ages. So much sugar jam-packed into one bowl- ooh, maybe I should add jam next time. Do you think Logan would kill me for stealing his Crofters?”

“Yes, he would,” Virgil answered immediately, hesitantly picking out a purple skittle and a piece of popcorn.

At Virgil’s reluctance, Janus quickly removed his glove and picked up the least sticky handful he could. He popped it into his mouth without hesitation, and thankfully everything in the bowl was exactly what it looked like.

He nodded to Virgil, who then finally ate the small handful he’d selected.

Virgil being trusting enough to eat something Remus had prepared meant he’d come a long way, and Remus didn’t seem to be actively antagonising him anymore. And, just for a moment, Janus felt like things were working out perfectly.

-----

Janus curled in on himself, trying desperately to take a deep breath and stop his tears from falling. Remus’ arms were wrapped around him, but he barely registered his friend’s presence – he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but the world falling down around him for the past three hours.

“If he wants to strike out on his own, that’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Virgil didn’t want him, didn’t even want anything to do with him. They’d always struggled to see eye to eye in regards to their jobs, with most of Janus’ plans involving deception and causing Virgil a great amount of anxiety. Janus had tried to tone it down a bit, but when Virgil refused to listen to his reasoning everything had blown up in one big fight, and their relationship of two years had ended. He wasn’t sure if Virgil would ever speak to him again.

Remus made some kind of soothing noise, but Janus could barely make it out over the sound of his own sobs.

“The Light Sides won’t accept him. Or maybe they will, I don’t care,” Janus continued. “Either way, we’re all alone now.” Nobody else in the Mindscape, Dark Side or Light Side, seemed to want to be around them.

Remus rested his chin on top of Janus’ head, soothingly stroking his back. “We’re not alone. We’ve got each other.”

A warm smile appeared through Janus’ tears, and he turned his head to rest his forehead against Remus’ flannel shirt. He breathed in the scent of Remus’ cologne, and the lingering smell of a damp forest and unknown chemicals which never seemed to quite leave him. “Yeah, we have.”

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Remus called from some unseen place higher up the hill.

Janus huffed. He knew he wasn’t as fit as Remus, as he didn’t go charging about on adventures in the Imagination nearly as often, preferring to sit with his feet up reading a good book in his room, but he hadn’t been prepared for exactly how out of practice he was. While Remus had climbed the mountain and raced between the trees that lined it with ease, Janus lagged behind trying to catch his breath, every tree root seeming to be trying its level best to trip him.

He didn’t know why Remus was determined to reach the top of the mountain so quickly, it wasn’t like it would disappear if they took too long – at least, Janus was pretty sure it wouldn’t, but he could never be certain with Remus’ side of the Imagination.

Sighing, Janus hitched up his yellow skirt – today was admittedly not the best day to wear it – and surged onwards through the trees.

When he finally reached the top, Remus was waiting for him. The trees cleared to reveal a jagged cliff edge, which Remus was perched on the edge of, nonchalantly swinging his legs over the abyss. He grinned as he saw Janus, patting the spot beside him.

“We’re right on time, we didn’t miss it!” He said cheerfully as Janus carefully arranged his skirt and sat down.

Janus was about to ask what ‘it’ was, when he glimpsed the drop below him, so sharp it made him feel dizzy just from looking at it. He unthinkingly grasped Remus’ hand, and warm fingers immediately wrapped around his own.

“Don’t look down,” Remus warned helpfully. “There’s nothing interesting there anyway. That’s what we’re here to look at.” He gestured to the sky in front of them, where the sun was setting.

As Janus looked up at it, he gasped. Their spot on top of the cliff gave them a view right out to the horizon, and what a view it was. Janus had never seen so many colours in a sunset – the usual red and orange tones mixed with navy blue and purple and even green. Clouds in all colours of the rainbow swirled around each other, the sky itself wavering between shades like disco lights.

“That’s the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze away.

“I’m glad you like it,” Remus said, his voice softer than usual, almost shy. “I spent ages trying to get the colours right.”

Janus suddenly turned to him, gaping in astonishment. “You made this? Remus, that’s incredible!”

Perhaps it was the lighting, but a blush seemed to spread across Remus’ cheeks. “I- well, the Imagination has some pretty cool sunsets anyway, so I decided to make my own. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“You’re kidding. It really is incredible. Re, you’re so talented, and it takes a lot of dedication to make something as big as that.”

Remus shrugged, glancing back towards the sunset, but Janus caught the bashful smile on his face. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

Janus smiled back, watching the kaleidoscope of colours light up Remus’ face, soft gold picking out the lighter tones in his hair, green making his emerald eyes mesmerizingly bright. The sunset itself was nothing, nothing compared to how beautiful Remus was. Janus felt short of breath just looking at him, but in a far more pleasant way than when he’d been climbing the mountain. His heart was thudding and he just wanted to smile forever because Remus was so beautiful, and he might have noticed before, but he’d never acknowledged the feelings. Never let himself stare or be swept away by how utterly gorgeous Remus was.

And Janus was struck by the sudden urge to kiss him. He wouldn’t even have cared if the two of them tumbled off the cliff as he did it – it wasn’t like anything in the Imagination could permanently harm them anyway – he just wanted Remus.

But when Remus looked back at him, eyebrows raised in question, Janus felt his courage melt away. Remus must have noticed him staring, and that thought alone mortified him.

So, he did what he’d always done with feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with – he shoved them down as far as he could, and tried to ignore them. Giving Remus’ hand a squeeze, he looked back out at the sunset.

-----

Ignoring his feelings for Remus proved rather more difficult than he’d anticipated. When he was crushing on Virgil, he’d at least been able to put their friendship first and push any romantic feelings to the back of his mind while they hung out, but whenever Remus was in the room Janus could think of nothing but how he felt about him.

He could barely even focus on Remus’ rambles that he loved to listen to so much, instead only being able to stare and think wistfully of what could be if he had the courage to admit his feelings. But, since Remus was the object of his affections, there was nobody to push him in that direction.

So, he remained stuck in a stalemate with himself.

“Are you even listening?” Remus whined from his position draped across the sofa.

Janus was sat in his favourite armchair, watching Remus chatter on about something or other – he was about seventy per cent sure the subject was a prank that Remus was planning to pull on the Light Sides. “Hm?”

That clearly hadn’t been the best response, because Remus huffed and flopped down to lie flat against the sofa. “You’re not listening.”

“Like you weren’t listening when I asked you to clean the common room last week?” Janus raised an eyebrow. The living area outside his room had, over the years, become known as the Dark Side common room. While it had initially only consisted of a sofa, TV and a few other useful items, there was now a full set of chairs and several bookshelves piled with various things pertaining to the inhabitants interests. The other Dark Sides had even moved their rooms to come off from this room, though Virgil had moved his again shortly after their breakup.

Remus giggled as he raised his head, glancing around at the objects littered about and various stains on the carpet. “Touché.”

Janus sighed, and folded his arms as he leaned forward. “Explain it again, I’ll listen this time.”

Remus tilted his head to the side in consideration. “Nah, I’ll just show you. Come on!” He leapt up from the sofa, and grabbed Janus’ hand to pull him to his feet.

The gesture sent a jolt through Janus’ entire body, stealing his breath as Remus’ warm fingers clasped his own. He longed to pull Remus close, tell him exactly how perfect he was, but a thought nagged at the back of his mind. One that had been bothering him since he first realised his feelings for Remus, even since he first started to feel happy in Remus’ presence. “I actually have something I need to take care of,” he decided, reluctantly pulling his hand away.

Remus’ face fell. “Oh. Um… okay.”

Janus felt a sharp pain lance through his heart at that expression, but he offered Remus a smile. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. I just have to do this now.”

When Creativity had split, the Imagination hadn’t taken it well. Janus hadn’t tried to enter at the time, but he’d heard that at one point no tangible objects would form at all, leaving an endless void with only glitching, blurry shapes. It had taken a few weeks to settle down, and had returned to its usual landscape of mountains, plains and every biome imaginable.

The only difference was a rupture through the middle. The dirt in this valley was grey and coarse, the air stagnant. Nothing could be created or even summoned there, and if Roman or Remus stayed there long enough they began to feel ill.

Janus didn’t know why he felt drawn to this place, perhaps because it was the last permanent mark Romulus had left on the world – it was almost like a memorial to him. Whatever the case, since he’d discovered it Janus had always found himself coming here in times of distress.

Although, he wasn’t particularly distressed at the moment. But he had some things he needed to get off his chest.

His footsteps didn’t make a sound as he carefully walked down the slope from Remus’ side of the Imagination, and he stood in the middle of the chasm.

“Hey, Romulus,” Janus began, his voice shaking a little. He bent down to pick up a handful of dirt, scattering it from his hand. “What would you say, if you knew about all this? You’d probably laugh, to be honest. Find it poetic or something.” Janus shrugged, a small, wistful smile creeping onto his face. Romulus had always been one for stories, able to find poetry in anything. “And I guess it is, in a way – that the event that made me more distraught than anything, resulted in the thing that… makes me happier than I’ve ever been.”

“I feel bad,” he continued, beginning to pace around the canyon. “Remus is amazing and wonderful in every way, but… I wouldn’t have him if I hadn’t lost you. I miss you so much, Romulus. You were my best friend, and I don’t want anything to come from your passing that makes me happy at all.”

He paused as he registered a rustling in the bushes. Wiping his eyes, he quickly turned around. It was coming from Roman’s side, so it was probably just a harmless creature, and none of the creations could enter the valley anyway. Janus’ eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of bright blue through the branches, and a figure emerged to make his way into the canyon.

Patton.

“What are you doing here?” Janus snapped. This place was a devastating reminder of the Split; the person who’d caused it had no business being here.

Patton froze, his head snapping towards Janus. Even from this distance, Janus could see his face fall. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, looking at his feet as he hesitantly shuffled forwards.

Janus scoffed, rolling his eyes as Patton approached. “Ah right, that totally answer my question of what you’re doing here in the first place.”

Patton came to a stop several meters in front of him, undecidedly shuffling his feet as if he wanted to move closer. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet Janus could barely hear it. “He was my friend too.”

The air suddenly seemed a lot thinner as a wave of something washed over Janus. He remembered how close Patton and Romulus had been at one point, with the same sense of childlike wonder and desire to make others happy – though they’d gone about it in completely different ways, with Romulus being completely and unapologetically himself to find ways of entertaining, while Patton would betray everyone he cared about to meet the moral standards of those around him. Janus realised suddenly that the something was rage, a white-hot sensation that made him want to scream and cry at the same time, because it was so unfair that Patton called Romulus his friend after what he’d done to him.

“I know he probably didn’t think of himself as such,” Patton said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His eyes seemed a little misty behind his glasses. “But I remember when we were kids, and he’d take me on adventures in the Imagination. He taught me how to make flower crowns and daisy chains, and he was so patient and kind.” Patton smiled sadly, and wiped away a smear of wetness that dribbled down his cheek.

“You have no right to talk about him, after what you did,” Janus hissed, taking a warning step towards him.

Patton just nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor again. “I know. I didn’t want to hurt him, you won’t believe me but I really never would have… if I’d known.” He sniffed before continuing. “I wanted us to be perfect. Or, what I thought was perfect at the time. No gory thoughts, no dirty jokes, nothing that people might think was bad. And it worked, until we were teenagers. But then Romulus started thinking up horror stories, he started thinking those jokes were funny, he didn’t seem to care that other people might not like what he created.”

“I tried to talk to him about it, but he just told me to stop being such a stickler. I’d never argued much with anyone before, but he…” Patton paused, moving his lips silently as if testing words out. “I was unfair to him. I kept pushing him when all he wanted was to be free to create. I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I could get rid of the bad thoughts if I just… pushed them away from him. I thought they’d disappear, and he’d be fine. I’d have my friend back. But they didn’t disappear…”

“They became Remus,” Janus cut in.

Patton nodded. “How did you know?”

Janus shrugged, looking down at his hands. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. You had one ‘perfect’ Creativity who you adored, who only made cutesy, family friendly things. And then there was Remus…” Janus felt a soft smile spread across his face at the thought of Remus, despite the situation. “He’s loud and unfiltered and curious about absolutely everything. He loves horror, and I don’t think he’s written a happy ending in his life. He doesn’t try to please anyone else, he just creates for himself and doesn’t care what others think. Those were all the parts of Romulus that you didn’t like, that you pushed away.” Janus’ expression hardened as he took another step towards Patton. “All those little imperfections you wanted to get rid of. You created your own worst nightmare, and you know what? He’s better than you could ever hope to be.”

Patton’s lip trembled, and he looked resigned. “I suppose you’re right, although I’ve never known Remus all that well.”

Janus knew that had been cruel, no matter how true he felt it was. And watching Patton look so helpless, so unsure, something in his heart began to melt. Deep down, he knew that Patton really hadn’t meant to do any of this, that he’d just been a scared kid, and he missed Romulus as much as the rest of them did.

Before he knew what he was doing, he moved towards Patton and placed a hand on his shoulder, reaching for his handkerchief with the other. As gently as he could, he wiped away the tears that were rolling down Patton’s cheeks. “Perhaps you could know him, if you want to,” he murmured. “You’d have a lot to work through, but he’s very forgiving.”

“I would…” Patton took the handkerchief from Janus, and wiped his eyes before taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses. “I would like to know him, I think. I’ve been afraid, I guess, because I don’t know much about him. But that might change when I get to know him. And you certainly seem to care about him.”

“I do, yes,” Janus said immediately, his voice far more serious than even he had been expecting.

Patton cleared his throat, glancing sheepishly away from Janus. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking… the way you talk about him, are you and Remus…”

“We’re not together, no,” Janus answered the unfinished question. He kicked some dirt with one foot, watching the dust float uniformly to the ground. It had been years since he’d had a proper conversation with Patton, but perhaps talking about this could be a start to returning to some sense of normality. “I don’t know… whether I should talk to him about that.”

“Well, why not?” Patton asked. “If you like him, what’s stopping you?”

Janus shrugged, though he knew exactly what the reason was. “It’s just… Romulus. He was my best friend, and I feel like letting myself be happy with someone who only exists because he’s gone might be kind of… immoral?”

Patton seemed to ponder this for a moment, tapping his fingers on his chin and staring off into the distance. Eventually, he sighed, and took one of Janus’ hands in his as he turned back to him. “Listen, kiddo. I can’t tell you how to handle your own morality. Even though we’re all Sides of the same person, we all have our own standards, I’ve learnt that now. But here’s what I think: Romulus would want you to be happy. You know how much he loved love, and if he knew that someone who used to be a part of him made his best friend so happy – and I know you are because I’ve never seen you smile the way you do when you talk about Remus – well, I think he’d be just thrilled.”

Janus clapped his free hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. Patton was right, no matter how much he thought about it he couldn’t imagine Romulus being unhappy with the situation.

Patton suddenly looked frantic, reaching up to wipe Janus’ tears away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

Janus shook his head, giving Patton a watery smile. “No, this is… thank you, Patton. I think that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

And it was. While he still felt conflicted, he’d at least give some thought to the matter in a new light.

-----

“Ooh, this is fancy,” Remus exclaimed as he stepped through the doorway.

Janus wasn’t sure why Remus hadn’t been in his room before, considering that he’d lived in the Dark Side for several years now. Perhaps it had something to do with Janus being very particular about his things, and Remus having a habit of causing a mess everywhere he went.

He glanced around his room, trying to figure out what Remus saw in it. Sure, there were a lot of gold furnishings, and furniture that would have been cost an extortionate amount of money in the real world, but he’d never thought of it as fancy. Perhaps he just had expensive taste. “Whatever. Let’s just get what we need and go.”

“Right, pranking time!” Remus clapped his hands together. While they often pulled light-hearted pranks on the Light Sides, the one they’d planned was rather more elaborate, but Janus was sure he had supplies that could make it work somewhere.

He hoped Remus would get distracted while he searched, because while the room appeared neat and tidy on the surface, opening any given cupboard was liable to cause an avalanche of poorly stacked bric-a-brac. Sure enough, Remus began poking around near his stand of spare hats – Janus had started wearing them when scales began to creep into his hairline, causing it to recede on one side – allowing Janus to sift through his chest of drawers in peace.

“I didn’t know you had a gramophone!” Remus called from across the room.

Janus briefly turned around to see him standing by the old thing, waving his hands around it as if he desperately wanted to touch the shiny object but didn’t know if Janus would let him. Despite never having been used, it was well polished – Janus made sure to clean it thoroughly every time he tidied his room. It had been one of the last gifts Romulus had given to him, and though he didn’t have any records to play, it was one of his most treasured possessions.

“Do you have any music for it?” Remus asked, glancing around.

“No, I… I don’t,” Janus said. He was sure Romulus would have given him some music, if he’d been around long enough, but only Creativity could summon items like that.

“I could summon something for you,” Remus offered, and Janus was taken back to a day almost a decade ago, when a wild-eyed boy had dragged him out of the kitchen on their quest for cake ingredients, and a beautiful friendship had begun to form.

“Sure,” Janus decided. He quelled any apprehensive feelings, as he knew Remus’ taste in music could be… discordant, to put it nicely, but he was pleasantly surprised when Remus placed the needle onto the record he’d summoned, and a jazz piece Janus often like to listen to while cleaning began to play.

“I like this one,” Janus commented.

“I know,” Remus said with a smile. Then his eyes lit up. “Let’s dance!” he suggested, clapping his hands together.

“You can dance?” Janus asked incredulously. It wasn’t too hard to believe that Remus could dance, but he’d never shown any inkling of the skill around Janus before.

“Well duh, I’m a showman. I’ve gotta have some variety in my performances.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you dance.”

“That’s because I’ve never had a partner,” Remus said, extending a hand.

Janus stared at him for a moment. The offer was tempting, but… “I don’t know how to dance,” he admitted.

Remus just shrugged. “That’s ok, I’ll show you! Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Janus sighed, and crossed the room to take Remus’ hand. It couldn’t be too difficult to pick up.

Janus’ breath caught in his throat as Remus placed a hand on his waist. His touch was gentle, with no semblance of the reckless abandon with which he approached almost everything else in life. And with the same feather-light, almost reverent touch, he took Janus’ hand in his free one and guided both of their arms into a hold familiar only from the many times Janus had watched dances.

Though Remus left a gap between their chests, Janus could feel the heat radiating from him, longing to step forwards and close the distance between them. His skin felt like it was on fire everywhere Remus touched him, and he was sure that had nothing to do with bodyheat.

“Is this okay?” Remus asked, his voice low.

Janus could only nod dumbly, the scent of Remus’ cologne which had once been familiar and comforting now intoxicating.

As they started to sway, Janus could barely focus on the steps he was making, but Remus managed to guide him carefully and precisely, his fingers squeezing Janus’ waist slightly in commendation every time he got something right. Janus wondered, briefly, if Remus knew what he was doing to him, if he knew that every touch sent Janus’ heart fluttering. But surely if Remus knew about something as important as Janus’ crush on him, he wouldn’t be able to go without talking about it.

The song changed, and Remus moved his hand up to Janus’ shoulder. Janus felt a little disheartened at the change – with Remus’ hand on his waist, he could pretend there was something romantic behind the touch, if only for a moment – but Remus didn’t stay like that for long. He reached to caress Janus’ chin, keeping his body in the same position to guide Janus in the dance. His fingers brushed the locks of hair that curled around Janus’ ear, and Janus unconsciously leaned into the touch. But as Remus touched the scales that covered half of Janus’ face, Janus flinched back.

Nobody liked his scales. Roman was outwardly repulsed by them, and the rest of the Sides avoided looking at his face as more appeared. Virgil hadn’t seemed to mind them, but now he hated everything about Janus. Although, Remus often found things interesting that others found disturbing. Perhaps he wanted to know about the scales. Wasn’t that one of the first things Remus had said to him on the day they became friends, that he was interesting?

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked.

Janus shook his head, forcing a smile. It was fine that Remus must think of him as nothing more than a curiosity. Totally fine. “Nothing, I understand that you’re curious about them.”

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. “Curious?”

“Well, yes,” Janus said, the words tasting like sandpaper in his mouth. “My scales are… unusual to say the least. It’s understandable that you find them interesting.”

“That’s not…” Remus looked utterly confused. Though he stopped swaying the two of them in the dance, he still held Janus close to him. And slowly, giving Janus every chance to pull away, he reached out again and ran his fingers over Janus’ jawline, not hesitating when he moved from the smooth skin to the grooves of his scales. “That’s not what I was thinking about.��

Janus’ breath caught. His heart was thudding so loudly he was sure Remus could hear it, and when he spoke his throat felt dry. “Then, what were you thinking about?”

Remus let out a soft sigh, tilting Janus’ chin to look him in the eyes. And there, Janus saw something much softer than curiosity, something so pure and loving that he could feel his heart melting. “You’re just… beautiful…”

For a moment, Janus was sure he’d misheard, but the earnest look in Remus’ eyes told him as much as his words did. But the open look was nothing like his usual honesty, with thoughts thrown into the wind without a care of who might hear them. Remus was bearing his heart on his sleeve for Janus, and he almost looked terrified – and Janus realised that he must be scared that he wouldn’t feel the same. How Remus could even consider that seemed absurd to Janus, because there was nobody more perfect for Janus than he was, but he needed to show him that. “I…” Janus swallowed, trying to push out the words that lodged in his throat. “Remus, I…”

The truth was simple – he loved Remus more than anything else in the world – but he couldn’t push the words past his lips, didn’t even know if he could put into words how he felt. So, he did the only thing he could – he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Remus’.

The kiss was short, but it sent a wave of exhilaration through Janus’ body. He’d been longing for this for years. When he pulled away, Remus was smiling – a smile softer than Janus had ever seen before.

“That was… wow,” Remus breathed.

A light laugh escaped from Janus’ lips. “Yeah, it was.”

Remus glanced a little shyly at Janus. “Do you want to, um, do that again?”

Janus didn’t hesitate to pull him in again. This kiss was longer and deeper, and Janus began to feel hot in a way that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with how Remus’ hands slid down to his waist and pulled him close so their bodies were flush against each other.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured as they parted for air, brushing his thumb over Remus’ cheekbone.

Remus squeezed his waist, harder than he had when they were dancing, and Janus gasped against his lips. And suddenly Remus was tilting Janus’ head back, keeping him steady with one hand behind his neck.

“Didn’t we have a prank to set up?” Janus asked breathlessly as Remus pressed kisses along his jawline.

“We did,” Remus murmured against his skin, “but now there are things I’d rather be doing.”

Janus wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders, relaxing into the embrace. He couldn’t agree more.

-----

Janus leaned back against the headboard, curling Remus’ hair around his fingers as his boyfriend lay in his lap. They’d been together for over a year, and over that time Remus’ room had become familiar to Janus. The curtains were almost permanently closed, apart from when Janus insisted Remus let some light in to help with his sleep schedule; the wallpaper was peeling but Remus said he liked the aesthetic; bottles of various chemicals were scattered about on his desks in a way that Janus had been sure nobody would be able to keep track of, but Remus seemed to know where everything was.

Remus hummed contentedly, briefly opening his eyes to glance up at Janus. “Do you know why I learnt to dance?”

Janus paused for a moment. He’d always assumed that it was purely for showmanship as Remus had said, but his tone implied there was a story behind it. “No, why?”

“Because of you,” Remus said softly.

Janus furrowed his brow. “Me? But I don’t dance.”

“I know you’ve never learnt, but you still dance. I’ve seen you in the kitchen while you’re making dinner, dancing to your jazz music,” Remus sighed, reaching up to take one of Janus’ hands in his own. Janus had started wearing gloves to cover the scales that had appeared on the back of his left hand, but Remus seemed to prefer him without them, so he always took them off to cuddle. “And I thought, it would be nice to dance with you. So I decided to learn.”

Janus squeezed Remus’ hand, feeling something fond welling up in his chest. “That’s… really sweet of you.”

“I know, it’s not like me at all, is it?” Remus laughed.

Janus chuckled as well, but he had to admit that Remus actually was sweet a lot of the time. He didn’t show it in front of others, and even Janus had rarely seen that side of him before they’d started dating, but now he made sure to compliment Janus every day and arrange surprises for anniversaries of every little relationship milestone and all the things that Janus had always thought were sappy but turned out to be wonderful when Remus did them.

“Jan?” Remus asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. His voice was small, far more hesitant than Remus usually did anything.

Janus was instantly alert, but he tried to keep playing with Remus’ hair as calmly as he could. “Yes, my love?”

“What would you do if you could reverse the Split?”

Janus froze. He’d talked to Remus about his life before the Split, so although Remus didn’t remember anything from that time he knew that Romulus had been Janus’ best friend. And he missed Romulus so badly that some days it felt like a physical ache, a hole in his heart that could never truly be filled.

“If I reversed the Split, I’d have Romulus back,” Janus pondered, and he felt Remus tense in his lap. As he looked down at the man in his arms, he tried to picture a world without Remus, and almost couldn’t fathom how such a place had ever existed. “But I’d lose you. And I don’t want to sound sappy, but… I’m not entirely sure if I’d be able to live without you.”

Remus relaxed, and pressed a kiss to the back of Janus’ hand. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I don’t think I’d be able to live without you either.”

#dukeceitweek2021 #remus sanders #janus sanders #dukeceit #ts dukeceit #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ts remus #ts patton #ts janus #ts virgil #sanders sides fanfiction #i swear this was only meant to be like 3k words

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subterfugespecialist · 3 years

Text

Led to You

As a child, everyone finds their "soulmate guide," an animal meant to lead your soulmate to you. And one morning, Janus and Remus wake up to see a stranger's guide in their homes.

Written for Day 3 of @dukeceitweek : snakes/bugs

AO3 link

Pairings: Dukeceit, Familial Creativitwins, Platonic Loceit, Moceit, and Dukexiety

Warnings: Some Remus-typical violent thoughts, scorpions/tarantulas/snakes

Word count: 4228

Janus woke up to something brushing against his hand. He groaned and batted Dusa away while muttering "Five more minutes"

But when it brushed against his hand again, he noticed it was definitely not the headbutt from a snake. His eyes snapped open and he glanced down to see a fucking scorpion on his bed holy shit-

If his roommate asked if that was him that made the high pitched squeal that morning, no it wasn't.

He scrambled out of bed to look around for something to try and trap the scorpion under, but he didn't want to get near it what the fuck-

Janus paused. The scorpion was staring at him. At least, it looked like the scorpion was staring at him. It at least didn't look like it was trying to attack him.

Did... did it wave?

Now that Janus had calmed down, he noticed the scorpion was a deep, emerald green. Janus didn't know much about bugs, never had a reason to, but he never heard of a green scorpion before.

Could it be...?

"Hey, Logan?"

Footsteps came from the kitchen down the hallway.

"I was wondering when you were going to call me in," Logan said as he opened the door, his deep blue raven perched on top of his head, "What happened?"

"Can scorpions be green?"

"Why would I know that, Janus?"

"Because you know everything."

"Why are you asking?"

Janus pointed to his bed, and when Logan looked down he jumped back with a startled shout, disturbing the raven on his head.

The scorpion turned towards Logan and, yeah, the scorpion definitely waved.

After calming himself (and his bird), Logan slowly approached Janus' bed.

"...While I have heard of scorpions glowing green under ultraviolet light-"

"Oh, so you did know, you asshole-"

"I haven't seen a scorpion that looks like this, no," Logan said, crouching down next to the bed, "Is Dusa here? She was not under her heat lamp."

"Dusa? Come here, darling."

Dusa didn't crawl out of hiding, and Janus' room and the living room under her heat lamp were the only places she liked to be first thing in the morning.

"I guess she isn't."

Logan's raven, Minerva, hopped off his head onto the bed to examine the scorpion. She leaned down and the scorpion gently bumped heads. Minerva let out a happy chirp.

"My soulmate guide is a scorpion."

"Fascinating," Logan muttered as the scorpion and Minerva playfully chased each other around the bed, "I haven't heard of a bug guide before."

Janus glanced at the clock and put his hand down on the bed. The scorpion immediately ran onto his palm.

"I have class in an hour," he said as he cupped his hands and lifted the scorpion, "So how do you feel about business, corporate, and commercial law?"

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Remus woke up to Roman screaming. After a moment of debating whether to go back to sleep or not, he decided that, yeah, he probably should go check on the well being of his brother. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Remus trudged towards the living room to see a snake curled up on the couch, with Roman's robin perched on its head.

"Peter, please come here!" Roman pleaded. But the little bird seemed perfectly content on top of the snake. The snake started to slither off the couch, making roman shout again. The robin flew onto Roman's hand and he relaxed a bit as he held the bird to his chest.

Roman took his gaze off his brother back to the snake and- oh look at that it. It was headed towards him.

"Remus stop standing there what is wrong with you-"

The snake was around four feet long with yellow-and-black stripes. Quite gorgeous, really.

Remus decided he wanted to pick it up.

He knelt down and outstretched his arm (as Roman continued to shout at him), letting the snake crawl up and around his shoulders. The snake nuzzled its head against Remus' cheek.

Roman stared at him, eyes wide and mouth opened.

"What?"

"You're insane."

"And you're a chickenshit. You've lived with a scorpion as a roommate your whole life and you're gonna freak out over a snake guide?"

"How was I supposed to know it was a guide!?"

Remus stepped over and placed a hand on Roman's shoulder. "...You're a moron."

Roman shoved him.

"Peter was fine. And we should be expecting to find strange animals in our apartment at this age."

"Oh, piss off to find your soulmate and stop bothering me for a while."

"Gladly."

Remus turned to go back to his bedroom.

"...I'm really happy for you, you know."

Remus stopped and groaned. "Roman, no sentimental bullshit before nine."

"But I mean it. You deserve this."

"...Thanks, you idiotic bastard."

Roman gave him a gentle smile as Peter hopped onto Remus' head and nestled into his wild mess of bedhead.

"Also you screamed like a little girl."

"Fuck off-"

Remus cackled as Roman shoved him again. Peter gave Remus a petulant little peck on the top of his head.

Peter flew back over to Roman while Remus held out his arms go guide the snake in front of his face.

"Are you gonna lead me to my soulmate?" Remus asked with a large grin, which only grew wider when the snake nodded.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Janus was very much enjoying having a scorpion on his shoulder. People instinctively stepped away from him, even more so than with Dusa, meaning he didn't have to fight his way through the crowded sidewalks.

The scorpion had been upset that Janus didn't follow its directions. It scuttled frantically from one shoulder to the other. It calmed only when Janus explained he had to go to class, but would follow its directions immediately after.

Janus was stopped in his tracks, though, by a corgi running up to him and jumping on his knees.

"Hi, Peachy," Janus said as he scratched behind her ears. The scorpion crawled down his arm in curiosity.

if someone's guide was a common house pet like a dog or cat, they were issued a special white collar to show they were a soulmate guide to be allowed in public places along with service animals.

But this dog didn't have such a collar. She was just a dog.

"Hey, Janus!" someone called out. Janus looked up to see Patton jogging down the sidewalk, his guide right beside him.

"Hello, Patton. Hello, Cookie," Janus said to his friend and the capybara standing next to him.

Patton had been Logan's friend first, and Janus hadn't been too keen on his... optimistic personality at first. But dammit, the guy's too sweet.

"Miss Peachy! What have I told you about running off?" Patton said with a light scowl as he reattached her leash. But of course, unlike a guide, she couldn't actually understand. She jumped off Janus' legs to go lick the capybara's face.

Janus didn't understand the appeal of keeping animals that weren't your guide, but to each their own, he supposed.

Patton's eyes fell to Janus' shoulder, and after the instinctive fear vanished a large smile took over his face.

"Oh! You've got your soulmate guide!!"

"Yep," Janus said as he resumed walking down the sidewalk. Patton followed.

"Ohmygosh, this is so exciting!" Patton exclaimed, practically bouncing as he walked, "How long have you been out trying to find them? Do you think you're close?"

"I'm going to class, actually."

"Really? Gosh, you've got more self control than me," Patton laughed, "I don't think I'd be able to wait."

"I've got exams soon, Patton. I can't risk missing anything."

"Oh, I'm not trying to change your mind! You do what you think is best. But aren't you excited?"

Janus was convinced Patton was smiling so hard his face was going to get stuck like that. But when Janus didn't answer immediately, his frown dampened.

"Hey, are you okay, Jan?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, honey. You're nervous, aren't you?" Patton asked as his smile turned empathetic, which Janus thought was almost worse than excited.

The scorpion nuzzled against his neck, which was an odd sensation for sure, but Janus appreciated the sentiment.

"Of course I'm not nervous. I have no reason to be."

Patton tilted his head down slightly and gave him that look. The soft-smile dad-friend look that meant you were about to be comforted, whether you like it or not. Janus sighed.

"Okay, fine. A little," he conceded. He probably should be worried about how close that scorpion and its stinger was against his neck as it cuddled closer. But he'd never heard of a soulmate guide killing anyone, so he chose not to.

"Oh, sweetie," Patton said in that annoyingly soft tone. He wrapped an arm around Janus' and led him over to a bench. Peachy promptly hopped up to sit on Patton's lap while Cookie plopped against Patton's legs, giving Janus a soft nudge with her nose.

"It's not a big deal," Janus huffed, "I just think its reasonable to be nervous about meeting some stranger I am now expected to spend my life with."

"You have every right to feel what you're feeling. Such a big life change can be scary. But I'm certain your soulmate will understand your reservations and will go at any pace you're comfortable with."

While yes, the idea of a soulmate was a pleasant one, it was also a bit... concerning, to say the least. Janus was quite happy with where he was in life, and he wasn't too keen on the idea of something changing it all completely.

He was a bit surprised Logan wasn't his soulmate. He was the perfect roommate: neat, consistent, punctual. And Janus felt enough fondness for Logan that he was sort of expecting to wake up one day and have their guides just push them into each others' arms.

Alas, apparently not.

Janus bit his lip, debating. It would be good to talk about his worries. And as much as Janus pretended, he was actually quite fond of Patton.

"Patton, what if we don't work?"

"What do you mean, hon?"

"This person is supposedly meant to complete me. To make me better. But I'm perfectly fine the way I am now. I don't feel like I'm missing anything. What if I meet them and they just want to... to fix me? Because I'm expected to change for them?"

"Janus, your soulmate is meant to compliment you. Not complete you. You aren't missing any parts of yourself, because you're already your own complete person. And you certainly don't need to be 'fixed.'"

The scorpion crawled down to Janus' hands, and Janus ran his thumb over its back to pet it.

"But what if... what if we meet and nothing happens? Everyone always talks about their 'immediate romantic connections' but I don't buy it. What if we're doomed to always be strangers? After all, I'm not particularly good with people, Pat. What did I call you when we first met? A-"

"An annoying, self-righteous, dependent puppy with no boundaries?"

Janus winced. "Yeah. That."

A gentle smile grew on Patton's face as he held his arms out for a hug. Janus hesitated for only a moment before accepting.

"You don't need to worry about anything. Soulmates don't always mean romantic. Even if you don't feel romance at first, even if you never do, you two are going to share a tight bond and a special relationship different from anyone else you know. Nothing gets to take that from you."

"...Thank you, Patton. For taking the time to talk to me."

"Of course! What are friends for?"

Patton gave him a soft smile, and Janus gave him a rare, genuine one in return.

"Oh! I hope I didn't make you late for class!"

Janus looked at his watch. "I'll be fine if I hurry. Thank you. Again. Goodbye, Cookie. Bye, Peachy."

Peachy didn't react. Cookie gave him one last gentle nudge.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The snake in Remus' arms couldn't guide in front of him like Roman's bird would or any sort of animal with wings or legs. While he could let it slither on the ground, it would be dangerous with how busy the sidewalk was. And Remus really didn't need to return the snake to his soulmate all squished.

So it was wrapped around his shoulders, reaching down his arms, and rested in his hands, guiding him down the street like a compass.

The snake turned back to look at Remus.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked as he kept walking, the snake shaking its head urgently. Only for someone to grab the back of his jacket and yank him back, pulling him off the street and narrowly missing oncoming traffic.

"Watch where you're going, asshole," the person muttered. Remus turned, ready to start shit, but instead broke into a goofy grin when he saw Virgil.

"Hey, emo!"

Besides Roman, Virgil was Remus' only friend. Most people were too put off by Remus', well, everything.

And Virgil had been too, at first. But the two bonded over their soulmate's guides being creatures most of the public feared and the stigma that came with that. And now he was used to Remus' bullshit.

"And hey, Helena," he said to the tarantula sitting on Virgil's shoulder.

"So. You found your soulmate guide," Virgil said. The snake reached over to inspect Virgil and he scratched under its chin, the snake then nuzzling against Virgil's cheek.

"On your way to find your soulmate?" he asked as the snake and tarantula started inspecting each other.

"Yep!"

"Are you nervous?"

"Nope!"

Virgil squinted at him, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but all he saw was the normal, excitable Remus.

"Shit, you're lucky, man. I've been psyching myself out over meeting mine."

"But aren't they, like, made for you?"

"Supposedly. But you know me. I can't stop thinking about all the bad things. Like what if they don't like me?"

"Well, that would be a them problem."

Virgil let out an amused huff. "Really? You wouldn't be bothered?"

"Well, yeah," Remus said as he watched the snake and Helena play peekaboo behind Virgil's neck. "But like, it's not like I'm not used to people not liking me. And if I don't know this person, what would I lose, really? So actually, this can only go up for me."

Virgil cast him a sad smile. Remus hated it.

"It'll be good for you," Virgil said as the two crossed the street. "You are a strange fucking creature, but you're a good dude. Mostly. Partially? Mostly."

"It'll be good for you, too, then. Cause you're better than me."

Virgil nudged him with his shoulder.

"Ultimately, I know it will be. My brain just hates me."

"You and me both, emo."

The snake curled back against Remus after booping Helena and resumed its role as soulmate compass.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Remus ended up on his old school campus.

Ew.

He had dropped out, and he had hoped he would never have to step foot back here again. Oh, well, C'est la vie, or whatever the fuck.

Though you needed to swipe a student ID to unlock the doors, Remus knew if he yanked hard enough the doors would give. He had managed to make it through a whole semester without his ID after he lost it.

A grimace grew on Remus' face as he walked back into the Taylor Building for the first time in over a year. It was named after his least favorite professor, and he had a lot of bad memories in this building.

Time to find his soulmate and get the fuck out.

He was just about to head upstairs when someone shouted at him.

"Excuse me! Only students and faculty are allowed in this building."

Yeah, Remus supposed he didn't look like the typical law majors that took up a majority of the classes here. Not with his spiked leather jacket and ripped jeans. He turned to see who had yelled at him.

And speak of the devil.

"Hey, you're Taylor!"

The man straightened his shoulders.

"Yes, I am. Were you a student of mine?"

"Yeah! I hated your fuckin' guts."

The man looked like he had been slapped before a sneering look of recognition appeared on his face.

"Remus Kingsley."

"Aw, I'm flattered you remember me. Especially since I dropped out. You encouraged me to, remember? Right after you called me a, what was it, 'moronic good-for-nothing- imbecile that would never amount to anything?'"

"You need to leave immediately."

Taylor had reached out to grab Remus but he bolted up the stairs, making sure he had a tight grip on the snake.

He wasn't about to give up on his soulmate that easy.

As they ran down the upstairs hallway, Taylor continued to shout at him. But Remus wasn't worried. He was clearly much faster.

He turned to see the disheveled man chasing behind him and laughed. This was kinda fun!

Then he had to turn around and run face first into the chest of a campus officer.

Well, bitchtits.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Janus' class was nothing out of the ordinary, except that his surrounding classmates had inched as far away from this as they could, and Janus was enjoying the extra space.

The scorpion had been still on his shoulder for the most part, settling in where Janus' neck and shoulder met. But now it stood, rushing down Janus' arm to the desk and running around in circles.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Right after he asked that, shouting was heard down the hallway. The professor and students all turned their heads in time to see someone running past the door, laughing, with Professor Taylor chasing after them.

"...Okay, then," The professor said, "Now back to your review material."

Janus hardly listened as the professor spoke. He was more focused on the scorpion that kept switching between running in circles and scuttling onto Janus' hand.

When the professor dismissed the class, Janus hung back. He preferred to let the crowd of students leave before him instead of trying to fight his way through.

By the time he walked into the hallway, it was mostly empty. Janus was holding the scorpion in the palm of his hands and it jumped to get his attention. It gestured with its body to go down the hallway.

"Alright, let's go."

The scorpion led him down a couple of hallways, and Janus heard shouting and the sound of running footsteps against the tile.

A man ran around the corner, his neon green combat boots skidding on the floor as he tried to stop. He had a mustache above a wild grin, with a streak of white through his hair.

He also had Dusa wrapped around his neck.

Janus stared. The man stopped in front of him.

"Fluffy!" he said to the scorpion in Janus' hands, who was alternating between running in circles again and hopping in excitement.

He looked up at Janus with a manic grin. "Hey! I'm Remus. I'd love to stop and chat but I'm afraid I've found myself wrapped up with something."

Two campus officers rounded the corner.

What the fuck.

Janus took the scorpion - Fluffy - in one hand and held it against his chest, grabbing Remus' wrist with the other and bolting.

Remus let out a delighted laugh as he let Janus pull him down the hallway and down a set of stairs.

Jesus, what did Janus get himself into?

He was heading towards one of the student parking lots, cutting through the Union. There would be lots of students and he hoped they could get lost in the crowd. But with two idiots running across the yard with a snake and a scorpion, people were parting a path for them. Which made them more obvious but at least let them through.

When Janus looked behind him, he couldn't see the officers, but he didn't want to risk it. It wasn't exactly hard to identify them: one with a large scar on the left side of his face and the other, with, well, a lot of fucking identifiable traits.

Logan would probably get mad at him for this, but Janus was sure he would be forgiven that same day if he made Logan thumbprint cookies. So Janus let go of Remus' hand to dig in his pocket, finding the spare key to Logan's car he gave Janus only for emergencies. Janus would consider this an emergency. Logan probably would not.

Janus unlocked the car and Remus got in without question. Remus hardly stopped laughing.

Great. So his soulmate was a maniac.

Janus pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, gunning it out of there as Remus shouted in excitement.

"Fuck, yeah, dude!" he yelled. His seat-belt was not on, by the way.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Trespass, technically. But it would've been fine if that bitchass Taylor hadn't come along. And then I maybe assaulted an officer, but could it really be assault if I just whacked him when he tried to grab me? Anyways I already have three offenses - I guess four now - and I didn't want to go to jail or anything so I started running-"

"God, I'm going to miss my next class," Janus groaned, "What if they try to find me tomorrow?"

"How's your track record?"

"It's clean. Unlike someone, I don't get caught."

"Psh, then you're probably fine. you're a white law student."

Janus took a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. What was even happening right now?

"...Okay, I may have fucked this up," Remus started, and he at least had the decency to sound sheepish, "I didn't mean to drag you into this mess, even though I was purposefully... searching... for you... Shit, I didn't even think about that. I don't think a lot, actually. I mean, I wasn't even paying attention on the way to find you. I almost got hit by a car. Could you imagine, Fluffy leading you to me only to find your soulmate and guide squashed by a car and our blood and guts everywhere-"

"Remus."

"Sorry, sorry," he groaned as his hands went to grab his hair, "I was really excited to meet you, and even when being chased by police my dumb brain only wanted to focus on finding you because I don't have many friends cause most people get weirded out since I can't control my thoughts or my mouth so, like, all the weird shit that pops int my brain just comes right out and I was really looking forward to meeting someone who wouldn't leave-"

"Remus, it's okay," Janus interrupted, "Deep breaths, okay?"

Remus took a couple deep breaths.

Then Janus let out a short laugh. He felt bad for laughing, but he couldn't help it.

"...What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. The situation just caught up to me: You're my soulmate, we just ran from the police, and we just took my friend's car and wow. Can't say this is how I expected this to go."

Remus grimaced. "Sorry."

"No, actually. This is better than the sappy shit I was thinking about."

Remus perked up a bit. "Yeah?"

"Is it always like this with you? Am I sentenced to spend my life digging you out of trouble, now?"

"Yeah, probably."

Janus laughed again as he pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. He had no clear idea where he was going, and at least this place had plenty of people and plenty of parking. When he stopped, the scorpion hopped off his shoulder and scuttled to Remus.

"Hey, Fluffy," he said with a smile as he put the scorpion in his lap.

"Hey, actually, let's talk about that," Janus said, "You named your scorpion Fluffy?"

"Yeah. I named him that to trick people. Scared the shit out of my mom when he first showed up. 'Hey, meet Fluffy,' then I pull a scorpion out from behind my back. It never gets old."

Janus couldn't stop smiling, and he was sure his face was disgustingly close to Patton's in terms of fondness, but he couldn't do anything to help that.

"I'm Janus. The lovely lady on your shoulders is Dusa."

"Janus. That's a badass name," Remus said as he scritched Dusa under her chin.

"Thank you for your help today, Dusa," Janus said with a grin as she slithered back over to wrap around Janus, "And you, too, Fluffy."

"Fuck yeah. Thanks guys. Shit, Dusa was awesome. I'm pretty sure that while I was running, she flicked her tail to open a door and it hit one of the officers in the face."

Janus glanced down at her. "You are an enabler."

She stuck her tongue out.

"Well, since we're already here, would you like to go on a date or something? It seems like you have stories to tell," Janus said as he gestured to the mall in front of them.

"Yeah," Remus said with a fond grin, "Are you hungry? I'm starving. Wanna go to the food court. On me. We'll have to be careful, though. I'm pretty sure I'm banned from this mall."

Janus stared at him before bursting out laughing again. This was his life now, and how exciting that thought was.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Thanks for reading! Requests are open in my inbox. Hope you enjoyed <3

#sanders sides #dukeceit week #janus sanders #remus sanders #dukeceit #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic loceit #creativitwins #platonic moceit #platonic dukexiety #janus fic #remus fic #dukeceit fic

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Text

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Four, Debate

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Tired of the neglect he experiences at the hands of staunch Morality, when Janus is sent to the Dark Side, Logan attempts to follow some years later. CW: Food mention, Moceit fight Word Count: 3448 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Platonic Loceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @anxiousbean4404 @vexelore @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody @poptartsaysurloved @robertdownerjr @dangitsbrightinhere @iamuncomffy @sanderdarksides @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn @dragonfander @virgilstarantula @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626 @cosplayhanna @edupunkn00b @wouldntyou-liketoknow @awesomerandomgirl1 @rizzyluke @sevencrashing @all-panic-nodisco

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Though Logic and Self Preservation never had the chance to spend very much time together before the older boy’s disappearance, the conversations they did have were constructive, engaging, and supportive. Which was quite the opposite of what the others had to offer as the years dragged on. During the six that followed the unfortunate event, Logic found himself dismissed and belittled at every turn. Eight years old at the time, he didn’t exactly understand what had happened to his friend. It was confusing, and no one seemed willing to talk about it. The other Creativity mourned like Self Preservation was dead. Fear didn’t seem to notice. Morality cringed whenever Logic brought it up. He didn’t understand.

Time went on well enough then. Eight years old turned into nine, then ten, then eleven; then Fear morphed into Anxiety and the other Creativity disappeared. Even Logic could have called that one -- and he had. If only Morality listened to him and his advocating for the curly haired Creativity’s ideas. If only Fear had let him help more instead of jumping to improbable conclusions. All of it was a shame and it made Logic’s stomach hurt. He had liked that Creativity.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen passed; then Anxiety disappeared as well, giving Logic a foreboding sense of loneliness. He didn't get along perfectly with Anxiety, but still. It felt like the Sides were dropping like flies. At this rate, Thomas would be more Dark than Light, Creativity said. Morality told them that was nonsense; as long as they three stayed good, Thomas would be fine. But Logic couldn’t help thinking this one was more his fault than the last. Perhaps if he had better communicated reality to Anxiety, things could’ve been different. Morality assured him it had nothing to do with anything like that; Anxiety just couldn’t be worked with. That didn’t sound right.

Through the beginning of his teenage years, the dismissal deepened. Too young, too inexperienced, too angry, too serious, too silly. No matter what Logic did, he couldn’t get through to them -- especially Morality, who seemed adamant that he had no idea what he was doing yet. The arguments ranged from petty to serious. No, Logic would say, Thomas can’t afford another Lego set, Morality, he has to save for textbooks next semester. No, Thomas shouldn’t have extra dessert just because he did his laundry today; he just had cake yesterday and God knows why. Irresponsibility began to overwhelm Thomas as he indulged in his Feelings more. He daydreamed a more fulfilling life, as he’d have himself convinced, through Creativity’s delusions. Logic was never considered. In fact, Logic was bad for insinuating everyone else was wrong.

At fourteen, Logic had had enough. One morning he woke up and decided he didn’t belong with the others -- with Creativity and Morality. He belonged with Self Preservation and the other Creativity. The one that he liked and the older boy who had always listened to him. The thought of enduring another day of disagreements and neglect dried his throat, so as the sun rose, he sunk out.

The Dark Side was, well, dark. Logic didn’t know what he expected but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. He went to turn on the living room light but curiously found the switch already flipped, the bulb already illuminated. He went to open the blinds and found them already drawn. Rather than foreboding, as Self Preservation found it upon his initial arrival all those years ago, Logic found it fascinating. Not fascinating enough to keep his stomach growling though. Were the others already awake? Did they not have breakfast over here? Perhaps he was just early.

Unceremoniously, Logic grabbed himself a bowl, a box of cereal, and milk from the fridge to construct his breakfast -- a task Morality had always insisted he do for Logic until recently, when he spitefully went a full month of refusing to eat anything Morality made him. He was old enough to make his own breakfasts and lunches, thank you very much.

“You’re up early,” A voice followed the sound of footsteps down the stairs. “Are you making breakfast for once, Vir--” Janus’ words and feet came to an abrupt end when he reached the bottom landing and his eyes rested on Logan; the teen was small but bigger than Janus remembered, bigger than he was the last time they had spoken for sure. He did the mental math quickly -- it’d been six years since he left the Light Side, Logan had been about eight at the time and had always been six years Janus’ junior; so the boy was fourteen. Logan’s back was ramrod straight at their table as he mindlessly sucked Cheerios off a spoon. Across the room, the television droned the news, but Janus was unable to hear it due to the ringing that pierced his ears.

“Good morning, Self Preservation,” Logan greeted after he swallowed, as casually as anything despite his stare that lasted a second too long. He noted the shine on one half of Janus’ face; the way one pupil had slit and changed colors. Fascinating -- but was he okay? He seemed okay at least.

“Self Preservation?” Janus said with a mask of amused absurdity. “When I left I was Prezzi.” The conversation was good, distracting enough to quell his panic as he glanced up the stairs again. Logic’s room hadn’t appeared -- or perhaps he had missed it?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you still liked being called that,” Logan explained down at his cereal and Janus felt his heart breaking.

“Of course I do,” His brows knitted earnestly at the boy, a hand clutching his collar as though it choked him. Again he glanced up the stairs. “If you’re alright,” Janus took a step back, “For just a moment. I’ve forgotten something, I’ll--”

“My room isn’t here,” Logan’s voice edged with annoyance as he clinked his spoon against the bowl. “I tried everything and it just wouldn’t move,” He mumbled as he aggressively stabbed a Cheerio.

“You tried to make it move?” Janus’ voice gained a shrillness. He couldn’t believe the boy’s audaciousness! “Logan,” He reprimanded sternly but to no avail. The boy continued to sluice quiet mayhem through his cereal and Janus was at a loss.

He glanced up the stairs a final time. It was early, Virgil wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours at least, if he did at all that day. His mind quietly asked what Remus would be doing, forgetting for a moment in the emotional chaos that he had run away to the Imagination months ago. Janus sighed and crossed the room.

“So,” He said in a decidedly conversational tone as he sat down at the table. “Anything interesting happening today?” He gestured at the television and Logan shrugged. Janus frowned. The topic of why he was here would have to be breached eventually, but as long as the Subconscious was refusing to move Logan’s room, Janus didn’t think it was an emergency. What was an emergency, however, was the poor boy’s emotional state.

“Do you want more cereal?” Janus offered quietly as he eyed the nearly empty bowl. Surely the Cheerios that were left were too soggy to be enjoyed at this point.

“I can get it myself,” Logan nearly spat with a venom Janus hadn’t heard from him yet. His brows raised, both concerned and entertained.

The Logic he knew would never use such a tone, the contrast was almost funny. Though Logan hadn’t changed completely he noticed; Janus had several memories of Logan insisting he could do something himself. From climbing on counters for scissors he definitely shouldn’t have been using, to pulling bookshelves down instead of asking one of the older Sides to get a book for him, to stubbornly using the side of his fork with both hands to cut a piece of chicken when he would refuse help with dinner. But it would all be done with apologies and explanations, assurances that he’d be safer next time, growing understanding that though his mind was large, he was still small.

“Logan,” Janus said patiently, the humor in his expression dissolving to reveal patience and worry. The boy grit his teeth and continued to glare narrow eyes down at his cereal bowl. “Why did you come here?” Janus asked softly, leaning forward to try and meet Logan’s eyes.

Then Logan remembered that in the short time they had been on the same side of the Mindscape together, Self Preservation had always listened to him. He had always been there to turn to when the others ignored him. Remembering this made his anger ebb away, though with that, the sadness he had been trying to ignore washed ashore. The hardness in his expression softened, but he still refused to look up.

“Morality and Creativity don’t listen to me,” Logan admitted quietly and shame filled his stomach, colliding with his breakfast in a way that made him nauseous. “I’ve tried everything but Morality always says I’m too young to tell him what to do,” His brow twitched and Janus watched as his sad expression morphed back into something more callous.

The sight hurt his heart, but mostly it made anger warm his chest. What on earth was Patton doing? The root of all their issues so far had been a distinct lack of listening. From fighting with Janus over developing moral stances, to stubbornly refusing to consider nuance in the pursuit of art and self expression, to the apathetic dismissal of welling fear and anxiety as adulthood approached -- was there anyone Patton listened to?

“So you came here,” Janus sighed, attempting and somewhat failing to keep the rage out of his tone. “Because I had always listened to you,” He guessed but then Logan shrugged and shook his head.

“Sort of,” He replied and Janus blinked curiously. Had he missed something? “Mostly I just assumed this is where we came when Patton hated us.”

The straightforward words punched Janus in the gut, knocking the wind out of him like he had just unexpectedly stepped off a building and was now free falling with panicked arms that reached for anything to hold on to. As usual, Logic’s assessment wasn’t incorrect. In a way, this was where the Sides Morality didn’t like ended up; but it was deeper than that. At least Janus had to hope it was deeper than that, or else he’d never find it in himself to forgive his closest friend. Janus swallowed his hurt and sat up, shoving his shaking hands under the table. It wasn’t Logan’s fault and he wouldn’t hold the injury against him, though he did need a moment for a deep breath before he was able to find his voice again.

“Patton doesn’t hate you,” Janus reassured baselessly on reflex, but then he stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t just blatantly lying -- which, of course, he had no issues with, but it was a sad realization, nevertheless.

“Then why doesn’t he listen to me?” Logan asked as Janus faltered. “Why did he send you and Anxiety and Remus away?” He looked around the shadowed room as he spoke before meeting Janus’ eyes again. “Creativity calls this the Dark Side which implies that he and Morality make up some sort of Lighter half,” Janus’ hands became unsteady once more as Logan continued asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers to. At least no answers he wanted to admit. “But if they’re just going to keep dismissing me, then I don’t want any part in that,” He said decisively and pushed his cereal bowl away like it contained the subject matter. “If being a Dark Side means being listened to, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“No, you won’t,” Janus said much harder than he meant to, making Logan’s eyes shoot up. “You’re going back,” he said resolutely, leaving no room for misinterpretation in his tone. Logan opened his mouth but then Janus stood, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor. “If Patton did actually hate you as he does myself and the others, your room would be here,” Janus pointed out, flaring his own heartache with the presumed fact. Logan frowned angrily and balled a fist on the table.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No. You won’t.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep in Remus’ room. He’s used to sharing.”

“This isn’t a debate, Logan, you’re going back.” Janus said evenly, without raising his voice, which somehow made the seriousness in his tone and the steel in his eyes even more intimidating.

In the glaring silence of Logan frantically trying to think of more argument points, Janus’ phone vibrated in his pocket. With a short and aggravated huff, he fished the object out and rolled his eyes at the displayed message.

[SMS From: Patton]

PLEASE tell me Logan isn’t with you

“Well,” Janus sighed, “It seems we’re both in trouble now.”

[SMS Re: Patton]

Oh no, not at all. Whyever would you think that

“That’s Morality, isn’t it,” Logan guessed, looking miserably down at the table. He didn’t want to think about what Morality was saying.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed as he ignored the message that popped up almost immediately. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he sat back down quietly.

Logan was smart, far too smart for his age which is why everything was very difficult for him. Morality was childish and couldn’t see past the fact that Logan was the youngest. Even so, it wasn’t as if he was an actual child. He was the manifestation of Thomas’ Logic; undeveloped, easily frustrated, overwhelmed by his Feelings and in desperate need of acknowledgement for simply trying his best. But even when Janus would convey it to Patton in that way, there was no getting to him.

The fear that Logic would be cast aside and hidden away in this Darkness along with him was real, however. If that were to happen, Thomas would be in a very dangerous situation. It was terrifying enough that his natural Fight or Flight was already over here -- that his very will to live was as well. Janus didn’t want to think about what metamorphosis Logic would go through in that process. From Fear to Anxiety, now to Paranoia; watching Virgil suffer was already more than enough heartache for him, which wasn’t even to mention what was happening to Remus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you, Logan,” Janus spoke softly, folding his hands on the table. He watched with a frown as Logan continued staring down. “But I really need you to understand that this is no place for you.” He leaned forward, trying to meet Logan’s eyes again, to no avail. “I know it’s hard, I know Patton doesn’t listen, but you have to keep trying,” Janus’ tone and expression were beseeching and genuine, his brow creased with a deep worry he didn’t have words for. “You have to promise me that you’ll keep trying,” Logan looked up, defiance and confusion hardening his eyes. He opened his mouth but Janus continued. “You have to. Even when you don’t want to. Even when the others don’t want you to. You have to, for Thomas.”

Logan stared at him, confusion slowly overtaking his rebellion. Janus looked…sincere and earnest, but he didn’t understand why. What was the point of arguing with Morality and Creativity if they would never listen? What was the point of going back when even Self Preservation knew he’d always be dismissed? It sounded exhausting. At fourteen, Logan was already so tired of it. But there was something in Janus’ eyes that convinced him to stop fighting; something that told him there was more he just didn’t understand yet. If that were true, if that were ever true, he’d believe it coming from the Side in front of him now and him, alone.

“Okay,” Logan sighed and Janus smiled in relief.

“Good,” He nodded at the bowl as he sat back in his chair again. “You can finish up your breakfast but then--”

“There you are!” Patton’s voice, coming from behind Janus, stopped his words dead in their tracks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, kiddo!”

“Morality,” Logan said, the word easily mistaken for a greeting. The boy glanced between Patton and Janus, the latter having lined his lips in a pensive, unhumored smile.

“Whatcha doin’ over here, bud?” Patton asked as he approached the table. Janus rolled his eyes and leaned as far away in his chair as he could manage.

Watching Janus’ reactions to Morality, Logan felt equally annoyed; both at the fact that Morality came here to get him, and also for how interrupted their conversation had become.

“Eating,” Logan said curtly, reaching for his cereal bowl.

“Well you know we have plenty of cereal in our kitchen, so why don’t you come on back and I’ll pour you some!”

Patton’s positivity grated Janus like sandpaper. Years of assumptions and miscommunications soured his stomach. His body reacted to Morality like something toxic.

“Maybe he prefers the cereal over here,” Janus mumbled sarcastically and Patton bristled as though he had honestly expected Janus to stay silent this entire exchange.

Logan bit his tongue to keep the appeased smile off his lips but his interest bubbled over. No Side had gotten under Patton’s skin like that since Anxiety was sent away. It was almost a missed sight.

“He wouldn’t know what the cereal over here was like unless someone made him try it,” Patton not-so-subtly accused as he reached for Logan’s wrist.

Logan refused at first, pulling with half strength against Patton’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring cereal myself, Morality,” He mumbled as he met Janus’ eyes. His sardonic and cynical expression seemed to say, it’d be easier to just go along with him I guess, much to Logan’s dismay. “But fine,” He sighed and let himself be pulled to stand, though he immediately shook off Patton’s hand.

“Thank you,” Patton gloated as he turned to leave and Janus all but groaned out loud.

Logan paused. The moral superiority that rolled off Patton was familiar, but at the same time something new against the kindness Janus had shown him. He could easily see why they didn’t get along; their methods were very different. Morality was overbearing, insistent, stubborn, rigid, and often narrow minded. Having developed from Thomas’ Feelings, Patton was silly, immature, and hard to take seriously. Self Preservation was the opposite somehow; smart, clever, flexible, nuanced, and able to see the whole picture with ease. Janus was sarcastic, mature, and deathly serious when need be as a result. Comparing them, it was easy to see why Logic had an easier time getting along with Self Preservation, and why it was pointless to hope that would ever change.

“I’m not doing this because you convinced me to,” Logan told Patton as he trailed after.

Patton turned to blink at Logan, looking mostly confused with a hint of offense. “Of course not,” He saved face, “You’re coming back because over there is where you belong.”

“No,” Logan said slowly, glancing behind himself at Janus, who stayed sitting facing away from them. “I’m doing this because Thomas needs me,” He informed Patton as he began to sink out. “And because you and Creativity would be hopeless by yourselves.”

Janus snickered, covering the sound with a cough into his hand.

“My word, Logan sure has developed quite the backbone while I’ve been gone,” Janus snarked once he and Patton were alone.

“What did you say to him?” Patton accused, his tone somewhere between antagonistic and wounded.

“Why, nothing of course,” Janus mocked and Patton’s eyes narrowed. “We just bonded over our mutual dismissal, is all.”

“I don’t dismiss him!” Patton sputtered and Janus snorted. A tense silence rose before Patton continued. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking to him.”

Janus stood finally and turned to face Patton, his brows raised. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re gonna i-influence him or something! Like you did with Remus and then Logan will be over here too!” Patton stuttered and Janus scowled.

“Oh please, you know I’m the only reason he went back so willingly,” Janus waved a limp hand. “Though I doubt he’ll try this again anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry your simple little head about it, darling.”

“Well, good.” Patton finished, glowering at Janus’ smirk. He hated that expression. Why was Janus happy about them fighting? It certainly didn’t make Patton happy. He was anything but having to face him like this. Without much more to say, he sank out as Janus offered a caustic wave of his fingers.

“Good riddance.”

Chapter Three || Chapter Five Part One / Part Two

#loceit appreciation week #loceit week #loceitweek2021 #loceit #janus x logan #sanders sides fanfiction

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

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Patton for the ask game?

ooooh ty for the ask!! :)

[ask me abt my thoughts on tss characters]

First impression: ooooh i don't remember for sure but i think i liked him pretty solidly!! i forget if he or virgil was my original second favorite (logan has always been my favorite) but i think they were pretty close.

Impression now: okay so technically. TECHNICALLY. he is my least favorite side. but i actually love him so so much!!!!!!! it’s just that. the things he struggles with about himself. often call me out a little too hard and i get uncomfortable lol. but i do love him a lot!! and he is trying SO hard. he is doing his best. i think the other sides need to stop giving him such a hard time, frankly. unlearning the unhealthy habits and thought patterns you were taught as a very young kid is HARD it does NOT happen overnight and he is trying so SO hard, he is doing his very best!!!!! give him some credit!!!!!

Favorite moment: "rain goes to plants, plants feed animals, plant-eating animals feed animal-eating animals, and humans feed animals corn and inject them with hormones until they can bARELY WALK ANYMORE! [...] OH, right! rainy days! forgot what i was talking about!" just. makes me giggle. and is exactly what having a conversation with me irl is like, i think—i go on SO many barely-related tangents. very much an adhd mood lol.

Idea for a story: okay so. i do not remember a TON about the book OR movie OR musical of tuck everlasting, although i know i have seen/listened to/read them in the past. but hear me out. based on my vague memories of the plot. tuck everlasting AU with royality. either platonic or romantic, i haven’t decided, it would partly depend on what age i made them and partly on other factors. but patton is the mortal one and roman is the one from the family of immortals who wants patton to become immortal so he can be a part of their family forever. (something something, analogical as the immortal parents, remus as the immortal older brother, maybe?)

i am undecided if i would give this story a happy “and patton became immortal and they got to be best best friends forever!! <3″ ending for royality or go with the canon ending of “no :) roman tells patton how to become immortal and is like ‘i’ll come back for you!! wait for me!! i can’t wait to see you again!! ily!!’ and then does come back like 80 years later looking for patton and finds out he chose to stay mortal and died :)”

i would include janus in one of three ways, partly depending on which ending i want. 1) if patton becomes immortal, i could add really sweet and cute dukceit with janus just being immortal too. 2) or, in both possible versions of the story, i could have dukeceit, but really sad and in line with the canon backstory of the older brother, where he got married once but his spouse and kids eventually aged and died, while he still seemed like a very young adult (so janus would already be dead at the time of the fic and would just be talked about by remus). 3) or, if patton stays mortal, janus could get a passing mention at the end as the person patton got married to and lived a long happy life with.

but yeah!! patton finding this magical new friend and getting an absolutely delightful summer playing in the woods and having adventures together!! while slowly finding out his friends’ existence is not as idyllic as it seems. and possibly i would make people cry very hard at the end. <3

Unpopular opinion: actually patton and virgil both handled the conversation about virgil not liking cutesy nicknames really well and maturely, idk why so many people got upset about it. also a second one: patton encompasses emotions, which includes anger/rage/wrath. so if the orange side turns out to be some variant of that emotion, im going to be SO annoyed. that’s LITERALLY already in patton’s domain. fghksdfgh

Favorite relationship: hhhhhh i really really like royality and moceit i don't wanna chooooose. royality are so Soft and loving and adoring of each other. and moceit just have SUCH excellent dynamics and push each other to grow and!!! it’s great!! i love them both!!

Favorite headcanon: patton getting more and more frog traits depending on how strong his emotions are my beloved <3 (yes this is literally exactly one of his main superpowers in if you’re going my way, i’ll go with you, shut up. it’s a great idea and i love it so i put it in the fic. also 👀 in that fic patton does have a second main superpower besides the frog stuff, one that i haven’t mentioned yet!! that’s a lil fun fact for yall :D)

in case ppl don’t want to scroll back up: [ask me abt my thoughts on tss characters]

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #patton sanders #ts patton #peregrin plays a game #peregrin said a thing #peregrin answers #morality-the-hufflepuff

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 1/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, non-graphic panic attack, references to self-harm

Chapter Word Count: 4,493

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit (though you don’t have to read into it)

Notes: This fic started as a oneshot but ended up being more than 10k, so I’m dividing it into two parts, the second of which will hopefully be posted Friday. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

Chapter one podfic by @titheinironside

(part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Janus isn’t his name.

Or rather, it isn’t, and it is. He’s never had to think too hard about it before, has never had to struggle for the words to put it all into context. Janus is his name, yes, the name he chose for himself back when Thomas was young and they were all bright-eyed, foolish children, and his preferred moniker wasn’t Deceit but rather something entirely different.

Janus. Roman god of beginnings and of ends, of transitions, of doorways, of passages that lead on and on. God of time, and god of duality. He thought it a fitting descriptor for himself; he is sweet lies, lies that soothe and lies that heal, and he is bitter truths, truths that no one wants to hear, that he must keep to himself lest they do more harm than any lie could. If that is not duality, he doesn’t know what is.

But he is, at his core, whatever Thomas needs him to be. He is fluid in a way that the others are not, able to shift and change depending on the day, depending on what Thomas requires of him at any given moment. He is Thomas’ ability to lie, but only when it benefits him; when a truth would do the most good, he suggests that, instead. He wants Thomas to succeed, to do whatever it takes to better himself, to pursue his ambitions, but only until he pushes himself too far, works himself into exhaustion or questions himself too much. Then, he is the voice that tells him to relax, to take time for himself, to put his health above his goals.

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He plays the part of the others, too, whenever it is necessary. They are used to it by now, so used to it that by the time he reveals himself to Thomas, they react with anger rather than surprise or alarm. But what they do not know is that for every time they catch him out, there are five more times he goes undetected, slipping in amongst them, a snake in the grass. He mediates arguments as Morality when the real Patton is nowhere to be found, uses Logic to pull them down to earth when Logan is too buried in his books and theories to realize there’s an emotional problem, uses Creativity’s bravado to advocate for Thomas’ dreams when Roman is busy dreaming himself.

He keeps the mindscape running smoothly. And when he is not one of them, when he wears his default skin, scales and all, he is known to them as Deceit. Nothing more, nothing less. A convenient villain, uniting them all in their distaste. It makes him sick, sometimes, their naivety, the knowledge that without him here, they would run Thomas into the ground all while professing their love for him. But he swallows it down, hides it within himself with all the other truths he hoards, and he carries on another day.

He is Janus when he is alone.

But even that is not true, not really. He is Janus in the snatched moments he has for himself, when there is no pressing crisis, nothing for Thomas to be doing or saying or making, when he can sit alone in his room with the jukebox crooning soft melodies. He is Janus, but only sometimes, because even alone, he draws on the traits of the others. Logan, when he needs a clearer perspective; Roman, when he needs an ego boost; Virgil, to indulge in his worries; Remus, to indulge in darker thoughts; Patton, when he is feeling weak and lonely and wanting, when he wraps his arms around himself and wants to pretend that he does not stand in solitude.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

The Roman god Janus has two faces, one to look to the past and the other to the future. None to look to the present, and that is how he feels, most days, like there is none of him-as-Janus present at all, like every face that he wears is a false one, and his namesake has only two but he has far more than that.

He’s not sure he even knows who Janus is, besides the name, what he likes and what he dislikes, how he feels and how he acts when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. He likes chess and philosophy, but he only ever plays as Logan, only uses that knowledge when he’s wearing the necktie and glasses, because otherwise he can’t get anyone else to listen. He dislikes surprises and stupidity and the ever-present knowledge that nothing in Thomas’ life is guaranteed, due to a society that actively works against most of its members, but are those his concerns or Virgil’s? He only indulges in stronger emotions when he takes Patton’s form, so who’s to say that the feelings are Janus’ at all?

And he almost never gets to act when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. That pressure is always there, has always been there. Without it, who would he be?

In the end, Janus is just a name. Whether it’s his or not is difficult to say. And that has never been a problem for him; he exists to benefit Thomas, after all. He doesn’t feel the need for a solid identity beyond that, not like the others do. He only picks a name in the first place because everyone else does, because Creativity-that-is-Remus needs someone he can look up to, because Anxiety-that-becomes-Virgil needs to know that not everyone is out to get him. It’s a display of trust, in a way, but trust only leads to disaster, to angry two-toned words and pounding footsteps and a blank space in the wall where his best friend once lived, so really, what is the point?

Janus is his name. But he’s not particularly attached to it, and he’s content to leave it there.

But then, there is the callback, and the wedding. But then, he fights for Thomas’ desires harder than he has ever fought before, and when that turns sour, he returns to fight for Thomas’ failing mental health. He does so as Logan, and as Deceit when Logan’s form no longer suits the goal, and he’s not expecting them to listen but he still tries.

But then, everything changes.

But then, Thomas says, I don’t know that we are, and he believes for a moment that he is imagining all of this, that he has slipped into Roman’s face and has allowed a daydream to get just a bit out of hand, because to hear those words out of Thomas’ mouth is something he has fantasized about for so long.

But then, he has a chance at acceptance, a chance to change it all so that he no longer has to struggle to make his voice heard, a chance that all depends on using the right words at this exact moment, and in the split second before he begins to tug his glove from his hand, he panics. Because he is Deceit right now, and the amount of sincerity that he has allowed to spill from his lips has already been taxing. What else can he possibly say to earn their consideration, to earn a place among them?

And then he remembers the importance they place on names. From there, the decision is practically made for him.

He says the words as if on autopilot, an odd mixture of nervous and numb, and he has to check to make sure he has not accidentally shifted into Virgil’s hoodie rather than Deceit’s capelet as his fear thrums though him. Roman laughs, and he lashes out in return, though more due to offense at the idea that the name is stupid rather than because of a personal connection to it.

When Patton says it back to him, he can’t stop himself from flinching, just a bit, can’t stop the widening of his eyes, the stilling of every muscle. He should be glad, he thinks, because this shows that Patton, at least, is willing to give him a chance, is willing to let him in just a little. But all he can feel is a pervasive sense of wrongness, because he isn’t supposed to be Janus here. Here, he is Deceit, is acting as Deceit. Janus is for isolated, personal moments, and for the life of him, he cannot change that, cannot draw out what little he knows of Janus while there are others here, while Thomas is here.

It’s all wrong. And it only gets worse.

Patton wants to spend time with him, after that. Mostly, he’s glad to accept, is glad of the opportunity to endear himself, to cultivate a relationship that once would have been impossible. Patton invites him to bake, to watch movies, to play games, even to debate morality with him, and he does, and he finds himself enjoying both the activities and the company. But every so often, he catches himself, happiness curdling and souring, because these are all things he enjoys when he is Patton, when he is filling in the cracks that form in Morality’s absence. He has never done any of this as Janus, and every time Patton calls him by the name, he feels dirty, feels like the worst kind of imposter, because in these moments, he doesn’t feel as though he is acting as Janus so much as acting like a reflection of Patton himself, and if Patton knew that, knew that the person he thought he was befriending barely exists at all, he would be devastated.

For some reason, he thinks he would do just about anything to avoid that. For the sake of Thomas’ mental health, surely, and not because he cares about Patton as an individual. To do that would be to open a door that he wouldn’t know how to close. Better to leave it shut and locked, and to ignore the fact that the knob is already turning.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Patton asks him. “You seem a little distracted.”

He manages a smile, and he knows it comes off well, because that is what he is practiced in. “Perfectly fine,” he says. “Sorry about that.” He sniffs the air. “This batch definitely won’t burn if you leave it in any longer.”

And Patton gasps and bustles around, pulling the cookies from the oven, the redirection working perfectly.

Leave it shut and locked? Please. The door is open, he thinks. Perhaps it would be a disservice to both of them to pretend otherwise. Because he finds himself almost unbearably fond of Patton, these days, and guilty for feeling so. As soon as he has a moment alone, he has to shift into Patton’s form to get his emotions under control, to abate the itching tightness of his skin. Deceit isn’t made for these pleasant interactions, and Janus is about as tangible as mist, but he can hardly be Patton in front of Patton, so he wears a mask of scales and speaks past the acid burning in his throat.

The smart thing to do would be to stop. To retreat, to cut off these developing ties before they can do him any more harm. But for all the cognitive dissonance this is causing him, he doesn’t want to lose Patton’s friendship, his smiles and warmth. He’s not sure how he used to live without it.

The door is open so wide that it might as well be hanging off its hinges.

He can grin and bear it when it’s just Patton. For a while, it seems as though it will remain that way. Roman, at least, doesn’t want to see him, and when Virgil isn’t avoiding him, their interactions are far from cordial. And when he is tired, he can sink back into the dark side of the mindscape where Remus awaits him, and Remus, at least, has never expected him to be anything that he is not. He never calls him by his name, either, instead blurting out whatever obscene nickname pops into his head in the moment.

He has never been so glad of that.

But then, Logan invites him to play a game of chess, and for a full three minutes, he is overjoyed, because he loves to play chess, and Logan is the only one who could possibly give him a challenge, and the fact that Logan voluntarily wants to spend time with him is nothing short of amazing. The euphoria lasts until the board is set and they are facing each other, and he catches himself just before shapeshifting into Logan’s form. And he remembers: he has only ever played chess as Logan, learned to play in the first place so as to better imitate Logan. He has played against everyone in the mindscape but Logan at one point or another, providing a distraction and logical advice when Logan himself was unavailable, and none of them were any the wiser as to just who commanded the opposing set of pieces.

Except Remus, but he just thought it was funny.

It is all he can do to focus on the game. All he can do to put up a decent showing, though he loses. All he can do to prevent himself from mirroring Logan’s mannerisms by mistake, out of habit.

He doesn’t know how to do this as Janus. His face is frozen, but his hands are fidgeting, seeking release. Normally, he would copy Logan’s calm, his professionalism, but he can’t do that when Logan is sitting right across from him, sure to notice anything odd or out of place.

“It was a good game, Janus,” Logan says when they are done, and he wants to scream, because Janus doesn’t belong here either, doesn’t belong sitting by a chessboard. That has always been Logan’s place, and it disturbs him somewhere deep inside to be playing Logan’s game, wearing Deceit’s face, being called Janus. So much so that once the game is completed, he retreats to his room and stays there for a week, refusing to answer the door.

It should help. He is not Janus often, but when he is, it is here, in the sanctuary of his own room, his own bed.

It doesn’t help. If anything, it unsettles him even more, because the lines that hold his identities apart have been blurred so far that he spends the entire week uncomfortable in his skin, unsure of who he’s trying to be at any given moment. He shifts into the others, stares at their reflections in the mirror, but that doesn’t make things any better.

He needs help. He has to admit that, at this point. And there’s only one other he can think of to go to, only one other who might have experienced anything close to this tailspin.

He knocks on Virgil’s door.

Virgil opens it promptly enough, though his expression morphs from neutral to pissed off immediately upon seeing him. “Fuck off,” he snaps, and slams the door shut in his face.

He knocks again. And when he gets no reply, he keeps knocking, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Don’t worry, I definitely couldn’t do this all day,” he calls airily, and Virgil jerks the door open again, face now firmly set in incandescent rage.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, all nerves and anger, all fight and no flight at all.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

Virgil stares at him, wordless, eyes narrow. And then, he holds the door open, allowing him to step inside.

“Make it quick,” he bites out, closing the door behind him. “What the hell do you think you and I have to discuss?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, because really? They have everything to discuss, and the longer they put it off, the more difficult it will be to start. Their relationship as it stands now is untenable; left to rot much longer, and it will begin to actively harm Thomas, which is something he absolutely cannot allow.

But that is not what he is here for.

“For both of our sakes, I won’t answer that,” he says. “I just have a question for you.”

Virgil glares. In his hoodie sleeves, his hands are balled into shaking fists. It hurts in an odd sort of way, to see how much he hates him. “Then ask it and leave,” he says, his voice threaded with trepidation. He already knows that he won’t like what he hears.

Well. That makes two of them. He knows he isn’t going to like asking this question.

“After you first told the others your name,” he says, “how long did it take for you to like hearing it?”

He has the dubious pleasure of seeing shock, pure and unfiltered, pass across Virgil’s face.

“How long--” Virgil starts. “What are you even--? I don’t know, I've never thought about it. I… I never disliked hearing it. I mean, I told them in the first place because I trusted them.” A barb, though not an undeserved one. “It was weird, but I wouldn't have told them if I didn’t want them to know it. Why are you asking me that?”

It’s exactly the answer he didn’t want. He knew that Virgil wouldn’t understand what he is going through, that Virgil, at his core, is exactly what and who he appears to be, unlike him. But he hoped that there would have been an adjustment period, at least, that there was a time when Virgil, so used to being called by his function, deemed the monster under the bed, would have found it disturbing or at least unnerving to be named so casually.

“Absolutely no reason at all,” he says, and turns back to the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil catches him by the arm, and he freezes. “You’re not leaving.”

He breathes out slowly, tries not to show his growing fear. The effects of Virgil’s room are beginning to take root, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that’s not the only reason for the erratic pounding of his pulse.

“Oh?” he says, and fights to keep the tremor from his voice. “I thought you wanted me to ask and leave? Do continue with the indecision, it never ceases to delight me.”

“No,” Virgil says, voice hard. “You don’t get to do that. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

He should never have come here. He draws on Deceit like a cloak, like armor to protect him, armor woven of sarcasm and misdirection and misplaced confidence. Be what he expects, and he will never see anything different; that is a lesson he learned years ago. But the persona is shaky, muted by his confusion and by the bleed-through of every other guise he’s ever adopted. To give ground in front of Virgil is like diving into shark-infested waters with an open wound, but the smoothness he seeks to emulate slips through his grasp.

“It’s a question I need answered,” he says. “No more than that.”

“Bullshit.” Virgil tugs on his arm, and despite himself, he turns his head to face him. There is something odd flickering behind the irritation in Virgil’s eyes, something strange in the tilt of his head that he cannot place. It puts him ill at ease; to be unable to read Virgil is inviting danger, especially in Virgil’s own territory. “If you don’t like them saying your name, then why did you tell them?”

Caught.

He can feel all the blood draining from his face. His vision tunnels, focusing on Virgil’s face, on the expression that is anger and something that cannot possibly be concern, because they burned their bridges far too thoroughly for that. His head throbs, his breathing hitching, and he knows that he needs to leave, now, before he spirals further, because showing weakness in front of another is reprehensible but far, far worse if that someone is Virgil--

“Janus!” Virgil says, alarm threading through his voice, and that is absolutely the last straw. He rips his arm from Virgil’s grasp and sinks directly out, falling through the mindscape until he is in his own room, gasping for breath. His pulse races, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and when he turns to look in the mirror, he finds that he has wrapped himself in Virgil’s form as his fears threaten to overwhelm him, hoodie and eyeshadow and all.

He curls up on the floor and tries to remember how to breathe.

It takes a long time for him to calm himself, and when he manages to look up again, it is Patton staring back at him. He likes being Patton, likes it more than being any of the others, because Patton is warm and soft and for all his flaws, fundamentally good in a way that used to repulse him but no longer does. Being Patton feels like the closest thing to a hug that he will ever get.

He forces himself to shift again, forces himself into Deceit before stumbling from his room and into the commons. Remus is laying on the couch, half-naked, watching some gory anime and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He pauses for a moment, watching him, taking comfort in the familiarity; everything changes, but Remus, at least, is a constant, like the north star if the north star showed its love by threatening violence at random intervals. For the briefest of seconds, he shifts into Remus and then back to Deceit again, and for once, feels steady.

Remus takes notice of him eventually, sitting up and baring his teeth in a grin.

“How’d it go with Virgey?” he asks.

He decides not to question how he knew where he was.

“Right, because I want to talk about it,” he grumbles. “Can’t you tell?” He strides over to the couch, keeping as much dignity intact as possible as he shoves at Remus’ legs until he moves them, providing room for him to sit. “What are we watching?”

“Parasyte,” Remus offers, but there is an odd tone in his voice. When he looks, he sees that Remus is watching him now, rather than the screen, and something in the strangely level gaze is discomfiting.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Remus says, raising his hands. “Just, are you good? I mean, we can switch it to something you wanna watch, if you want. Like, uh, that one show where everyone’s dead? You like that one, right?”

“The Good Place,” he mutters. “No, that’s alright. You’d be bored to tears.”

Remus frowns, but doesn’t respond. It takes another full episode-- he thinks; they must be in the middle of the plot, because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on-- for him to speak again, which is strange in and of itself. A quiet Remus never bodes well, because a quiet Remus means that either he is hurting, or he is seriously contemplating hurting someone else. No jokes, no disgusting gags, just a desire to inflict pain for pain’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it is never pleasant when it does. All too often, it is Remus himself who becomes the victim of these tendencies, Remus who tears into his own flesh rather than harming another.

But then, the silence is broken, and he almost wishes that it weren’t.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right, Dee?” Remus asks, and he swallows, hard.

“Of course,” he lies, and of course it is a lie, a lie hissed out between his teeth, because there is nothing that Remus can do about this, so what would be the point in telling him about it? Remus cares, even if he shows it in odd ways, and it would only hurt him to be presented with a problem that he can do nothing to solve.

“Good,” Remus says, settling back in. “‘Cause you know, if anybody was hurting you, I’d smash their skull in. Like a watermelon. Bits going everywhere. Hey, have you ever seen those videos of people crushing watermelons with their thighs? Do you think I could get someone to do that to my skull?” He shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, speaking around it. “I bet it’d be real juicy.”

“I bet,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have the energy to respond further.

What is he supposed to say? He has no doubt that he could set Remus on any of the others easily; all it would take is a sentence, a white lie, and perhaps not even that. Oh, so-and-so was a dick to me, Remus, don’t you think they would like to be introduced to your mace? Remus would jump at the chance for a bit of sanctioned mayhem.

But no one is hurting him but himself. He wonders what Remus would do if he told him that. Could he get Remus to bash his head in, to hit him until whatever is broken in his brain comes loose? Or until he can’t feel anything at all anymore, and wouldn’t that just solve every one of his problems? No more confusion, no more angst, no more churning in his stomach whenever someone calls him by a name or a label that feels no more like his than any other.

The idea is more attractive than it should be.

He excuses himself not too much later, and Remus’ eyes bore into his back as he returns to his room, telling himself that it’s a strategic retreat, that he’s not running away.

He knows it for the lie it is, little though he wants to admit it to himself. And as he stands there in the center of his room, trying to decide whether it is worth it to continue with the day or if he should go to bed now, avoid the world for a little longer, his reflection in the mirror catches his eye, and he turns to stare at it. A face stares back, and he supposes that the face must be his, but he doesn’t feel like it. It looks as though it is mocking him, taunting him with his unreality.

He shudders and turns away, but the name rings in his head. Janus Janus Janus. A person he should know but that he can no longer find, even here. Once his room was a safe haven, but now it feels like a prison, trapping him between identities that he no longer knows how to escape.

He has his back to the mirror, but the reflection is still there, he knows, and a shiver creeps down his spine, filling him with something like anger and something like fear.

He turns off the lights.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones

#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic tdlampr #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #long post #my fic #this is essentially 'janus has an identity crisis: the fic'#and boy oh boy is it a doozy

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moceit · 3 years

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Home Is Where...

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Summary: It's boring being a teenager when you have no friends and are stuck working as a waiter at your dad's restaurant. At least that's what Virgil thought until a set of twins move into town and start attending school with him. Now how will Virgil survive after letting himself befriend Remus Rey? Suddenly Virgil's life becomes a roller coaster of never-ending adrenaline that he wasn't prepared for... and neither were his parents.

Pairings: Platonic Dukexiety, Eventual Prinxiety, Divorced/Eventual Moceit, Background/Implied Intrulogical, Brief One-Sided Logince

Chapter 1

Word Count: 2,906

Chapter Warnings: Lmk if something needs tagged

Read on AO3

Virgil is awoken by a loud knocking on his bedroom door. He pulls his comforter over his head to block out the noise, but his papa has other plans. He pushes open the door and stands in the entryway holding a large mixing bowl under his left arm.

"Good morning, kiddo, how would you like your pancakes today?" he asks his son who moans and rolls over to face the wall away from him in reply.

Patton resumes stirring the batter in his mixing bowl as he enters Virgil's room, careful to not step on the clothes strewn around the floor as he approaches his son's bed. He pulls the comforter off his son's head which prompts Virgil to try and hide his face in his pillow, wanting so desperately to be left alone so he could get more sleep.

"Now Virgil, I know you were up late last night, even after I told you to go to bed, but you do have school this morning. It's the first day of your junior year, isn't that exciting!"

Virgil groans while sitting up in bed. The teenager glares at his papa who stands innocently smiling down at him while he continues whisking away at an already smooth pancake batter.

"Chocolate chips." he simply says, then stretches his arms and lets out one big yawn.

"Alright. I'll see if there are some left." Patton puts down his whisk and pats his son's shoulder. "Get ready. I'll see you downstairs." Then he walks out, leaving Virgil sitting alone on his bed.

Virgil strips off the old t-shirt he wore to bed and throws it across his bedroom. He blearily scans the room over to his desk chair piled high with clothes he believes have all been washed. Virgil finally stands from his bed and walks over to the chair. He picks through the pile and pulls out a fresh t-shirt that he smells to ensure it's cleaned before throwing on. He follows the same pattern as he puts on a pair of black jeans, then finishes off the look with his favorite hoodie and some socks he left lying next to his bed before finally walking out of his room and jogging downstairs to greet his papa in the kitchen.

Patton is flipping a pancake when he sees his son walk in and plop down at the breakfast table with a mumbled "morning" before hiding his face with his hood.

"Good to see you up." says Patton. Virgil shrugs and reaches over to the cartoon of orange juice Patton left out on the table. "You were in luck. I had just enough chocolate chips for this batch of pancakes this morning."

"Yippee." Virgil deadpans, standing to get a glass from the cabinet, orange juice in hand.

He fills his glass with the orange juice. His papa asks to pour him a glass of juice as well, so Virgil grabs another glass from the cabinet and repeats his action. He brings the glasses over to the breakfast table and sits back down at his spot.

Patton appears behind him carrying two plates of chocolate chip pancakes. He lays a plate in front of Virgil and carries the other plate over to his spot. He sits down across from his son.

"Dig in." he smiles, pushing the syrup he set out on the table towards Virgil for him to get started first.

Virgil pours a little syrup on his pancakes before passing it back to his papa. He starts scarfing down his pancakes, wanting to finish up so he can get out as soon as possible. He was planning on mindlessly driving around town before he had to force himself to pull into the parking lot of the high school that he dreads attending.

"I'm driving you to school today." his papa says abruptly, as if he is reading Virgil's mind. "And your dad is gonna pick you up for work after."

Virgil rolls his eyes and groans. "Why…?!" he whines as he places his fork down next to his plate.

"He's short staffed and needs the extra help." Patton says matter-of-factly before taking a bite out of his breakfast.

"But do you have to drive me? Do you not trust me enough to take myself there after school?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to carpool with your dad instead?" Virgil glares at his papa something quite threatening, but his papa seems to ignore the look "One time. That's all we're asking you."

Virgil looks away from his papa. "Fine." he huffs.

His dad beams back at him and thanks him for cooperating before returning back to eating.

---

Patton pulls up to the front of Virgil's school. Virgil sits next to him in the passenger seat with his knees up against the dashboard and his headphones on listening to his music. He lost himself in his thoughts and he didn't even register they have arrived until his papa taps his shoulder to get his attention.

Virgil pauses his music, lowers his headphones around his neck, and looks at his papa.

"Remember that your dad will be picking you up after school." says Patton with his ever kind smile. "Have a good day. I love you."

By this point Virgil has already cracked open his car door. "Yeah." he says in reply before swinging the door open all the way and climbing out of his papa's old Chevy Cruze.

As his papa pulls away from the school Virgil glances back at the parking lot and notices a brand new Lexus ES pull in and park. The sight of a luxury vehicle being quite a foreign concept to all the students around him so Virgil isn't the only one who stops to stare at the two boys who step out of it.

While Virgil definitely couldn't say he knows everyone at the school, having spent his entire school career fairly alone, he realizes these two guys have to be new students.

Virgil turns back around and shuffles through the front entrance of the school. The halls are crammed with other kids excitedly chatting and catching up after three months apart from each other. Virgil watches as two students run up to each other and throw themselves into a hug. The excitement of the two students catching up in his view is something very unfamiliar to Virgil. Every year he walks down these halls and not once has anybody ever bothered to greet him, aside from a couple friendly teachers and faculty members who like to welcome back every student who locks eyes with them.

With nothing for him out in the halls Virgil continues his trudge all the way to his first period class. He's the first one there, even beating the teacher, though that's not a surprise to him. He takes a seat in the back of class and puts his headphones back on, hitting the play button and letting himself enjoy these next few moments of peace.

As it starts getting closer for class to begin students begin filing into the classroom. One of the kids in Virgil's class he recognizes as one of the boys who stepped out of the Lexus this morning. He appears to have already met a couple of the girls in their first period as he walks in with them, chatting away like they were old friends. The group sit down together with the boy two seats up from where Virgil is sitting.

They're talking quite loudly and Virgil decides to be a little nosy as he pauses his music to eavesdrop on them. If they are going to be louder than his music then he might as well pick up on a piece of their conversation.

"So are you considering auditioning for the fall musical? We do it every year!" Says one of the girls, gesturing to all of her friends with the last statement.

"This fall we're doing The Little Mermaid!" says another girl excitedly. "One of my favorites!"

"Oh, absolutely!" the boy says with an overly grandiose flare in his voice that almost makes Virgil want to gag. "I've been doing theater since I was five so I'm not gonna miss an opportunity now!"

"Great, another pompous theater kid." Thinks Virgil sarcastically.

"Then we can all go to the audition together!" A third girl chimes while clapping her hands excitedly.

"It'll be great. You're gonna love our director." Says the first girl.

Virgil goes to hit play on his music again, deciding the conversation wasn't worth his time listening in to. Virgil was never interested in theater talk. He recognizes the three girls as being some of the most active members of the school's drama club so Virgil should've figured that this conversation would lead to something theater related anyways. Before Virgil gets a chance to hit the button on his phone he's stopped short when the teacher walks in and immediately grabs the attention of her students.

"Welcome to eleventh grade chemistry…" she begins.

---

The day drags on slowly as Virgil is forced to go from class to class listening to practically the same exact spiel as the teachers read off their syllabus for the school year. Then he finally gets to fifth period and he feels a bit of relief knowing lunch comes right after.

As he walks into the class a couple students are already seated but he is luckily able to get a spot in the back. One of the kids already in the classroom happens to be the other boy in the Lexus from this morning. He is also seated in the back so Virgil chooses to sit on the other side of the classroom. If this kid is anything like his brother (?) then Virgil wants to stay as far away from him as possible.

The other boy stays to himself as more students continue finding their way into class, but Virgil notices the boy staring at him out the corner of his eye. This unsettles Virgil as he's never had anyone pay him any mind before, let alone look at him with such intent as the boy across the room from him did. Virgil is anxious to say something to him so he tries his best to ignore the boy's glances. He distracts himself by chewing a hang nail on his thumb and bouncing his leg as he tries to stare ahead of himself and not turn back in the boy's direction.

Virgil could still feel the boys eyes on him throughout the entire class. When the bell finally rings Virgil bolts up from his seat and practically sprinting out the door. He takes deep breaths out in the hall as he begins to calm himself down during his walk down to the cafeteria.

Something tells Virgil fifth period World History will be interesting.

---

When Virgil gets to lunch he goes into his usual routine of standing in line, grabbing his lunch and going to the table in the far corner of the cafeteria. It's the usual spot he sits at where he can be alone, just him and his music.

Except this time his normal lunch will be interrupted. As Virgil is enjoying his time to his self his eyes meet with that of the boy's from history. Virgil's heart drops as he realizes the boy is coming straight towards him.

"Oh no" the boy plops down right across from him. Virgil's single table to himself becoming a table for two for the first time in years.

"You look lonely." The boy states. "But I wanna change that."

Virgil pushes his tray closer to him as he desires to curl in on himself and hide away. There's no way he is letting this boy get too close to him.

"I'm fine."

"Wouldn't you like a friend?"

"I don't need a friend."

"Well, I'm not moving."

"Fine!"

Virgil is hoping that the conversation will end there and he can try to enjoy his lunch in peace as usual. He is wrong.

"My name is Remus Rey. I'm new here and I'm looking to make new friends. I saw you last period and thought you and I would get along."

Virgil takes a second to process what Remus is saying to him. He doesn't understand what about him screams friend material for Remus or why that would warrant Remus to stare at him all period long. Should he feel flattered or concerned? Virgil decides it's better if he doesn't think about it too hard.

"I'm Virgil… Hudson-Bullard."

"That's a unique last name."

"It's hyphenated."

"Two last names?"

"Sure."

"Well," Remus begins, "my family moved here over the summer. We live in Oakland Heights."

Virgil's dad lives in Oakland Heights. When Virgil is over at his dad's he likes going on walks. For several years there was one house in the neighborhood that sat for sale. Virgil has always been so blown away by the house’s beauty and size, but the home was way out of the price range for the average person living in town. At the end of last school year Virgil remembers walking past the same house and the For Sale sign had a big red "Sold" over it. Virgil can't think of another house that was sold around that same time so it's safe to assume Remus is talking about the large home in Virgil's mind.

He can't believe the boy sitting across from him would live in such a nice home. If what Remus is saying is true then that would mean his family is well off. Then again, it would add up. He arrived to school in a freaking Lexus! Virgil shouldn't be too surprised but he's still taking time to process all of this.

"You're not talking about the large home at the end of Berry Street?" Virgil is still in disbelief.

"Yep, that'd be the one. Me and my twin brother, Roman are both excited to be starting school here today! We've never been to a public school before."

Twin brother? Virgil looks past Remus over to another table where the boy in question is sitting at laughing with a bunch of theater kids and other popular students that Virgil would rather not associate with. Roman seems to have found his clique and is hitting it off with the others quite well.

Remus notices Virgil's gaze drift behind him so he turns around and traces Virgil's eyesight over to Roman.

"We're like night and day." Remus says. "He and I don't really get along. We haven't since around the time we started middle school. We got into two different interests and friend groups. People tend to find it easier to get along with Roman than they do me."

Remus turns back to look at Virgil who's attention has now returned back to him. "I sometimes think even my parents like him than me… at least in our mom's case."

Virgil is almost beginning to pity him. Perhaps it was because he saw himself in the new boy and didn't want to wish the same fate on someone else.

"I've recently been cut off from my allowance." He continues. "So now I'm looking for a job so I can have a little bit of spending money."

Virgil shrugs. "I wish I knew how to help." He says simply to be kind, but also because he really was beginning to feel for him.

"Thanks. I suppose I'll find something eventually?" Remus finally takes a bite out of his lunch before adding. "I really like you, Virgil. I think we'll be great friends."

---

The second half of Virgil's school day felt just as slow as the first half but luckily it lacked any more sightings of the Rey brothers. When the final bell rang signalling the end of the day Virgil finds himself speeding lightening fast out the doors to the parking lot. He starts searching for his dad's car waiting for him all the way in the back. Figures he would make Virgil walk.

Virgil makes his way all the way to his dad's car and slips into the passenger seat.

"How was school." His dad deadpans as soon as Virgil closed the door. His voice sounding as if he didn't care, though Virgil knows his dad well enough to understand it's just his tone and that he was more concerned than he sounds.

Janus starts pulling out of the parking lot as Virgil replies. "It was fine." He shrugs. "Got a couple new kids. The one decided to sit next to me during lunch." Virgil says nonchalantly.

"Oh~" Janus drawls, "you made a new friend?"

"If that's what you wanna call it." Virgil puts on his headphones to tell his dad he is done with the conversation.

The rest of the car ride is silent as Janus drives the two of them over to the restaurant. Virgil stares at the building with no emotion as he slips his headphones off his head and into his backpack.

"I brought some work clothes and your black work sneakers in case you needed them." his dad says as he goes to open the door. "They're sitting in the back seat."

Janus gets out of the car and starts walking inside. Virgil looks at his clothes through the rearview mirror before he gets out himself. He opens the back door and grabs the outfit his dad had for him before going in himself. Time for work.

#original #sanders sides #prinxiety #moceit #intrulogical #platonic dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #dadceit #ts fanfic #nat writes something #home is where...

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c-swirlz · 4 years

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Would I Lie to You? {Patton ‘Birthday’ Special}

Summary: Patton intends to celebrate his ‘birthday’ alone, but Janus won’t let that slide.

Pairing(s): Platonic Moceit

Warning(s): Implied crying, use of drowning as an idiom/metaphor (I’m not sure which it is)

[AO3 link]

Patton had barely left his room since he’d checked on Roman.

“Shouldn’t you be helping your new friend get acquainted?”

Roman, surprisingly, had emerged more often, tending to stick close to Virgil if the anxious Side was downstairs, even if nobody else was in the vicinity.

“I’m fine, Patton, I just... want to be left alone for a while.”

Patton had screwed up.

“If you really cared about me, you would’ve said something when that snake called me evil!”

Badly.

“Just -- just leave. Please.”

It was January 15, and the sun was just rising over the horizon. Part of Patton expected Roman to burst into the room like he’d done every other year, but the remaining parts took the wheel, forcing Patton to face the reality of the situation.

God, why hadn’t he said something? If he had just spoken up when Janus called Roman evil--

Patton wriggled further under his blanket, hugging his pillow close so his head was still cushioned. He hadn’t moved from his bed since he’d woken up, despite it being his special day, which always used to excite him.

After everything that had happened, he had a feeling nobody else would even care, despite the others’ past insistence on checking on him only to be dismissed with the lie that he was fine.

So he stayed there.

And he most certainly did not cry.

~---~

Nearly an hour later, Patton decided moping around wouldn’t do him any good and reluctantly left the warmth and comfort of his bed to change out of his pyjamas and freshen up. When he sunk out and rose up in the bathroom, he winced at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. After a quick soak and wash of his face, Patton was relieved to see that the red had faded, now barely visible. He attempted to tame his bedhead, which resulted in him being satisfied when it looked somewhat neat despite there being several hairs still sticking out at various angles.

Patton returned to his room and sat on his bed, placing his hands in his lap and looking down at his shoes.

“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered.

There was a knock on the door, but Patton didn’t want to answer. His door happened to be unlocked, so the knocker let themselves in.

“Hello, Patton.”

Patton glanced up at the knocker. He didn’t have the energy to mask his gloominess, so he didn’t bother faking a smile.

“Hi, Janus.”

Sensing the lack of usual cheerfulness, Janus frowned.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” Patton replied, a tad too quickly.

“Mhm.” Patton flinched at Janus’ disbelieving tone, his gaze snapping back down to his shoes.

There were footsteps. The mattress dipped as Janus sat beside Patton.

“Talk to me, Patton.”

Patton inhaled slowly and steadily, the exhale turning into a sigh.

“Have you ever celebrated your ‘birthday’ alone?”

The question caught Janus off guard, but he answered nonetheless.

“Once or twice, yes. What does that have to do with--” Janus cut himself off as the realisation dawned on him. He was well aware of the date, as well as the occasion that accompanied it.

“Ah.”

“I was thinking of doing that today. Y’know, celebrating in here, alone. I doubt any of the others would wanna join me after what happened.”

“Patton--”

“It’s fine,” Patton interrupted. “Really, it is. You can go join the others downstairs -- I’ll stay here.”

Janus heaved a sigh. “Okay, first of all, you are a dreadful liar, Patton -- I say that with the utmost sincerity. Second, it seems you’ve forgotten that Roman and Virgil still somewhat dislike me and Logan... well, he’s actually the only Core Side other than you who willingly speaks to me, but that’s not the point.”

Patton glanced up at Janus and raised an eyebrow. “What’re you getting at?”

Janus dramatically fell backwards so he was laying across the bed, Patton’s gaze following him the entire time.

“Going downstairs would not be one of my smartest decisions, so I’m content to stay here. Besides, I’d much rather spend time with someone who actually appreciates my company.”

Patton smiled. It was genuine, albeit small.

“And, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to join you in celebrating. Take it from me -- celebrating alone is no fun.”

Patton giggled. “Yeah. Okay, sure, you can join me.”

Janus sat up and fixed his gloves and hat (which had somehow not fallen off and was only slightly askew). Then, he looked over at Patton and smirked.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Won’t get a whole lot of celebrating done just sitting here burning daylight.”

~---~

A gasp of disbelief escaped Patton’s lips as he stared wide-eyed at Janus. The two of them were sitting underneath a blanket fort in the middle of Patton’s room, said room filled with various decorations ranging from streamers to a piñata (which had already been smashed).

“Wait, Virgil did what?!”

“Pushed Thomas so he’d talk to a cute guy they’d seen in the mall.”

Patton squealed. “Oh my gosh, I’m so proud of him! That mustn’t have been easy for him to do.”

Janus made a show of nonchalantly inspecting his nails, despite him still wearing his gloves. “I’m pretty sure he did it for Roman, but it was definitely worth it. You’ll love Nico, Patton.”

Patton nodded, dismissing the thoughts of Thomas’ ex the moment they entered his head. “I’m sure I will. He sounds like a really nice guy.”

Janus’ lips curled up into a small smile. “Well, on that note, I think it’s about time I gave you your present.”

Patton stared at Janus, his eyes expressing something unreadable.

“My... my present?”

Janus nodded.

“You... got me something?”

Janus gently bumped Patton’s shoulder. “Well, I wasn’t going to let our dear Morality have a ‘birthday’ without at least one gift.”

With a wave of a gloved hand, a small parcel appeared. Janus inspected it for a moment before handing it to Patton, satisfied with... the quality, if Patton had to guess. For a moment, the moral Side simply stared at it.

“Go ahead, Patton,” Janus prompted, “open it.”

Patton blinked, coming out of whatever trance he had been in and slowly tearing the wrapping paper. As he tore more off, he became increasingly eager, so the tearing gradually increased in speed until all the paper had been removed.

“Janus...”

“Wait a few seconds,” Janus instructed. Patton complied, and a few seconds later the framed photo of Thomas and Nico he held delicately in his hands transitioned into an old photo of him, Logan, Roman and Virgil. The framed photo operated very similarly to the other photos in his room -- every few seconds, said photos would change.

“Your bedside table was looking rather empty without that photo of--” Janus cut himself off, but Patton knew what he’d been about to say. After a moment of silence, Janus cleared his throat awkwardly. “So I gathered some photos and put this little thing together.” He gestured to the framed photo in Patton’s hands.

Patton hugged his present to his chest and grinned. “I love it. Thank you, Janus.”

Janus’ lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, but before a full smile could form, Janus paused.

“Janus?”

“Oh, for the love of--” Janus crawled out from under the blanket fort and stood, while Patton remained where he was.

“Where’re you going?”

Janus heaved a sigh. “Downstairs. The three musketeers want to see me.”

“You want me to come with you?”

Janus shook his head. “No. No, you stay there -- I’ll be right back.”

And with the creak and slam of the door, Janus was gone.

~---~

When Janus returned eight minutes later, he poked his head into Patton’s room to find the moral Side still sitting under the blanket fort, swiping the framed photo and looking at the various photos it contained.

“So,” Janus began, startling Patton, “turns out the others are practically drowning in puddles of their own guilt. On a more uplifting note, it seems they’re waiting for you. They totally aren’t waiting to shower you with gifts.”

Patton crawled out from under the blanket fort, standing slowly and clutching the photo frame tightly.

“You... you mean it?”

Janus chuckled, stepping aside to allow Patton to exit his room. Janus reached out and closed the door, took Patton’s hand and led him down the hall towards the stairs.

“Would I lie to you?”

#sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #patton sanders #janus sanders #platonic moceit #patton sanders birthday #swirlz scrawls

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hippityhoppitygetofmyproperty · 3 years

Text

I am gay. And, I’m new in town

Characters: Virgil, Janus, Patton, Background Roman

Ships: Platonic Anxceit, Platonic Moceit, Background platonic Prinxiety

Warnings: Small anxiety spiral in the beginning

AU: Human

Word count: 686

Ao3 link

Yes, the title is from a John Mulaney bit. Janus’ name is Dee for the time being for a reason. This is the first part of a series, hope you enjoy!

“Finally.” Virgil sighed as he sat down his last box.

He just moved two and a half hours away from his hometown, his dad left a while ago after checking on him and helped move the heavy stuff, and he was tired. His friend, Roman, asked why he would move so far away from home and into a small town he’s never heard of. The truth was he really didn’t even know himself. Sure it was for a job that paid really well, but he knew no one there and wouldn’t be able to see his friends that often and he was far from any sense of normalcy and oh god why did I even do this-

His thoughts were cut off by his stomach growling. A quick look at the clock would show that it was a bit past 7, and he didn’t know any of the food that was offered in the town.

Well, let’s hope no one will talk to me.

As he stepped out of his new home and started to walk into the main part of town, someone tried to wave him down.

”Well maybe he’s trying to get someone else’s attention.” Virgil thought to himself.

“Hey, you, with the purple hair!’

”Fuck.”

The guy walked up to Virgil. “Hey, you’re new in town right?”

“Uh- Yeah, how’d you know that?”

The stranger smirked. “Small town, remember? Everyone here knows each other, or at least has seen everyone.” He held out his hand. “You can call me Dee, do you mind if I join you.”

“Virgil.” He said as he shook the extended hand, “And only if you know a good place to eat.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I know a good place that you can get a discount at.” Dee said, starting to walk away. Virgil decided to follow.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I have a friend that works there that gives me a discount, and will most likely give you one too if I bug him a bit.” Virgil hummed in response and Dee continued after a pause. “So, Virgil, may I ask why you came here?”

Virgil shrugged. “Oh, you know, new sights, new people, new-“ Fuck, what was another thing? ”… trees.” Dammit.

Dee gave him a teasing look. “Trees?”

“Shut up!” Virgil said as he shoved Dee, getting an amused chuckle from him.

“But seriously, why do you come here”

“I found a job here that pays better than where I’m from.”

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the walk until they came up to a building that says Patty-Cake Diner. Dee walked quicker to get to the door and open it.

“After you.” He said as he gestured for Virgil to head inside.

Inside the diner felt very comfy, like he was back home, it was a little smaller than what you would expect but then again it is in a small town.

“Hi, Dee!” A voice called from somewhere that got Virgil’s attention.

“Ahh, Patton, just the man I wanted to see!” He gave the friend a hug. “I hope you have a seat saved for me, and this time I’ve brought a guest with me.” He said as he gestured to Virgil, who was standing behind him.

Patton’s eyes practically lit up when he noticed Virgil. “Hi, I’m Patton, as you might’ve heard!”

“Virgil.” He said as he shook Patton’s hand.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and get you guys a seat, give me one second.” And with that, the jolly man went to the back of the small diner.

Dee turned to Virgil. “I hope you don’t mind me joining, it would be easier to get that discount if I’m with you.” He turned back forward and said just barely loud enough for Virgil to hear, “And maybe I want to get to know you some more.”

Before Virgil could respond, Patton came back and brought them to a table. Virgil looked at Dee sitting across from him and thought that maybe this move wasn’t such a bad thing.

He had a feeling he would like this small town.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders mention #cherry writes #human au #platonic prinxiety #platonic moceit #platonic anxceit #for now at least

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 12

Day 12 - You meet your soulmate in your dreams every night.

Pairing(s): Romantic Remile, Romantic Moceit, Romantic Dukexiety, Past Romantic Dukeceit

TWs: sexual language, mentions of childbirth, Remus being Remus, swearing

Emile Picani knew something was up with his soulmate.

Their link, as almost all did, formed when they were twelve. And right off the bat, when his soulmate kept flitting in and out of sight, he knew their first meeting would be interesting. Emile had sat up from his dream bed to see a young boy with raven hair that shone a dazzling blue in the light, and pale skin adorned with freckles that stood out like stars in the night sky.

So sue him, Emile was going through a poetic phase.

He’d walked over to start up the conversation, “Soulmate! Do you, how do? My name’s-”

Was as far as he got before the boy disappeared. At first, Emile panicked; what happened?! Did his soulmate hate him on sight and wake up-

Oh, there he is.

The boy reappeared, taking in Emile as he looked him up and down with his mocha coloured eyes, “Oh, you’re still here, babes. Cool.”

Huh. Interesting response, but Emile trusted in fate, extending a hand again, “As I was saying before you got spirited away, I’m Emile Picani! What’s your name?”

“Nice Ghibli reference. I’m Remy Duke,”, he yawned, reaching for Emile’s hand lazily, “Nice to meet you. So like, you’re my soulmate? I’m like, not just dreaming?”

Emile shook his head, “Nope! It’s really me! I hope you’re not disappointed- Ah, sorry, my pops says I shouldn’t say stuff like that-”

“He’s right, you shouldn’t.”, was the blunt response he got.

Sensing that he might’ve made his soulmate uncomfortable, Remy elaborated, “My ren says you should totes avoid negative thinking. Like, if you keep thinking you’re disappointing me, you’re only gonna like, reinforce that idea. And being that anxious is not a good look on you, sweetie.”

Emile wasn’t sure what to think, but the advice made him feel… really happy, actually. His soulmate cares! He went to thank him, but Remy had disappeared again. Dang. Emile waited until Remy returned, humming to himself when he heard his soulmate’s voice again,

“Whoa, you like Steven Universe?”

Emile’s smile glistened with delight that Remy had recognised the tune of Independant Together, “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character!? Mine’s Steven!! But if I had to pick a gem, I’d say Spinel’s my new favourite!”

Remy rolled his eyes, but Emile read the gesture as a fond one, “Cool.” . He figured his soulmate wouldn’t answer further but then Remy continued, “I like Buck Dewey. He’s totes underrated. As for the gems, like, there’s no question babes. Garnet’s the best.”

Thankfully, Remy was able to stay for the rest of the night until the two of them realised it’d be morning soon.

“Oh, before you go, maybe we should find out where we both live! That way we can-”

Remy shook his head, “Nah babes. Let’s make this fun. It’s like, way too boring if we make things THAT easy.”. He noted how upset Emile looked and took pity, “Tell you what babes, how about every time we meet, we both get one yes or no question. Make it a game. First one to guess where the other lives wins.”

Emile smiled, mirroring Remy’s playful one, “Alright then! Can I go first?”

“As long as you’re quick babes.”

“Oh, right!”, Emile cleared his throat, “Are you in the US?”

With a dramatic, yet monotone sigh, Remy retorted, “Unfortunately-”

“Remyyyy!”, Emile chuckled, “You’re breaking your own rule. It’s yes or no, silly!”

Remy rolled his eyes, but the sigh he gave had nothing but fondness, “Alright, alright. Yes.”. He stretched his arms, “Same question to you babes, you stuck in this crapsack of a country too?”

“Yes.”, Emile answered, “Unfortunately.”

The chuckle he got back from Remy left him with a smile on his face as he awoke that morning. Emile wasted no time in brushing his teeth and heading to breakfast with a spring in his step to tell his fathers the great news.

Unknowingly just a few miles away, another young lad awoke and dragged himself lazily down the stairs where his father and ren were having one of their early morning romantic tension arguments.

“The knife’s the pussy option, Virge!”, his father Remus had chided, shoving a handful of trix into his mouth with his bare hand, “Knives don’t do shit!”

Remy’s ren, Virgil, massaged their temples in frustration. Going by the shade of their face being somewhere between embarrassed tomato and devil’s asscrack crimson, Remy figured they’d been on this tangent for the last hour or so.

“What the FUCK do you mean ‘knives don’t do shit’?! It’s a fucking KNIFE, dipshit! What the fuck is a spoon gonna do!?”

Virgil yanked the cereal from Remus and began pouring him a proper bowl, to which the messy man scoffed, “Virge, you’re not thinking about the bigger picture!”

“What bigger picture?! We’re talking about which would be best in a casual alleyway fight, right?! Just bring a goddamn knife!”

Ah.

Context.

Gotta love it.

Remy walked undetected past the two of them to go digging in the hall closet dryer for his favourite shirt while his father made his case.

“That’s predictable, babe! You’re not thinking about the psychology of it, Virge!”, Remus protested, “Look, any bozo can grab a knife, big deal! Your chances of being intimidating with that alone are, what, four in ten?!”, he bullshitted, gesticulating wildly as he picked up a spoon, wielding it like a cutlass, “But if you pick a spoon!? Thats like saying “Hey I’m fuckin’ crazy”!! I’m not gonna go up against the mother fucker that picks a spoon! You know how crazy that looks!?”

“Very much so, yeah.”, Virgil deadpanned, making direct eye contact with Remus who returned that glare with a wink.

“Careful, last time you gave me that look, we had to start buying baby clothes.”

Virgil scoffed, but it was hard to hide the exhausted smirk they bore, “Oh fuck you. Take your cereal and sit down.”

Remus did neither of those things, instead wrapping his arms around Virgil’s waist and pulling them closer, “I mean, if you wanna-“

“Like, maybe we can keep the horny out of the kitchen?”, Remy piped up, watching his ren damn near leap out of their skin while his father burst into laughter.

“No promises!”, Remus jested, taking the bowl of cereal Virgil had made for him and downing it like he was chugging cheap beer at a frat party. Virgil sighed in exhaustion but gestured for Remy to have a seat at the table, “So, how’d your first soulmate dream go, Rem? Did you get a name?”

Remy slung himself into his usual seat at the table, “Yeah. His name’s Emile Picani.”

The immediate silence was palpable for a second, even Remus didn’t dare make a sound when Virgil spoke up, “Remus, wasn’t your ex’s name Janus Picani?”

Remy hadn’t seen his father in a flight or fight situation like this before; sure there was this one time in WalMart, but he didn’t have a melon baller, two packs of toilet paper, and a plunger at hand like that time. Instead, his father was armed only with a banana he had snatched from the fruit bowl and taken a bite of. With the peel still on. Speaking with his mouth full and earning a disgusted eye roll from his partner, Remus finally managed to offer a response.

“It’s probably not the same guy.”

Janus Picani unknowingly echoed his ex boyfriend under his breath, inaudible to his son.

Of all the names Emile could’ve given, why’d the surname have to be Duke? He had never told his husband Patton about the whole ex-boyfriend thing; Janus thought it best no one ever knew lest he be judged harshly. Sure, he’d never exactly cared what others thought - and many did share his opinion that holding off ANY romantic or sexual activity until you met your soulmate wasn’t always entirely healthy or doable - but the idea of Patton possibly being let down or upset by the news…

Janus didn’t want to think about it. No, he wouldn’t entertain the thought. After all, he had breakfast to make, fried eggs to watch over, toast to be ready to butter when it popped up.

Besides, Duke was probably a common surname, right?

Probably.

Maybe..

Hopefully.

“Did Remy tell you where he lives, sweetie? We can always drive you over to meet him after school if it’s close enough!”, Patton chirped excitedly from the seat next to his son, unknowingly setting Janus even more on edge.

Please say he’s across the country. Please say he’s in another state. Please say he’s ANYWHERE but close by-

“Oh, we’re making a game of it!”

Janus’ curiosity peaked, but his anxiety remained on hold just in case.

“Every time we meet, we get to ask one yes or no question, then whoever guesses the other’s location first wins! Isn’t that exciting!?”

His enthusiasm was contagious. Patton was practically bouncing in his chair, “Oh that’s so cute!! It’s just like a romcom!”, he began, then corrected, “Oh, unless you’re both platonic, don’t worry kiddo, that’s fine too-”

“Thanks popstar, but I um,”, Emile flushed a little, hiding in his pastel yellow cardigan, “I really like him. I know it’s dumb ‘cause we only just met but… but he’s so cool!”

Janus listened in on his son’s adorable recounting of the encounter; how the two had talked about cartoons for hours, and the oddity of Remy flickering back and forth from the soulscape at first. The curiosity in Janus won out as he finished cooking their breakfast and brought their plates to the table.

“He sounds like a lovely young man,”, Janus led with, hoping to at least quell some of his fears, “Do we get to know what he looks like, perhaps?”

Patton gasped excitedly, “Yessss!! Then if we pass him on the street, we can say hello!”

Thankful for Patton’s backup, if not for the same reasons, Janus nodded and Emile enthusiastically took out his notebook to start trying to draw his soulmate from memory,

“Well, he’s got really gorgeous eyes! And lots of freckles!-”

His pencils were almost combusting at the sheer speed Emile was working up the more he got excited about his soulmate. His fathers both unknowingly thought back to his adoption; he’d been so shy at first, barely able to look either of them in the eye, but after just a couple of weeks being allowed to express himself creatively in ways he hadn’t been able to do before with his birth parents, Emile had grown into the same excitable young lad they were watching right that second. Wordlessly, Patton slid his hands into Janus’ hold, who sweetly returned the loving gesture with a soft lacing of their fingers together.

They were inches from leaning in for a kiss momentarily before Emile excitedly announced that he was done, “This is him! Isn’t he the coolest?!”

Janus scanned the drawing, noting both his son’s artistic talent and feeling a small burst of relief. The kid didn’t resemble Remus at all. For now at least he could sleep easy knowing he wouldn’t have to face his ex again.

Janus ate his words three months later.

Emile and Remy had continued to meet within their dreams, playing their guessing game as always until, thanks to Patton’s help, he managed to guess close enough to Remy’s location. True to his word, Remy had given Emile the address and lo and behold, they were only a couple of miles away from each other.

Janus couldn’t say he wasn’t happy for them, he was thrilled in fact. However, as he stood at the front door of Remy’s parents house staring at the face of his ex boyfriend, he couldn’t deny the urge he had to run away immediately. The moment of silence was unbearable. Perhaps he could pretend he didn’t know- “Well shit, it IS you, Snake Face!”

Nevermind.

Janus resisted the urge to scratch at the eczema that adorned the left half of his face, clearing his throat, “It’s good to see you too, Remus.”

Patton and Emile were shocked by the revelation, while Virgil and Remy were entirely unphased. Though Remy was certainly more preoccupied by his soulmate.

Emile was so much cuter in person; his jade green eyes, his honey skin, the cute puff of purple hair, the dorkiest Disney themed sweater Remy had ever seen. It took him a second to realise he was staring too long and blocking the door.

“Oh, uh, come in or whatever, babes.”

He reached out to lead his soulmate into the house, followed by a gaggle of awkward parents.

“So, Jan, darling,”, Patton piped up, “How do you and um-“

“Remus!”, the man grinned.

“You and Remus know each other?”

Janus was about to answer with a well crafted lie when Remus beat him to the punch, “Oh! Dee’s my ex!”

The immediate silence that followed from all six occupants of the house was so much worse than Janus had anticipated. Emile sported an expression of shock, and he didn’t want to hazard seeing Patton’s face. Seeing how disappointed he’d be that he’d lied to him-

“Oh! Well that was ….. Un-ex-pected!”, Patton punned, earning mostly groans but a hearty chuckle from Remus. Janus looked over to his husband, stunned to note that he didn’t seem angry. Perhaps he’d been worried over nothing after all.

Virgil was first to speak up as they offered the others a seat on the sofa while Remy and Emile were excused to go play video games while the adults talked.

“So I take it you didn’t tell your..“, Remus stalled, hoping Patton would fill in the pieces.

“Husband.”

“Husband,”, Remus began, “that we used to hardcore date back in the day?”

Janus felt his stomach lurch as Patton shifted beside him; neither farther away nor closer to him. Perhaps that made it much worse.

“In my defense, Remus, we both knew it wasn’t exactly anything serious-”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say. It was brief, but Janus noted the flash of disappointment in Remus’ eyes. Not exactly that of a hopeful ex lover realising they didn’t have a second chance, mind you. More so someone who clearly had wanted a close friendship, or at least SOME kind of meaningful relationship with the man he’d grown close to.

Man, Janus felt like such a bastard.

“Apologies, Remus. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh-“

“It’s fine, Snake ‘n’ Flake,”, Okay maybe Janus didn’t feel too bad, “I mean, it stings a little but whatever. We both found our soulmates, so who cares about what we got up to on campus-”

Patton cleared his throat politely, but firmly, “Sorry to interrupt but um, Virgil, was it? How long had you known about it?”

Janus knew that expression; Patton’s “I want to know how much of a fool I’ve been” face was unmistakable. Maybe he was mad at Janus after all.

Virgil snorted, playing with their hoodie strings in a stimming gesture, “Dude, his opening line when we met was “I hope you don’t mind that this ass has some mileage on it.”. Remus doesn’t do subtlety.”

Maybe if Janus wished hard enough the floor would eat him alive. Patton gave a quiet, thoughtful nod and the conversation diverted unexpectedly after that. Not that Janus wasn’t relieved, but the way Patton seemed to pivot so quickly into another topic felt all too much like he was avoiding the whole thing. Janus may be a coward, but seeing his husband try to act like the information wasn’t hurting him was so much worse. He dug his phone out of his pocket and feigned surprise,

“... Would you excuse me, I have a missed business call, it won’t take a second.”

Virgil and Remus watched him go, Patton giving him the smallest nod in acknowledgement for now as the conversation swerved back into more parenting talk.

Janus wasn’t sure how long Patton would give it before he came out to the front porch to talk; they’d had the system in place ever since they realised Emile would get curious and listen into their conversations sometimes. Missed business calls for Janus, another long catch up with his Aunt Patty for Patton. Both were code phrases for the same thing: we need to talk.

Patton had given it five minutes before he’d come to check in on Janus. The quietness of the surrounding neighbourhood let them indulge in the tinkling from an obviously homemade wind chime dangling above the porch.

“..... I was afraid you’d be disappointed in me.”, came Janus’ quiet admission under the warm sun rays that tickled his already partially dry skin, “Or worse. That you wouldn’t want me if I told you-”

“That’s ridiculous, Jan.”

Patton rarely interrupted anyone - purely out of politeness and the goodness of his heart - but he wouldn’t stand to hear his husband of eight years talk about himself that way, “If you keep talking bad about yourself I’m going to physically fight you.”

There was no bite to his words, but more a firm tone that settled Janus’ nerves somewhat.

“I suppose, but still. I understand that you’re most likely upset with me. I lied to you. And admittedly to Remus as well, but that’s-”

“I’m not upset.”

Pat gently caressed Janus’ rough cheek, paying his skin condition no mind as he reassured him, “I am a little disappointed.”, there’s the fatherly tone, “But none of this would ever be enough to make me leave you or anything if that’s what you were worried about. You’re stuck with me.”. Patton shot Janus a sunshine smile and the cutest blep he’d ever seen, to which the latter felt his heart positively melt, “And you’re stuck with a snake boy.”

The way Patton laughed ignited his bones and sent every nerve ending in his body soaring on high. By Gods, he loved him. Of course, Janus knew he loved Patton since they’d first met in their dreams - both being rather late to establish their connection at their early 20s - from the moment he’d laid eyes on him and heard the words, “Hey there! I’m sorry it took so long to meet you! I guess I was .... Patton-Pending!”.

“Seriously, where’re all there snake jokes slithering their way out of?”

Janus held in a snort-laugh, “Ah, I used to own a pet snake in college. She escaped the first night I stayed in the dorms and caused a minor lockdown. Once I got her back, the nickname got spread around like wildfire thanks to Remus calling me Snake Face affectionately for months.”

Janus’ sigh screamed exhaustion, but his tone spoke of fondness. Patton chuckled sweetly, “At least he didn’t mean it in a mean way. Otherwise he’d be hiss-tory if I got a hold of him!”

Goddammit, Janus was weak for his husband’s awful puns. Stifling the belly laugh that wanted to break out of him in favour of a curt snort of amusement, “I can take care of myself, fangs you very much.”. Their mutual punning session went back and forth until a knock at the door behind them reminded the two that they weren’t at home. Virgil’s voice came from the other side of the door,

“You both alright out there?”

Patton quickly called back, “Yep! We’ll be right back in a second!”

“Cool, I’m making hot cocoa, just lemme know how you like it once you’re done.”

Janus sighed and stood up. He already began to feel tense again, but Patton gently rose and took hold of his hands,

“You should apologise to him, y’know. Remus, I mean.”, Patton clarified, “I know you noticed.”

Patton didn’t clarify further, he knew Janus knew what he meant. The way Remus had covered up how much what he’d said before hurt. Besides, he already had something to apologise to the eccentric trash rat for anyway so..

“I know. Can you keep Virgil company for me in the meantime?”

Patton nodded enthusiastically, “Of course! They promised to show me their tattoos later anyway!”

Janus wasn’t surprised his husband was enthralled by something so artsy, chuckling softly to himself as he and Patton rejoined the others only to walk in on the Dukes rather intensely making out just shy of the kitchen island. Patton averted his eyes while Janus rolled his and just cleared his throat undeterred.

“I do hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

Just like this morning, Virgil nearly leapt out of their skin and embarrassedly ushered Remus out of the kitchen. Patton decided to swap in and help Virgil prep the drinks, while Janus sat with Remus in the living room once again.

“I owe you an apology, Remus.”, Janus took a deep breath in, “Actually, I owe you two.“

He hazarded a look at Remus, anticipating perhaps shock or surprise, but instead the human embodiment of a muscle cramp was trying to sit upside down on the sofa next to Janus. If he were honest, Janus was more disappointed in himself for not assuming Remus would be the same mangey gremlin he’d been used to.

“You’re aware I’m attempting to be serious?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re going to continue sitting like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you aware that talking to you is like attempting to win a game of “But Why?” with a three year old?”

“Mhm!”

Janus massaged his temples and Remus, thankfully, relented. He didn’t remove himself from the seat and sit like a human being, he simply flicked Janus in the side.

“You act like I’m a bitch to talk to, but fucking hell, cutting the umbilical cord was less taxing than this.”

The snarky remark did get a chortle out of Janus, “Ah, then Remy’s..?“

“Yep! Fresh outta my insides!”, Remus cackled. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Charming.”

“Nah, that’s my brother, I’m more….. the Demented type.”

“I’m aware,”, Janus retorted, “I remember having to drag you across campus to get your stomach pumped after the Everything Cocktail you downed at the annual Halloween Party.”

Remus let out a barking laugh and nearly slid off the sofa, “In my defense, the hot sauce, caramel, chicken strip, coffee, shrimp, marinara sauce, peanut butter, and six spoons of… was it horseradish or mayo?”

“Horseradish.”, Janus shuddered.

“That’s the bitch.”, Remus continued, “They weren’t so bad. The celery was what fucking sucked ass. And the carrots.”

Ah, the nostalgia.

Granted, the trip down memory lane was the most wonderful mix of chaotic and bumpy, but the longer he took to address the issue, the worse Janus felt. He must’ve let his expression slip because Remus immediately stopped his rambling and finally let out a tired exhale,

“Listen, if what you said earlier is still eating at you like a piranha in your gut, then it’s fine. Really. I mean sure, it sucked cactus dick knowing you didn’t feel as serious about us as I did at the time, but-”

“It wasn’t true.”, Janus cut in, “What I’d said. I was trying to soften the impact, I suppose. You did and still honestly do mean a lot to me, Remus.”

There’s the shock he’d expected. Remus’ eyes were trained fully on Janus, waiting for a sign of deceit, but thankfully, he detected nothing.

“Huh. Cool.”

It was pretty lackluster, but Janus could tell Remus was glad. At least for now.

“Actually, I wouldn’t get too comfortable yet, I have another apology to issue. Or, I suppose, another lie to set right.”

Oh boy. Janus inhaled, he’d gotten this far. No backing out now.

“When we broke up, I told you it was simply because I didn’t want to date you anymore. Then the week after, my soulmate miraculously appeared in my dreams. But that was a two faced lie.”

Remus cocked his head to the side, wincing while he tried to shuffle around and get comfy due to his gravity defying seating arrangement.

“So…. what happened for real?”

Janus sighed, “.... The week before we broke up, I met him in my dreams. Patton just appeared, and I fell in love instantly. I… I felt awful. Like I was cheating on both of you-”

“Jan-”

“Please, Remus, let me finish.”

Remus sighed, crossing his arms, which looked rather comical when upside down.

“I know you and I always said there’d be no shame if the connection eventually happened to emerge, yet when I saw him there for the first time I just-”

“You felt guilty anyway.”

It was Janus’ turn to be surprised as Remus finally rolled off of the sofa to climb back on and sit… less like a cryptid.

“Same thing happened the first time I saw Virgil.”

Remus snickered at the further shocked expression Janus sported.

“Yeah, I know. Me, King Garbage, Lord of the Thots, no brains or remorse…. feeling guilty. But I get it. It’s really different the first time you see ‘em. Either way, you shouldn’t feel bad for feeling worried or being scared, Snake Face. Although it does hurt like a skewered ballsack that you lied to me about it though. So..”

In retaliation for such a heinous crime, Remus reached over and grabbed Janus’ fancy lil hat, and with a practiced ease that had his ex both enraged and astonished, ring tossed the thing through the small opening in the window, landing it in the small decorative bird bath just outside.

“...... Remus Duke, before I beat the everloving shit out of you for old times sakes,”, Janus uttered lowley, threatening but with a familiar fondness that reminded Remus of their days causing havoc on campus and speed bullshitting essays like it was their birthright, “I want you to know that that little stunt was incredibly impressive...”

Upstairs, oblivious to the conversation and scuffle their fathers were enthralled in, Remy and Emile had mostly been playing games, watching cartoons and chatting away together. They’d just put on some Adventure Time when Emile looked over at Remy, noting he was falling asleep. Emile considered trying to do the same to surprise him in their dream space when Remy jolted back awake.

“Oh shit, how long was I out babes?”

Emile shook his head, “Not long. Does… that happen often?”

“Like, all the time. My sleep cycle is a roulette wheel, I’m sure of it.”, Remy lamented, shuffling closer to Emile on the edge of the bed, carefully not to knock over his laptop.

“Do you think our parents are getting along? I’m gonna like, throw hands if they ruin things with their adult bullshit.”

Emile shyly shuffled closer, leaning his head upon Remy’s, who savoured the feel of the slightly taller boy’s coiled hair against his forehead. Downstairs, Emile could hear a scuffle alongside his Papa’s worried attempts to calm down whatever was happening, and began to recognise Virgil’s annoyed interjections. He wasn’t too distressed however; his father’s upbeat tone and what sounded like Remus’ maniacal cackle assured him there was probably nothing to be worried about.

“Something tells me they’re getting along just fine.”, Emile smiled brightly at Remy, “How about one more episode then we can go check?”

----

Hoooly shit this took ages.

I promise I’m workin to catch up, I’m gonna do this or die tryin’!! For small clarifications:

- Virgil is NB/Agender and uses They/Them

- Remus is a Trans Man and uses He/Him

I didn’t specify much for the other characters purely because I could see them being anywhere on the gender spectrum, they can be whatever you prefer to read them as.

I really dunno how well this one read if I’m honest, it just kept branching from cute Remile focused fic to Families’ First Meeting kinda thing???

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

#remile #dukexiety #moceit #dukeceit #remy sanders #emile picani #cartoon therapy #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #soulmate september #fanfics #my fics #this took so long aaaaaaaa

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thezodiacco · 3 years

Text

Moceit Appreciation Week Day 1: Baking

Uhhh hello I’ve never posted writing on here but it’s @moceit-appreciation-week so I thought I’d try something new so here you go :3

Content Warning: Food

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Moceit (platonic or romantic)

Word Count: 1,677

Summary: Patton’s baking antics save Janus from an otherwise perfectly boring day.

Janus sighed, skimming over the book he was reading with apprehension. He was alone in his room, like usual, but something was different. There were no sounds of mischief and mayhem of the others running around the common room like usual.

Roman had taken the others on a “vacation” to the imagination, and he was left out, of course, so it really did feel like he was alone. He usually didn’t mind this feeling, but for some reason there was a cold, empty feeling in his chest today. He tried to shake it off, concentrating on his book, but it remained in its spot, stubborn as ever.

Then his head perked up as the warm, sweet scent of fresh cookies filled his nose. It warmed his heart right up, lifting him out of bed and off his feet. He drifted out of his room, downstairs, and down the hall, ending up in the kitchen.

There he was met with quite a sight as he landed on his feet. There were 3 different boxes of cookie mix on the counter, as well as 2 different boxes of cupcake mix. Tubs of icing and bottles of sprinkles were strewn about, and flour coated the walls from floor to ceiling.

In the midst of all this mess was a very powdery Patton, currently turned away from him and whisking some sort of mix in a mixing bowl, humming a sweet sounding tune.

Janus couldn’t help but smile at the sight, “Patton?”

Patton jumped, making a slight squeak, “Oh, Janus! What, what are you doing here?” He smiled nervously.

Janus had to bite his tongue to keep himself from giggling, “Well, for one, I live here, and two, Roman decided to leave me out of his “grand adventures”, like always. Which brings me to my question; what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off frolicking with the others?”

Patton’s eyes widened, “Oh, well, uh. I didn’t, really want to go?” He shrugged. “At least not today! I kinda wanted some time to myself, doing something I loved! I haven’t had a day to just, do some baking in a while, so why not do it today?”

Janus nodded, “Fair enough.”

Then something in Patton’s eyes changed. He furrowed his brows upward a bit, pouting his bottom lip a little. He looked up at Janus with big, pleading eyes, “Maybe you'd, like to help out a bit? Just a little?” He held his arms behind his back, rotating his leg on his toes.

Janus rolled his eyes in his usual fashion, “Of course Patton, I would love to help you.”

“Really?!” Patton smiled, eyes bright, Janus’ lie flying over his head. Janus smiled, letting out a breath, “Yes, Patton, really.” This time he was genuine. It’s not like he had anything better to do anyway.

Patton motioned him to join him at the counter with his arm. “Now, the first batch of cookies is in the oven, and the cake is already in the fridge.”

“You already baked a whole cake?!” Janus asked in disbelief.

“Yeah! But you can’t look at it yet.” Patton pointed at him very seriously. Janus nodded, smiling, “I won’t, I promise.”

Patton smiled back, handing him a mixing bowl, a whisk, and a box of cookie mix. He got to work, measuring out enough vegetable oil and water and mixing it in with the powder. He cracked a few eggs, and whisked it as hard as he could.

“Woah, slow down there kiddo!” Patton exclaimed, putting a hand on his arm. “You gotta take it slow and easy, really make sure to get all the chunks out.”

Janus nodded, slowing down. Patton was pulling off bits of his cookie mix and balling it up, setting the balls on a cookie sheet. Janus wanted to pick up speed, to catch up with Patton, but took his advice, moving at a slower pace.

Patton put the next batch of cookies in the oven, taking the first batch out. They were chocolate chip, and they smelled absolutely heavenly. He looked at his own cookie mix box and found they were snickerdoodles.

Soon Janus was ready to put his own cookies on the cookie sheet, while the others were cooling. He did so, and Patton took the sheet and put that one in the oven as well.

“Why don’t we start on the cupcakes while those other two batches are baking?” Patton suggested. Janus nodded, and they each took a box.

Patton couldn’t help but lick some of the batter off his whisk before getting new utensils out. He and Janus locked eyes, both of them breaking out in laughter. “It’s really good! You should try some!” Patton smiled, handing him the whisk.

Janus’ face flushed slightly, taking it. He licked off what was remaining, the sweet flavor of cookie batter staying on his tongue. “It’s very good indeed, Patton.”

Then they got to work on the cupcakes. Patton’s mix was vanilla, while Janus’ mix was chocolate. Patton set his bowl aside and opened the oven, taking the second batch of cookies out.

“How do you know when they’re done without a timer?” Janus asked.

“I don’t know, I just, know.” Patton smiled with a shrug. Janus couldn’t help but smile back. He was slowly getting used to Patton’s eccentricities, and they had started to intrigue him.

After they started pouring the cupcake batter into the cupcake liners, Patton got out the third batch of cookies. That was finally done. Now they could completely focus on the cupcakes.

It took a very long while, but all three of the cookie batches, as well as both of the cupcake batches, were done. Patton smiled proudly, looking over his work. Janus let out a tired breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Ah ah ah! We’re not done yet! We have to decorate the cupcakes.” Patton smiled, picking up the icing. Janus sighed, but smiled. He was, actually enjoying himself. Needless to say, he was quite surprised.

While they got started, Janus couldn’t help but ask, “Patton, who are all of these sweets for?”

“Oh, no one, just myself I suppose.” Patton smiled sadly. Janus grimaced, a sour taste filling his mouth. He could always tell when someone was lying. The question was, why would Patton lie about this?

They iced all the cupcakes with three different colors of icing, and sprinkled 6 different sprinkles on top. Now, they were finally, completely, done.

They looked at each other, out of breath. Patton's brown eyes were wide, with a look Janus didn't completely recognize.

"Look, um, I'm sorry, but I kinda lied to you before, about who all the baking was for." Patton admitted as he scratched the back of his neck, guilt on his face.

"I know, Patton. I can tell when people are lying." Janus reminded him.

His eyes widened. "Oh, right! Duh!" He laughed nervously. "Well, I'm sorry, anyway…" He trailed off, hesitantly opening the fridge. He grabbed something, pulling it out carefully. It was the cake. The frosting was black, with yellow details. It read, Welcome Home Janus.

"It's devil's food cake. I thought you'd like it." He smiled, hesitant, a pink blush on his cheeks.

Janus' eyes were wide, the breath stolen from his lungs. He didn't know what to say. "This, this is for me?"

Patton nodded, keeping his smile. Janus finally let out a breath, brows furrowing. "Was all of this," he pointed to the mess in the kitchen, "for me?"

"Kinda." Patton shrugged. Janus sucked in air, face flushing hot. "Patton, you realize that it's gonna take me months to eat all this, right?"

"I know! I know I got carried away, but the others can have some too! It's just, you've been trying so hard, and doing so well! You've really been helping Thomas. So, I wanted to do something to thank you, and to welcome you into the family!"

A smile crept onto Janus' face as he stared at the cake. It was so gorgeously decorated. "I- I don't know what to say, Patton. Thank you."

Patton beamed. He took the cake, setting it aside on the counter. He then embraced Janus, squeezing onto the back of his cape tight.

Janus faltered, not used to the touch. Patton was warm, and soft, his body completely grounding. It took a couple of deep breaths, but soon he hugged back, resting his hands on Patton's hips gently.

They stayed like that for a while, but broke the contact once they heard footsteps enter the room. It seemed that Roman and Virgil were in mid conversation.

"And I said to him! I said-" Roman cut himself off as he caught sight of them, stopping dead in his tracks. He glanced at Virgil, both of their jaws hung open. "I'm sorry, are we interrupting something?"

"No!" Janus protested immediately, whole face flushing red as he glanced away.

"No, not at all! We were just baking." Patton smiled as he looked at Janus, who looked back hesitantly. "Speaking of which," he turned backward and grabbed one of the cookie sheets, presenting it to them, "We made cookies!"

"Cookies!" Roman exclaimed, clapping his hands, seeming to have forgotten about the sight before them. Virgil rolled his eyes as Roman took the sheet and moved over to the couch. At that point Logan finally came in, "What are we doing now?"

"Cookies." Roman pointed to the sheet, mouth already full. Logan blinked, "Oh, well, I suppose it would be rude of me to turn this down, so," He joined the other two on the couch, grabbing some for himself.

Janus and Patton looked on. Patton was smiling to himself, then he smiled at Janus. Janus glanced at him, smiling back.

"Well, don't you wanna try some of our hard work?" Patton suggested. Janus nodded, then they moved towards the couch. Janus smiled, taking a deep breath as he was surrounded by the others. He felt a sense of comfort, belonging.

He was beginning to feel at home.

@moceit

#moceit #moceitappreciationweek #moceitweek2021 #sanders sides #janus sanders #patton sanders #janus #patton

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romantichopelessly · 4 years

Text

Overdue Apologies

aka I wrote some moceit garbage after watching the new video, and it turned out to be over 1k. it’s not anything im super proud of, but I wanted to post it anyway, if only to Tumblr. I spent very little time on it, I'm sorry, I am working on better things lol

Moceit (platonic or romantic), hurt/comfort, spoilers

----

A soft knock against Patton’s door startled him from his stupor.

He blinked, dropping the Watson pageboy cap that he had been running his fingers over reverently to head for the door. The sepia tones of Patton’s room always had blurred the passage of time, but Patton was nearly sure that he hadn’t been cooped up for too long, so he couldn’t imagine who would be calling for him already.

Despite how much Patton loved his kiddos, none of them ever seemed to come to visit him. Virgil was still afraid of the effects of Patton’s nostalgia, Logan had never made a habit of visiting the other sides in their own rooms, and Roman…

Well, Roman certainly wouldn’t be in the mood for a friendly fatherly visit, if the way that he had completely ignored Patton’s ten minutes worth of knocking was any indication.

Patton pushed those icky feelings away and stepped over the piles of photo albums and discarded clothing on the way to his door. Just a step away, distracted in his thoughts, Patton’s socked foot got caught in the pile of christmas sweaters--both his and Thomas’s--and he wobbled, tripping forward and grabbing his doorknob for support, pulling his door open.

Immediately, two hands were on his shoulders, steadying him.

Patton looked up, a joke about his own clumsiness on his tongue that quickly melted away when he met the two toned eyes staring down at him.

His first instinct was to smile, so he did. As soon as the grin took over his face, however, other feelings--more yucky feelings--started to bubble in Patton’s gut.

Of course. Janus. How could he have been so stupid? He should have gone to check on Janus after he left Roman’s unopened door. His stomach sank. Surely the deceitful side was not feeling the cheeriest right now, not after what Roman did--

Not after what he did.

Patton’s heart felt heavy all of the sudden. He could still see De- Janus before him, protecting Thomas, protecting Thomas from him-

“Janus! Hi!” His mouth was working before his heart could catch up, as if on autopilot. He had covered up his less than fun emotions enough times for his chipper words to need no permission from the rest of him.

“Hello, Patton.” There was something just there, hidden right behind Janus’s eyes, that Patton couldn’t identify. He didn’t bother to try. He was just about to ask what Janus was doing visiting little old him when Janus continued, asking probably the most baffling question--not really, not by a long shot--that Patton had heard today.

“How are you, Patton?”

Patton’s mouth dried and he blinked in confusion. Janus was asking how he was? That was not only unprecedented but extremely confusing.

But then again, what wasn’t confusing to Patton today?

“I’m-” Patton didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t really bring himself to lie. He hated doing it, and he knew that Janus would just see through it anyway. “I’m doing the best I can. How- How are you? How is Thomas?”

Because that was another thing. Patton also hadn’t gone back to check on Thomas yet. It wasn’t because he was afraid to, of course. Thomas trusted him. Thomas trusted Janus, too. He pushed himself to his feet, allowing Janus to drop his hands. For some reason, the loss of connection made Patton’s skin burn.

Without invitation, Janus stepped forward and into Patton’s room. Patton didn’t mind. For whatever reason, he felt as though he had invited Janus in. Did that even make sense?

It was like he belonged here.

Maybe he just belonged wherever he wanted to.

“Thomas is as alright as he can be as well.” Janus’s eyes roamed over the stacks of items around him, and it struck Patton very suddenly that Janus had never been in his room.

“And you?” Patton inquired softly, after a moment of silence.

Janus was quiet still, running his gloved hands over a book that was sitting on Patton’s dresser. Patton could vividly remember just hours ago when that exact glove had come off for the first time that Patton could remember. When Janus had trusted them. Trusted Thomas. Trusted him.

It was a novel idea that Janus even could trust him. Patton didn’t even know if he trusted himself anymore.

Patton’s heart hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He said, loud and clear. Janus hadn’t answered his question, but that didn’t matter anymore. He could hear it. Apologies are worthless after too many. But Patton never had apologized to Janus, had he? Not since they were children, in the very least.

Janus looked over at him, a perplexed look clouding his expression. Patton continued before he could say anything.

“I’m sorry, Janus. I- I don’t say it enough, not to you at least, but I’ve just been hurting Thomas, and you- you had to step in, and-” Patton covered his face with his hands. For how many times he had had to apologize lately, you would have thought that he would have been better at it. “I owe you about a hundred apologies, Janus. For what I did to Thomas, for how I’ve treated you in the past, and for not checking on you earlier, after what Roman said-”

“You aren’t responsible for Roman.”

Patton blinked. “Wh-”

Janus was facing him fully now. “You are not responsible for Roman.”

“But, I-”

Janus sighed. “I understand the sentiment, Patton. And it… means a lot that you are willing to try.” It was obvious from the look on his face that Janus was uncomfortable with the level of emotional honesty that he was portraying, and it made Patton’s heart do uncomfortable little flips in his chest.

“I-” Patton’s mind was muddled. He shook his head. “It means a lot to me too, Janus. That you- That you care about Thomas so much, and that you’re willing-” A hiccup caught in his throat. Oh fiddlesticks, he was going to cry, wasn’t he? “Willing to trust me. Or, at least, try to.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Janus’s lips and Patton knew that he was probably showing just how soft that little smile made him feel all over his face.

“Of course, Patton.” And Patton didn’t even care if a few of his tears leaked over.

#patton sanders #ts spoilers #sanders sides spoilers #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #ts patton #ts deceit #ts janus #moceit #platonic moceit #romantic moceit #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

The Color of my Soul(mates) [2]

[First oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. New oneshot yaaaay!! Just a quick reminder that both Virgil and Patton’s mindsets are bad. They can work, of course, but only for a certain expense. Worry not. They will both start to go to a therapist and take care of themselves, even though this will not be heavily shown in the oneshots.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Moxiety and Past Moceit and Past Virgil/Remus (no idea how it’s called dfghjdfghj) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Swearing, depreciative thoughts, losing someone (not death, just stopping to be soulmate), anger issues, anxious thoughts and nightmares. It’s hurt/comfort.

* [~*~] Means passage of time

* [...] Means change in the focus of the narrative

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 5.300 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Loneliness is an island with missing boats.

Missing is when the moment tries to run away from the memories to happen again and can’t do it.

Memories are when, even without authorization your thinking re-presents a chapter.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hey, Dee! It’s been some time, huh? Nothing really happened around here, so I have no interesting news to share today. Buut, I learned a new knock knock joke! I would finally get you to laugh with this one! It’s like that:

Me: Knock, knock.

U: Who’s there?

Me: Ice cream.

U: Ice cream who?

Me: Ice cream if you don’t let me in!

Funny, right?!

… It feels silly to continue to talk with you through those letters. I can’t-

I don’t even know where to send them! That is stup- not great.

I just… I just miss you, Dee. A lot. My uncle says that I should get your old representation out of the bed and hide it so I can start moving on, but… It feels empty, you know? Everything.

I really miss you.

Love, Heart.

[…]

“No.”

His words echoed in his mind, the strap of his backpack slipping from his grip, his body throwing itself forward, heart jumping in the back of his throat as his steps inevitably brought him even closer to the faded green, almost white, shark plushie in front of him.

“No.”

He repeated, as if this was a spell able to make the scene before him change. His hands trembled and failed in touching the so loved object, a silent scream slipping from his slightly parted lips. Yet, he still tried to think of something. Anything that would erase his choices. He knew it.

He should have known. He read about it before, the butterfly effect. Any choice, any movement, any little thing you did could change drastically your future. It could make events – people – which would happen in your life just…

Disappear.

[The stuffed animal remained quiet on his hands, it’s blank face staring superficially, not really seeing him. Not like before.]

He knew it.

“Rat?” He knew it. He knew it. He knew, knew, knewknewknew it! “Ree?” His soul searched desperate for an answer. But he got none. No thoughts, no feelings, no small touches, no acknowledging sparks, nothing.

That word seemed to ring unbearably in his ears. There was nothing there. Nothing except for the silence and the void which filled itself with despair at every that went by.

“This better not be a prank or this time I will throw you in the washing machine for real!” Virgil’s eyes were stinging. He should have done better, should have thought in another way or another anything. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t!

“Ree, stop. That is not funny.” Ree actually preferred when Virgil called him Rat, and as his chest was scratched by an agonizing, crescent fear, deep down the young boy wished his soulmate would jump – his thoughts always felt like that, excited, uncontrollable jumpy frogs just playing around – from somewhere and demands Virgil called him by it. “Answer me!!”

His fingers squished the soft fabric, a short, unexpected wave of anger pleading for at least a shout of pain before Virgil realized what he was doing, immediately lighting his touch, tears shining in a sad gloom in the corner of his eyes. His breathing started to hurt.

He needed to do something.

“MOM!!”

Virgil opened his door with a strong slam, running through the wooded floor of the corridor, stumbling his way to the stairs, coming down at the highest speed he could muster. The adult figure was already standing in the living room, the Tv blasting a show in the background, probably the activity his mother was concentrating on before his cry. A frown painted her face and her dark eyes stared at the boy when he stood in front of her, holding his stuffed shark in her direction.

“Fix him!”

[‘it’ a quiet whisper from his brain corrected his sentence.]

Her analytical eyes danced around the toy in front of her, looking for any teared fabric, any stain or hint of what happened to it, the confusion in her actions becoming more and more prominent as no visible result was found.

[And, as her analysis occurred, the quiet whisper in the back of his mind wondered if this was the original color of the shark before it became a representation of his soulmate. They were together for so long Virgil didn’t even remember what it used to look like.]

No! The boy with heterochromatic eyes firmly gritted his teeth, head shaking. This was NOT the shark’s real color. Its real color was a dark, deep, enthusiastic green full of chaotic ideas and dumb jokes and sparks and grins.

He refused to let everything end in this way.

Realization fell in her face, a soft gasp coming from her open mouth. “Oh, Virgil…”

“No, no, no! You- You need to fix him!” But her eyes… “Mom, please,” the way her arms opened to involve his small, trembling form…

“Please, he is my best friend.”

[‘Was’]

She hugged him, cradling her fingers in his hair and lightly rocking Virgil and his sobs, her sweet words muffled by his cry. Then the younger one wiggled out of her touch, getting the plushie and running back to his room, the door slamming one more time.

He refused.

“No! No!!” He kicked his backpack, its content spreading across his carpeted floor. The shark was placed in his desk seconds before the Virgil focused his anger on his bed, throwing everything on the floor. His pillows hit the walls and the toys on his shelves. The cacophony of sounds made his head hurt, but he ignored this in order to kick and throw more things.

Seconds, minutes, countless pieces of time passed before he stopped, panting and with stinging eyes in the middle of the room, his only possessions left untouched was his guitar and Ra- His shark stuffed animal.

Because he loves playing guitar. Because he loves Ree.

His fingers pet its soft fur, wandering in every detail, trying to burn in his soul how alive and colored it used to be before today.

Virgil felt like crying, felt like hugging his old-representation with all his might and just spent the rest of the day like this, pleading that Ree would come back and Virgil would do better and everything could be back to normal again.

But he refused.

He refused to cry like a baby. He refused to let this happen to him. He refused to be made a fool by the Soulmate System or whatever sadistic creature that observed him right now. He refused to go through all of this again.

Ever again.

Virgil opened his closet and got up on his chair, hiding the shark on the highest shelf under a bunch of old comforts he never got to use.

They wanted him to be a Colorless? Very well, then.

[~*~]

Anger is when the dog who lives in you shows its teeth.

Sadness is a gigantic hand that squeezes your heart.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hiya, Dee.

Some days are better, some are worse.

It hurts.

But, hm, good things, right? Today was sunny and refreshing, I love when this happens. A ladybug landed in my hand yesterday, it was so small… I also found another beautiful feather when I went to the park last weekend, very fluffy and a baby on the bus smiled at me after I made some funny faces.

I hope you’re also receiving and giving some beautiful smiles there. Aunt just called me for the movie night so… See you later!

I miss-

Love, Heart.

[…]

Virgil woke up sweating. A tight feeling clutching the back of his mind. However, he managed to catch himself before his eyes opened, the back of his hand pressing them, as if to make sure they wouldn’t open against his will.

Urg… Not this again…

Virgil pressed harder the pillow curling around his head, the pressure easing the irritation as he groaned in protest, wondering how much more time it would take before he finally grew used to this routine. An annoying sensation banged rhythmically on his chest, hammering together with his heart and flying along with the butterflies on his stomach over and over again until a slightly nausea almost leaded the one in pajamas to give up and just find the nearest stuffed animal so his soulmate’s bond could finally be initiated, his representation showed up and then the exhausted teen could finally get some freaking rest and then proceed to turn a blind eye to his soulmate for the rest of their lives.

Who would say that ignoring the Soulmate System would be so hard?

But, damn, even if this shit always came back at the right moment when the first ray of sunshine hit his face, usually Virgil had at least the freedom of the night to sleep!

His hand wandered clumsily, hitting the bean bag next to his bed and looking for the small device he always left there for the night. He sighs when his fingers make contact with the cold of his phone, quickly bringing it up to his face and making sure nothing else could get in his eye field. On the third try he succeeded to put the right password, ignoring the video shining on it and quickly lowering the brightness of his screen until it was almost nonexistent.

Four in the morning. What the heck was his not-for-much-longer-soulmate doing up at this hour??

Ok. It didn’t matter, Virgil murmured to himself, his words slurring, completely engulfed by the fog of sleepiness which continued to involve him. It didn’t matter because Virgil was sure he would manage to win that battle, just like he did on every other occasion since Ree. Of course, he never had a perfect receipt for this, only a group of superficial orientations as focusing on something else, tossing around the mattress until the exhaustion took over his body or doing anything that guaranteed his suborn nature to fight until the bond faded away with some hours, maybe one or two days.

However, this one was about to complete a whole week and his resolution was beginning to weaken, escaping between his fingers regardless of how much he fought to hold it with tooth and nails. The mild headache growing on him was the proof of this.

He flipped his pillow, letting its cold surface rest on his face, adjusting himself to lay starfished onto the bed.

He needed distractions.

Songs. He liked to listen to music a lot, something he would be very much inclined to do now if it wasn’t so late and his earphones were so far away. But, stopping to think about it, it was crazy how sounds work, like, even if they’re far away they manage to be heard. Pretty much like that weird sound captured by that boat who was only minding its business… The Bloop. Heh. The Bloop. Such a stupid name… He wondered if it was a Jurassic animal doing that and when humanity would be finally able to answer his question. If it is really an animal will they call him Bloop? That is a horrible name to give to something probably gigantic and scary… Bloop… Bloopers… blooo...

His muscles from his toes to the tip of his fingers began to relax, his breathing becoming more erratic as the trail of nonsense thoughts led him away from reality and straight to the cloak of Morpheus. Bit by bit he started to be unaware of his room. First the faint sound of his spider quietly scraping the sand on her terrarium, second the sensation of the pillow on his face, then the cold of his phone as it slipped away from his hand…

And, unsupervised by the teenager's eyes, his index finger hit the ‘play’ button on the video, and the blasting of Aquiles Priester’s drums filled the room in a hot shot, followed in the same second by Virgil’s hoarse scream. The confusion and sound making the one with heterochromatic eyes stumble to a sit position, blankets and pillows falling from him as his astonished movements tried to be coordinated enough to turn off his phone before his mother woke up and decided to know why and what her son was doing up at four-darn-morning.

The button was hit and the silence was faster in cover the room all over again, being only broken by Virgil’s shaken gasps, his trembling fingers laying on his adulterated heartbeats, taking large, wobbly deep breaths in order to normalize it, his attention entirely focused on hearing any hint of muffled step outside his room.

In. Hold. Out.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

This was only a scare.

In. Hold. Out.

Okay. No sound. Virgil allowed himself to fall on his bed, stretching and humming in attempts to ground him to reality, not taking too long to let the sleepiness begin to slowly crawl to his mind again, his body feeling surprisingly much lighter than it had been in days. A yawn escaped from his lips. What the hell he was doing with his cell phone anyway?

For the second time in the night his body fled to a sitting position, the sudden calm and coziness which hit his senses now having a slightly sour taste on his mouth as the teenager realized what it meant.

His soulmate bond was complete.

His gaze flew to the small pile of fabric on the floor, a glint of a sky-blue color shining amidst it. He pushed his blankets away and his breath hitched when the full form of his soulmate’s representation was shown.

Oh no. Nononono. That was-

That wasn’t normal. Nor supposed to happen. Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit. What could he do?

Virgil dropped – carefully, even if the cold on the bottom of his stomach screamed for him to run! – the object on his bed, getting across the room and right in front of his closet in a blink of an eye. The door flung open, his gaze scrambling through all his possessions in search of that specific teddy bear his mother gave him a year ago, telling it was going to help him to heal, grabbing it firmly and plopping it next to the blue fabric calmly laying on his mattress. He bit his nails while his eyes ran from an object to another, waiting for the color to somewhat jump on the plushie, where it was supposed to go in the first place.

Virgil stared inquisitively at his pillow- no, his soulmate’s representation, as if he could scare the reality into changing itself. His fingers ran through his hair, feet pacing on the floor.

Ok. His soulmate was a pillow. A literal pillow. That was not good.

Before he could fall on his parasitizing thoughts or hide the pillow and pretend nothing had happened, a badly muffled sound reached him, making his body freeze as his brain immediately recognized what it was:

Crying.

[...]

Before is a caterpillar who didn’t become a butterfly, yet.

Indecision is when you know very well what you want, but you think you should want another thing.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[...]

Hey, dear! Heart here again! It’s been a time, huh? I discovered a new Pet Shop nearby and a very nice old lady let me play with the puppies after school. You really should see the hamsters there! They’re the cutest, most precious soft things!!

They don’t have any snakes, sadly.

I… I hid your teddy bear and I’m getting used to not stare at the right corner of the mattress, looking for you.

I still miss your smooth thoughts, your warmth, your advice and receipts and… you.

I think I’m getting better. The sensation is starting to feel… normal.

Remember we-

I used to-

I know you won’t really read this, but I’m trying to keep taking care of myself.

Hooray?

Love, Heart.

[…]

Patton loved stuffed animals and this was a fact that anyone who got into his room for barely two seconds would realize. Small plushies of multicolored frogs rested on his shelves. A big polite giraffe sat on his desk, proudly showing off her new necktie and his older ones were in the closet, guarding his favorites clothes. His soulmates, of course, had a special treatment, receiving a seat on his bed, closer to him and within his research at any occasion, emergency or not.

And that was an emergency. Well…technically.

Maybe…

Perhaps not.

The teenager changed to a sitting position, his fingers trapping the mattress in a deadly grip, tears falling from his eyes, which was firmly focused on the moon shaped night light across his room, trying to kick out the too cold, too hot feeling the nightmare left on his skin.

His brain felt fuzzy and his thoughts were all mushed together, way too messy to properly fight against the memories of his dream replaying on his head. The sensation of pure despair still running on his veins as the monster – tall, fast, its shadow hovering over his small form – chased him and his friends. Patton still felt his throat dry after running for what seemed hours, and for when he realized they would never manage to actually escape from it. He could feel the betrayed eyes of his loved ones as he made each one of them trip, the small period when the monster got them giving him enough time to escape, the screams ringing on his ears.

He muffled his sobs, slapping his hand on his mouth and getting up, going to his closet and grabbing his panda. It was one of the fluffiest stuffed animals he had and he could use a bit of softness right now. His steps were tired and he hid his face on the plushie even before laying on his bed again, curling around the bear as if it was the core of safeness, as if it would make all the bad thoughts and feelings go away.

As if it could erase all the nightmare and convince the part of his mind which said that if it was real life, that would be exactly what he would do, that it was wrong.

It was! It was completely wrong! Patton would never, ever, betray his friends, or hurt them, or go away when they needed most! He wouldn’t. He would fight, if it was needed. He would do his best every single time to help them! To be there. He wouldn’t just run away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be alone. He didn’t even bear that thought.

[A part of his soul struggled, firm on its position. It kept holding into a bond that directed to another soul who kept pushing him away, both refusing to change their mind.]

Bear. Patton let go of a weak, barely audible, forced giggle, squeezing the panda on his touch tighter. Panda was a bear. Heh. His tears began to calm themselves, falling slower from the corner of his eyes, a strange and sudden wave of strange, but welcomed calmness hitting him.

A sudden warm touch laid on his forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Patton gasped, his wide eyes flying open to stare at the now purple plushie on his grip.

Purple. Pandas weren’t purple. He was sure this one was always white with black dots and tiny glasses on it. Definitely not purple. Not unless it was-

Oh.

Ohhh.

Oh no.

For a moment his breath was taken, adrenaline exploded across his body and his mind went blank, his face stumbling forward to press his lips on the panda’s forehead, a completely lack of words, especially when a flow of sentences began to appear running over themselves and leading to his very tired brain to struggle in order to try to grasp their meaning before another phrase came and took its place.

[His body seemed to relax, letting go of a ball of tension Patton didn’t even realize he had in the first place.]

“Fuck, sorry, that was pretty dumb. Of course you’re not fine, why else would you be crying? What I was trying to say is: Can you get better? No, wait! That sounded harsh and it’s definitely not what I meant- wanted to say. Ehh, shit. Okay. Uhh. Breath, okay? Breathing is a good thing. You have to breathe to stay alive so I think it’s already a good start. Keep breathing, please do not die. Oh god, wait, that is not a dangerous situation, is it? Are you in danger? Are you dying? Oh, fuck I can’t hear-”

A startled giggle made a run from Patton’s lips, making his new soulmate to be quiet.

“Urg, sorry.”

“No, no. I was not laughing at you!” He adjusted his grip so the only part touching the purple bear would be him holding one of his paws, realizing he forgot to stop hugging him earlier. “I am okay. I just… didn’t want to cry on you, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t, huh, care.”

“Crazy how bonds happen nowadays.” Patton attempted a joke, feeling suddenly a bit vulnerable, internally wishing the other wouldn’t ask about the reason for his tears. “It-It’s hot today, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, with the Sun and everything.”

“Yeepp.” Patton sniffed, cleaning the tear track left on his cheeks before resting his back on the bed’s headboard, a beginning of a headache after that waterfall of emotions shining in the horizon.

“...Do you want to listen to a song? It helps me to calm down when I’m, ya know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m already a bit better.”

“Ok, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Maybe it was sleepiness or the excitement of having a new soulmate, but before he could think much more about it the hidden truth was slipping from his mouth, “I’m grounded. No phone for the week.”

“That sucks.” The teenager just shrugged, hoping his soulmate would understand the action by his movement.

Silence impregnated the room, spreading and filling his system, his eyelashes closing bit by bit.

“I know how to play guitar. I can… play a song for you. Onlyifyouwantofcourse.” The thought was quick, quiet and disappeared as soon as it arrived, leading Patton to almost believe he imagined it.

A good feeling bloomed in his chest, a smile flourishing on his face as he held his soulmate’s free hand, carefully squeezing them in what he hoped it showed his gratitude.

“I would love to.”

“’Kay. Uh, cool. Give me a second.”

And then a few minutes later his form was engulfed by warmth. Patton let go a sigh of relief, basically melting in the so caring touch, don't having the heart - that word gave a hurtful tug in his chest - to remember his new soulmate he couldn't really hear the accords, only the shy, calming humming rumbling on his chest and lullabying them to a peaceful sleep.

[~*~]

Feeling is the language the heart uses when it needs to send a message.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings.

[~*~]

"How can I call you?"

Patton stopped his voice before that old nickname got out, scratching his throat. He should try to move on, right?

Baby steps.

"Pat."

"Pat?"

"Pat-Pat!"

Virgil rolled his eyes, denying the small smile which appeared on the corner of his mouth.

“You can call me V.”

[…]

“So, you’re a pillow.”

Patton blinked, a surprised snort filling the room. “V, I know I often say I’m soft but if you wanted to rest on me all you needed to do was ask!” He added some shadowing on some feathers, giving the drawing of the Bem-te-Vi more profundity. He was really happy he found that site about the birds of America.

“No, I mean literally. Like… your representation is not a stuffed animal, it’s a pillow.”

“Oooh…” He blinked a few times. “I didn’t know that still happens.”

“What do you mean with ‘still happens’? This happened to you before?”

“Not with me, but I saw a video about this! Before the plushies became famous due their shape being easier to be seen as human-like, the bond would form in anything that could be quickly dyed, just like clothes, pieces of fabric, pillows… I think if they showed it to a doctor, he would describe their condition as ‘comfortable!’” Patton shook lightly the panda’s shoulder, smiling. “Uh? Got it? Comfortable? Because they’re soft?”

“Pat, that was horrible.”

“Awww, come oon.” Patton rested his chin on V’s head, forgetting his drawing for a while. “Puns are harder than knock knock jokes! You have to wait for the perfect timing to make them.” Virgil huffed. “Not even an itsy bitsy giggle?”

“Nope.”

Silence.

“Pat?”

“No. I am pouting.”

He felt a couple of pats (ha-) on his head, the touching going away in a few seconds. “You will get there some day.” The other answered his soulmate with a raspberry, giggling a bit of his own silliness before going back to his hobby. He really was planning to finish this bird today.

“The thing is… Since you’re, ya know, a pillow. I was thinking… okay, I know that this will sound weird but… I was thinking of putting some clothes on your representation so I can… try to see you better.”

“Ah.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, sure!”

“No, no. I am! It’s just…” Patton bit his lips, lightly squeezing the shell of his ear with the hand that wasn’t holding the pencil, adjusting his body to a better sitting position. “What clothes do you have in mind? Not that I think your taste is bad or you don’t know how to choose good clothes or something like that!”

“No, it’s cool!” The thought came in the moment Patton forced himself to stop his nervous talking. “I wanted to ask you because of that, I, uh, have black t-shirts, jeans, an old grey hoodie, PJs, clothes when I was a kid, onesies, maybe I can get a dress?”

“Gasp. Do you have onesies?? Aww, I want!”

“Everyone has a onesie.” Virgil mumbled in defense, feeling his cheeks getting hot. “I have a skeleton one, a raccoon and the Toothless from How to Tra-”

“OHMYGOSH YOU HAVE TOOTHLESS!” Virgil had absolutely no idea how Pat managed to make a thought so high pitched and excited to the point the words themselves were barely understandable. “HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS, CUTE LIL DRAGON…” and then a bunch of squeaks and mumbling took over his brain just as he has hugged and then lightly bounced before suddenly everything disappeared.

He decided it was safer to let the silence prolong itself a bit longer.

…

“Pat?”

“You might need to give me a few more minutes, kiddo.”

“You need to chill, dude.” Virgil remarked, a ray of fondness shining in his words. He gathered his onesie. It was his favorite one when he was fourteen, now it didn’t even fit on him anymore and it clearly wasn’t made to be used by a pillow, as well, but it would suffice until he thought of a better solution. “Ok. Got it, you might want to use your Blocker now.”

“Okayy, it’s somewhereeeeee...” Patton rummaged the content of his backpack, looking for the earphone-shaped object. He hadn’t the chance to buy the wireless prototype, so he struggled a few seconds to untangle the cables. “Here! So, see you in fifteen minutes?”

“Ok. If you hear or feel something just touch my arm and I will immediately stop.”

“Right!! Bye!” Patton waved, more a habit than anything else, plugging the Blocker on his ears and the cluing its ventosa behind his head, right where his cerebellum was. A few pieces of time went by before his head became partially empty, only his thoughts filling it. He put the panda away.

It was a strange feeling, to use this outside his school, nor parallel conversation of his classmates or a teacher’s voice filling the air to distract his attention for the fact that he couldn’t hear or feel his soulmates anymore. He hummed, wondering how Lo was and writing a self note on the corner of his paper that he should check on him later, ask for him to finish that story with the smart detective he was telling him on Sunday before Patton fell asleep due the other’s habit to keep petting his hair, probably a revenge for Patton’s constant need to hugging, holding or actively interacting with his serious soulmate’s representation, more often than not receiving fond-exasperate pokes in return.

He looked through the window, mind wandering as the wind hit the tree in his neighbor’s yard, messing with its leaves. It was a bit lonely to have your thoughts all to yourself…

But not entirely bad.

[…]

“Sooo, howz does it looks like?” The naturally excited voice asked. Virgil just pressed his hand firmer on his lips, his other arm hugging his middle. His gaze fell for what it felt the umpteen time in the blue dyed pillow before him, the sleeves of his onesie folded inwards in a poor attempt to cut half of its original length, the ‘legs’ were criss crossed and all of this ignoring, of course, the unnatural rectangular shape of the whole thing.

‘Like shit.’ It was his first thought, but he decided to not send it to Pat.

“Weird.”

“I am looking at my pillows right now and-” giggles, “but come ooon, it’s Toothless! There is no way it isn’t at least a bit cute!”

‘You have no neck.’ He internally panicked, looking at the few, sporadic tiny blue hearts appearing amidst the black onesie, showing the representation was getting used to the new fabric attached to it. ‘A probably-head, shoulders but no neck. It’s like a reverse freaking giraffe!’

However, Virgil decided against sharing this particular vision with the other.

“I guess. Are you… breathing well or whatever?” His tune was a mix of nonchalant and nervous, the choice of words making him wince.

“I am. Why?”

“No. Nothing. No reason.”

“Oookay.” The teenage signed at the confusion on his soulmate’s tune, why did he had to talk in the first place or be so weird making a such big deal of something stupid like that? Urg. He stared at the blue object one more time. Damn Soulmate System. Damn destiny. Damn lack of socialization skills.

…………

But, dude, really, the guy has literally no neck here, there is NO WAY he isn’t feeling nothing because of that. Pat is probably lying because he pities him after a so horrible, futile attempt of fixing what he caused. No. Wait. He can’t just assume his soulmate is lying because of his overthinking, the other part of his brain retorted. Was he overthinking? He probably was. He always did it. Or perhaps this was a correct inkling of Pat. Soulmates were supposed to do that sort of thing after some time, right? One week was enough time? What he-

“Hey!” Pat’s thought cut his own. “Sooo, now that you can ‘see’ me a bit better… hug? You can say no if you want, sure!”

Virgil blinked one, two, three times.

“Ok. But you let go when I let go, got it?”

“Sure thing, V!” Warmth bloomed in his chest when he heard his nickname, Virgil wasn’t sure why.

He embraced the representation, feeling a bit silly, the same feeling that was fast to go away as Pat hugged him as well, firm but careful. The sensation overwhelmed his senses, but in a good way, leading the one who loved guitars and got a strange hyper fixation on drums to let go a sigh, body relaxing.

He patted Pat’s back two times before finishing the touch. “There you go.”

“Thanks! Sooo, see you later.”

“Sure thing.” He agreed, wanting nothing more than a good hot bath after so many feelings in such a small period of time.

“uwu”

“How the fu-”

“NO SWEARING!”

“-did you do that?”

Virgil snorted, the warmth still spreading on his chest and maybe - only maybe, - having a new soulmate wasn’t an entire bad thing.

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