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im-an-anxious-wreck · 2 years ago

Text

Inspire

AO3 link

Summary: King Roman had never thought himself the fatherly type. He hadn't had the best example growing up, his father had been… negligent at best.

And while everyone had always praised Roman's father for being a good king, a good father, they did not.

But somehow, despite never expecting to be any sort of fatherly figure or even a mentor, Roman takes a young magical boy in as his ward. What was Roman supposed to do? Just leave Patton in the hands of the awful person who was misusing him for his magic? Hah, Roman thought not.

Will Roman be able to help Patton fit in? Or will he end up just like his father?

Warnings: cursing, kissing, very mild injury, poison/poisoning (doesn't go into gorey detail), some child abuse in the beginning that will probably be referenced later (all sides are sympathetic though)

Universe: Magic/royal au

Perspective/main character: Roman

Side/secondary characters: Patton, Janus, Logan

Appear: Virgil, Remus, Remy, Emile

Romantic relationships: Roceit, background established Dukexiety

Platonic relationships: Roman and Patton, Janus and Logan, Roman and Logan, Janus and Patton

Word Count: 17,458

Link to my collection of TSS fanworks

Any historical inaccuracies are sponsored by this is a fantasy world and I do what I want

This is my second fic for @ts-storytime's big bang challenge!

You can find the adorable art by @thebestworstidea here!!

Thanks to @threecrowsinatrenchcoat for beta-ing!

Roman had never thought himself the best person, nor a particularly great king, but he tried. He did what he could, he did his best, and hoped it was enough. It'd… he'd have to be enough.

He couldn't do everything, and what he did do had to be within the confines of the law, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing. Not when Logan had broken into the castle just to see the library before he died of starvation, and not when he heard a blacksmith yelling at a kid for letting the fire get too low.

And it was no wonder it had gotten so low, the kid looked absolutely exhausted and was— by Remus' morning star, the kid was using fire magic! Why the kid couldn't have been more than ten, and yet he'd clearly been doing sustained fire magic. Even Roman would be exhausted from doing that all day.

The kid wimped and the flames jumped a bit higher, only fueling the fire raging in Roman's gut on the kid's behalf.

"Deep breath," Roman's adviser, Janus whispered. "Pause, remember your intentions, then act."

Roman's chest expanded and contracted with air as he set his intention. Get the kid to safety and try not to don't start a fight. Easy.

Maybe he shouldn't have gone out in disguise today; his usual crown locked away back at the castle and a plain tunic and breeches underneath his red traveling cloak.

Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

Roman walked up to the man, the clacking of his boots on the cobblestone echoing in his ears, and his form strengthened with far more confidence than he actually had. The man barely glanced up at Roman before continuing to ignore him so Roman pursed his lips and said, "Excuse me."

The blacksmith sighed in annoyance before finally looking up at Roman. "What?"

"Is that child yours?"

"Oh, Merlin's balls, what's he done now?"

"Well, nothing. It's actually—"

"Good, then fuck off."

"I— excuse me?"

"You heard me, Buckethead. Fuck. Off."

"Buckethead! I'm not even wearing my hel—"

Roman took another deep breath.

Get the child to safety.

"Sir, you're under arrest."

"What?!" The man squawked indignity. "What for? You can't do that!"

Roman paused for a moment. "Alright. Fair enough. Virgil!"

Virgil practically appeared out of nowhere next to Roman's shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Might I recommend that you arrest him for child abuse?"

"You most certainly can." Virgil's eyes narrowed at the blacksmith, looking at him with deep disgust. "Sir, you are under arrest for the mistreatment and abuse of a child under your care, as well as violating the Worker Safety and Protection Act."

Virgil made a small gesture and two knights down the busy street left their posts and put the man in iron cuffs.

The man turned towards Roman, glaring at him as he roared, "Who do you think you are?! Getting me arrested by the damn captain of the guard for him," He snarled, jerking his head back to the shop briefly, "For him doing magic!"

"Ah, sorry. I suppose I did forget to introduce myself. I'm Roman. King Roman Sanders."

A man just spluttered dumbfoundedly.

Roman resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead continuing, "Also the problem really isn't with magic, it's with you mistreating him. Good day."

The man tried to argue more —seriously, does he not have any self-preservation?— but Roman had already walked around him to where the young boy was watching the whole ordeal from the corner of the blacksmith shop.

Roman crouched down a little ways away from the child, not wanting him to feel trapped. "Hello."

The boy stared at him for a moment before softly saying, "Hi."

Roman smiled gently at him. "It's nice to meet you. My name's Roman."

"Yeah… I heard."

"Ah, I see. What's your name?"

"...Patton."

Roman had planned to take Patton to an orphanage, but something about how he held himself, something about how he was curled into a tight ball, eyes glittering with equal parts fear and curiosity, it made him think of when he'd found Virgil in his early twenties. Virgil was only five years younger than Roman, and, despite being a teenager at the time, he'd looked so young and small; a symptom from being in one of the neighboring kingdoms' children army.

Patton glanced up at Roman and then down again before finally settling on his hands, and Roman knew, he knew that he'd be taking another person into his small but apparently ever-growing family. Only if Patton wanted him to though, of course.

Roman's knees started to ache so he gently sat down, careful not to make any sudden moves. "How would you like to live with me in the castle?"

"...I don't have any money."

"Ah, no, you wouldn't have to pay."

"Oh… what would you want me to do then? Maybe my magic could be useful to you in some way?"

Roman could practically feel his heart sink in his chest. "I'm not taking you in to be useful, young one."

"Oh…" Patton frowned, considering Roman's words, and Roman let him. "Can— may I ask why you're taking me in then?"

"That's a good question… one that I don't completely know the answer to. But I do know that you didn't deserve to suffer, and I want you to be taken care of. And I'm going to personally make sure that you always have somewhere to stay and be safe, okay?"

"Okay, I— thank you. If you ever change your mind though, I understand."

"I'm quite sure that I won't. Even if you didn't want to live in the castle anymore, I'd still make sure that you have a safe place to live."

"Oh, well that… thank you, sir."

"Now how about we pack anything of yours and then you can meet my two friends, alright?"

"Alright. I'll be very quick, sir."

"That's fine. I'm not in a rush though."

…

After they grabbed Patton's small amount of clothing, they met up with Virgil and Janus, both seeming to take to the child well.

Virgil's guard's had taken the blacksmith away and so the four of them walked to the point where they were to meet the carriage to take them back to the castle.

Roman looked at the child, mind already whirring with all the things he'd need. Patton would definitely need clothes and tutors, a room… there were a few in the royal wing that he might potentially like.

"Patton?"

Patton's eyes snapped to Roman. "Yes?"

"Do you have a favourite colour?"

"Mm… yeah."

"Well, mine's red."

Patton still didn't say his so Virgil declared, "Bet you can't guess mine!" As they made a show of adjusting his purple cape.

Patton almost seemed to be holding back a small smile. "Purple?"

Virgil lightly gasped. "You got it right! What about your favourite colour, Jan?"

"My favourite is definitely the colour of vomit."

Virgil rolled his eyes, and pretended to scold Janus, saying, "Janus Hierophant, your favourite colour is definitely not vomit."

"Alright, fine, Virgil Storm, it's whatever the ugliest colour you can think of is then."

"No, it's yellow!" Patton added, eyes bright as his lips curled upwards ever so slightly.

They all stopped walking and stared at Patton, whose face instantly fell, shoulders hunched.

"Sorry," Patton mumbled.

"You're fine… and right. I'm not sure how you knew that as I'm wearing all black today… but you're right."

"Um… I don't really know either. Sometimes I just know stuff," Patton said as they all continued walking.

"Ah, I see. You might have some intuition-based magic then. What's my favourite animal?"

"...You say it's snakes, but it's actually honey badgers."

Virgil whistled low. "Damn, lying to us, Jan? How dare you."

Virgil said it in such an obviously joking tone that Roman didn't even realise how it might come across to Patton until he heard a small sniffle behind him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get Mr. Hierophant in trouble!"

Janus' demeanor shifted instantly. "You're fine, I'm not in trouble. They were just teasing me."

"...Okay. 'M still sorry."

"It's alright," Janus soothed. "No one's mad."

Patton nodded, eyes still darting around like someone was suddenly going to be angry.

Roman decided to change the conversation, hoping that that might help ease Patton's fear. "Oh, I never got the chance to ask you, Patton, what's your favourite colour?" Technically he'd only asked if Patton had a favorite color, so since the child had taken it so literally, Roman needed to be more specific.

"...Blue, like the sky."

"Ooh, that's a very nice colour."

Patton nodded hesitantly.

Perfect, Roman knew exactly which room to give Patton. It couldn't be more suited for him unless Roman had magically known his tastes and decorated it accordingly.

Patton was absolutely going to love the blue walls with white clouds painted on them. It looked just like the sky and Roman could hardly wait for Patton to see it.

They stopped to get some food for lunch and pretty quickly after they'd paid for it, the carriage arrived.

As Patton ate his bread, looking out the window thoughtfully, Roman couldn't help but feel very grateful that he'd listened to Janus' apprentice. Not only was Logan very smart and learnt quickly, but he sometimes had visions.

That had been the entire reason for Roman's visit from his castle overlooking the valley to the town nestled down in the valley. Logan had said that the bear spirit of children and mistreated workers, Osha had come to him in a dream and told him that Roman needed to make a trip to town. She hadn't told Logan why, just that Roman would know what to do.

And although Roman hadn't realised it at the time, he really had known what to do.

Logan had only been at the castle for a few months, but had settled in quite well, quickly learning a lot from the many books he read and from being under Janus' care.

His dark brown eyes shone with the glitter of knowledge and curiosity, and Logan's curls were a lot healthier after the court physician and herbalist, Emile, had shown Logan some hair care that Logan hadn't had access to when he lived on the streets.

Actually getting the nutrients Logan needed had also helped him flourish, his frame no longer so thin and boney.

It was almost hard to believe that it'd only been a few months, but at the same time it almost seemed like longer; Logan fit right in.

Roman sat down in his room by the roaring fireplace.

Roman's recent meeting of Patton had made him think of when Janus had taken Logan in…

Roman was looking over some information about his kingdom in his private study when his adviser, Janus came in, escorting a boy about fifteen. They both walked to the middle of the room.

"Your majesty," Janus said curtly with a nod.

Roman set down the documents, now fully turning to face the both of them, taking in the boy's mismatched, worn, ill-fitting —albeit clean— clothes and cracked glasses. The boy's hair was in rather loose, uneven corn rows, it looked like he'd most likely done them himself and without the aid of a mirror.

"Yes?" Roman asked.

"I… I'd like you to hear me out before you cast your judgment."

Roman furrowed his brow, glancing at the boy again. "I always try to, but I will make extra sure that I do this time. What happened?"

"This young man broke into the castle—"

"I didn't break in. Nothing was broken."

"...Alright." Janus conceited, despite usually being no-nonsense and absolutely hating being interrupted. "He snuck into the castle without permission, and into our main library without being detected."

"Well, it seemed like he was detected at some point."

"I— yes. I found him in there reading a book, but that's not the point."

"Then what is the point? I presume that there's more to the story, otherwise you would've dealt with it yourself."

"Of course. I'd never waste your time like that. He's an orphan and wanted to see the great library before he died of hunger," Janus said, voice even more emotionless than usual.

"Alright… So, wh—" Then it hit Roman.

Janus was standing slightly in front of the boy; right arm slightly out, not to keep the boy back, but to keep the boy from Roman; Janus' face and voice had been professional at best, and purposely flat at the worst. Janus… cared about the boy, but was trying not to show it. Hmm…

"Ah, I see."

"...You do?" Janus asked, almost apprehensively.

"Yes, I do. Do what you see fit and let me know if you need something, anything from me."

"Oh… I mean, yes, alright. Thank you." Janus finally dropped the arm he'd been half holding in from of the boy, clearly no longer concerned that the boy's wellbeing was in danger.

Roman looked at the boy. "So, you really wanted to see our library before you died?"

The boy's eyes looked slightly afraid, but he hid it about as well as Janus did. "Yes, sire. I figured if I was going to die, I might as well have seen the most magnificent library in the kingdom, or die trying."

"How would you feel about being an apprentice instead of that death you seem to be so sure is going to happen soon?"

"An apprenticeship?"

"With me," Janus cut in. "If you'd like." Janus turned to look at the boy easier. "You'd learn all sorts of things. An advisor must be knowledgeable in a lot of different subjects after all. But you absolutely can say no. There'd be no consequences for doing so as I'd simply just find a good orphanage for you to live in. And I understand if you need some time to think it ov—"

"Yes," The boy said, almost desperately, interrupting Janus for the second time.

But Janus didn't seem to mind, only looking at the boy in surprise. "...Yes, you'd like more time to think it over, or yes, you'd like to be my apprentice?"

"Yes, I'd like to be your apprentice… please."

"Oh, right. I— great. Um… would you like me to find public housing for you, or would you rather stay here in the castle? I believe there's some quarters near mine, you know, that way if you needed anything, I'd be right there."

"In the castle would be preferable, thank you."

"Right… and of course we'll need to stop by the seamstress… perhaps after you bathe though. Oh, and you'll need new glasses. Do you want a haircut?"

"Yes, please."

"So the barber as well…"

"Well," Roman said, clapping his hands together gently. "I don't suppose I'm needed for this part, and besides, Janus has been quite firm that I need to memorize all twenty of these pages before my meeting tomorrow, so I should really be getting back to them."

Janus rolled his eyes. "I definitely most did not tell you to memorize them. Just a run-through is fine."

"Well, no matter. I have pages to read, and Janus needs to show you to your quarters and take care of your other necessities. Ah, and perhaps a visit to the physician and then subsequently the kitchen."

"Oh, of course. Good idea."

Roman felt a bit bad just calling the boy… well, 'the boy' all the time. "What's your name?"

"My name is Logan, sire."

"Well, as you might know, I'm Roman." Roman held his hand out and shook the bo— Logan's hand.

"I… am aware."

"Well, let me formally welcome you to the castle. I hope you enjoy your time here and don't hesitate to let me or Janus know if you need anything. Oh, and you should know, now that you're the royal advisor's apprentice, you'll have access to the very exclusive Royal Library as well as the one that's open to all people who live here. We call it the Grand Library."

Logan's eyes widened in shock. "Really? I can visit not only the Grand Library, but the Royal Library as well?"

"That's right."

"Wow… oh, er, thank you."

"You're welcome, Logan. I know you'll appreciate and take care of the books."

"Yes, I will, sir."

Roman smiled at Logan before turning to Janus. "I expect him to shadow you for at least a week before he's left on his own outside of his room."

Janus inclined his head. "Of course, your majesty."

Roman smiled to himself.

He'd been a little unsure about Logan but his magic hadn't felt anything off and if anything had actually pulled Roman to Logan. Roman suspected that Janus had felt that same magical pull, especially seeing how protective of Logan he was, and how quickly he grew to care for the boy.

It was easier to recognise that pull Janus had to Logan now as Roman had felt it towards Patton just that morning.

Roman sighed and began pacing again.

Logan knew what it felt like to be new to the castle and from a bad situation, maybe he'd have some advice for Roman. He really felt out of his depth here.

Janus had been the one to arrange for everything that Logan had needed, so Roman really didn't know what to do. Despite taking in several people, he still didn't feel very good at it.

Maybe he should ask Janus as well.

Roman walked through the halls, his red, detachable cape billowing out behind him as castle workers moved out of his way and bowed their heads in respect.

It was late afternoon and Roman suspected that Janus and Logan were probably either in the Royal Library or in Janus' office. However, the library was a bit more likely at the moment.

Roman nodded to the guard outside the door and flung both doors open a bit more dramatically than perhaps was necessary. The guard closed them behind Roman.

Logan looked up from his book from where he sat in an armchair, Janus in the other one, and Roman could practically feel Janus' eye roll.

"Good day, sire," Logan greeted as he stood and bowed. "Mr. Hierophant filled me in with what transpired this morning, I'm glad my prophecy was useful."

Roman gestured for Logan to sit as he said, "And I as well. That's what I wished to discuss actually. I'd imagine that the castle took some getting used to when you had first arrived, and so I was hoping you might have some advice to make Patton feel more welcome. Also, that Janus might have something as well. I know he orchestrated a lot of your care."

"Well," Janus said, drawing out the word in his elongated speech pattern, "That doesn't sound like it could be a long conversation, don't sit down." Janus summoned a chair close to his and Logan's. "I can tell when you're feeling awkward while standing after all."

After Roman sat down he laughed lightly. "True, you did teach me how to hide it somewhat though."

"May I ask how long the both of you have known each other?"

"Of course, Logan. I don't pretend to speak for Janus, but unless I am otherwise occupied with royal duties, you may always ask me questions. If I don't have the answer or want to answer, I'll just state as such."

"I believe I've told you something similar about questions relating to knowledge," Janus said. "But I shall extend it to the length that our king has."

"Ah, but to answer your question," —Roman briefly glanced at Janus for permission to share, catching the small squint of approval which was most likely unnoticed by Logan (despite his wonderful observant skills), before Roman continued— "We've known each other about… well, since my coronation at eighteen, he was only fifteen so I waited a few years to let him learn more and get more experience and exposure to other cultures.

"Everyone tried to get me to take an older adviser, and I did assemble a small council of elders for some matters of advice and to keep me in check, I especially needed their advice while Janus was traveling and learning, but I just knew that Janus was supposed to be my personal and the head advisor. Even though he was only nineteen when I made his position official, he was and still is wise beyond his years."

"My my, getting sappy on me, my king?" Janus jested.

"Always," Roman joked, affection for his adviser and friend warming his chest.

There was a small pause before Logan said, "Ah, I got us off topic with my question, I believe you were asking about things you could do to make Patton feel more comfortable?"

Roman finally looked away from Janus. "Yes, that's correct."

"Well, I'd imagine— er…" Logan exhaled. "From experience, I know that since he's most likely dealt with food scarcity, it's important to make sure that he has a good relationship with food, even if it takes a while to get there. I'd recommend making a plan with Dr. Picani."

"Mm, good idea."

"Perhaps we could give him some non-perishable snacks that he could keep in his room," Janus suggested. "That way he can hide them wherever he wants and doesn't have to worry about them being taken away."

"Yes, that's a good idea as well. I'll talk to Emile about getting the nutrition he needs as well as the head chef about non-perishable snacks. Thank you both for the help."

Roman stood and Logan hastened to do the same before bowing.

"You're welcome, sire."

Roman inclined his head. Even though he'd told Logan that he didn't have to stand and bow every time Roman came and went —especially in close company—, he still seemed to feel the need to anyway.

"See you later, my king," Janus said in that sly tone that suggested that he knew something the other person didn't, although Roman couldn't think what, so it was most likely that Janus was just messing with him.

"Have a good rest of your day."

As Roman went back to his kingly duties, he couldn't get Janus' soft smirk out of his head.

…Well, Janus did have a rather nice face.

In hindsight, maybe Roman should have realised that throwing a big party to announce and introduce his ward wasn't the best idea for a traumatised kid.

He felt bad but it was why he was all the more grateful that Logan had told him to give Patton somewhere to go to if he was feeling overwhelmed.

Roman wasn't sure if Patton would want company, but he'd at least check on him while Janus distracted some of the guests. Janus could be quite crafty and easily turned people's attention away from disappearing royal members. His charm seemed to naturally come to him in an almost genuine way, and if Roman hadn't seen him without it, hadn't seen his snide, passive aggressiveness, and sarcastic nature behind closed doors, he'd have no idea that wasn't Janus' genuine personality.

Roman sighed. He really didn't get out to the maze often enough, he was pretty sure that he was pretty lost and wasn't quite sure how to fix that problem. Fire magic was certainly out of the question, the gardener —an older, pleasant enough woman— would not be happy about a path carved through, even if Roman kept it contained and didn't burn down the whole maze. She loved plants and took pride in her work, besides, it just seemed like a shame to mess up part of the maze like that just because Roman was bad when it came to outdoor directions.

Ah, what was it that Janus had said? Stick to the left wall and as long as the maze itself doesn't change, that even if it takes longer, eventually you'll find the exit. Or in this case, the center.

Roman walked along the left hedge wall with his hand running along it for a minute before a sudden pain blossomed between his first finger and thumb.

"Ah!" Roman frowned at the bleeding cut. While he was proficient in some kinds of magic, healing magic was certainly not his forte.

Roman pulled out his red handkerchief and wrapped it around the wound —he could always deal with it later, right now he needed to check on Patton—, and continued walking.

It was several minutes before he came out into the large, open garden that was nicknamed 'The Jewel Of The Maze'.

The fireflies glittered about, echoing the stars above as both were reflected in the water of the large fountain in the very center of the garden.

Patton and Logan sat side by side on a bench that faced the fountain and it sounded like they were talking quietly but any conversation died down as Roman approached them.

Logan inclined his head towards Roman. "Greetings."

"Hello, Logan. Hello, Patton."

Patton didn't say anything, just looked at his twisting fingers in his lap.

Roman walked closer and sat on the edge of the fountain wall directly in front of Patton and Logan. "I'm sorry, Patton."

"...What for? I'm the one who ran away for no reason."

"It didn't seem like no reason to me."

"He's right, Patton. You were overwhelmed and needed a break. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I completely understand getting overwhelmed, we may have gone a bit overboard with the guest list." Roman huffed. "Actually, I'd disappear from parties and events frequently. Fortunately, Janus is good at keeping a crowd entertained, and sometimes even from noticing key guests' absences or at the very least explaining where they've gone that's an acceptable excuse for the public. So take all the time you need."

"Okay, thank you."

"Of course. Really that was bad planning on my part, but I'll do better next time."

"Still, I should've been able to handle it."

"I don't see how you healthily could've," Logan said not unkindly. "I presume it was your first event of that magnitude?"

"...Yeah."

"Also, it was a lot of people and noise, and a lot of focus on you. You'd never been to an event like that before, so it's quite understandable that you needed a break. You handled it quite well, and I'm glad you recognised that you needed to leave and then did so before you were really overwhelmed and possibly had an anxiety attack or began crying. You did well under the circumstances."

"Oh, I— thanks, Logan."

Logan gave Patton a small smile. "You're welcome."

Patton looked back at Roman before saying, "Oh! What happened to your hand?"

Roman looked down at his handkerchief-wrapped hand to see if maybe he'd bled through it, but he hadn't. "Ah, I cut it on a branch in the maze."

Patton frowned before standing up and walking over. "May I see it please?"

"I… suppose so?"

Patton carefully unwrapped Roman's hand and examined it, turning it this way and that. "Hmm."

A little ball of floating light appaired a few feet above them and Roman belatedly realised that Patton must've summoned it with his magic.

"So, what's the diagnosis, physician?" Roman joked.

"Oh, it's just a small cut, the blood around it just makes it seem bigger than it is, but we don't want it to get sick so—"

"Sick?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, when it's all extra painful, and it's all pink."

"Ah, there's a word for that: infection. So it'd be 'we don't want it to get infected'."

"Oh, okay. You're so smart, Logan!"

Logan smiled softly. "Thank you."

"You don't have to worry about me, Patton. I'll take it to Emile in a bit."

"Yeah, you could. Or… well, I could just heal it."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah, isn't… isn't it the easiest kind of magic?"

Roman smiled. "Well, it depends. Magicians tend to have a category or two of magic that comes easier to them. Healing magic is pretty much impossible for me, but it could certainly be the kind of magic that you excel in."

"Oh, that's cool. Um, is it okay if I heal it?"

"If you want to. I really don't mind taking it to Emile though."

"Okie dokie." Patton focused on the wound and raised his hand just above it.

Roman blinked and the cut was gone, even the blood that'd been drying around it had vanished. "Exemplary!" He flexed his hand experimentally. It didn't even ache.

"That was most impressive," Logan complimented.

"Oh." Patton beamed under their praise. "Thanks."

Roman patted the fountain wall next to him and Patton sat down next to him.

"What other types of magic do you know?" Logan asked.

"Well, I…" Patton's shoulders drooped a bit. "Um, I guess I can sustain fire magic for hours at a time, I don't really like to though."

"Ah, of course. Apologies, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's okay!" Patton winced. "Ach, wait, sorry. Sometimes I just interrupt without thinking."

Roman assured, "It's alright, Patton. We know it wasn't on purpose. You were just trying to assure Logan."

"Yeah."

"Oh, hey, Patton? Would you like for me to show some more magic?"

Patton's eyes widened. "Really?! Uh, I mean… if you want to, I'd really like that."

"I want to. Here, hold your hand out like this." Roman held his palm out towards the starry sky and Patton copied him. Roman pushed a bit of his magic to the center of his hand and up, forming a red butterfly.

"Oh! Cool! Can I try?"

"Of course! There's some magic that might be a bit more tricky or even dangerous that you wouldn't want to do without the proper precautions, but a simple energy construct

is perfectly harmless."

"Okay." Patton focused on his hand and after a few seconds a small, sky-blue butterfly appeared, it was slightly translucent and quite sparkly as beginner magicians' constructs tended to be. Patton gasped excitedly. "I did it!"

"You sure did!"

"Hm, that's interesting," Logan said absentmindedly.

"What's interesting?"

"Ah, just that your magic is red which seems to be at least one of your favourite colours, and Patton's is a light blue which is his. In addition, I've seen Janus' magic glow yellow which seems to be his as it's the only colour other than black that he wears."

"Very astute observation, Logan. When making constructs with one's magic it's the favourite colour of the person… well, or at least one they like a lot. Not everyone necessarily only has one favourite colour. But anyway, you're right. Another magician you know would be Remus, his favourite colour is green, hence why he wears it a lot."

"That's coo—" Patton lost concentration and the butterfly disappeared. "Oops, sorry." He put his hand down again.

"It's alright. It's easy to do! I was impressed that you held it as long as you did, and especially after you'd made the butterfly on the first try after having only seen me do it once." Roman dropped his hand and his butterfly vanished as well. "Do you think you're ready to go back to the party, or shall we call it a night and go to bed?"

"Um…"

"Either is a perfectly acceptable option."

"Okay… I think I wanna try the party again. I'm a bit more ready since I know what to expect this time."

"Alright. Oh, I do want to apologise again for not preparing you properly. I should've warned you better and tried to do something to make it not as overwhelming. Like for one thing, the guest list was far too long. I should've kept it smaller."

"Well… it is what it is. It's easy to say 'oh I should've done this or that' but you didn't know then what you know now."

"That's very true, Patton."

"You're quite emotionally intelligent."

"Thanks, Logan."

"What about a background blocker? I don't know how to do it, but I know that Janus does."

"Hmm, what does it do exactly?"

"It just muffles the background noise so that it's not as overwhelming. You can still have conversations and notice if someone's yelling for whatever reason, but other people's chatter isn't as loud."

"That sounds good… oh, well, as long as it's not too difficult."

"I don't think it would be for him, but we can ask." Roman turned to Logan. "Did you want to go with us, Logan?"

"Sure. I might retire a bit early though, I'd like to finish my book on Sir Charles the third before I sleep."

"Sounds good." Roman stood up, Patton and Logan following him to an opening into the maze. "Uh… you wouldn't happen to know the way, would you Logan?"

"No, sire."

"Hmm…"

"I think I do," Patton piped up. "I knew which way to go before getting here."

"Ah, your intuition magic must've kicked in— Wait, then how did Logan get through it?"

"I followed Patton."

"Well, then." Roman bowed with one hand on his chest and the other one out, gesturing to the opening in the maze. "After you, oh great guide."

"Patton!" Roman cried out, feeling his blood go cold and stomach drop as Patton collapsed.

Janus was only just able to catch Patton before he fell to the stone floor.

Roman rushed over. "Is he okay?"

"...Yes, for now. He's breathing and his pulse is a bit erratic, yet somehow slow, but it's there."

Virgil all but ran up, eyes darting around in suspicion. "Give him here, we need to get him to Emile. Remy! Damnit, where are yo—"

"Here! Right here." Remy's usual smirk was nowhere to be found, a serious and focused look on his face instead.

"Okay, lock it down. I'm taking Patton to the infirmary."

"Yes, sir."

Logan smelled the cup that Patton had been drinking from and frowned. "Mr. Hierophant, would you please come smell this?"

Janus carefully tucked Patton in Virgil's arms before taking the goblet from Logan, and after smelling it, his expression also soured. "It's poisoned."

"That's what it seemed like to me as well."

Roman glanced around the dining hall before he bit his lip momentarily and said, "Okay. Janus, can you help the guards lock everything down? You're so much better with smoothing things over."

"Of course. Logan, come with me."

"Yes, sire."

Roman was just about to rush after Patton but quickly turned back to Janus. "Oh, wait, give me the goblet. I'll take it with me for Emile to identify."

…

This was all Roman's fault.

Who would poison Patton? He was just a kid, and an extremely sweet one at that.

Had that cup been intended for Roman? Or had someone just wanted to get at Roman by poisoning his ward?

Roman sighed and looked over at the unconscious Patton, wishing he was just sleeping instead.

Emile was currently in his office examining the poison and Roman just hoped he could make a cure from it.

It'd only been a short while since he'd arrived in the infirmary, but Roman's worry seemed to stretch the time far, far longer.

Eventually, Emile came out of his office, a solemn frown on his face.

Roman rushed to stand, almost knocking his chair over in the process. "What news have you?"

"Well, it's curable."

"That's—" Roman cut himself off. "I'm sensing a 'but'."

Emile nodded as he pushed up his glasses. "But the cure is quite a ways away."

"Of course it is," Roman said bitterly. "Where and how far away exactly?"

"The cure can be made from the flowers of the moondrop plant, but the dragon witch hordes all the known plants."

"Right. Will…" Roman gently looked at Patton. "Will you stay with him while I hold council?"

"Of course, Roman. I won't leave this room."

"Alright. Thank you, Emile."

…

Roman sat in the smaller of his two council rooms, around a round table with Virgil and Janus on his left and right respectively. Remus' and Emile's chairs stood empty as Remus was out of town and Emile was with Patton. Logan stood behind Janus' chair.

"Logan, you may as well sit in Emile's chair as he's watching over Patton under my request."

"Yes, sire." Logan sat down on Janus' other side.

"How is he?" Virgil asked.

"Emile's got him stable enough for now, but he needs the cure sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, the dragon witch is the only known person who has moondrops."

Janus pursed his lips. "Ah, that's at least a two-day journey. I'd like permission to be the one to get it."

"Granted."

"Sire, if I may." Logan adjusted his glasses.

"Of course, Logan. What is it?"

"I'd like permission to go as well."

"You're still rather young…" Roman thought back to all the adventures he and Remus had gone on when they were Logan's age and even younger. "But you've proven yourself quite adaptive, smart, and your self-defence fighting has come a long way. So, I will let Janus decide whether or not you'll go as he's the one leading this mission."

Janus nodded before he turned to Logan and considered him for a moment. "Alright. You may come, but if it gets too dangerous I want you to hide, and if you feel in over your head you tell me immediately. Those are my terms."

"Thank you. I accept your terms, sir."

Roman nodded once. "Good, now that we have that settled…" He turned to Virgil. "Virgil, do we know who's responsible for this disgusting act?"

"I believe so, yes. One Sir Richard Huxley."

His magic and anger burned in his stomach as Roman tried not to outright demand, "Why would be want to poison Patton? Is he planning a larger attack and this is just the start?"

"We suspect that the poisoned goblet was intended for you but got mixed up and Patton got it instead. I don't think he had a plan beyond this, but the castle is still on high alert in case anyone affiliated with him or opportunists want to try anything. Remy's talking with him right now, so we'll see what he can get out of him in regards to his plans."

Roman exhaled, letting some of the anger and tension leave his body. It wouldn't help Patton if his mind was clouded with anger. "Alright. Janus, Logan, start preparing for your departure as soon as possible, and may Osha guide you." Roman turned to Virgil. "Keep me informed, Virgil. I want to know as soon as you have more information. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the infirmary." The 'with Patton' went unsaid, but still was present as if it had been.

…

Roman was exhausted, a weariness settled deep into his bones, but he wouldn't, couldn't go to bed. He… he needed to be there in case something happened. It just didn't feel right to leave Patton here, even if the first mate of the guard, Remy, was standing watch just outside the infirmary doors.

Emile had long since gone to bed, but perhaps he could stay with Patton for a few hours the next morning while Roman got a bit of rest.

Roman sighed as he scrubbed his face with his hands.

He'd only do that if he really needed to. Sure, Emile would be here anyway, and Roman trusted Emile with his life —and had on several occasions before— but he couldn't help but feel that something bad would happen if he left Patton's side.

He just… needed to be here.

The door opened, startling Roman. All sleepiness left him as his senses went sharp and alert. His sword wasn't quite in arm's reach but it could be in a sec— Roman's shoulders sagged in relief when he saw that it was just Remus.

Remus looked almost a bit sheepish. "Hey, didn't mean to make you jump."

"It's fine."

"Burning the midnight oil, huh?"

"Yeah." Roman looked at Patton's sickly pale face, guilt twisting in his gut.

What was the point of all his wealth and power if he couldn't prevent someone under his care from getting poisoned?

Roman looked back at Remus. "Didn't know you were back."

"Yeah, got the messenger fox and hightailed it back. Knew you'd need me here."

"Thanks." Roman pulled the blanket a bit higher on Patton.

Remus hummed before dragging a chair over by Roman's, not caring in the slightest as it made a screeching noise against the stone floor.

Roman huffed almost lightly. "You know how much Emile doesn't like it when you do that."

Remus smirked. "Why do you think I do it?"

Roman shook his head fondly. "He's going to make you remove the gouges and marks again."

"Well, that's just fine. 'S not like I'm gonna run out of magic."

Roman looked away to hide his small smile, but it easily fell when he saw Patton.

"He's gonna get better," Remus said, unusually solemn.

"...I hope so."

"He will," Remus assured. "Janny and little Lo are gonna get the moondrop and Emile is gonna make the cure and he's gonna be okay. It'll just take a few days."

"What— what if he doesn't have a few days?"

"Well… I— he's strong, Ro. He'd have to be to survive the initial first wave. Obviously the poison is still in his veins and has attached itself to him, but the first hour is the most critical. Now it's just a matter of waiting 'till Janny gets back."

Roman sighed. "Right, I just— am worried."

"Which is perfectly understandable. I… I am too, but I think that Pat's strong enough. I mean, fuck, he took a big swig of a fatal to adults dose of poison, and has survived the afternoon and evening with a good prospect. What other nine-year-olds can say that?"

Roman hummed. "True. And I… I know that, it's just… hard." He sniffed.

"Aww, hey, he's gonna be okay, you both are. …It's gonna be a rough few days, huh?"

Roman nodded, not trusting his voice.

Remus scooted his chair closer and guided Roman's head onto chaos' shoulder, one arm wrapped around him and the other patting his hair.

"Yeah, just let it all out, Ro-bro. Let that fear and worries out. I'm right here."

Roman nodded and buried his nose into Remus' fabric, taking a shaky breath as he began to cry.

They stayed like that for several minutes as Roman cried his eyes out. He still felt shitty, but a bit better as he finally pulled away and wiped his red-rimmed eyes.

"How ya doin'?" Remus asked, speaking quietly so as not to break the fragile silence.

"...A bit better, I think. It's… I'm still extremely worried."

"Which is okay and to be expected."

"But it's not quite as overwhelming as it was."

"Well, good. Oh!" Remus pulled a brown paper sack out of one of his magically large pockets. "I brought you some food by the way."

"It's not poisoned, is it?" Roman tried to joke but winced as he glanced at Patton. "That was both poor timing and a poor joke."

Remus snorted. "Just my type of humour! But no, I 100% made it myself 'n everything. Not poisoned. Besides, I only poisoned you that one time!"

"It was twice."

"Oh, shit, really? When was the other time? Ohh! Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about the summersnow moss I'd put in your apple mint pie." Remus shook chaos' head. "Man, that was so long ago."

"Hah, yeah. It sure was."

Remus hummed before handing Roman the brown paper sack. "Anyway, here ya go."

"Thanks." Roman took out the sandwich and had eaten a fourth of it before he realised and tried to slow down a bit.

"I figured you'd probably skipped supper 'cuz of the adrenaline and all the worry, besides, who doesn't love a midnight snack?"

"Strangely enough, Logan."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, he read in a book somewhere that it was bad for you and can cause indigestion if you eat too close to bedtime."

Remus laughed. "Mr. Know-it-all's got it all figured out, huh?"

"Mm, not really."

"Yeah, he's got a lot to learn. I mean, he's already learned so much, and quickly, but he's still got a ways to go. Well, not that learning is ever done… but anyway, there's still a ways 'till he's as ready for adulthood as he can be."

"Hah, true. Is anyone ever actually ready for adulthood? I know we sure weren't."

"Eh, maybe that's just a part of it. Part of learning to be ready for adulthood is the random shit that life throws at you while you're an adult."

"That is… surprisingly insightful of you."

"Well, you know me, full of surprises… and something else."

"Shit and hot air."

"Yep, bingo!"

Roman just rolled his eyes. Remus never got tired of that joke.

Roman finished his sandwich and put the bag on the nightstand near the infirmary bed before smoothing back Patton's hair and sitting down.

"I—" Roman frowned. "Wait, Patton has really great intuition, like, he told Janus that he may say his favourite animal is a snake, but that Patton knew that it was actually a honey badger."

"...Okay?"

"But then why didn't it go off when he was about to drink the poison? Does it not work for danger somehow? Because if that's the case, that'd be quite bad. That's when it'd be the most helpful."

"Oh, hmm… I would think it goes off for danger too, but then why… maybe— hm, yeah maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Okay, this may be one of my two good thoughts this year, but… maybe his intuition told him to drink it?"

"What? Why! Remus, that makes absolutely no sense."

"No, no, hear me out! From what I've heard, intuition can be frustratingly vague, but if it told him to take that one, he would, right?"

"...Yeah? I still don't see where you're going with this though."

"Well, maybe it knew that you wouldn't be able to handle that much and that volatile of a poison, but that Patton would. His internal healing powers are the only thing that kept him from death's door, right? Like I said, it would've been a fatal dose for an adult."

"I— you don't really think…" Roman exhaled deeply. "That certainly sounds like Patton. I could see his intuition guiding him to be poisoned to save my life, even if Patton didn't exactly understand all that at the time."

Remus hummed in agreement and they sat there, Roman watching Patton and Remus watching Roman.

"You need sleep," Remus finally said.

"...Yeah. I just— can't leave him, you know? How am I supposed to sleep when he's here, unconscious and sick?"

Remus exhaled before gently saying, "There's not anything you can do for him right now, nothing except take care of yourself."

"I… I should be here with him."

"And you have been, but he'd want you to take care of yourself. How are you gonna be awake enough to talk to him when he wakes after Emile gives him the cure if you haven't gotten much sleep? Sure, you'll accidentally fall asleep at some point, but you need proper rest."

"Well…" Roman blinked tiredly.

"Come on, Ro. I'll stay here all night… and may knock you out with my morning star if you say no," Remus teased in a sing-song tone. "So, let me spend some time with my basically-nephew. Okay?"

Roman's shoulders slumped and he knew that Remus was right. "Okay." Bed did sound particularly good right then, his achy muscles agreeing. "Just… keep him safe, okay?"

Remus nodded solemnly. "Of course, always."

"Alright…" Roman stood up and looked at Patton. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you later! Can't believe you're making me be all responsible and shit," Remus joked.

Roman huffed. "Actually you volunteered— no, worse, threatened me, so it's only on you."

"Darn," Remus said sarcastically.

"Goodnight."

" 'Night!"

Roman walked to the double doors and opened one, slipping through. He looked back at Remus and Patton one last time, smiling softly as Remus began to read a storybook to Patton's sleeping form, and quietly shut the door.

Roman said 'goodnight' to Remy, put a small charm on the doors and went to bed.

It was going to be a long few days.

Roman almost cried in relief when Janus and Logan returned with Patton's cure, and did actually cry a bit when Patton woke up, wiping his damp eyes as he greeted Patton.

"Hey, Pat. How are you feeling?"

"Mm, throat hurts." Patton furrowed his brow and closed his eyes. "Head too."

Roman hadn't even opened his mouth to ask someone to get some water when Janus appeared by his elbow handing him a half-full glass.

Roman helped Patton drink and afterward, to settle back against the pillows. He set the cup on the bedside table in case Patton wanted more later.

There was so much he wanted to say to Patton; he wanted to say how very glad he was that he was okay, he wanted to thank him —and perhaps scold him just a bit— for drinking the poison that was meant for Roman… but instead, he just said, "Glad to see you awake. Um, Emile's making you some tea, by the way. I believe he said that it should help with the headache and sore throat that he figured you'd have. Uh, he also said that he can do some yarrow compresses for any aching muscles, but I'm getting ahead of myself."

Patton nodded before looking around the infirmary room, eyes landing on Janus and Logan who were hanging back to give them some space. "Hi," Patton said tiredly, but clearly glad to see them.

They came a bit closer as Logan said, "Hello, Patton. I'm glad to see that you're awake now."

"Glad to be awake. Is everyone okay?"

"Yes," Janus answered. "Everyone's okay. Virgil and Remy locked things down quickly and found the person who," Roman noticed the briefest hesitation, although he doubted that it was noticeable to the children, "Poisoned you."

"Oh, good. Was he working alone?"

"Fortunately, yes."

"Well, all's well that ends well."

Roman laughed. "I suppose you're right.

…

Patton soon fell asleep after that, but that was to be expected as he desperately needed the rest.

Logan sat on the bed next to Patton, claiming that it was so Patton wouldn't feel alone as he slept, but Roman knew that Logan was also sitting there to assure himself that Patton was indeed okay.

After Logan's eyes started drooping, Janus pulled himself up a chair next to Roman's and by the time he looked up, Logan was laying next to Patton, almost curled around him, and asleep as well.

"He had a big day," Janus murmured.

"Mm, we all did. I'd imagine that your quest was quite strenuous."

"It was, but he was quite remarkable," Janus murmured softly, nothing but pride in his voice.

"I have no doubt."

"I would tell you about it, but I believe he wanted to. It's pretty late though, and we had a long day." Janus gave a short quiet laugh. "Well, we all did. But I highly doubt that he'll wake up anytime soon, so it'll have to be tomorrow."

"Speaking of being late, you should go to sleep."

"So should you," Janus pointed out knowingly.

"Hey, I slept some…"

"I presume under threat by Remus?"

"...Yeah."

"That's what I thought, so now I'm the one threatening you," Janus said, voice light.

"Oh, really? And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to squeeze you like a python."

"...So you're going to give me a hug? And here I thought it was going to be something I wouldn't like. Maybe I shouldn't go then."

"Okay, while that's an excellent point, you should still sleep."

"As should you. You've been traveling all day."

"And you've been watching over Patton all day. Go to bed."

"I will later. You go."

"I will later. You go," Janus mimicked.

"W—"

The door quietly opened and Virgil peered in before quietly shuffling in and closing the door behind himself. "Hey," Virgil whispered. "What's going on?"

"Roman won't go to sleep," Janus said.

Roman said at the same time, "Janus won't go to sleep."

Virgil huffed and seemed to be repressing a laugh. "Well, it's a good thing that I'm here to watch over Patton then." They glance at Logan's sleeping face. "And Logan now too."

"Oh, thank you."

"Sounds like a compromise to me," Janus said. "See you gents in the morning?"

Virgil gave a two-finger salute. "Of course, Jan."

"Goodnight," Roman said, accidentally sounding wearier than he meant.

Hopefully Patton would be a lot more awake and aware, and on the mend the next day.

…

The next day, Patton was well enough to get around with a cane, as long as someone was with him in case he fell, and if he took a few breaks. Fortunately, there were more than just a few benches throughout the castle, some even with a magnificent view of the surrounding rolling hills and autumn leaves.

It was a nice day and Emile had said that some sunshine would be good for Patton, so Roman decided that it'd be nice if they had a picnic lunch in the courtyard.

After they ate, Logan and Janus told of their quest to get the Moondrop plant for Patton.

"—And then after we'd gone through the tunnels in the mountain," Logan was saying, "There was a large dragon in an even larger cavern. Her scales glittered like silver and gold and smoke curled out of her nose. She seemed quite angry to be disturbed so Janus went into a fighting stance but we hadn't even tried any diplomacy yet. She was just angry because she'd rather be left alone and every so often people will try to fight her for her treasure, but once I explained our situation and that we didn't want to fight or her treasure, we had no problem getting along."

"We have a new ally now," Roman said.

"A new friend," Logan corrected. "She just wants to be left alone for the most part. Malcana —oh, that's her name by the way— said that we could visit though."

"That's really cool, Logan! You're so brave. Were you scared to face the big dragon?" Patton asked.

"Yes, but being brave is doing the right thing despite being scared, and I knew that Janus would get us out of there if it went wrong."

"Well, I'm glad I have your confidence," Janus said, a small and gentle smile on his face.

Roman was so glad that they were all okay, that his… his family was okay. Gratitude filled his heart as he looked from Patton to Logan to Janus.

They were going to be okay.

Roman had never felt such hot rage and betrayal in his life. In fact, the only time he'd ever been anywhere near this mad before was at the person who'd poisoned Patton.

Things had been going well, a little too well, in fact. So, Roman had expected something bad to happen… but this, this went beyond even Virgil's worrying and doomsday scenarios.

Janus, the man who'd been by his side for over a decade, had been playing the long game, and who knows how much longer it would've gone on if a servant that'd worked for Janus' father —before he'd died eleven years prior—, hadn't come forward with the information that Janus' father had instructed Janus to get close to Roman and corrupt or overthrow him.

Roman almost didn't believe it, couldn't really. He'd thought, surely this person was lying, but he couldn't help but wonder… couldn't help but doubt.

So, he'd gone to talk to Janus about it, but it'd quickly gotten out of hand, Roman full-on accusing him of everything he'd heard.

But that hadn't been the worst part, Roman would've felt bad enough if Janus had been offended that he'd even suggested that, but he wasn't, he didn't deny it at all. And that was worse, way worse.

Janus just looked at the ground, something heavy and almost sad in his eyes. "I'm sorry—"

"I don't want your— your bullshit apologies. We've known each other for… fuck, for fourteen years and this entire time, you've been plotting behind my back! I have absolutely no idea to the extent of all the terrible, horrible things you've done, and what was done in my name. I just— I don't even know what to think, what even is the appropriate reaction and punishment for— for this!"

"If I could—"

"No, you can't! Be quiet," Roman growled.

Janus quieted instantly and Roman would've felt bad if Janus hadn't just utterly betrayed him.

Roman rambled on, "After all these years, after I've trusted you for over a decade, only to find that you have betrayed me in this way. Do you know how many times I have stood up for you! What great conquests and burdens I had taken on for you at my own expense! It didn't really seem consequential at the time as I did it out of a place of love, but after…" Roman growled, low and frustrated. "You really are the snake they all claim you to be. Did you even poison Patton just to 'cure' him??"

This got Janus' attention as he jerked his head up. "Of course not—"

"How can I trust that you're telling the truth?! I can't help but wonder if you recruited Logan and forced him to work for you or face staying on the streets to starve to death!"

"No! I care for Logan dearly! Just— just let me explain myself, please!" Janus asked, practically begged, but Roman won't have it.

"I—" Roman sighed deeply. "I'm too angry for this right now, but I'll consider it and… and what you've done later when I've calmed down."

"...Yes, sire."

Roman briefly considered putting Janus in jail, but that'd cause a scene and he really didn't want this to get out unless Roman chose to tell people.

Besides, Janus was such a skilled magician and had been the one to fortify it so there'd really be no point anyway. If he wanted to escape, Roman had no doubt that he could. He just hoped that he'd cooperate.

"I will escort you to your room where there will be a constant guard outside your door, and I'll be very pissed if you leave."

"I wouldn't," Janus said softly, and Roman almost believed him, until he remembered that he'd been lying to Roman since they'd first met years and years ago.

"I should hope you'd know well enough to stay, yes."

Roman opened the door to Janus' study without another word and led Janus through the halls they were both homely familiar with, closely keeping track of him, lest he disappear.

Maybe he shouldn't have put the figurative backstabber in a position where he could be a literal backstabber, but Roman had thought it'd be awkward if he was hearding Janus along from behind, but now he wasn't sure. It was kind of too late anyway, it'd just seem like he had no idea what he was doing if he changed their positions now… although he really didn't know what he was doing, and Janus knew him so well that he no doubt knew that as well.

Roman had thought that he'd known Janus as well… but clearly not.

"...Where are we going?" Janus asked quietly like he knew how volatile Roman was because of course he did.

It was rather disturbing how well Janus knew him, and even more so that Roman had no idea what he knew about Janus. What had been truth and what had just been a fabrication?

"I thought I told you earlier," Roman almost winced at his snappish tone. "You're bound to your quarters."

"That's what I thought. Unless you moved them, my quarters are nowhere near here." Janus was still talking in that annoyingly gentle and careful tone. At least if he had been using his manipulating, honey-sweet voice Roman would feel more justified in being a jerk, but no, Janus had to be considerate sounding.

Maybe that was how he was trying to manipulate Roman? He would be more likely to know how to get on Roman's good side after all. Or maybe that's just how he was talking and Roman was putting stuff on him that wasn't there. It was practically impossible to tell and that really bothered Roman.

"Well… that's because we have a stop first." Roman took stock of where they were, trying to think of something. Oh! The guard's house was near here. Perfect. "I've got to get Virgil or Remy to guard your room."

"Mm, I see. Quick thinking."

Roman almost snapped at him, but he couldn't even tell if Janus was being sarcastic or not so he let it go.

The garrison was reasonably full for the time of early evening when Roman and Janus arrived; the change of the guard was fairly soon after all.

"Oh, hey, how can I help you gents?" Remy said after he took a big sip of his coffee.

"I need to talk to you and Virgil… in your office."

Remy's expression turned serious. "Of course. Cap Virgil's not here right now, he went to go check on the wallies —you know how they think they can get away with more just because they're all the way out on the castle wall—, but I can get someone to go get him if you want."

Roman resisted the urge to sigh. "...No, that's alright. I'll tell you and we can leave a note for when he returns. I just need one of you right now anyway."

They went into the office that Virgil and Remy shared and Remy shut the door behind them.

"Okay, so what's up? Something of national security I presume?"

"Yes, I— I'm not exactly sure how to say this but… Janus has been compromised and will need to subtly be confined to quarters."

Remy's eyebrows raised above his sunglasses. "Janus?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but… Janus? The Janus that's been here longer than I have? The Janus that's been here longer than even Cap Virgil? Your adviser Janus Hierophant? That Janus?"

"Yes," Roman said tightly. "That Janus."

"Unfortunately," Janus muttered and Roman wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear that so he ignored it.

Besides, it was just easier to ignore Janus, lest Roman actually lose his temper and say something he shouldn't.

"...Right, okay." Remy pushed his glasses up his nose and seemed to gather himself. "So, what's the plan exactly?"

"I want either you or Virgil right outside his door at all times. You can split up the time however you'd like, but you two are the only guards I trust for this. No one else is to know about this and if they ask it's for Janus' safety."

Remy scoffed quietly. "Janus is the most powerful sorcerer I know so I don't know how believable that is, but will do."

"Well, just…" Roman sighed. "I don't know. It's just an 'extra level of security' or something. Talk to Virgil about it when he relieves you or at least comes to talk to you later. I'm… I know I'm not the most prepared for this, and I know it shows, but just…"

"Yeah, I get it, your majesty."

"I just never thought—" Roman cut himself off as he realised that Janus was still in the same room. He was good at fading into the background when he wanted to or even on accident when he was quiet. Virgil also had the same… problem? Skill, perhaps? Roman supposed it just depended on what they were using it for.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I've got it from here. I'll leave a note for Cap Virgil then take Janus to his room. Besides, if you don't mind me saying, you look like you could use some rest or at least some time to yourself."

"I— yes. And… thank you."

"Of course, have a good evening, your majesty."

"I really am sorry," Janus murmured as Roman passed by, some emotion in his voice that Roman just couldn't quite get a grasp on.

Roman left with only one glance back, something indescribable in Janus' eyes that made Roman's heart drop and stomach twist at the same time. It was almost soft and quite a bit of hurt, but that didn't quite seem right. Maybe it was best to just leave it at indescribable.

He just… felt so betrayed. He'd really thought that he knew Janus, but now…

But now it was painfully clear that he didn't.

Roman sniffed softly as he walked down the empty halls, trying to focus on the tapestry along the walls instead of the urge to cry that was quickly welling up inside of him.

It was just a lot and… it was certainly something to sleep on.

Despite thinking that he'd sleep on it, he didn't get much sleep.

There had been —and really still was— just so much to think about that it'd been difficult to quiet down his thoughts enough to fall asleep for several hours, and on top of all that he'd woken up early and absolutely exhausted.

Roman allowed himself to lay in bed for longer than he usually did, but eventually, the thoughts in his head were too much, so he got up, got dressed, and went to the throne room.

Virgil was there, frowning at something on a piece of paper before he looked up. "Oh, hey, Roman." He paused for a second, probably considering how he wanted to word his next words. "...Are you wanting a status report?"

"I… sure, yeah. Yes, thank you." Roman sat on the ornate red and gold throne as Virgil approached, stepping up the few steps to the small stage-like platform that the throne was on.

Virgil adjusted his armour before speaking, "Okay, I saw Remy's note and he'd marked the switch-off times so I kept watch from ten to three in the morning. Then Remy took over again and I'll go relieve him at eight. The night was quiet enough, but that's just because Janus chose to stay. To be honest, I highly doubt that we could've stopped him if he'd actually wanted to escape."

"Yeah, I… I kind of knew that. Just felt better with someone I could trust watching him."

"...May I ask what happened?"

"He— he's a traitor to the kingdom. An old servant of Janus' late father came forward with the information just yesterday. I… I'm not really sure what to do," Roman quietly admitted.

"He's not—" Virgil cut himself off with a sigh. "What'd Janus say?"

"Oh, well… I may have been too angry and told him to shut up… yeah. But I'm planning on talking to him tod—"

"I don't think he's guilty!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I mean, I don't think he's guilty… at least anymore."

"Okay, now I'm even more confused."

"Janus and I knew each other before… before you knew and recruited us."

Roman raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"...Yeah."

"Since when?!"

"Since always? What do you mean 'since when'?"

"I— okay, point taken. But, why didn't either of you tell me?"

"Well… not only was it not relevant, but Janus wanted to keep his background clear, and being a teenager who was put over child soldiers isn't exactly the best job reference when trying to get close to a crowned prince, ya know?"

"Oh, so he… he really was planning this from the beginning."

"Well, no. He didn't. His father on the other hand… okay, listen, Janus' father was a very… let's say controlling man, and if he wanted something to get done, then it would happen, one way or another. So, while that was what Janus had been there to do, and planned on doing for a while, it's not a reflection of who he is today. He doesn't want any harm to come to you, Roman, and has actually prevented you from getting hurt many different times.

"Multiple times now, he's come with me with some threat or plot against you that someone was trying to carry out and we stopped it without you ever knowing.

"Sure, he's cunning and certainly the type who could play out the long game, but not with you. Not anymore. I've known him since we were kids and…

"Anyway, you didn't see him when he decided that he didn't want to try and corrupt or overthrow you anymore. I've never seen him so distraught before. Just— just the amount of remorse… he swore himself to you that day and I was his witness. He cares about you and… and I probably shouldn't tell you this but I'm pretty sure I heard him crying last night."

"...Crying?"

"Yeah, and you know how frequently he does that."

"I've… I've, uh, never seen him cry before."

"Exactly. He just doesn't! But this, possibly losing you, that's striking him to his core." Virgil paused, but as Roman didn't say anything, he continued, "Look, I'm not saying all is forgiven or that this solves everything, but just… talk to him, let him talk, and hear him out. Maybe he's changed, okay? Just don't lose him because of your pride."

Roman nodded, something heavy in his stomach. "Alright. I… I'll talk to him."

"That's all I ask. Just let him explain."

"Right. My anger has settled considerably since yesterday and with everything you've said… well, there's a lot to consider."

…

Roman was walking through the castle halls aimlessly, considering Virgil's words when Patton and Logan approached him.

Logan's brow was furrowed as he said, "Apologies for bothering you, sire, but Janus wasn't at breakfast and when we went to go see him," Logan looked around to check that no one was there, "Sir Remy said he couldn't let us in as Janus needed extra security. Is there a threat? And is there anything we can do to assist you?"

"Oh, that. Um…"

"I don't want him to get hurt like I did," Patton said softly. "So if there's something we can do to help…"

"That's really sweet of you both, but I can't really think of an— oh, well…" Roman glanced around before continuing, "There is one thing. Has either of you seen anything suspicious? Or like, has anyone made you uncomfortable?"

"Nope." Patton shook his head for emphasis.

"What kind of suspicious?" Logan asked, instantly attentive.

"Oh, just like, I don't know, someone lurking around, or looking like they're not supposed to be there." Those wouldn't apply to Janus but Roman was pretending that it wasn't him. Plus, it's not like it was bad things to ask about in general. He had full confidence in Virgil's security, but it didn't hurt to check. "Or maybe someone telling you not to tell anyone about something they did or said. Just, that type of thing."

"Hmm, I haven't seen anyone who fits that description, but I'll keep an eye out."

"Right, well, I just wanted to check, but…" Roman made a split-second decision. "We believe the danger's actually over now, so I just wanted to make sure that no one had said or done anything like that, or maybe even bribed you. Just stuff like that."

"Ah, well, no one's bribed me—"

"Same," Patton interjected.

"But even if they did I would've let you or Janus kn… oh."

Roman winced as the revelation dawned on Logan's face. Logan was very smart and had clearly put two and two together. Roman just hoped that he would be sensible enough not to discuss it in front of Patton.

"I see, well… have a good visit with Janus, and I'm glad the danger passed."

It was rather amazing that he even had deduced that in the first place. Janus was definitely the person that Logan trusted the most, so to even think that he had been the danger…

"Yes, I am as well. Virgil was a big help to the investigation."

"Ah, sir Virgil is quite good at his job."

"Yeah, he's super cool!" Patton agreed.

"Well, I will let you go let Janus know that the danger has passed. Patton and I might go read some then. He's been learning at a good rate."

"Yeah! Yesterday I recognized the word strawberry!"

"Oh, well, good job, Patton! And thank you, Logan, for helping Janus teach him to read."

"Of course. Have a good rest of your morning."

"You two as well."

"Bye!" Patton waved as they left and Roman waved in return.

…

"Good morning, Remy," Roman greeted as he stopped outside Janus' door.

"Good morning. How's… it going?"

"Good, really good actually. The danger's passed."

Roman could see it in Remy's eyes and his shoulders as his relief washed over him. "Oh, good. I'm glad. I presume I can…" Remy pointed with his thumb down the hallway.

"Oh, yes. Yeah, have a good day, Remy, and thank you for keeping an eye on things."

"Of course! Have a good one."

After Remy left, Roman took a deep breath and opened Janus' door.

Janus set his book down and quickly stood, but didn't say anything.

Roman shut the door behind himself and walked into the room, still allowing Janus space though.

"So…" Roman started, but faded out as he wasn't sure where to go from there.

"So?" Janus asked, worry evident in his tone.

"So, I'm not so mad and am ready to talk. Virgil filled me in on some stuff, but I'd still like to hear some of it from you."

"Alright. What do you want to know?"

"Well…" Questions swirled in Roman's head, so he decided to start on an easier one. "How did you meet Virgil?"

"Virgil was a child soldier and I was over his unit, but before that, I was in the nanny ward taking care of children not even half my age. I've known Virgil since he was little. Literally."

"Oh… um, what was your relationship with your father?"

Janus' expression went sour. "That scumbag? I tried to do everything he wanted, including… trying to get close to you to kill, overthrow, or manipulate you, but I realised… I didn't have to do that anymore. There were other people out there who cared about people. Up until then, Virgil was the only person who wasn't an utter dick. But you showed me that people can be good. However, I couldn't quite find it in me to defy my father, so I didn't— couldn't do anything while he was alive.

"Fortunately, he'd had a lot of enemies and was assassinated soon enough. So after he died and I was free, I asked for time to better myself before becoming your advisor, and I did, by dismantling the child army and finding either their families if they were forcibly taken, or good orphanages if their parents had given them up for misbehaving or a price."

"Wait, that was you! You did that?"

A bit of the tension fell from Janus' shoulders. "Yes, but I didn't want the publicity, and especially not on the traumatised kids, so I kept it to myself. I think Virgil suspects though."

So far, Janus' story matched up with Virgil's in all the important ways… but he had to be sure that Janus had changed.

"Are you a danger to me, the kingdom, or the kids?"

"Well, of course I'd say I'm not, but since you're not sure you can trust me, that doesn't do much good, so… I'm afraid only you can answer that question."

Damn, Janus was —as usual— right.

Roman stepped closer and stared into Janus' eyes, one light brown and one dark brown eye staring back. "I'd like to hear your answer anyway. Are you a danger?"

"No." There was fear hidden in some deep part of Janus' eyes, but Roman could tell that it wasn't a fear of being caught for lying, it was a fear of loss, of losing Logan and Patton, of losing Roman.

"Okay."

A bit of hope flittered in. "Okay?"

"Okay," Roman confirmed. "I believe you. It may take a bit to be able to fully trust you again, but… I believe you."

Janus let out a shaky breath, relief and disbelief evident as he all but collapsed into his singular armchair by the fireplace. "I understand it'll take time, but I thank you for the opportunity to prove myself to you again."

"And I'm… glad you want to. I'd… I'd be lost without you, Janus."

"I'd be lost without you as well, my king," Janus softly admitted.

Roman smiled to himself, full of pride, as he looked out the carriage window and recalled the events that'd taken place that day.

Logan and Patton had started a program together to help kids in situations like the ones they'd come from. It'd been in place for a month now —and about as much time since Roman had started trusting Janus again—, and once a week they would go to check on the progress in person.

Everything was going well in the program and Roman couldn't be prouder of Logan and Patton for their work in it. He'd seen how much work and effort they'd put into it, even if he'd only just seen the work they did from the castle.

This was Roman's first time going with them as he was usually too busy when they went to check on everything and help with things in person. Instead, Janus would take them, but this week, Roman had a lighter load and worked a bit harder yesterday to have the entire day free.

There was one week where Remus had taken them when Janus had too many meetings and not enough time, but that had gone about as well as Roman would've expected, especially as Remus didn't have Virgil with him and hadn't told Roman that he was taking them beforehand. Roman was ninety-five percent sure that Remus taught them several different ways to commit arson that day.

"King Roman?"

Roman blinked out of his thoughts and looked over. "Yes, Logan?"

"We're here."

Roman glanced out of the window before smiling. "Ah, so we are!"

They could've made the trip back to the castle that day, but they'd spent all day working and were already tired enough as it was, so Janus suggested that they stop at the inn in town for the evening.

Janus and Logan went inside to check in while Roman and Patton grabbed their bags. Roman hadn't exactly expected not to get home that day, but he was always prepared and had a few changes of clothes for everyone.

"Wait, did you hear that?"

Roman paused. "...No?"

"Hmm." Patton put his bag back and took off to the alleyway next to The Crumbling Knight Inn.

"Pat— and he's gone." Roman sighed and hastily copied Patton.

Patton was sitting rather far into the alley and was looking intently at some sort of animal across the alley from him.

"Oh, you found a dog," Roman murmured as he quietly walked back and peered around the alley corner.

The muddy dog carefully crept towards Patton and sniffed his outstretched hand before allowing him to pet her.

"Aww, aren't you sweet!" Patton cooed as he glanced at Roman with fleeting, pleading eyes.

…Roman guessed they may very well have a dog soon.

Roman stepped around the corner and the dog eyed him suspiciously.

"She said she has no family. Can we keep her?"

"...The dog said that?"

"Well, not exactly 'said'… but I know what she means."

"I— alright, if you'll help take care of her, then sure. You absolutely may."

"Oh, I will! I'll take very good care of her!"

"Then we should give her some water and a snack and start a bath, then we can give her some more food if the other stays down."

"...She says she doesn't like baths, but she hates being covered in dried mud more, so she'll allow it this one time. Also, I think the promise of food helped."

"Well, then we only need to convince Janus and bribe the innkeeper."

…

As it turned out, the innkeeper needed more convincing than Janus, but after the extra money was laid down and Patton gave puppy dog eyes and even promised to clean up after the dog, she agreed.

All four of them sat at one of the tables in the inn's dining room, and the dog sat next to Patton —albeit on the floor, much to Patton's disappointment—.

"I'm very glad your program is going well, Logan and Patton," Roman said after they'd eaten most of their food.

"Thank you. I was quite pleased with the progress as well."

"Yeah!" Patton exclaimed as he took the last biscuit from the now empty basket. "It's already helped quite a few kids." He took a big bite and rested his hand against his thigh before gasping. "Hey! That was my biscuit!"

The dog didn't pay Patton any mind though as she wolfed it down.

Janus pursed his lips ever so slightly and Roman instantly recognised that he was trying not to laugh. He seemed to recover quickly though and kindly said, "Here, Patton. I didn't end up eating my biscuit so you may have it."

"Oh, thanks! I'll be sure to hold it over my plate this time."

"Probably wise."

"...Oh hey! I know what we should name her now."

Roman raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Biscuit!"

"That does seem like a logical enough name for a dog," Logan agreed.

"...She says that's a good name, especially if she gets more biscuits sometime."

Roman laughed. "Well, we'll have to see about that."

Roman never would've been able to imagine that it was possible to care for so many people this much. His brother, Remus; Captain of the guard, Virgil; Logan Hierophant; Roman's ward, Patton; and Roman's adviser, Janus.

His care for them seemed to only be multiplying every day, and Roman was quite content to let it.

But lately his care for Janus was almost… changing? Not diminishing in any way, just… it was a bit different now.

Roman got up from the desk in his room and began pacing.

He wanted to be more physical with Janus for one thing, and while he liked some physical affection in general, this still felt different. He wanted to be near Janus more than he'd ever thought about. There was just something in Roman that pulled him to Janus.

He wanted to hold Janus' hand, to hug him, and to… wake up next to each other?

He… he wanted to run his fingers through Janus' long, beautiful hair, to brush and braid his golden hair. Wanted to cup his cheek and lean in and—

Kiss Janus??

Oh.

Oh, wow. How had Roman not seen that before, hadn't seen that coming?

Roman sat down on his bed, legs feeling almost shaky under him as he laid back.

But now that he thought about it… it almost made sense.

Sure, one could think that one's friends were pretty, and one could want to be physically affectionate with them, but there was some feeling in Roman's gut that told him that this was different, something that told him that it wasn't strictly platonic.

…Now what?

Roman sat up.

Did he want to tell Janus? Or maybe wait?

He wasn't sure what he'd be waiting on but he also didn't want to just rush into anything. How was he supposed to know what to do? He'd never been… been in love before.

Roman almost rolled his eyes at how obvious it was. Who did he know that would have some experience with romance? Remus and Virgil, of course. They were married after all.

Roman found Remus and Virgil quick enough, both relaxing in their shared quarters as they cuddled on one of their couches.

"Hey, Ro-bro! Wanna come on in and tell us what's on your mind?"

Roman shut the door behind himself. "That obvious, huh?"

Remus rolled chaos' eyes. "Of course. There's clearly something on your mind, so what has your brain going in circles?"

"Yeah, we're here to listen and help if we can," Virgil agreed.

"Well…" Roman sat down on the couch opposite Remus and Virgil. "I realised that I may… like Janus romantically?"

Remus snorted loudly as Virgil pursed his lips, probably to not do what Remus did.

"Did you only just learn that?" Remus asked, voice full of amusement.

Roman huffed. "Yes. Was it that obvious?"

"Oh, definitely. I thought you were just taking your sweet time asking him, but you didn't… man, talk about King Oblivious."

Roman huffed, pretending to be offended. "Wow, if I'd known that I'd just get insulted for my trouble—"

Virgil laughed. "No, we'll— well, I'll help at least. No guarantee for Remus though."

"Hey! I can be helpful too!"

"Sure."

"I— okay fair." Remus looked back at Roman. "So, what's the problem exactly?"

"Well, I think I'd like to tell him, but like…"

"You don't wanna fuck it up?"

"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but yes. I just— I really care about him and in one way it wasn't really all that long ago that I thought I might… might lose him. I just don't want to worry about possibly losing him again."

"I really don't think you'll lose him," Virgil said. "I…" They hesitated. "Even if he didn't like you back, he's not one for abandoning his friends."

Roman sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just… nervous I guess."

Remus seemed to be taking this more seriously now. "Yeah, that's understandable. I was super nervous about asking Virgil, and waited so long that he ended up asking me." Remus laughed. "And he was probably more nervous than I was!"

"Oh, definitely. I was so anxious that I almost threw up."

…

After a bit more assurance from Virgil and some —light-hearted— badgering from Remus, Roman decided that he'd tell Janus soon, but especially as he'd only discovered his romantic feelings that day, he would give it some thought as to how he would ask Janus out.

Maybe he could do a big gesture first? Like a picnic perhaps? No, it was winter and far too cold.

Should Roman just tell him? There wasn't much romance in that though… but maybe he was just overcomplicating things?

Roman's nerves had only doubled and he was still no closer to figuring out how to ask Janus out.

Roman sighed as he wandered through the hallways, lost in thought.

What if he got so worked up that he got too nervous to ask Janus at all? Maybe… maybe he should just ask now before his brain blew it out of proportion.

Before Roman quite realised what he was doing, he was walking towards Janus' room.

Roman took a deep breath and knocked on the door before he could chicken out.

"Come in," Janus called.

Roman opened the door and shut it behind himself. "Hello, Janus."

"Hello, Roman." Janus smiled before putting a bookmark in the book he'd been reading and setting it on the small side table next to the armchair. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Janus gestured Roman over. "I won't bite," He teased.

Roman huffed. "I know that."

"Then why do you look so nervous?" Janus raised an eyebrow.

Roman stopped by Janus' chair and almost wished that he'd thought to wear his regal attire or at the very least his crown. He really needed the confidence.

"Just… am?" Roman tried.

"Right," Janus said sarcastically, clearly not believing him. He seemed to realise how put upon Roman felt though as he suggested, "Why don't you sit down?"

"But there's not— oh!" Roman did his best not to squeak as a warm arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him down into Janus' lap.

"There, now you're closer to the fire. You're cold, you need to keep warm."

"I—" Roman was quite sure his cheeks were flushing. "Right, um. Yeah."

Fortunately, the chair was large enough for both of them, Roman sitting sideways in between Janus' legs with the backs of his knees on the armrest, feet dangling over the side. Janus' arm was still around Roman's waist, fingers splayed over his stomach.

Roman wasn't really sure where to put his arm that was closer to Janus, and since it was a bit too late to put it in between himself and Janus as Janus had already pulled them pretty close together, Roman decided to put his arm around Janus' shoulders.

Janus laid his hand that was not wrapped around Roman on Roman's knee. "So, how'd you sleep last night?"

"Uh, pretty good. What about you?"

"...I should've expected you to ask me back."

Roman laughed. "I mean, that's kind of how small talk works usually."

"Hah, fair enough." Janus stared at the fire and Roman finally saw that it wasn't just shadow from the flame under Janus' eyes making him look tired. His shoulders were a bit heavy looking as well.

"So, how'd you really sleep?" Roman finally asked.

"Well, not very well. I don't know why. It's not like there was really anything to affect or disturb my sleep like that… anyway, I'll just try to get better rest tonight."

"Well, why don't you just take a nap?"

"Hmm, I might. I usually struggle with falling asleep in the middle of the day when… anyway."

"When what?"

Janus sighed. "When I'm alone. I used to have people near when I was in charge of… the nanny ward and then later with the… well, not really soldiers, but the point is I never slept alone growing up. It doesn't really matter though, I'll just wait until—"

"I'll sleep with you!"

Janus coughed. "What?"

Roman felt his face warm as he shifted awkwardly, but that just made it worse as it just reminded Roman just how much they were touching. "Okay, that sounded… but what I meant was we could… take a nap together?" Oh, dramdach, that didn't sound much better.

"I— yes. That… yes."

Roman didn't think he'd ever seen Janus so not put together. Maybe his sleep problem had been going on for longer than he'd said.

Roman didn't have any more time to ponder such things, however, as Janus moved his hand from on top of his knees to under, and his other hand to support the rest of Roman as he stood and carried Roman over to Janus' bed.

Janus set the still stunned Roman down. "Well?"

"Uh, well what?" Since when was Janus so strong??

Janus huffed in amusement. "Are you going to scoot over so I can get in as well?"

"Huh, oh! Oh, yeah." Roman moved over as Janus slid in next to him and pulled the blankets over them.

"Here, you can scoot a bit closer. It's pretty chilly today and the bed's rather cold."

Despite the warmth in Roman's face, the bed was indeed cold.

"Okay," Roman murmured as he shuffled closer, choosing to sleep on his side.

Janus was behind Roman as he'd hoped that he'd be less awkward, but Janus must've also been on his side as threw an arm over Roman's waist and buried his nose in Roman's shoulder.

Well, this was certainly different than what Roman had expected when he'd gone to Janus to tell him that he loved Janus. He hadn't even gotten that far before Janus was sharing a bed with him.

Life was weird sometimes.

…

Roman woke up warm so he hummed and snugged even closer to the warmth before frowning. Wait, what was warm?

Roman's eyes flew open and he realised that he was sleeping on… on Janus' chest! He scrambled back and tried to sit up.

"Well, good evening. Where are you going in such a hurry?" Janus asked, lazily watching him from where he was half sitting up against the headboard.

"Oh, I— I was— just… surprised, that's all."

"Fair enough. I'm sure it'd be a bit surprising to wake up next to —or rather on, in this case— someone when you're not used to it."

"But you are? Even now, and even with me?"

Janus considered him for a moment. "Yes."

Roman looked away, not even quite sure why. "Oh."

Janus started at Roman for a moment longer before he broke whatever that was and said, "So, it's about suppertime. How about we go find the whole crew and eat together."

"Yeah, absolutely. That sounds great."

They got out of bed and fixed their bedheads and slightly skewed clothes.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Janus said as he put his hat back on. Roman hadn't even noticed that he'd taken it off. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about earlier."

"Oh?"

Janus' eyes ran over Roman before he looked away. "I— nevermind."

"...Are you sure?"

"Yes. Let's go eat."

…

They all gathered for supper and ate amid chatter and teasing.

"So," Logan began seriously as he set down his fork. "I read about something in the library today and I was wondering if everyone has birthdays or just a select few."

"Oh, everyone does," Janus said. "Some people may choose not to celebrate or may not know what day exactly they were born on —I presume you don't—, but most people celebrate their birthday, or at least know when it is."

A bit of sadness crossed Logan's face. "Ah, I see."

"We could choose a day to be your birthday though," Roman suggested.

"Really? We can do that?"

"Absolutely! We can pick a date and then throw a little party that day to celebrate you."

"What about tomorrow?" Logan asked.

"Well, let's have enough time to at least plan it."

"How about this Saturday?" Janus offered.

Logan considered it for a moment. "...That would be acceptable."

"Good," Janus said before turning to Patton. "And you will, of course, get one as well."

Patton almost dropped his fork in surprise, eyes widening. "What? Really? I get a birthday too?"

"Of course, Patton," Roman assured. "You're no less a part of this family than anyone else."

"Oh."

Roman decided not to dwell on that too much right now. He did, however, make a mental note to himself to be sure that Patton always knew that he was part of the family. "Do you know when your birthday is?"

"...No."

"Well, that's just fine. We can pick a date for or with you sometime after Logan's birthday party, okay?"

"Okay!"

Janus asked Logan, "Would you like to help plan the party, like perhaps after supper, or would you rather it be a surprise and we plan it for you?"

"I'd like to be involved with the planning, please. I'm not very fond of surprises."

"That's understandable," Remus said around a mouth full of food. "One time I tried to throw a surprise party and Roman screamed!"

"In my defense, you jumped out of nowhere with what looked like a mound of some weird red stuff! It looked bloody!"

"Okay, listen, it's not my fault I don't know how to bake!"

Today definitely hadn't gone how Roman had expected but, all in all, it was —albeit weird— still a good day.

Today was Logan's new birthday and as excited as Logan seemed to be, he also was at least that much nervous, stressing over every little detail and clearly tense and on edge.

"No, a bit lower… now to the left… not that left, go to the right a bit. That's too high, can you—"

"Logan, I don't think we'll get this exactly right at this rate," Janus said a bit exasperatedly.

"...Oh, right. Apologies, right there is adequate… well, maybe just a bit to the—"

"Logan!"

"Oh, right, right."

"Why don't you use magic to get it just right?" Patton asked.

"... Because we didn't think of that," Janus admitted.

"That's a really good idea," Roman praised.

Janus let go of his side of the banner and it stayed in place with a bit of gold glittering around it; a sign of his magic. He gestured for Roman to do the same thing and he did, his side also staying with the same golden glitter.

They both climbed down their respective ladders, and Janus made rulers out of his magic on each of the four sides of the banner to get it perfectly centered. Finally it was secured, and Janus went back to blowing up balloons with his magic, some dark blue sparkly confetti in each one.

"I've got the cake!" Virgil exclaimed as he entered the event hall.

"And I've got the ice cream! …Mostly because Virgil doesn't trust me with the cake."

"I saw the flips you were doing with the ice cream bucket!" Virgil and Remus set their loads down on the table.

"Well, obviously I wouldn't've done that with the cake!"

"Well, it's hard to know with you.“

Remus huffed as chaos made a cold bubble around the ice cream so it wouldn't melt, but conceited, "...Okay, that's fair."

Roman walked over to Logan. "Hey, you seem a bit stressed. I know that this is a lot, but it doesn't have to be perfect, okay? We want you to have fun, not be stressed out of your mind."

"Ah, yes. You're right, of course. I just… want this to go well. I'm afraid I've rather so-called 'built' it up in my mind to be this big important thing, so I'm worried about it not going perfectly."

"Oh, I know what you mean. I've definitely done that before. Trying to get every little detail perfect, even when I wasn't sure what getting it perfect would look like. It's called 'perfectionism'."

"Oh, there's a name for that? I didn't realise it was such a common thing."

"Yes, but there's ways to help with it, like letting yourself know that it's okay to make mistakes, or that it doesn't have to be absolutely perfect. It's not going to be perfect but that's okay! I know letting it go is easier said than done, but just know that I'm here for you, Logan."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I just… I suppose I just want to be good enough. I've been given such a wonderful opportunity here and I don't want anyone to think that I'm squandering it." Logan dropped his voice, "I just don't want you to regret letting Janus take me in."

"Oh, Logan, I don't regret Janus taking you in at all! Short of some very, very bad stuff, I'd never regret that. I'm so glad you're here, and I want you to be here, okay?"

Logan nodded as he seemed to be fighting back tears. "Okay. Thank you."

"Of course. Anytime."

Roman patted Logan's shoulder and they shared a small smile.

…

After Logan was able to relax, things went smoother and Roman was quite sure that he was enjoying everything.

Remus was standing next to Virgil, each had an arm wrapped around the other's waist, and Remus was using his free hand to make a ball of magic that Logan, Patton, and Biscuit were running around, chasing. Occasionally, something would happen —like almost running into each other, or the bundle of magic would jump just out of reach— and Logan and Patton would laugh, Biscuit barking with them.

Roman stood off to the side with Janus, who was watching everyone's antics in amusement.

Roman wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but ever since he'd realised that he liked Janus romantically, there kept being… little things. Roman wasn't even sure what to call them.

While they hadn't shared a bed again after the nap they'd shared, they still were in close proximity more often than ever. Janus would put an arm around Roman's shoulders as he showed Roman something out of his book, or would press their knees together under the dinner table. Just little things like that, things that Roman still couldn't quite get his head around.

Was it just his feelings for Janus misinterpreting things? Or… well, he didn't even dare to hope.

Janus also seemed to be spending more time with Roman, even if he said something about it being a coincidence that they were in the same room. Roman… wasn't sure if he believed Janus.

Despite all that, Roman couldn't help but worry that he'd missed his chance. Sure, he probably hadn't, but his worry didn't seem to care about that.

What if he never told Janus? He knew he'd regret it if he never told him though, he just hoped that if… —when?— he told Janus, that he wouldn't come to regret that too.

He still felt no closer to knowing how or when to tell Janus, but he supposed that he probably wasn't in that much of a rush. The only people Janus talked to outside of their little family, were all in a professional setting, so Roman doubted that Janus would just suddenly have a partner… hopefully he wouldn't anyway.

Remus yanked the ball higher and Patton jumped, trying to catch it, but it bounced off of the tips of his fingers, and he laughed merrily as he slowly drifted down, having used a slow-fall spell that Janus had taught him recently.

Roman heard a gentle laugh from beside him, so he looked over at Janus, whose smile was softer now, sunlight hitting his face just right, and hair sparkling golden in the light.

And before Roman realised, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the honour of meeting," Tumbled out of his mouth.

Janus broke his vision away and looked at Roman in shock. "Wh— what?"

Oops. Well, it was out there now. "Oh, well… I wasn't planning on saying this right now, but I really have been meaning to tell you so… I like you."

"...Like romantically?"

"Yes, like… like romantically."

Janus smirked before he stated matter-a-factly,

"About time."

"What?"

"I've been flirting with you for a while now! I was starting to wonder if you'd ever like me back."

"Wait, really?"

Janus nodded. "You're an idiot."

Roman laughed abruptly. "Wow, thanks."

"But you're a very lovable idiot."

"Oh, thanks." Roman's face warmed a bit as Janus stepped a bit closer.

Janus gazed into Roman's eyes and he gazed back, the striking contrast of Janus' eyes all but mesmerising. He cupped Janus' face in his hands, running a thumb across his soft cheek before running his other thumb over Janus' scarred cheek, gently tracing a few of the raised lines.

"You're beautiful," Roman said, voice full of wonder.

"I— you're not so bad yourself."

Roman took a little step forward. "Why, thank you." He let his right hand fall a bit until it rested on Janus' shoulder, and Janus reached up with his left hand to grasp at Roman's sleeve. "I really like you," Roman murmured.

"I really like you as well," Janus said back, voice just as soft.

"So, wh—"

"Hey, Roman!" Patton exclaimed before he stopped next to them.

Roman pulled back from Janus to see a sheepish Patton.

"Oops, sorry. Didn't quite figure out what my intuition was telling me in time."

Roman laughed. "It's alright, what's up?"

Patton held up a light blue balloon that had been folded and twisted into the shape of a dog. "Uncle Remus is making balloon animals!"

"Uncle?"

"Oh, um, well, he and uncle Virgil said it was okay… but I can—"

"No, that's perfectly fine. I was just surprised, that's all."

Patton paused, no doubt seeing if Roman would suddenly change his mind and get mad, but, of course, Roman didn't. "...Okay."

Janus seemed to notice the need for a subject change as he asked, "Do you think he could make me something?"

"Hmm, I think a honey badger would be too complicated, but I bet he could make you a snake!"

"Sounds perfect."

Patton ran off to no doubt ask Remus about the snake.

Janus shook his head fondly. "I'll never understand how children can have so much energy."

"Right! They're so small and yet they just zoom around."

Janus paused before looking back at Roman. "Well, we should probably go see what everyone wants to do next."

"Yeah, that sounds good… can I hold your hand?" Roman blurted out, startling a laugh out of Janus.

"Yes." Janus held his hand out and Roman took it.

Roman wasn't quite sure what this meant for them yet, but it seemed like it would only be for the better.

As they all sang 'happy birthday' to Logan around his birthday cake, Roman couldn't help but wonder at how he'd gotten such an amazing family.

And he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with them.

~The End~

No reposting, likes are nice, and reblogs are very much appreciated! | Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @someoneiwasnt

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ts-storytime-summaries · 4 years ago

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Warnings: miscommunication, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Characters: logan, virgil, roman, remus, background janus and patton

Romantic pairings: endgame romantic logan/virgil/remus, established queerplatonic moceit, established romantic roceit

Summary: logan has had a crush on his coworkers, virgil and remus, since he started working at the aquarium. despite constant egging on from remus's brother roman and their agent janus, logan refuses to act on his feelings because there's no way they like him back . . . is there?

(OR: roman and remus are mer, logan and virgil are aquarium employees, Everyone Is Gay, and shenanigans ensue)

#text #2021 summary

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

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Master Post

My Master Post for Sanders Sides fanfiction! These are arranged chronologically from newest to oldest, measured by the date they were completed and uploaded in full, so that will reflect the quality here. (there’s a ton more under the cut btw).

Fast Friends - ao3... (15k Remus-centric intruality, lopsided enemies to friends to lovers, humor and a bit of angst with a happy ending. tw; emetophobes beware!) Patton doesn't like Remus, until one day, he does! Well, Remus isn't buying it. So Remus is not about to be friends with him just because he wants to (no matter how much it maybe, kind of wouldn't mind that).

I’m Not Sorry - ao3... (6k remus-centric intrulogical. continuation of Did You Miss Me. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.) Remus just wanted to get home safe to his wonderful, loving boyfriend. If some greaseball guy thinks he can screw that up, then Remus is perfectly willing to let the night take a turn for the vengeful.

Redamancy - ao3... (5k romantic prinxiety, fluffy friends to lovers with a smidgen of misunderstanding.) Virgil is undoubtedly excited about Nico. The thing is, that’s not the only person he’s excited about.

Did You Miss Me? - ao3... (13k romantic intrulogical, unhealthy relationship and mutual stalking treated light-heartedly. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat). Logan and Remus haven’t spoken in years. But that doesn’t stop them from keeping up with each other, through... various means.

The Down (and up)-side of Individual Expression - ao3... (8k romantic logince, angst w/ a happy ending, prosey and dealing w/ some kinda touchy subject matter vis a vis body image). As the sides have taken on vastly differing appearances over the years, Roman and Logan find themselves incredibly attracted in body and mind to each other. The issue is, Logan still has some trouble believing it.

Tree Bark and Fresh Fruit - ao3... (Fusion AU part six! romantic royality fusion returns for some prose and a lil bit of h/c). Patron doesn't come around often, getting lost in the excitement of Patton and Roman's new romantic relationship- so when she gets a shot to exist again, he's determined to make the most of it by figuring out just what the heck he's supposed to be.

Bitter Licorice and Bright-Blue Bubblegum - ao3... (Fusion AU part five! analogical fusion is back!) Logan and Virgil end up fusing much more regularly, much to Livril's satisfaction at getting to exist, and virtually every other side's chagrin at having to put up with them. Everyone, it seems, but Patton.

Scary Monsters and Family Bonds - ao3... (Fusion AU part four! Platonic anxceitmus with romantic dukeceit, short and mostly meaningless.) Rennet, freshly born like five seconds ago, is desperate to find some people to bother and/or amaze. But instead, Rennet finds an attachment that nobody quite expected to be so intense, but hey, it's not complaining, and neither is Virgil.

Acceptable Behavior - ao3... Remus is surprisingly concerned about his boyfriend's boundaries. (short & sweet intruality drabble. p/ much just cuddling)

On Truth and Untruth - ao3... Janus is allowed to participate in the group, and that is more than enough for them. Not too bad of a change up, really, and they aren't going to complain about it any time soon. Patton, however, insists on throwing a wrench into their system- their perfectly functioning, if maybe hypothetically a bit lonely, system. (28k word janus-centric romantic moceit and platonic dlampr, lots of angst and lots of yearning, with a happy ending. something of a character study.)

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chap.1, Chap.2, Chap.3, Chap.4, Chap.5, Chap.6, Chap.7, Chap.8, Chap.9 - ao3... (Finished!) Patton doesn't think of himself as misunderstood. More accurately, he's not very good at explaining himself. Remus explains himself perfectly well, succinct, confident. People are just bad at listening. Patton is lonely. He'd never say it out loud. No one knows. Remus is lonely. He says it in everything he does. No one knows. They're similar. They're different as can be. Contradictory, maybe; complimentary, definitely. They could be good for each other- they just need to explain it right. (hurt/comfort, eventual queer-platonic intruality, a healthy amount of angst).

Sharp Spikes and Glamour - ao3... (part three of my Fusion AU! a little angstier and racier than the others, but that’s thanks to the dukeceit dynamic, and its nothing too bad). Now, just a month ago, Remus could very confidently say that his and Janus’ relationship was perfect. And it still was, really, but that was before Roman and Patton had pulled some cartoon fusion bullshit that exactly no one had known was possible. There was no question. Remus was going to learn to do that.

Squishy, Precious Lil’ Baby! - ao3... Very short, platonic intruality fluff. Remus turns into a rat for a scare, but Patton is very unafraid of him in the new form.

Black Cloth and Star Systems - ao3... (Almost 4k fluff, part two of my Fusion AU! Very heavy on the descriptions, and also the Love that these two Have.) After Patton and Roman fuse, Logan can't help but feel desperately curious about this new discovery, and the possibilities of fusion between sides. But, his interest is a little more personal than he could stand to admit... Because what if- what if he could try it, too?

more under the cut

Flare Up - ao3... Human au drabble. Romantic sleepxiety. They are soft and in the rain.

Soft Walls and Roses - ao3... (Part one of my Fusion AU! Fluffy, sweet, and prose-y. Abt 3k.) On a nice, cheery day, Roman and Patton get a little lost in a dance <3.

Communication Issues (Alternative Title: Three Touch-Starved, Insecure, Metaphysical Beings Constantly Misinterpreting Each Other and Yet Somehow Falling in Love)- Chap.1, Chap.2, Chap.3, Chap.4 + Epilogue - ao3... (Finished!) What do you do when you find someone crying, and it’s all your fault? What do you say when you hear the muffled sobs and frantic words behind the blood-red door? When you know that, no matter how much you never wanted to hurt him- never wanted to hurt anyone- you still did. Is there anything you can do to fix it, when you’ve spent so long pretending that nothing was broken? When you’ve spent so long pretending that you didn’t care if things were broken or not? (Second Person, Present Tense. H/C slowburn. romantic analogince. Note: this is not an ‘x reader’ fic, it’s just 2nd person pov.)

A Study in the Pains of Romance as a Genre - ao3... Logan wasn’t 'insecure', by most measures. Sure, he wasn't exactly in love with himself, but he knew the harm that came of self-deprecation, and was careful to avoid it. At the worst of times, he could solidly be called 'self-neutral'. Therefore, it followed that Logan was being entirely objective when he said that he would not be a good enough romantic partner for Roman. (Friends to Lovers, abt 4k, romantic logince).

I Like You, Say It Back. - ao3... Short, sweet, slightly angsty first ‘I Love You’ between Virgil and Remus. romantic dukexiety.

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear - ao3... almost 7k friends to lovers fastburn, in that this happens in a day. Set during/right after Putting Others First, a little peak into what Virgil and Remus were doing. Hint; being a little sad and very gay. romantic dukexiety.

The Ballroom - ao3... Every side has a room, but they also come with a special domain, completely individualized to each one. Of these Extensions, the only room that no side (other than its owner) has ever seen is Janus’. At least, until he falls head-over-heels for Roman and finally lets him in. (romantic roceit).

Hypothetically, - ao3... Nearly 7k friends to lovers, with a hearty helping of platonic logince. Logan likes to use the Imagination for experiments, but he can’t manage to use it on his own. The solution is obvious. (romantic intrulogical).

No Other Version of Me - ao3... Patton isn’t very happy about his new froggy features, but Janus finds him gorgeous all the same. Hurt/comfort! romantic moceit.

Complexities Unknowable- Chap.1, chap.2, chap.3, chap.4, chap.5, chap.6, chap.7 - ao3... (Finished!) Slowburn with pre-established Dukeceit, rivals to friends to lovers, with Background Analogince (plus some platonic anxceit and Creativitwins thrown in for funsies). romantic deintruality.

I’d Like To Stand By Him - ao3... Roman and Virgil listen to each other’s playlists. romantic prinxiety.

An Open and Honest Conversation About Our Feelings - ao3... hurt/comfort, shamelessly self-indulgent. Patton doesn’t come out of his room all day, so Virgil goes to check up on him. romantic moxiety.

Something to Uplift Us - ao3... Roman-centric (and Remus-centric) DLAMPR (platonic Creativitwins!). Quarantine shenanigans; the boys put on a show for their boyfriends!

Thursday Nights - ao3... Short fluff where Remus and Patton watch a horror flick together and cuddle. romantic intruality.

5 Times Logan Helped His Partners Get Their Shit Together +1 Time They Returned The Favor - ao3... Summary’s in the title on this one, Bud. Logan-centric romantic DLAMPR (platonic p & r), very hurt/comfort.

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bruisedribs · 3 years ago

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dunno what ships should be in the marvelau besides the already established dukexiety

kind of don't want to do roceit for once, it's more fun to have roman as a background character in this one

and i have no idea how to fit remy into anything yet

if you suggest patton or logan i will block you btw

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magpiemorality · 4 years ago

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Anxceit

<< BACK

Oneshots

On the twelfth day of Christmas

Virgil, Deceit, Remus & Mentioned Logan, High School AU. Warnings for: Character with ADHD not getting adequate support in school, insensitivity to cultural winter festivals, tiny bit of swearing.

Valensides Prompts

Silver Tongue Modern AU, established relationship, argument, resolved conflict, death mention warning.

Snake Charmer Canon AU, enemies to lovers, sexual themes, resolved sexual tension.

Off To A Good Start

Modern AU, Anxceit meet-cute.

A Stolen Goodbye

Fantasy AU, fae folk. Deceit is tricked by fae Virgil’s deal but accepts his fate

Finally

College AU, Deceit has been flirting for a while and Virgil finally figures it out.

No Joking Matter

High School AU, Deceit accidentally upsets his friend Virgil by asking him out in a way that makes Virgil think he’s joking.

Ain’t It Super?

Superpowers AU, Remy and Janus flirt on a rooftop. Background Anxceit (open) and Remy/Andy in a QPR

Just An Average Family

Horror/Modern AU, Virgil and Janus raise their horror-movie trope twin boys.

Multi-chapter works

We Outgrew Paradise

Canon-setting, Deceit splits into two halves; Self-preservation and Lies, who have to figure out where they fit with the rest. Roceit (with Lies) and Anxceit (with Self-preservation) endgame. Still updates occasionally.

#magpie masterlists #anxceit

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hottestthingalive · 5 years ago

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Bluebells (1)

Chapter 1: Seeds

AO3 Link here.

Chapter 2 here, finally!

Notes: So, to those of you who saw this post about my WIPs which mentioned this having background Roceit and Intruality in later chapters of this story?

...I accidentally became way too invested in the idea of Virgil making fun of Patton’s new boyfriend being called Prince. So you get that now.

The name of the chapters comes from an interesting fact I learned about bluebell flowers while researching this story: they take at least five years to grow from a seed into a bulb, which they have to be before they flower. The first chapter takes place six or seven years before the events of the main story, so I found it very appropriate. This story should only be three or four chapters long, but who knows -- I have lots of ideas for these boys.

Plot: Logan encounters a strange boy in the woods. His name is Anxiety, and he's hiding in the flowers.

Relationships: budding romance analogical, hinted dukeceit, royality in later chapters, remile in later chapters, platonic DRLAMP

Tw: Cursing, faeries, mention of death, mention of kidnapping, dead parents. (If I missed anything, let me know!)

---

He didn’t understand, and it bothered him to no end.

Logan first saw the human in May, when the sun stayed long and the moon appeared less. The flowers had started to bloom, the trees green and vibrant, with alternating days of hot sun or torrents of rain.

The faerie quite liked May. He preferred winter, of course, being Unseelie, but some nights in the spring he could look up at the sky and see every single star, and stars fascinated him to no end. Besides, there was no one telling him to do his job in the warm months (for there was no snow or cold, blustery winds in the time of the Seelie), and without the pestering to summon winter he could be alone. Logan enjoyed his solitude.

That is, he had, until the human child had stumbled into a flowered field in the small section of the forest the Unseelie had managed to mark off for himself.

The boy (or at least Logan guessed he was a boy; he had never been good with human age or gender. Fey just were, and though Logan had known he was male early on, many didn’t care about such things. It was such a human concept, after all) was carrying a black book in one hand, a knapsack slung over one shoulder. He sat down in the field, and suddenly he was gone, hidden in the bluebells.

The fey squinted, trying to see the strange mortal in the flowers, but the boy had achieved almost perfect camouflage.

Logan had never seen him before, not in the forest. Humans rarely dared tread in the woods, for fear of its elven inhabitants. This one was an anomaly, and it was positively fascinating. Especially one so young -- he appeared to be less than Logan’s own age, making him maybe seven or eight.

This went on for some time. The strange male would appear in the field, plop down among the bluebells, and stay there for some time, while Logan watched from the branches of the trees. When he finally left, Logan would check the place where he sat, searching for a sign as to how this mortal could hide so thoroughly.

It was on the seventh appearance of the sun that he found something strange: a piece of white parchment, with a sketch of the forest. The detail was quite good for the hand of a child, Logan had to admit, but it wasn’t the quality of the drawing that bothered him. It was the face in one of the trees, undoubtedly his own, with a line of scribbled human glyphs scrawled beside it. They took but a second to translate.

Just come say hi.

How had the mortal seen him? It was undoubtedly dangerous, Logan’s instincts told him. Best to abandon the area, warn his court, and allow the Seelie to deal with the small human intruding in the fey woods. Nevermind that the spring and summer fey were notoriously thoughtless, and might kidnap the child. Nevermind that they would likely forget that humans did not live as long as fey, despite (in their early years, at least) growing at the same rate. Nevermind that, eventually, after often forgetting to provide food or care for their pet human, they would throw him out for aging, or keep him till he died.

No, Logan was to disregard all of that.

The next day, Logan found himself creeping through the field, inching his way towards the bluebell patch. The faerie found his pride in his magic: he was quite good at it, and so he expertly used the flora to mask his presence. There was no possible way he could be noticed.

“Hi,” the boy said, looking up and straight into Logan’s eyes. The human’s own irises were green, a deeper green than he would normally expect from a mortal, the color of grass and oak leaves. “Finally! I thought you would never talk to me.”

Well. That wasn’t right.

“How did you spot me?” he demanded, dumbfounded. He found himself adjusting his black shirt subconsciously, in a state of mild shock.

“It’s a secret,” the child grinned. “What’s your name?”

How rude, Logan thought.

I shall never speak to him again, the rational part of his brain decided. He probably has magic, and is a danger to me and all others of my kind.

But he’s fascinating, said the uncontrollable, irrational, annoying part of his brain that was always championing silly matters like friendship and personal interests over actually doing his duty, which would logically be to report this at once. And I do occasionally get lonely…

“You may call me Logic,” he heard, realizing a second late that the words had come from his own mouth. “Which is an alias, of course, but it is the only name you shall get.” Logan had gone by the name for years, choosing it just as every other child did, in this world where true names had power.

“I figured,” the mortal smiled, with his green eyes crinkled and the absence of one of his front teeth distinct. “I’m Anxiety.”

“Why choose ‘Anxiety’?” Logan asks, years later. He receives that same smile, although the adult tooth has long since grown in.

“Why’d you choose Logic?” the male in front of him asks in turn, and Logan responds by blinking.

“I don’t believe I know,” he replies.

“Exactly,” his compatriot shrugs. “It just felt right.”

“Are you a witch?” he queried weeks later, sitting cross-legged besides Anxiety and holding a book in his hands.

“A witch?” Anxiety repeated, looking up from his sketchbook.

“Bluebells are sometimes called harebells, especially in Scotland,” he said, “because witches are supposed to turn into rabbits to hide in the flowers. It is almost impossible to spot you without knowing if you are here; maybe you’re a witch.”

“Last I checked, I can’t turn into a rabbit,” the boy laughed. “Maybe I summoned you, though, by ringing the bluebells.”

“They are not literal bells, Anxiety.”

“My dad used to tell me that if you rang bluebells, faeries would come,” he shrugged. “But if a human hears a bluebell ring, that means someone dear to them will die.”

“You humans have such morbid myths,” he told his mortal companion, looking at the flowers. “A bluebell cannot make a sound, anyways, so if one hears something it would be purely coincidental.”

“It’s fun to think about though,” said the human beside him, and Logan looked over at Anxiety, who was sprawled on the grass, staring at the clouds in the blue sky. “Hey, that one looks like a cat eating pasta out of a bucket.”

He looked at the cloud in question, and had to admit it did appear so, as odd the image was. “Why do you humans engage in these flights of fantasy?” Logan asked, despite himself.

“Coping mechanism, probably,” he replied, with the air of a child that, despite their age, knows enough about the world to call themself Anxiety. “Don’t you?”

“The Seelie, perhaps,” Logan sniffed, “but my court is far more realistic in our views than those sparkly fools.”

“Fair enough,” laughed the mortal.

Logan soon found himself spending the spring and summer with the boy called Anxiety, sitting in the field. Anxiety brought him books written by humans when Logan got bored of fey texts, and in turn, the faerie deigned to ‘show off’ a bit, demonstrating his magic one day by summoning shadows and a storm. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had been quite happy to see Anxiety wasn’t scared at all, instead laughing as the rain fell around them and Logan scrambled to save their things because “We must save the books, Anxiety!” Once everything was stashed in a hollow tree, however, he managed to get a good look at the boy he had started to think of as a friend, and a laugh was shocked out of him. Anxiety’s bangs were plastered to his face, covering his eyes.

“You look as though a mop has adhered itself to your skull,” Logan informed him, unable to hide his smile.

“What’s that weird thing you’re doing with your face? Are you okay?” Anxiety asked, sarcasm negated by his own grin. Logan rolled his eyes. He knew he did not smile often, but still -- those levels of cheek were unwarranted.

He learned Anxiety was ten, older than he would have guessed, and only a month younger than Logan himself. That he loved poetry and sewing and art but didn’t think he was really good at any of them, and would be mocked for these interests. That his parents had died when he was quite young, and he now lived with his elderly grandmother, who let him run off anywhere as long as he was in his bed the next morning. She had homeschooled him for his early years, and would only send him to an official establishment next fall, which told Logan why Anxiety wasn’t with his fellow human children in their brick school during the spring. It also explained why he’d been allowed to enter the fey woods at all, what with the healthy fear the locals had developed of the place.

In turn, ‘Logic’ had revealed his love for the stars, (which led to Anxiety sneaking out one night to stargaze with him in the bluebell field), how he’d kept a lizard as a pet one summer, but released it at the end because a cold-blooded creature likely wouldn’t survive the winter months, and how he reported directly to the Unseelie ruler, because all fey had a job, young or old. “It’s just the way it is,” he explained. “I have responsibilities to my court, as do all fey children.”

“Bit like child labour, though,” Anxiety pointed out.

“For humans, maybe,” he conceded, “but we mentally develop much faster.”

“But you live longer, so shouldn’t you get to embrace your childhood before your infinite adulthood?” reasoned the other, watching the ladybug that was clinging to his sleeve.

“Not infinite,” Logan replied, and Anxiety raised his head in interest. “We live a very long time, to be sure, but all fey die eventually. When we run out of magic, we age and perish.”

His friend considered that -- and Logan considered the human boy his friend, now. That notion had snuck up on him, it seemed, surreptitiously changing his label of ‘acquaintance’ to one of friendship.

He didn’t really mind.

Fall came in colored leaves and bursts of chilly wind, of flowers wilting and apples ripening in the trees. Logan attended the passing of the seasons, or the transfer of control, from the Seelie Court to that of the Unseelie at the equinox. It was in the deepest part of the forest, the part that joined the realm of the fey to the human world.

Logan wasn’t entirely happy about their regained dominion. He should have been, he knew: logic dictated it! With winter, his powers increased, and he gained structure and work he loved. Why would he not be glad?

Well, remarked the treacherous little voice in his head, we can’t spend time with Anxiety in the winter, now can we?

It was true, he mused as the crown of the fey on the podium shed its vibrant flowers and its green leaves turned red, orange, yellow, and brown. He’d be very busy, for one. Talyn, leader of the Unseelie, had promised him greater responsibility this year. And besides…

The woods were dangerous enough when the Seelie ruled. But Logan’s court had a tendency to be vicious, and they did not attempt to hide their darkness like their flowery counterparts.

Were Anxiety to be discovered in faerie woods in winter…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Logic!” called a familiar voice, and he turned to see two identical faces waving to him.

“Prince, Duke,” he nodded. “I trust you are well?”

“Oh, Lolo, don’t be so formal with us,” Prince grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’re friends, after all!”

“Or are we making you nervous?” smirked Duke. “No, something else is! You’ve got a secret, don’tcha?”

Logan’s lips thinned. He’d forgotten how alarmingly perceptive the Unseelie half of the brothers could be.

Prince and Duke were oddities among the fey, the children of parents from both courts. Prince was Seelie, Duke Unseelie, but they had remained close even when the courts did their best to seperate them. Now, they had achieved a sort of notoriety. Joan, leader of the Seelie court, was said to be molding Prince for his own role, and Talyn had already offered for the Duke to study under them. He had rejected the offer, saying that he didn’t want the vulnerability of fey leadership, and a faerie called Deceit had been selected instead.

Secretly, Logan suspected Duke’s reservations had less to do with every faerie in both courts knowing his true name (which was a requirement for Talyn and Joan, just as it had been for all fey leaders before them) and more to do with the restrictions being trained by Talyn would put on him. He loved his chaos, after all.

“I don’t see what my personal affairs have to do with you,” he said, rather coldly. “No offense meant, of course.”

“Oh, Logic, you break our hearts!” Prince cried dramatically, clutching his chest. “How could you say such things to your bestest and oldest friends?”

“Advice’s by far the best of my friends.”

“Oldest friends!” Duke countered.

“I have known Deceit for far longer than either of you.”

Duke colored at the name (could he be any more obvious with his little crush?) and Prince exclaimed, “Friends!”

“...Dubious,” Logan said, turning back towards the proceedings.

“C’mon, Logie, we both know you’re bored out of your mind having to watch this mind-numbing shit,” Duke told him, grinning. He was missing three teeth. Fey aren’t supposed to lose teeth, the tiny part of his mind that hadn’t given up yet pointed out. “Let’s leave, and then you can tell us all about your little secret.”

“I will not be telling you anything,” he sighed.

But he ought to. He knew that. It was why he had been avoiding Advice lately, who had gotten a little too good at reading people after beginning his job as a healer. It was why after the meeting Logan threw himself into his work, so as not to cause any issues, any reasons for his court to keep an eye on him. It was why he began following Anxiety when the human boy left the forest each day, making sure he couldn’t be taken on his way home.

Winter came and Logan began to change, as the power of his people’s season grew within him. His features, already pronounced, became sharper, hair longer (more wild, Anxiety said, as he attempted to braid the dark locks), ears, nails, and teeth more pointed. He changed his clothes for winter, of course, wearing a night-blue cloak lined with rabbit fur over his usual dark attire, and grudgingly trading bare feet for boots. Anxiety laughed at him a fair bit, for that (“What’s your problem with shoes?” he had cackled, as Logan sulked besides him) but after he had to switch his sweatshirts for a heavy black parka, the human joined the fey in petulant anger.

One day, Anxiety asked why fey changed appearances in the winter, gingerly examining Logan’s sharp nails, which bore an uncanny resemblance to claws. Logan replied that they didn’t -- they changed for summer, or Unseelie did at least. His winter form was his true one; the one the human had first encountered was a disguise of sorts, a way to blend in among the Seelie, a defensive relic from when the two breeds of faerie were at war.

He was afraid, then, looking at Anxiety, that he would flee. Unseelie were always the evil fey in human stories, not the playful tricksters but the monsters in the dark, and this human seemed to know every story, reciting them from memory to Logan as they lay in the field, watching clouds in the sky.

But Anxiety simply hummed quietly, looking up into Logan’s eyes. “Those don’t change,” he said, motioning to them. “Must be pretty easy for the Seelie to recognize, huh?”

“Why would my eyes be easy to recognize?” he asked, blinking.

“They’re beautiful,” the human shrugged, far too casual, and returned to his study of Logan’s nails. “Hey, maybe I could paint your nails. My friend Morality’s been teaching me how.”

(And if the tips of the faerie’s pointed ears turned red, his cheeks dusted with a similar colour, Anxiety was kind enough not to mention it.)

He knew it was dangerous, still meeting the human, but Logan still found himself entering the clearing each day, even though the bluebells had all wilted by August and the other flowers followed quickly, even as the grass turned brown. Sometimes, Logan told himself that it was because he wanted to learn from Anxiety, or because he wanted to interact with someone his age, or because he was simply ingrained in his habits. Always a new excuse. Nevermind that the information the human could teach him was nothing compared to his own vast reservoirs of knowledge, that Deceit, Prince, Advice and Duke were all his own age, and two were even of Logan’s court, that he was a faerie, and the fey did not do routines, as creatures of the wild.

The truth was, he found a certain amount of joy in meeting with someone who seemed to understand Logan’s reluctance to conform to the standards of his court, who was kind and laughed easily and shared stories and secrets and songs without any cost. The truth was that he was just a bit selfish.

Logan’s selfishness would come back to bite him.

It was fall on the cusp of winter when it happened, a crisp afternoon in early November, and a Wednesday. This meant that Anxiety could only come later in the day, and carted along a backpack holding papers and books and math. As far as Logan could tell, math was a game with numbers with many nuanced rules, that he rather liked and Anxiety hated.

To make sure that the human managed to reach the clearing safely, Logan had begun to meet him on the path that was Anxiety’s way through the forest, using his magic to mask the two of them from the Unseelie patrolling the woods. Anxiety found it funny (he didn’t seem to quite understand the true danger the forest posed him) but a bit irritating, so Logan grudgingly met him halfway down the path instead of at the line of trees that seperated the forest and the town.

So he sat in the woods, that Wednesday, high up in the branches, and waited, lost in thought. It had been several months since they’d met in the beginning of May, spending time together almost every day. He had expected the human to have run away in fear by now, to have stopped coming into the forest, to have been scared off by the magic or the changing of shapes or simply by the power Logan held. But the aptly named Anxiety (he was scared of so many things, of sharks and snakes and clowns and drowning and dying and blood) wasn’t afraid of Logan at all, it seemed.

It was nice, not being feared -- even among his own people, he was treated with a healthy amount of caution. Faeries did not trust. They found security in favors, in debts, and even family, like Prince and Duke, eyed each other with suspicion. But the human boy believed so easily, never asking for a favor or a name, giving and never asking for anything in return. It did not match with what Logan knew, of humans or of fey.

...Anxiety was late.

He held out for two minutes longer, before he finally stood and darted through the branches, feet finding footholds that should not have held them, moving through the air and ignoring the fact that occasionally he never touched the branches at all. Such was being a faerie.

Later, he would think back on the moment and thank the forest he had been so lucky. If he had waited a minute longer, had decided to run along the ground instead of in the trees, if he had listened to Anxiety when he rolled his eyes the day before and said “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” when Logan had told him to be careful…

Logan found his human (sometime in the past months, the human boy had become his. When, he didn’t know, but it had happened so easily, Anxiety sliding into his life with his drawings and poetry and laughter and settling in like he had always belonged. If he believed in things like that, Logan would think it was fate.) standing frozen in the dirt path, eyes glazed and unfocused, books spread around him and backpack lying in the dirt. Unseelie had swarmed him, two of them examining the human in their midst as one -- Deceit, Logan realized in shock -- worked his magic to keep him in a docile trance.

“Why did he come here?” another faerie asked, one Logan vaguely recognized. From his recollection, he was named Raven. The third he had never met, and seemed a fair bit older than the other two and Logan himself -- Deceit, Raven, and Logan were all young fey, Raven the oldest at maybe fourteen and Deceit almost the same age as Logan himself. This faerie, however, despite appearing to be in their early twenties, had an air of age, and he would guess the mystery individual to be in their hundreds.

“It doesn’t matter,” the older Unseelie smiled, a grin appearing on their face. “It’s just a human boy. Kill it or take it.”

“He -- He’s our age, Lady Belladonna,” protested Deceit, his brow furrowing. “A child. Shouldn’t we just send him away?”

“Oh, not he,” the apparently female faerie snarled, reaching out to grip Anxiety’s blank face in dark nails. “Humans… humans are beasts. And they call us creatures of the dark! It has no more rights than an animal, age or not. Maturity has never affected the ways of the fey.”

“But Lady--” Raven protested, looking as disturbed as Deceit, but he never got the chance to finish his sentence. Logan had heard enough.

Lady Belladonna, whoever she was, had been correct. Maturity had very little to do with fey; age meant time, and a faerie scorned time, even physically. So Logan, young as he was at barely eleven winters (Logan had turned eleven just a few days ago -- Anxiety had given him some of the mechanical pencils he had liked, as well as a decorated case. He had said it was a ‘birthday gift’.), had power, power enough to reach out to the minds of the three fey and push them into sleep.

He’d always been good at manipulating the brain -- better than even Deceit or Advice.

The three Unseelie crumpled to the ground, eyes shutting even as they tried to resist, pushing back against his influence. The clearing soon quieted, silent but for the sound of quiet breathing and the wind in the trees.

Logan knew he had succeeded when Anxiety blinked and the haze over his eyes disappeared, Deceit’s control gone. The human gasped, stumbling backwards, and at that moment Logan finally emerged from the branches to pick up the backpack and the books, nodding in greeting.

“Logic?” Anxiety asked, sounding small, staring at the fey slumped around him. “What -- what happened? Are they…”

“Merely sleeping,” he replied, motioning to the rise and fall of Raven’s chest. “They will be alright.” His face hardens. “They deserved worse. What do you remember?”

“All of it, I think. They surprised me, and that one that looks like a snake did something -- I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t scream.” He hesitated, staring at the female faerie. “She wanted to kill me?”

“Or take you to our realm,” Logan said, straightening, Anxiety’s backpack in one hand and his books in the other. “Here. I need to make sure they don’t remember this encounter.”

The human took his belongings, watching as Logan crouched by the sleeping fey, touching his fingers to their temples. It took only a few seconds to alter their memories, to make them believe their enchanted sleep to be the result of a backfired spell by the Lady. (He takes special pleasure in placing the blame on her.)

He altered first the memories of Raven, then Belladonna, and then he reached for Deceit.

A yellow-gloved hand reached up to grasp Logan’s wrist.

“Logic!” Anxiety exclaimed, a fearful squeak, rushing forwards, but Deceit spoke before he could aid him.

“Thank you,” the young Unseelie whispered, eyes forcing themselves open.

“What?” Logan asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice. Deceit was one of the few faeries that could lie without repercussions, but the thanks seemed genuine. Whether he had become far better at lying than Logan had thought, or…

“She would have murdered him,” Deceit laughed, a harsh sound. “Probably would have made me do it, a test for Talyn’s protégé. I definitely would have been able to casually murder a kid my age.” Sarcasm practically dripped from his words, before his tone softened. “So, thank you, Logic.”

“You released Anxiety from the spell, didn’t you?” he realized, blinking down at the barely-conscious faerie. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Deceit.”

“Wipe my memories,” he shrugged. “I’ll be fine. But be careful, okay? Belladonna isn’t alone in her views. There’s fey from both courts that are now advocating for violence against humans. Your boyfriend will need to be cautious.”

“He’s not my -- we aren’t -- we are far too young to be courting!” Logan protested, knowing full well his face was as bright as a rose, ears burning. Anxiety was in much the same state, although Deceit simply rolled his eyes.

“Of course you are,” the faerie sighed. “Just… keep an eye out, Logic. This forest has gotten dangerous, as of late.”

His eyes fluttered shut. A few seconds later, his breathing evened. Logan was rather impressed -- Deceit’d held out against the spell for far longer than he would have expected anyone to be able to. Luckily, the strange resistance didn’t carry over when he moved to alter his memories, and soon he stood to face Anxiety.

“It… It would be understandable if you decided to terminate our friendship,” he finally muttered, unable to meet the human’s green eyes. “You have now seen the truth of my people. We are vicious, and killers, and-”

“And you rescued me,” said Anxiety, voice startlingly calm. “And that other faerie -- Deceit, right? -- he didn’t want to hurt me either. I don’t think you’re vicious, or a killer.”

“Anxiety, you’ll be in danger if you continue visiting me. You could lose your life!” Logan exclaimed, motioning to the fallen faeries around him for emphasis, because the stupid human didn’t understand, didn’t get that he might die or worse!

“That was always going to be true, dummy. We’re in a faerie forest. I’m a human,” Anxiety deadpanned. “C’mon.”

They walked through the woods to the clearing in silence, Logan working his magic to render them invisible to prying eyes, Anxiety staring at the dirt under his sneakers. The forest was still, for once.

The two arrived in their typical spot, standing near where they knew the bluebells would grow again in spring, hearing dead grass crinkle underneath their feet. The human set down his belongings, and hesitated, suddenly still.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, glancing over. Anxiety was staring at the ground again, arms wrapped around himself in a sort of makeshift hug, bangs covering his eyes.

“I… You saved my life, Logic,” the other said, voice choked, and there were glistening tears streaming down his pale cheeks. “I would have died.”

Logan had never been good at feelings. He’d be the first to admit so -- they were Prince or Advice’s department. Still, he found himself moving forwards, pulling Anxiety into a hug, ignoring the tears wetting his cloak as he did his best to replicate what he’d seen Advice do for distressed fey.

“I don’t want to die,” he heard, whispered into his shoulder. “I don’t want to die, L.”

“I won’t let you,” promised Logan, and heard from his own mouth, before he could even think about saying it, “I’ll protect your life with mine, if it comes to that.”

Anxiety let out a laugh at that, his grip tightening. “Well, that’s not very fair. You’re not allowed to die either, okay? I’ll protect you too.”

Logan had a response on the tip of his tongue (“You’re a human, how would you preserve my lifespan in any way?”) but a searing pain through his left eye interrupted him, and nothing more than a gasp of agony escaped the faerie. They seperated, Anxiety clutching the right side of his face.

The feeling disappeared as quickly as it had manifested, and Logan immediately looked up, searching for their attacker, and instead found the human’s previously green eyes.

The right one was a bright, shining purple.

Anxiety’s mouth was open wide. “Logic, your eye--” he began, before reaching into his bag and fumbling for his communicator square. (Phone, he called it. Logan did not quite understand, but avoided touching it anyways -- it appeared to be made of metal, and he would not risk contact with iron.) He turned it on, before switching to a screen that reflected both of their faces.

Logan had only ever looked at his reflection to ensure his presentability. He knew his eyes were different from those of humans, of course; Anxiety’s had circles of green around a black center, set on a white background, but Logan did not have those divisions. Color spread across the whole surface, lacking in whites, pupil, and iris. “Your eyes look like the night sky,” Anxiety had told him once, and he supposed the human was correct -- normally, they were a dark purplish blue color, with pinpricks of pale light across the surface. Still, he hadn’t understood why Anxiety had seemed so fascinated. (“Is it accurate?” the human had questioned. “Is the placement of the stars right?” Logan had eventually flushed red as the other tried to find constellations in his eyes, Anxiety had noticed and retreated, and that had been the end of that. He’d never brought it up again.)

But now his left eye was crossed with a pattern of greenish blue, like the aurora borealis in the Unseelie realm that his parents had taken him to see when he was very small, vibrant against the indigo background.

“What happened?” Anxiety asked, staring at himself on the screen of the phone, reaching up as if to touch the purple ring, ensuring it was truly there. “How -- why -- what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said slowly, staring at his newly heterochromatic eyes.

Perhaps this is the price of befriending and saving a human, he thought to himself, meeting Anxiety’s panicked eyes with his own. Perhaps it is a curse, or a punishment from the gods. A physical marking of my shame, of forgetting to take a name, a favor, a price, as is my nature.

“It’s okay,” Anxiety said, reaching out to take Logan’s hand and squeezing it gently. “It’s okay, L. We’ll figure it out. Besides, it looks cool as heck, right?”

“...That it does,” he nodded after a beat, returning the gesture, a wan smile stretching his lips despite the situation.

“Let’s… Let’s not worry about it for now,” suggested the human. “We’ve got better things to do, right?”

“Definitely. We had best get started on that math homework.”

Anxiety let out a laugh at that. “Ew. How about we just cloudwatch for now?”

They sat in the empty field, where their flowers would grow again come spring, and watched white fluff form in the blue sky through mismatched eyes. He glanced over at Anxiety, who smiled and reached out with his hand. The faerie took it.

If this new coloring is a curse, it’s worth it, decided Logan, flashing a smile at his boy of the bluebells before returning his gaze to the sky.

At first, the change took getting used to. Fey whispered Logan had made a deal with the forest, had become vain and done it cosmetically, had been cursed. Humans said much the same about Anxiety. As time passed, however, and the colors didn’t change, those inside and outside the forest learned to accept the change. No one questioned it anymore, and eventually the two learned to forget the day in the clearing, to pass it off as a spell gone wrong in Logan’s case and an eye injury in Anxiety’s.

Neither of them found an explanation for it either, but it soon became apparent they didn’t need to. They had each other.

That was what mattered.

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shadowling-guistical · 4 years ago

Text

FIC MASTERPOST

Note: Fics posted so far that are linked to ao3 are posted in my main account. Future Sanders Sides work will be posted here.

My Art Masterpost (COMING SOON!)

Format: Title and Tumblr link//ao3 link//pairings//summary

The University Chronicles

ao3 link

Headcanon link

Pairing: Established married Logicality, Platonic Prinxiety, familial Analogical

A collection of oneshots, drabbles and everything in between exploring the lives of Professor Logan Hart, Mr Patton Hart, and Drs. Roman Prince and Virgil Sanders as friends (or maybe something more) and fellow faculty in the same university. Some told from their perspectives and some from others.

Alternatively, the Sanders Sides Academia AU nobody asked for.

---

Milestones

ao3 link for the extended version

Pairing: Platonic LAMP, familial Sleepxiety and Thvi

After deciding to take a gap year, Virgil Sanders expected to enter his freshman year of college feeling anxious and out of place. But not if his childhood friends; Patton Hart, Roman Prince and Logan Croft have anything to say about it.

For The Core of Us fanzine on Tumblr.

UPDATE: Read Miles To Go, the remix written by @sparrow-flies-south

---

Dearly (Nearly) Departed

Pairing: Past Remy/OC and Past Patton/OC. Platonic Anxceit, Familial Sleepxiety and future Familial Moceit

Fear (n.): 1. Defined as an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.

Virgil Sanders, aged nine, once read this entry in the library. His only response? A brief glance at the not-quite-human-anymore wailing near a bookshelf, (-peeling skin, spindly twitching claws, crawling across carpets-) and an attempt to cover the trembling of his fingers.

As the years pass by, the steady thrum of fear under his skin turn into a constant, albeit annoying, companion. Virgil only got better at hiding trembling fingers and pretending these spirits didn't exist. But after meeting Declan Janus and later, Patton Hart, Virgil would come to realize that maybe, just maybe, he needed to help the dead to help the living.

Or: Virgil inherits the ability to see the dead after the death of one of his fathers. A Mieruko-chan AU.

For the 2020 Ts BigBang

---

See This Ancient Riverbed

ao3 link

Pairings: Moceit

WARNINGS: Angst, Major character death

“One more time...I just need to do it over one… more time…Hold on everyone. I’ll get it right. I swear I'll get this right.”

They were a different type of friends, Patton knew that. Their time together never leads to everlasting happiness. But rather, to ruin, destruction and despair— to other people, to each other, and in some (many) instances, even the world.

But Patton, selfish as he is, wouldn’t stand to let everything fall into ruin without a fight. Not this time. And even if it takes tens, hundreds, or thousands of times, he’d do it over and over to give his friends the happy ending they deserved.

A Puella Magi Madoka Magica AU.

---

Old Traditions Bring New Friends

ao3 link

Pairings: Creativitwins, familial Analogical and future Intrulogical

Things are going good for Prince Remus of Himmelstadt. But as his twin would say, it could always be better. And nothing proved it more than when old traditions upheld by his father and their kingdom took a pleasant, surprising turn. The arrival of Princes Virgil and Logan from Fontaine brought something unexpected into his life. The ship from the Bastion of the North had, against all odds, brought him a friend.

For the TSS Fanworks Collective server Secret Santa

---

Part of the Job Description

ao3 link

Pairings: None.

“Um. Oh, is it...Is it really okay?” She asked, cautiously. She didn’t think her kinda nerdy science teacher would be the type to be mean or anything but still…

“Of course!” Mr. Sanders smiled, gathering the last of the materials on his desk, “It’s part of my job description as a teacher after all. To make sure every one of my students has what they need. And now that I know that you’re fasting, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. So you’re welcome to stay in my class for however long you want,”

It's Ramadhan, and Zahra found herself receiving support from the most unlikely source. Her sweet but kind of boring science teacher.

Remix of Fangirlwriting’s Career, part of their Creative Trade series

---.

A Failed Escape

Pairings: Anxceit

On an early December day, Janus made sure his husband wouldn’t escape his clutches.

For the TSS Fanworks Collective server March Ado About Nothing challenge.

---

Blinded

Pairings: Prinxiety

Against all odds,

Roman found himself falling for an impossible boy.

No, scratch that. Roman had fallen in love with a star, in every sense of the word.

For the TSS Fanworks Collective server March Ado About Nothing challenge.

---

Do You Think the Stars are Lonely Too

Pairings: Unrequited Thvi, background Thomceit.

WARNING: Angst and unrequited love.

Virgil does the most selfish thing he could think of. He told Thomas that he loved him.

---

You Should Go (Even If I can’t follow)

ao3 link

Pairings: Platonic Analogical.

Logan is about to do something that would be the biggest mistake of his life. Virgil intends to do something about it.

Or: One of the many times Virgil pushed his friends towards something greater.

Side story to You Hear What You Want (But You Never Wanted Me)

---

You Hear What You Want (But You Never Wanted Me)

ao3 link

Pairings: Thvi, unrequited prinxiety, unrequited anxceit, background Roceit

WARNING: Heavy angst, Injury, Major character death, and Unrequited love.

He remembered their eyes. Longing yet so full of doubt that felt so foreign in their expression. The emotion that had felt out of place. That felt so, so wrong. Especially in how it left Logan’s lips bitten raw in a way that made Virgil want to ball his hands into fists. How it had upturned Roman’s eyebrows in a way that made Virgil's heart queasy. How it left Janus’ jaw set hard, and Remus’ manic smile turned into a pensive frown that was so unnerving that Virgil wanted nothing more than to take them by the shoulders and shake some goddamn sense into them.

Because fuck it, doubt was the one thing they never should have had.

Perhaps that’s why Virgil, whose entire personality was the famous G-note personified, who was about as vibrant as a new moon meeting a monochrome rainbow, who had as much potential as a stationary ball, had settled to do the only thing he could. He’d push.

But perhaps it was best if he had realized something sooner.

(If you push too much, don't be surprised if there ends up being distance.)

Or: Underneath concrete and rubble, Virgil Picani-Sanders reflect on his life, his family, and his friends.

#sanders sides #ts sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #tsfics #TsAcademiaAU #fic masterpost #mine

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twofacedbelief · 5 years ago

Note

it wont be like romantic roceit once/if dee returns to normal will it? (i mean its your au so its cool if you decide to do that i just wanted to know)

This is a hard question to answer, since I like roceit, and now that I've established how Dee will age it wouldn't be as weird for it to turn into romantic roceit once he's back to normal as it might have before.

I don't think I want to make this decision just yet. For now, I'm happy with Dee having a childish crush on Roman. If it helps, Dee will grow out of the crush, but that doesn't say anything about what he might feel once he's reached his twenties.

Oh, and a reminder for everyone that background queerplatonic analogical and background slowburn intruality has already been decided, as well as Remy and Roman play-flirting.

#toddler dee au

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roseamongroses · 5 years ago

Text

Antithesis: Dear Diary: why?

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au, fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously)

(8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

(16) (17)

(Note: Please check the general warnings and character list before continuing since some changes have been made and I don’t want to throw you off later on)

Roman slung the scarf across his shoulders, “You think I should pack this?” he said, striking a pose, “You think it’s gonna be too hot for summer or?”

“You do look good in red...” Dmitri glanced up from his laptop, still typing, “And it’s better than your fifteen--separately bought-- white jeans.”

Roman flung a trench coat at his face. “Glass-fuckin houses babe, half your closet is black and boring--plus I like the white, ” he protested, “And don’t you think the red will be a bit too much with my hair?” he untucked his curls from underneath the scarf, smoothing the sides.

Dmitri laughed, “You’re the definition of a bit too much, Ro,” he said, “But if it means anything the reds been fading for a while now,”

“Wait really?” Roman picked up a hand mirror, angling it with a frown, “Dammit,” he said, “Virgil might still have some bleach left over, but I don’t want to kill my curl pattern like he did…”

“Then don’t redye it,” Dmitri shrugged, “You’ll look good regardless.”

Roman fluffed his hair, pouting in the mirror, “How good?”

Dmitri rolled his eyes, “Fishing early I see,” he said, pausing his typing to take a better look, “The red hair nice, but the brown will soften your features since there ’ll be less contrast.”

“I’dunno if I want to ‘soften my features though...It’d look cute, but...maybe if I cut my hair?” Roman tugged the scarf off, “.…people would take me more seriously.”

“Now why would you…” Dmitri paused, setting his laptop aside nodding, “Come over here, let me take a closer look.”

Roman eyed him warily.

“C’mon now, I’ve been dating you for what? A little over a year, Have a little faith,” Dmitri defended, “I’m not a snake tricking you into sinning,”

Roman crossed his arms, eyeing him up and down, “You’ve done it before--remember?”

“Oh that was fun and you know it, now c’ mere,” He offered a hand.

“It was,” Roman sighed, relenting and taking his hand. Dmitri tugged him to his knees, Roman making panicked noises as they bumped foreheads and he used Dmitri’s shoulders to steady himself, “Close enough?”

Dmitri tilted his head, “A bit closer.”

“Closer?” Roman’s lips barely brushed his.

“There we go--would you look at that,” Dmitri murmured, “A handsome prince if I’ve ever seen one…” Roman’s expression softened and Dmitri continued, “Whoever you’re trying to impress would be stupid not to take you seriously, especially with your anal work ethic--mmph,” Dmitri’s hands flew to Roman’s waist only slightly caught off guard as Roman closed the distance. The sloppy kiss eventually dissolved into Roman peppering Dmitri’s face between giggles.

“Either you’re rewarding me or you’re trying to distract...” Dmitri’s joke died off, eyes fluttering as Roman’s attention dipped lower, trailing his jaw, “Oh that’s...that’s nice…Your brother out?”

“Mhm,” Roman hummed contemplatively, before pulling back a bit, “ Yeah he is, but...I dunno I’m not really in the mood for that…Sorry..”

“You don’t need to apologize every time you know?” Dmitri leaned into Roman’s chest, feeling Roman’s hands nestle into his hair.

“It’s just so...weird.” He could hear the frown in Roman’s voice, “Is it weird? I’m going to be gone for a while too…Am I being a bad boyfriend?”

“You’re not weird, it's normal.”

“But--” Roman’s voice was quiet, “--- it’s not like you’re not attractive-- but--I dunno-- sometimes actually doing stuff like that is just...ugh I can’t even describe it.”

“The other guys might be horny bastards 24/7, but it’s perfectly normal for you Roman.” Dmitri said, “If you want to kiss we can kiss if you want to cuddle and talk we can do that too.”

“Talk’n’cuddle,” Roman mumbled and Dmitri smiled.

“So how are you feeling about the trip?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely horrified--” Roman easily spun into a rant,” I have to be holed up in that infested dung heap with that odorous rat with only my beautiful tia’s cooking as solace?” He sniffed appalled.

“Huh,” Dmitri snickered, “I’ve never heard that nickname for Virgil.”

“I’m not...talking about Virgil.”

---

R: XXX.notalink/rated:m/dontclickfortheloveofgod/dJDoJi90

Rem: WHAT THE FUCK ROMAN Rem: WHY WOULD YOU SEND THAT

L: Why the hell didn’t you read the link first

Rem: WHO THE FUCK READS Rem: GOD NEVER AGAIN

L: I highly doubt it's that bad

L:....I stand corrected

Rem: you clicked the link too didn’t you

L: In the name of science of course

Rem: ROMAN WHY DID YOU SEND THAT

R: ;)

Rem: EXPLAIN YOURSELF

R: ;) XXXX.notalink/rated:m/oopsididitagain/dskfJjfd9dsf3gds

L: That one is more weird than disgusting

Rem: WHY DO YOU KEEP CLICKING ON THEM

L: Why is Roman still sending them?

V: as much as i like smearing my brothers good name that isn’t roman

V: [Roman conked out on the couch, in a sweatshirt and shorts, drool pooling. Jpeg]

Rem: cute photo, 10/10 L: Agreed.

V: god both of you fuckin s t op i t s t o p s t o p

R: XXXX.notalink/rated:m/you filthylinkreaders/d3gds789jk

Rem: just bc you have issues with compliments doesn't mean roman does

L:Here we go again I guess...

V; roman doesnt have any fuckin boundaries

Rem: yes, yes he does Rem: they may be thin but he Does have them

V:sorry but he’s way too nice about it

Rem: weve more then established that me calling him cute is okay and i require the sustenance of doting on him okay? Like i get it ive pushed a bit too hard before but like im trying ok???

V: k k I i hit the breaks a bit too soon this 1 time but it’s ducking thin ass ice and I’m not above sending y’all to an icy tomb if you get gross. Roman may be a bastard but he’s still baby

L:Translation: He understands your reasoning and agrees he overreacted, but this won’t stop him from questioning our intents and calling out certain actions. Roman may be okay with joking around with stuff like that and being the center of attenuation, but he’s still self conscious and sensitive.

V:why must you add feelings and adult reasoning to everything

L: How dare you accuse me of having feelings

R: XXXX.notalink/rated:m/unicornhornsanddragontails/3nskjJ03 R: XXXX.notalink/rated:m/specA-Z/54Kjjf9n R: XXXX.notalink/rated:m/asliceofme/fljkl29mfJ

R: XXXX.notalink/rated:m/laughsinspanish/5Kjd8

Rem:ye feelings are gross so moving on

Rem: anyway who the fuck is this

V: the bastard

R: you can call me duke [video of Roman, Virgil, and Remus as toddlers, Virgil playing with blocks and listening to some music while in the background Remus follows Roman around.mp3] [image of Roman, Virgil, and Remus currently. jpeg]

V: the bastards name is remus

R: THE. DUKE.

V: FUCK. YOU.

Rem: why the shits have i never met them and why the FUCK does he look more like roman then you do virgil

V: i think it's bc rem doesnt cover up his freckles

V: but yeah my mom and tia had a falling out

R: more like my dad was an asshole

Rem: oh shit same

R: shitty dad squad hmu ;)

Pat: oh hey!!! Me too!!!!

V: yeah it was Not Fun and mom and mama refused to let us go back until tia got a divorce

R: XXXX.notalink/rated:m/deodarant/298jksf

R:XXXX.notalink/rated:m/sPicydeodarant/23kjfJ

L: Are you done yet? They’re getting repetitive at this point.

---

Sun beating on his forehead, Dmitri’s chest was light and airy. His hair was tied up in a high ponytail as he worked on repotting some of his nursery plants. Usually, he’d be listening to music, but his aunt had left early that morning for some appointment so he relished the silence.

Brushing the dirt from his hands, he winced at the fresh cuts lining his knuckles.

“You’re still out here?”

Dmitri almost jumped at Dr. Montag’s voice, “Sorry for the mess” he said, gripping the nursery pot tighter, “I-I’ll clean it up right away…”

Dr. Montag crouched, waving him off, “There’s no need. I’m running a few errands for your aunt,” his hands barely brushing the leaves of one, “This is a Yucca right?”

“Uh,” Dmitri blinked, “Yeah it is,”

He laughed, “Don’t look so surprised-- I know things,” he stood back up, “Like how to use google. It’s rather impressive that y’all manage to keep up with so many of these.”

“Barely,” Dmitri relaxed, refocusing, “We used to have a lot more, but without my dad...it got overwhelming,” he shook his head, “It’s the only thing we really….It keeps us busy..”

“This is more than busy--you put a lot of work into these, anyone should be proud,” He murmured, studying Dmitri again, “I’ll be gone in a few, just need to grab her purse. You need anything from the store?”

“Uh...No,” Dmitri frowned, “I don’t.”

---

LilRed: COLLEGE BOARD CAN SUCK MY ASS LilRed: THIS BITCH GOT A FIVE

BlueRanger: Which class?

LilRed: APUSH

BlueRanger: Nice, good job

LilRed:

PurpleRain: L you fuckin broke him

PurpleRain:like I legit just heard a fuckin thud I think he fell

BlueRanger: I just told him good job?

LilRed: i die from validation i die w/o validation

BlueRanger: Please don’t die

PurpleRain: thats a lame ass way to die

LilRed: @purplebitch i feel so loved

PurpleRain: mama didnt raise us for us to die so b o r i n g l y

LilRed: SO HOW DO YOU SUGGEST I DIE

PurpleRain: idk im feelin,,,,rain,,,,,lots of it,,, maybe you’re watching the sea,,,,

PurpleRain: okay I got it

PurpleRain: you’re wearing a white sundress, the ends tattered but well loved. The coast empty with nly the lapping of waves your company. You’re thinking, a lot. Not of anything particular, but thinking nonetheless. The ocean always makes you think, always makes you remember--bringing about a bittersweet tinge of remorse to your heart, but no tears ever fall.

PurpleRain:You make it a habbit to watch the sunrise each day, relishing in the sobering feelings it invokes Maybe you're a masochist at heart

LilRed:maybe it’s maybelline

PurpleRain:I AM HAVING A MOMENT PRINCEY

PurpleRain: one day, you hear footsteps approach, and assume it's your lover returned from war. The news of it's end just coming days prior and making your ventures to the coast sparked with an unfamilar hopefulness.

PurpleRain: instead when you turn around, you do not feel your heart soar. Instead it sinks. An icy panic spreading through you, a curl of dread closing your throat, it's grip tight. You need to move; to get away from them. But you cant. You cant.

PurpleRain: one shot is all it took.

PurpleRain: one.

BlueRanger:....Concern.

PurpleRain: dnd just started again im prepping ok

LilRed:fuckin nerd

LilRed: huh…. i should get a sundress tho

PurpleRain: i have a few bookmarked ill show you later

BlueRanger: Is That Really What Y’all Are Taking Away From This

---

“And so the shop explodes-no not explodes it's in flames and they have the audacity--the au,” Roman coughs readjusting the webcam, “They have the audacity to play ‘Somebody to love’ as he’s fuckin mourning,” he gestured angrily, “Like Neil might as well come into my house and stomp on my heart.”

Dmitri nodded along, amused at the combination of camera lag and Roman’s erratic movements, “Before or after you watch the next episode?” he asked.

“It’s gonna have to be after cause I already finished the season. I never recovered from that scene though, ” Roman shrugged, tapping his jaw thoughtfully, “Probably should’ve started working on my commission sheet,”

“The same sheet you said you were going to start last month?”

“Yes the same one,” Roman blew out an exasperated huff, flopping into his hands, “I don’t know why it’s so hard --I feel scummy for pricing ‘too high’ and like shit for pricing ‘too lo--,” A notification rang, and he glanced over the screen, eyebrow raised, “Huh, Lo’s callin’ to video chat, you mind if I add’em?”

“Nah, go ahead,” Dmitri said, starting to fold the pile of towels.

“Alrighty,” He answered the call, “What’s up ner-” his face lit up, “Princess!”

Giggles erupted from the screen and Dmitri glanced up curious. On the screen instead of Logan was a small girl animatedly talking to Roman. She had two front teeth missing, glitter coloring her cheeks and rainbow beads rattling each time her braids moved.

“Woah, Woah-Woah,” Roman snorted, “Slow down hon, where’s your brother? Does he know you’re using his computer?”

“He’s in the shower,” she said, batting her eyes, “And know is a very strong word, but I can assure you he’s...aware?”

“Mmm, I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said, “So what’s the fairest of the land need?”

She beamed, “You at my birthday party.” she said, more of a command than anything.

Roman made of show of mulling it over, unable to keep a straight face, “I think I can make it.”

Her fist punched the air, “Ya--”

“Nieve,” Logan’s voice called out sternly.

Her eyes shot wide and she scrambled out of frame. Seconds later, Logan reappeared in the frame without his glasses, towel tucked to his chest. He didn’t look particularly mad.

He squinted blearily at the screen, “Roman? “ his gaze slid over, “Dmitri? Shit sorry did she bug you?”

“Not at all,” Roman reassured, “It’s been a while since I came over anyway,”

Logan grabbed their glasses, adjusting the frames, “Yeah...I guess it has...Since you’re here did you get that email from the school?”

“Yeah, it’s bullshit, “ Roman said, rolling his eyes, “If the state cared they would have found the funds somewhere else, it’s all shady as fuck. ”

Logan nodded, saying goodnight before disconnecting.

As soon as his icon disappeared, Roman said, “Huh, that...reminded me,”

Dmitri started on the next pile of laundry, “Of what?” he said, brow pinched, concerned.

“I’ dunno something Remy brought up…” Roman said, playing with his hands, “It’s stupid really but---”

He yelped falling to the floor, Remus victoriously sliding into the rolling chair. He spun wildly, the web camera a laggy blur, with only loud obnoxious kissing noises heard amongst the screaming.

Eventually, Remus slowed down, and it was jarring how much he and Roman looked alike. It was more unnerving seeing such a sleazy look with Roman’s face.

“Oh Dmitri,” Remus mocked, even adopting the heavy accent Roman usually placed on his name, “Embrace me with those big, long artist hands of yours, god I’m going to melt--"

“Shut up--shut up! You Rat-- give it back-give it back--” Roman whined, clambering over the chair, elbowing him, “Give it back, fuckin- MOM,” At one point Roman managed to wrestle the laptop from Remus, kicking him out of the chair and sending him off with a finger-- which Remus promptly returned.

Dmitri’s silently wheezed as Roman turned around visibly frazzled, “God I forgot what I was say-Are you laughing at me?” he said, “Stop it--stop laughing it’s not--”

“It-” Dmitri’s covered his mouth, shoulders shaking “It kinda is,” He said between snorts, only laughing harder at the offended noises Roman made.

As his snickers died down, Roman crossed his arms, “You done yet?” he sniffed.

“Yeah…” he gasped, “Yea...h... I am…” he blinked a bit, a slow smile spreading across his face, “So... what’s this about my hands?”

Roman’s eyes shot wide, incoherent babbling coming from his mouth as his ears turned a bright cherry. He slowly shrank out of frame to promptly die.

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

#Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #roceit #sanders sides #ts sides #ts logan #ts virgil #ts remus #ts remy #ts patton #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #Antithesis

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edupunkn00b · 3 years ago

Text

Matchr Ch. 4: set dark-mode enabled: true

Prev - set dark-mode enabled: true - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Intrulogical Week 2021 - Day 4: Darkside Logan Nearly everyone has a dark mode setting that would be enabled given the proper conditions.

Fic rated M, this chapter T - CW: swearing, nudity, sexually suggestive - WC: 6535 ---

𝚂𝚘, 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝… 💦 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Logan nearly dropped his phone when he rushed to cover his mouth before a surprised laugh could escape. He quickly tapped back a reply.

𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚊 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Remus’ device buzzed and he read his message. Remus smiled wickedly, and quickly tapped at his screen. After he sent the message, he looked up and gazed at Logan, one eyebrow raised.

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎, 𝙸'𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 … 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗…

When his device vibrated, Logan blinked at the message and fought to suppress a grin. He quickly sent a response and smiled innocently, waiting for Remus to read it.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔…

Blushing, he nudged Remus with his shoulder. The taller man grinned back, waggling his eyebrows. Logan bit his lips, attempting to stifle the laughter trying to bubble its way to the surface. The security guard standing by the Blue Whale plaque a few yards away cleared his throat, glaring at them.

It was finally Wednesday evening and the pair had met for their second date at the Museum of Natural History for a members-only preview of the new gemstone exhibit. The presumably exclusive event had turned the ordinarily tame main hall into a raucous zoo of over-dressed patrons milling about with champagne glasses and under-chilled paté. The crowd mingled and gossiped while they took selfies in front of the T-Rex and feigned appreciation for the geological significance of an unpolished, six-thousand kilogram garnet.

Remus and Logan had spent ten torturous minutes braving the crowd before making their escape down to the quieter and cooler ocean life display. It was one of the older exhibits in the museum and, tonight, at least, was nearly empty. One other couple had also made their way out of the fray to take advantage of the relative calm of the surrounding sea dioramas. Still, the guard watched the two of them like a nervous chaperone, seeming to fear they would suddenly strip and start rutting right there on the polished wooden bench.

Remus’ phone buzzed and he quickly checked it. He mimed a disappointed look when he read Logan’s serious response. He slid a few inches away from Logan on the bench, eyeing him carefully. He began tapping at his phone, composing a new message. He wrote for a long time. At one point, Logan tried to peer over his shoulder to see what he was writing but Remus stuck out his tongue and twisted away, obscuring his screen from the shorter man’s view.

Rolling his eyes and grinning, Logan crossed his legs and pointedly stared out at the coral reef diorama in the nearest display case as Remus continued to tap away at his phone. Finally, Remus’ tapping ceased and Logan held his phone tightly in anticipation, waiting for the buzz that would alert him that he’d received Remus’ message. Finally, he felt his phone vibrate and after a moment, Remus playfully stomped his foot, staring at Logan. Pressing his lips tightly together to suppress his laughter, Logan made a show of counting to sixty before checking his phone.

Finally, he opened the message and began to read the rather lengthy text Remus had composed. He nearly dropped his phone when he got about fifty words in and Remus let out a sharp cackle before whispering, “Sorry!” to the guard, covering his mouth with his hand. Logan’s neck and face grew hot and before he’d even finished reading the message, he stood and tugged at Remus’ sleeve. He leaned close to his ear to whisper, “How about we get out of here and you can show me if you really mean that?”

Shimmying his shoulders, Remus purred back in his ear, “All you had to do was ask!”

Their muffled chuckles echoed through the lobby as they raced toward the exit hand-in-hand. Logan and Remus burst out laughing as they ran and pushed their way through the revolving doors, spilling out into the mild spring night. They caught their breath at the top of the steps, Logan hiding his face behind Remus' shoulder as passerbys stared at the pair in tuxedos behaving like children who'd escaped a field trip. Remus grinned and made an exaggerated shushing motion at one greying woman who glared at them as she walked her Shiba Inu. "Shhh!" he stage whispered. "Keep it down or our parents'll catch us."

Logan stiffened briefly and rubbed his crooked fingers. They still ached sometimes from the fractures that had never been properly set. He tried to force away the memory.

Seeming to notice Logan's sudden shift in mood, Remus turned and cupped his cheek. Logan closed his eyes as he placed his hand over Remus', capturing the warmth of the taller man's palm against his face. He smiled up at him and leaned closer, inhaling the soft musky fragrance of his cologne and the hint of cinnamon from his favorite mints.

Remus wrapped his other arm around Logan's waist, closing the distance between them and capturing his lips in a breathless kiss.

When they came up for air, Remus murmured against Logan's ear, his hot breath sending a cascade of goosebumps over his flesh. "Can I bring you home?"

"Y—yes," Logan croaked before clearing his throat. You can bring me anywhere. He shook his head slightly, grasping at his last tendrils of logical thought. "We'll have an easier time getting a Lyft or a cab if we get crosstown first." He tilted his chin toward the entrance of Central Park across the street. "It's a lovely night. We could cut across the park."

"Oh, Mr. Sanders! You're not trying to get me into the park for a little public indecency, are you?" Logan’s breath hitched and then he felt a flash of shame when Remus continued, shaking his head. “Oh, no, that’s wrong.” Remus let his hands fall down to Logan's hips and swayed them back and forth as he growled against Logan’s neck. "What I meant to say is 'please take me into the park for a little public indecency!'"

Logan’s voice momentarily failed him. Finally he managed to whisper back, “It would be unwise at this time of the night. NYPD has extra patrols after dark.’ Remus pulled back slightly and gazed into his eyes, a little pout tugging at his lower lip. Logan felt himself getting lost in those emerald pools. “Besides,” he continued, “I do not believe what you texted me would work outdoors.”

A half an hour later, they were mid-way through the park, and had stopped to admire the way the moon reflected off of Turtle Pond… and because Logan couldn’t resist the way the moonlight reflected off of Remus’ eyes and had drawn him into a kiss. Remus' hands felt hot against his body where he'd slipped them underneath his tuxedo jacket, seeming to burn through the cotton of his shirt. He’d started to melt into Remus’ embrace when a sudden sound drew his attention and he broke away.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, arms still wrapped around Logan’s waist as he turned, staring out at the poorly lit path around them. He’d just opened his mouth to respond when a gangly man in a worn leather jacket stepped out of the shadows, the glint of a knife flashing near his hip.

“Oye, lovebirds. Your wallets, now.”

Remus made a surprised sound as Logan stepped between him and the man with the knife. “I don’t think so. Move along.”

“Shut the fuck up, petardo, and gimme your fucking wallets!” The man lunged toward them. Logan grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer and he twisted the man’s hand up against his own chest, just puncturing his shirt with the tip of his own knife. Keeping his body between Remus and the man, Logan pressed his fingers into the soft juncture of his neck and shoulder and hissed quietly in his ear. “Maldito pendejo, lo tocas y desearías que solo te hubiero matado. Lárgate de aquí!” (You fucking idiot, touch him and you’ll wish that I’d only killed you. Get the fuck out of here.)

The man struggled, wincing as Logan’s fingers dug painfully into his shoulder. Logan calmly stared into his eyes, pushing the man’s hand and the tip of the knife against his ribs. His eyes widened and Logan could feel the tiny pop reverberate through the man’s hand as the tip of the sharp blade pierced his skin. The man dropped the knife and ran. Logan kicked the knife off the path and into the lake, then turned to Remus.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he reached up to cup Remus’ face in his hands. Logan’s brow furrowed as he searched his eyes, gently brushing his thumbs over Remus’ cheekbones, his lips. He felt the rock in his stomach soften when Remus’ mouth curled up in a smile.

“Holy fuck that was hot!” Remus bounced on the balls of his feet and squeezed Logan’s shoulders, looking him up and down with wide eyes. “What the fuck did you say to him? My Spanish is rusty, but I think I heard the word ‘dead?’”

Logan tried to laugh, shaking his head. “It—it was nothing. I—I just told him, um, that your dead grandmother’s rosary was in your wallet. I, um, I was just going for sympathy but I… I think it spooked him and he thought I was trying to curse him.”

“Damn,” Remus bit his lower lip, “We’re gonna have to find out what else you can say in Spanish.”

Looking up and down the dark path, Logan suppressed a shudder and forced the smile to remain on his lips. “If we start moving again, I can give you a preview… “ Remus grinned and tugged at Logan’s hand. Once they were several yards away and on a brighter section of the trail through the park, Logan whispered in his ear, “Vamos a follar hasta que no podamos caminar.”

Remus sucked in a breath and held his hand tighter. “I know half those words and they’re all good.”

---

Later that night, Logan lay wrapped in Remus’ arms, his back pressed against the heat of his chest. Logan was tracing the sharp, shadowed lines of his favorite part of Remus’ tattoo sleeves. It was a simple monochrome design that depicted a grinning, robed skeleton bearing the scales of justice, lifting the edge of his blindfold and peeking out. He smiled as Remus nuzzled the back of his neck, the bristles of his mustache sending sparks across Logan's skin.

Remus’ low voice rumbled against his back and it sent a fuzzy heat through his body. “Will you stay tonight?” He closed his eyes. Logan knew he should say no. He was too relaxed, too unfiltered, too raw around this man. It left him vulnerable and put him at risk of letting down his guard completely and making a mistake.

Remus turned him around in his embrace, a soft, hopeful smile lighting up his face.

No. Say no, Logan. Say no. No.

Steeling himself, Logan met Remus' dancing eyes and took a deep breath.

“Yes,” Logan whispered. “I’d love to stay.”

Wrapped in Remus’ arms, every cell in his body felt alive, each sensation overpowering his controls. Their heated skin, the fluffy cloud of the covers half-draped over their bodies, the sudden flex of Remus’ muscles as he leaned in to kiss his mouth… all of it roiled through his skin, his flesh, his bones. His heart swelled and he felt warmed from the inside out while his mind buzzed with a soft chant of Remus’ name.

Logan closed his eyes and let go, falling into their kiss.

---

It was nearly dawn when hunger finally lured them from Remus’ bedroom. Logan was swimming in a borrowed hoodie and pair of slightly too-long joggers. Remus had reluctantly slipped on a pair of fleece shorts only after Logan reminded him that the curtains were still open in the living room.

Remus poked around in his refrigerator and his freezer. “Do you like lasagna?” He pulled a wrapped package from the top shelf.

“Hmm… that appears to be home-made.”

Remus scoffed and pressed a hand to his chest. “Of course it is! Are you implying that writers can’t cook?”

Laughing, Logan laced his fingers behind Remus’ neck and pulled him down into a slow kiss, stopping only when the other suddenly broke away as the dish threatened to slip from his grip. “Will that suffice for an apology?”

“Ah, well... We’ll have to see,” Remus feigned a hurt look that was belied by the happy twitching of his mustache and the flush crawling from his chest and neck up to his hairline. “How about I get this in the oven… and then you can try your apology again?”

The moment Remus closed the oven door, Logan put one hand on his hip and the other gently twisted through his hair. He tugged at his body until Remus faced him and he hungrily captured his lips. Snaking one hand around Logan's waist and the other across his back, Remus drew their bodies closer together, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, Remus stiffened, making a low whining sound in the back of his throat. Logan pulled away, wide eyes scanning Remus’ face. "What is it? Did I—did I hurt you?"

He shook his head rapidly, pulling him back into their embrace. "No, no, no, everything's fine, I—” he crushed their lips together again and Logan hummed happily.

Remus broke away again, a small frustrated groan bursting from his lips. "Ugh, I'm so sorry… I—I—” he fumbled at the countertop, reaching for a pen cup. "I just gotta write something down before it—" he made a floaty motion with his hand, then grinned when his fingers closed on a Sharpie.

A low, pleased laugh began to bubble up from Logan's chest as he released him. "Oh, of course…" Logan watched as Remus scribbled furiously on his hand with the marker. Once he ran out of room on his left hand, Remus switched, and continued his frantic scrawl on his right. Logan grinned and began to tug him toward his bedroom.

He steered him down the hall, toward his desk and storyboard and turned on the desk lamp, where Remus seamlessly picked up an index card, swapped the marker for a pen, and continued to write. Logan sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him with rapt attention.

After several minutes of writing, Remus began to tack some of the new cards up on his storyboard. He took a step back and peered at the board, head tilted. He suddenly leapt forward, shifting the red string from one pinned point to another. In a flurry of writing and sketching, Remus added more cards and attached them to the board, as well. Several of the existing cards ended up in a small stack in the corner of his desk, which Remus now shuffled through, sorting into three separate piles.

Logan watched him for a few more minutes and then wordlessly left the room. He returned a short while later with a handful of napkins, a large glass of ice water, and a cup of tea, setting them down on a clear spot at the far edge of the desk. While Logan was gone, Remus had pulled out a larger sheet of heavy paper and had begun to sketch with charcoal, a shadowed, interlocking pattern of what looked like stones now covering most of the page.

After several more minutes of sketching and note-taking, Logan squinted at the clock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Remus actually drink anything, so he picked up a napkin and wrapped it around the glass to absorb the condensation on its surface. He stroked Remus’ arm and held out the water, smiling at his vacantly surprised expression. “Drink,” he said, as he nodded at the glass in his hand. Remus finished half of it in a few gulps before resuming his work.

The next two hours followed a similar pattern. Every thirty or so minutes, Logan would place either the water glass or the tea in Remus’ hand and he would drink greedily for a few seconds before returning his attention to the storyboard. About half-way through his explosion of creativity, the savory aroma of the baking lasagna wafted into the bedroom. Logan's stomach grumbled but Remus seemed unaffected. Logan went to the kitchen and peeled back the aluminum foil and allowed it to cook, uncovered, for five minutes more. Finally, he removed it from the oven and set it aside, loosely covered, and checked on Remus.

Remus was standing in front of his storyboard, one hand gripping three different colored pencils, the other tangled in his hair. He turned when Logan let a floorboard creak as he re-entered the room. “I’ve almost got it,” he whispered as though he feared speaking any louder would disrupt the cards set out on his desk.

Logan stood behind him and drew his arms around his waist, slowly stroking the smooth skin near his hips with his thumbs. He gave Remus a gentle squeeze and kissed his bare shoulder. “Would talking help?” he asked, just as quietly.

Licking his lips, eyes darting between the board and the cards in front of him, Remus nodded. He picked up a card and held it out in front of a tangled mass on the outer edge of the board. “I need the antagonist to get away with murder.” Logan stiffened, and Remus added, “Attempted murder. It’s too soon for the protagonist to know that the lab tech is really the scientist from the last book. I just need to slow her down, but she can’t actually die yet.” He bit his lip, turning to look at Logan. “And she can’t be suspicious. She has to think it’s an accident or….”

Logan furrowed his brow, “You could make her sick.”

“No, she’s healthy and able…”

“No, I mean, have the lab tech administer something that would make her ill. But not anything that would come up on a tox screen if she were to test herself.”

Remus nodded rapidly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah! She’s totally the type to test her own blood as soon as she’s feeling under the weather.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she’s maybe a little paranoid,” he laughed.

“It is not an unreasonable concern. Her lab tech is actually trying to poison her.” Logan winked at Remus.

His eyes were fixed again on the board and he leaned over, feeling for his laptop. “What can he give her, though, that she wouldn’t notice and that would make her sick enough to bench her for a chapter or two?” He opened the laptop and a fresh browser tab. Remus’ hands hovered over the keys as he gnawed at his lip, thinking.

“For how long do you need the illness to last?”

Chuckling, Remus joked, “I know. We’ll order one illness on drugstore.com, three to five days’ worth.”

Logan found the card on the board with each character’s breakdown. “No allergies?” he asked.

Remus sighed and shook his head.

“Does she drink coffee?”

“By the gallon.”

“Flavored coffee?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

Remus grinned and rubbed his hands together, “What are you thinking?”

“Cinnamon oil would be unlikely to come up on a tox screen unless she was specifically looking for it. If she is a habitual coffee drinker, and”—he pointed to her character card—”a heavy smoker, she won’t likely taste much of it. In the proper concentration, you could induce something akin to a diabetic coma.” He raised a finger when Remus scrunched his nose. “But she’s not actually diabetic, so she would recover as long as the initial dose was properly titrated.” He shrugged. “She’d only feel like she was dying. For a few days.”

Remus clapped his hands together, his mustache dancing over his grin as he beamed at Logan. “I like it!” He looked over the board. “That would give the antagonist time to clear out the evidence from his storage locker and—”

Logan shook his head. “He wouldn’t have a storage locker. Not at a reputable facility that would be sufficiently secure to hide anything important. It would be unwise to pay with a credit card—it’s too traceable. And the decent ones don’t take cash.” Logan shrugged. “If he’s smart, he’d rent a motel room for a few days while he needs a place to store the extra equipment.”

“Logan!” Remus grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him fiercely. “You just saved me from a plot hole!” He stepped back, tugging at his mustache. “Or… Oh! That’s how he gets caught. Yes!” Remus scrawled something on another card and tacked it on the upper edge of the board. Engrossed in his process, Remus continued to fill index cards as he spoke. “That’s it! Fuck, yes! Oh, Logan! How do you feel about a fall wedding? You’re a keeper!”

Logan blushed and watched Remus write for a few more minutes. Finally, he gathered Remus’ empty glass and tea cup to refill them. In the kitchen, he set a timer for one hour, pledging to himself to make Remus stop to eat if he was still working when it sounded. Returning to Remus’ bedroom, Logan set down a fresh cup of tea and a full glass of water before settling into Remus’ desk chair with his own tea to watch Remus create.

---

Remus woke with a yawn that came out more like a groan. He was pleasantly warm, the room bright with sunshine diffused through the sheer curtains Logan had helped him select a few weeks ago. Over the last month or so, the pair had fallen into a comfortable pattern. Their dates would begin somewhere innocuous and, perhaps, a little tourist-y. Last week, it had been the South Street Seaport. Last night had been Lincoln Center. Wherever they met, inevitably, they would make their way back to Remus's apartment and the hours would slip away as they lost themselves in each other.

“Hmm, you’re awake,” Logan’s voice purred, quiet and low and gravelly. Remus closed his eyes and sighed contentedly as Logan tightened his arms around his body and nuzzled sleepily against his neck.

“Mm-hm…” Remus smiled, relishing the warmth of Logan’s body seeping through his skin. He sunk into the sensation, feeling their limbs meld together. His eyes snapped open when realized just how much he was feeling. “Oh! Well, good morning? Ah, are you, um…?”

A small laugh bubbled against Remus’ ear, the sound rumbling from deep in Logan’s throat. He hummed again, feather-light kisses against Remus’ back punctuating his words. “Waking up with you… amazing, sexy… naked in my arms… I believe it is an unavoidable condition.”

He held his breath as Logan’s hand gently brushed down his chest and his belly. Remus felt the man’s smile grow against his shoulder. “And I see it’s a mutual condition.” His cheeks flushed. “I must ask you a question, though…”

His low voice reverberated through the skin of Remus’ back. Breath caught in his throat, Remus managed to whisper, "Anything."

Logan pulled him closer and growled against the side of his neck, "What do you plan to do about it?"

Remus’ heart pounded in his chest. He rolled over and melted from the heat in Logan’s eyes. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas….”

---

Finally, the march of time and their undeniable need for a good scrub brought them back to a bit of reality. After a longer-than-strictly necessary shower, Logan helped Remus strip the bed of the wrinkled sheets, re-making it with a fresh set from the linen closet. Before replacing the pillows, Logan tugged at something caught between the mattress and the headboard and pulled out Remus’ weighted blanket.

“Oh, sorry," Remus mumbled. "Um, I’ll take that.” He looked down, blushing and hands twitching as he worked to fold the heavy material. He looked around for somewhere to stash it.

Logan smiled, “Weighted blankets are a valuable tool for managing anxiety. You needn’t hide it unless you wish to.” He stood near the foot of Remus’ bed and held out his hands, eyebrows raised. Remus brought it to him and Logan carefully laid the folded blanket over the foot of the bed, smoothing it out and tugging at the edges until it was perfectly symmetrical. “It will be easier to reach when you need it if you keep it out.”

Remus stared down at his bed. “Thanks, it… it looks nice like this.” His voice was rough but he smiled as he looped an arm around Logan’s waist and drew him closer. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you relax while I make us some coffee? And maybe some breakfast? I’ve got bagels and stuff.”

Logan chuckled as he brushed a hand down Remus’ chest. “You do not need to serve me. I’m happy to help.”

“Nuh-huh.” Remus shook his head, now grinning. “Nope. You’re going to relax and I’m going to make you breakfast or lunch whatever the hell we should call it.”

He started toward the doorway and Logan began to follow so Remus spread his arms across the open door, playfully blocking the hallway. “You shall not pass!”

Laughing, Logan let out an exaggerated sigh and sat at Remus’ desk. “Fine….”

“There ya go… look, your phone’s right there. You can watch YouTube or something.” Logan laughed and shook his head, squealing in surprise when Remus snuck one more kiss against the back of his neck before escaping out to the kitchen.

Still smiling, Logan picked up his phone. After confirming his VPN was still running, he checked his email. There was a small flurry of auto-notifications from several buy and sell orders that a recent IPO series had triggered. He scanned each of them and saw nothing concerning. Having the discipline to follow through on the fact that no human being could actually have more perfect knowledge than the best stock market algorithms made his job simple sometimes. Once he'd made his human decisions around the small 10% he allotted for it in his portfolio, the remaining 90% was all automated, fully in the hands of the algorithm.

It had served him well, with the AI-managed portions of his portfolio consistently outperforming the other 10%, and dramatically outperforming the indices.

He set a reminder to check the Nikkei in twelve hours and gave his attention to the rest of his inbox. Sighing, he opened the email from his brother and called down the hall to Remus. “Patton sent another one.”

Remus entered the room with two cups of coffee. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

Logan rolled his eyes and read from the screen. “‘What do you call an indecisive bee?’” Remus grinned and raised his eyebrows. Suppressing a groan, Logan accepted the coffee and muttered, “A maybe.”

Remus threw his head back, laughing. “I should’ve seen that one coming. Okay, send him this one…” He held Logan’s coffee for a moment to let him type his response. He wiggled in place for a moment, then laughed. “Okay, ‘Did you hear about the gullible cow who visited a tannery?’”

Logan shook his head, unable to stifle a groaning laugh. “Oh, this cannot end well.”

Remus bit his lip and grinned. “‘She was easily suede.’”

“You know, I could just give you Patton’s email address and you two could trade awful puns all day long and leave me out of it.”

Remus sat down next to Logan on the bed and returned his coffee. As soon as his hand was freed, he brushed back a lock of Logan’s still-damp hair and lightly kissed the shell of his ear. “But watching you roll your eyes at our corny jokes is half the fun.”

He kissed the side of his head and returned to the kitchen to finish cooking. Logan scrolled further down, deleting several messages without bothering to open them until he saw the subject Matchr Data Request/GDPR User Request Response #9293.

Logan opened the email and quickly scanned the standard mashup of marketspeak and legalese boilerplate. 'Thank you for your interest in the services we provide you at Matchr, the internet's top matching service. As part of our commitment to you and your privacy, here is a compilation of all data...

He paused at the size of the data file. 254.37 MB, zipped. Logan shook his head. That shouldn't be possible. How did you get your grubby little hands on that much data about me?

Logan flagged the email to review once he went home later that afternoon and closed his email just as Remus returned, smiling, carrying a tray of toasted bagels, a large bowl of strawberries and more coffee.

He set the tray on the side of the bed and, with a flourish, waved and snapped open a cloth napkin he'd had draped over his arm. Winking, he laid the napkin over Logan's lap, letting his fingers brush against his thighs as he did. "Oh, excuse me, sir," he said, before turning to reach for Logan's empty cup. Pushing aside all thoughts of emails and data files and puns, Logan pulled Remus onto his lap, laughing as he warned, "Watch out for the tray!"

---

Janus got to the office early the following Monday. The team was scheduled to meet their angel investors that afternoon and he hadn’t yet found the hook for their presentation. Once the rest of the team, including his garrulous assistant and his loving but incredibly distracting husband, arrived, no amount of concentration would grant him the focus he needed to properly prepare. He opened his office door and scowled when the motion detector in his office did not turn on the lights. He slapped at the switch on the wall and swore under his breath when the office remained dark. Leaving the door to slowly close behind him, Janus had taken one step toward his desk when his small banker’s lamp suddenly clicked on.

Logan Sanders sat in his tall leather chair, legs crossed at the ankle, feet propped on the edge of the desk. “You’ve been careless, Mr. Woods.” he said, not looking up as Janus stared at him, the door closing behind him with a quiet clunk. He hummed, adjusting his glasses as he flipped through a thick sheaf of printed algorithm output. “Rather more arrogant than strictly sloppy, though, I suppose.”

Janus’s eyes widened as he fumbled behind his back, grasping for the door handle.

“Don’t bother.” Gaze still fixed on the stack of papers in his lap, Logan raised a gloved hand and waved the tiny controller he must have found fastened to the underside of the middle desk drawer. “The remote electronic locks you had installed last year are quite effective.”

Pausing his perusal of the documents, Logan invited Janus to take a seat in front of his own desk. Janus eyed where the man's boots rested on its polished surface. "You needn't worry," Logan murmured without appearing to have looked up. "I ensured the soles are clean and won't leave any residue behind to mar your lovely desk here. Mahogany, is it?"

"Red ivorywood."

Logan chuckled. "Of course it is."

“How did you get into my office?” Janus began to mentally compile a list of security staff who would no longer be staff by the end of the day.

Logan rolled his eyes. “That’s a boring question." Janus just glared. "Fine. Not using your spouse's birthdate as a key code isn't just security advice for the straights, you know." Janus felt his face grow hot. Especially when your spouse's twin is fucking a madman, he thought to himself.

"Don’t you wonder why I’m here?” Logan asked.

“I would assume Remus has told you some of our shared history and you’re here for a little revenge?”

“Oh, I assure you, this is strictly business, Mr. Woods." Logan frowned slightly, eyes still fixed on the documents before him. "If I felt the need to have a personal discussion with you, I would have stopped by your apartment on 49th street.”

“Stay the fuck away from my home.”

“Hm, well that’s just like placing a book on a high shelf and telling no-one to read it.” Logan shook his head. “Regardless, your personal failings are not my concern at the moment. I’m here about your little algorithm and the data you use to feed it.”

Janus leaned back in his seat and waved his hand as though he stood before a presentation screen. “We have an excellent track record and, from what I observed a few weeks ago, seemed to have found you a compatible match.”

“Yes, Remus and I are incredibly compatible. Literally incredible. Nearly all of my internet usage is funneled through a VPN. It should not be possible for your little system to find even a mediocre match for me, let alone someone with whom I actually have anything in common.”

Janus leaned back in his chair, tucking his arm behind him on the back rest and crossing one leg over the other, ankle at the knee. "If I understand you correctly, you had a good time on your date and so you became suspicious because our matching algorithm was too effective? That would make a great ad." Janus tried to laugh but it came out sounding choked to even his own ears. Logan’s smile grew when Janus cleared his throat. "And so you requested your full data file and found activity that you knew you performed through a VPN."

"Not a VPN. Your VPN."

"What are you talking about?" Janus' eyes shifted around the office and he discretely laid his hand over the keys in his pocket.

"TwoFace VPN, of which you are the controlling owner."

Logan held up a financial report from the stack on his desk.

"Silent owner." Janus shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. He watched as Logan’s eyes flicked over to the tremor in his fingers and he delicately folded them in his lap. "Owner on paper only. I have no visibility or control over day to day operations."

"Yes, that is correct. Your control is restricted to contracts, such as this one which grants Matchr full access to all user activity from TwoFace VPN."

Janus paled but his voice remained steady. "Pure speculation."

Tutting quietly, Logan hefted the sheaf of reports in front of him. “As you well know from the data you’ve scraped from my VPN usage, it's part of my job to read between the lines in stock filings.”

“Fine,” Janus rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, feigning boredom. “So you're bent out of shape that I know what porn sites you’ve visited and matched you to a compatible man. What's the problem?"

Logan chuckled without smiling, low and humorless. The sound made Janus’ skin crawl. “Oh, my quibble with the morality of your operation is the least of your problems. What sort of people do you suppose regularly use VPNs? You should know, they're not all trying to watch Friends on French Netflix as your advertisements might lead one to believe.”

He met Janus’ eyes, a slow smile spreading on his face. “What do you think would happen if someone actually dangerous were to be told that you had stored their VPN activity and could trace it back to them individually?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well, yes.” Logan raised his eyebrows as though surprised. “I thought that was obvious.”

“You’d release your own data just to pwn me?”

Logan fanned through the report on his lap, opening to a seemingly random page. “Oh, you didn’t think this was a printout of my data stored in your systems, did you?” He shook his head, brow furrowed as he adjusted his glasses then tapped at the report. “No, no, no, no, no. I have something different here.”

He began to read. “‘Gambino, Carlo. Matchr ID number 937673. From gambinoc_history_full.csv row 296. Query: “hookers near me”.’” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fucking moron.” He continued to read.

“‘Row 297: “24 hour dry cleaner”.’” Logan met Janus’ eyes again while flipping through the report without looking. He resumed reading. Janus noticed that some of the pages in the report had been dogeared.

“‘Siegel, Bertrand.’” Logan pointed down at the report. “You probably know him as ‘Lil Bugsey.’ from his last racketeering trial. ‘Matchr ID number 535893. From siegelb_history_full.csv, row 917’”—he looked up briefly to raise an eyebrow at Janus—”Hm. ‘Query: “judge peter j. gable home address nyc.” Row 918, query: “directions to 222 east 39th murray hill”.’” Logan tilted his head briefly at Janus. “Interesting,” he murmured as he flipped to a new page without looking. He met Janus’ eyes, then began to read.

“‘King, Roman T. Matchr ID number 000004.’” Janus’ hands started to shake. “‘From kingrt_history_full.csv, row 118. Query: reverse lookup discord username:octodare.’” He frowned. “There’s an app for that, you know. A little tacky, though, don’t you think, to have your husband stalk your ex-boyfriend online?” He squinted at the printout. “Though… judging by the datetime stamp, my guess is this is before you were married.”

Janus narrowed his eyes, fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. “‘Row 119, query: whois dns lookup for 193.653.98.’” Logan paused, eyes trained on the report before him. “‘Row 120... Query: ‘crisis suicide text line us.’” Janus thought he heard Logan’s breath catch. He silently read the report for a few moments, then cleared his throat and flipped a few pages ahead. Logan resumed his recitation of Roman’s search history. “‘Row 2326. Query: herbal remedy erectile—’”

“That’s enough!” Janus stood, slamming his hands on the desk. Logan didn’t flinch. “You’ve made your point, Sanders.” He grit his teeth, fighting to lower his voice. “What do you want?”

“I want you to expunge all of my data. Every bit and byte of it. And I want proof that you’ve obliterated any shred of evidence of me or my data from your systems. After you’ve finished, you will grant me access to ensure you were thorough in your removal.”

“What makes you think I won't just store it elsewhere?”

Logan looked down at the report in his lap, then raised his eyebrow at him. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Janus glared at Logan. He took a few deep breaths, consciously relaxing his jaw to stop grinding his teeth. He let out one more slow exhale and met Logan’s eyes. “Fine. Fine, whatever it is you're hiding… I'll make sure your information is off our servers. I will then allow you three supervised hours on our systems to poke and prod to your heart’s content.”

Logan nodded and began to lower his feet from the desk. Janus held up a hand.

“We’re not done yet.

“Whatever you may think you know about my personal history with Remus, you need to know that he is very dear to me.” Logan chuckled darkly, eyebrow raised, as he held up the picture sitting on Janus’ desk from his and Roman’s wedding. Janus sucked his teeth. “Remus… Remus is a better man than any of us." He looked down at his hands. "You need to be real with him, Sanders. Whichever ‘you’ is real, whether it’s the one he's falling for, or the one who breaks into people's offices to blackmail them, just…” Janus let his mask drop.

He leaned over the desk, getting as close to Logan as he dared. “Please just let him go if this is all a game to you. I know that look in his eyes. He's… He doesn't deserve to have his heart broken.” Janus’ eyes landed on the picture frame still in Logan’s gloved hands. “Not again.”

Janus straightened to his full height and crossed his arms in front of him. “Or, so help me, if you hurt that man… whatever the fuck we may have in these files that has you so concerned…” Janus shook his head and stared Logan in the eye. “I can guarantee that will be the least of your worries.”

Smirking, Logan raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“Well, yes. I thought that was obvious.”

---

taglist: @mavenmush @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @tsfanficarchive @bluerosesbleedred

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edupunkn00b · 3 years ago

Text

Matchr, Ch. 2: join(remus,logan)

Prev - join(remus,logan) - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Intrulogical Week 2021 Day 2: Art/Science - Whether through the art of science or the science of art, beautiful and incredible things can happen when you bring both together.

Fic rated M, this chapter T - CW: swearing, paramedics/hospital mention, sexually suggestive - WC: 7825 ---

Logan arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early and checked his coat. When he asked to be seated at the table reserved for the King party, the host's eyes briefly widened before he smiled broadly and led Logan to a quiet table in the corner diagonally opposite the long, elegant bar.

The host bowed his head slightly, watching Logan appraise the location. "I hope your table is to your liking, Mister…" the man prompted gently.

"Sanders. Yes, thank you." He slid into the seat against the wall, facing out toward the rest of the dining room. "This is lovely." Nodding again, the host beckoned a wait staff bearing a water pitcher and left Logan in peace.

After the waiter left, Logan brought his glass to his lips and scanned the restaurant. The guests at the smaller tables were primarily quiet couples of varying ages, with two larger, more raucous parties seated around long tables closer to the bar. There was an emergency exit in the opposite corner and the door to the kitchen was a few feet from the proximal edge of the bar. A small alcove mid-way on the wall between the kitchen and the fire exit likely led to restrooms.

Either there were no cameras or other surveillance devices in the main part of the restaurant or they were too well-hidden for Logan to detect. Given the fairly dim lighting—the large room was primarily illuminated by collections of small candles at each table and a few sconces dotting the walls at even intervals—a camera would likely need night vision enabled to detect very much of anything.

Logan looked around at the other patrons. Most were dressed in expensive-looking but not overly flashy dresses and suits. He shifted in his seat, taking in the room, and recognized a few faces dotted around the tables from the gossip pages of The Post. At one table, he spotted the Chair of the New York Stock Exchange… holding hands with a man much younger than her husband.

No, Logan surmised they wouldn't actually have cameras here. It appeared that discretion was served alongside the aperitifs.

Almost every table and seat at the bar was filled. The ones that were not bustled with activity as the bussing staff efficiently prepared them for their next guests. Logan was mildly surprised that he had been seated early and briefly feared he had miscalculated the schedule. He checked the text thread with 'Remus' and confirmed the time. He still had a few minutes before the man was due to arrive. It appeared that Logan had been seated as a courtesy. He narrowed his eyes, musing over this new bit of evidence. Could his date actually be the Remus King? Logan shook his head. It was much more likely that the man had simply led the restaurant to believe as such when he’d made the reservation.

Looking around his table one more time, he drank more of his water, leaving enough in the glass to demonstrate that he wasn't yet finished, and stood. He carefully left his napkin on his seat and pushed in his chair, then slipped away from the table. He walked in the direction of the alcove he presumed led to the restrooms before darting toward the bar at the last moment. He sat down at a barstool that afforded him a view of both the path from the host's podium and their table, and waited. Logan ordered a tonic water and the bartender returned quickly with his drink. He left a hefty tip to compensate for his inexpensive tee-totaling order and continued to watch the room.

Logan did not have long to wait. After a few brief minutes, Logan caught sight of the host leading a tall man with neon green streaks in his hair through the restaurant, directly toward their table. A passing waiter blocked his view of the man’s face and by the time his vantage point was clear, all he could see was the man's back. The man's shoulders slumped briefly when they approached the empty table and Logan watched the host murmur something close to his ear, gesturing toward the restrooms. The man with green hair nodded and slid into his seat.

The man fidgeted with his water glass and his jacket sleeves. His knee bounced violently enough to rattle the candles on the table until he forcibly pushed a palm down on his thigh and his heel pressed against the floor. He was quite obviously nervous, but Logan didn’t feel he could draw any decisive conclusions from nerves alone. Whether a man was trying to pull a con or was on a genuine first date, he would potentially exhibit anxiety if he thought his date couldn’t see him. And again, Logan pondered, if this was actually the real Remus King, what would a man of his stature have to be nervous about?

No. Even with the green hair, until he could see his face, Logan would not be convinced. The man could be a super fan, or, Logan reasoned, someone actually attempting to impersonate the author. After all, nearly all the images Logan had found were readily available online and the man could have simply dyed his hair to match. Since his date’s first experience with him had been with his overly trusting brother, perhaps he expected Logan to be an easy mark. Well, let’s not disabuse him of his idea that I'll be easy to fool. It is always better to be underestimated.

Suddenly, the large table near the bar erupted in a loud—and meandering—rendition of Happy Birthday. His date turned in his seat, eyes following the source of the song, a little smile playing at his mustachioed lips.

Logan’s glass slipped from his hand and landed on the bar with a loud thunk. Thankfully, the heavy glass was tempered and sturdy and did not shatter. Logan stared. Holy hell. It’s actually him.

Waving for the bartender, Logan croaked out, “A water, please.” He tipped the man again and drained the glass. He put it down with a shaking hand and pressed both palms flat against the surface of the bar. He counted out his breaths until he could no longer feel the thrumming of his pulse in his fingertips. He inhaled and exhaled slowly one last time, then slipped away from the bar and returned to their table.

---

Remus stood outside the restaurant and checked the time. Again. Okay, good. He’s not really early. It's just a couple of minutes before seven. Perfect timing. He blew out a hard breath and licked his lips, pressing a smile on his face as he pulled open the door.

“Hello, Mr. King! It’s good to see you, sir.” Remus felt his shoulders relax slightly at the sight of Tom’s friendly-as-usual smile. The coat check clerk took his long green coat and he whispered a thanks along with her tip. Tom gestured broadly toward the dining room as though he was welcoming Remus into his own home. “Mr. Sanders arrived just a few minutes ago.”

Okay, I got at least one thing right tonight. The staff at Pio’s always make their patrons feel welcome.

From the outside, Pio’s looked like any other dinner date spot on the gentrified edge of Hell’s Kitchen. Despite it’s cookie-cutter appearance, the staff were always exceptionally kind and generous with their time and attention. Remus wasn’t sure how they managed it, but they always remembered their patrons’ names and did all they could to make them feel comfortable. And, Remus had to admit, as nervous as he felt, he needed all the help he could get.

Tom led him to his favorite table, far enough from the noisy action in the center of the dining room that they would be able to speak without raising their voices. They were still close enough, though, that they could people watch during any uncomfortable lulls in the conversation.

His heart sank when he saw their table was empty. Tom was quick to offer assurances. “I’m certain he only stepped away for a moment, Mr. King. Why don’t you have a seat? I can have Grace bring you something from the bar, if you'd like.”

“No, but, thank you.” Remus shook his head, shaking the host’s hand and slipping him a small tip. “Just some water would be nice.”

“Like minds.” Tom smiled gently and tilted his head toward the half-filled water glass already on the table. He’d left his napkin on his chair before he'd left. Remus bit his lip, wrestling the hope bubbling in his chest. Perhaps he really is coming right back?

“Thanks, Tom.”

Remus sat down and busied his hands with his own napkin, then he stared at the candlelight bouncing around the table. His eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair in front of him and he tried to imagine his date—Logan, he corrected himself—sitting across from him, picturing his somber face illuminated by the candles. He’d look like a Carvaggio—Remus squeezed his eyes shut. Focus. He was so lost in thought he failed to acknowledge when a waiter filled his water glass, looking up only after the server had left to attend to another table. Fuck. Rude. Remus pledged to make it up to him with a better than usual tip.

He took a sip of his water and, after he set down the glass, noticed his knee was shaking the entire table. He pushed down, gripping his leg tightly and forcing his heel to the floor. He’ll be right back. He’ll be right back, he promised himself.

But what if he isn’t? Or what if he already did come back and saw what a mess you are and nope’d right back out?

Just then, the large center table broke out into a joyous rendition of Happy Birthday. He turned in his seat, gaze following the voices and, seeing how the birthday girl blushed behind her partner's shoulder, a brilliant smile turning up her lips lightened his heart. There's still love out there.

Remus watched until she blew out her candles and kissed her partner. He felt a surge of second-hand optimism as he straightened in his seat, facing the empty chair in front of him. This is a nice place for a birthday. I wonder when his is. I could take him here… I’ll see if he likes this restaurant and then surprise him. I bet if I talked to Tom he'd help arrange for a cake…

He dragged his hand down his face. Fuck, you’re planning a future date when he ditched you before you even met. What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck makes you think this guy will be any different than all the rest? What the fuck makes you think you deserve—

A low voice from the other side of the table pulled Remus from his thoughts. “Good evening. Are you Remus?” He looked up and stopped breathing.

Standing before him was the man from the app. Instead of the more casual button down shirts he’d worn in the photos, tonight he wore a slim-fitting, three-piece suit in a soft indigo with a matching tie and a silken black shirt underneath. But it was undeniably him. The same dark hair swept to the side, just grazing his eyebrows. The same thick hipster-but-somehow-still-adorable Warby Parker frames. The same cupid’s bow smile. His smile.

Oh my god the camera didn’t do him justice.

What the camera didn't reveal was the brilliance in his clear, dark blue eyes, the right eye just a shade darker than the left. Nor did it show the tiny flecks of teal scattered around his pupils and the long, thick lashes that nearly brushed against his lenses. And the camera certainly couldn’t capture the deep resonance of his voice, a near-musical timbre that made the little hairs on the back of Remus’ neck stand at attention.

Finally, Remus’ burning lungs reminded him to exhale. His chest released and he breathed out “Hi, there.”

Logan’s smile grew. Clearing his throat and nearly toppling his chair as he jumped up from his seat, Remus stood, hand outstretched. He couldn’t quite decide if he should shake his hand or adjust his own jacket or pull out Logan’s chair and for a moment began all three. He reached toward him, offering his hand to the man to shake while simultaneously starting to walk around the table to pull out his chair, smoothing down the front of his blazer and running a hand through the his perpetually tousled hair.

Logan reached out, gripping his hand with a restrained strength that made Remus’ throat run dry. “I am Logan Sanders. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Remus King,” he cleared his throat. “Er, Remus. I, um,” he chuckled, his laugh pitched just slightly too high. “I was a little afraid you recognized me and left.” He clamped his lips shut, feeling a flush travel up his neck. Speak less, smile more. What the actual fuck are you doing, man?

Remus shook his head. Of all the stuck up, narcissistic—

Logan interrupted his spiral when he placed Remus' latest book on the table, face down to show the author’s picture on the back cover. His picture. The book had clearly been read at least once, with several dog-eared pages and a small tear on the cover repaired with clear tape.

“Because of this?” Logan asked, still smiling.

Remus nodded, speechless.

“I was actually convinced you were someone else using a pseudonym on the app. I feared you might have been trying to impersonate, well, yourself. I thought the best I could hope for was that you might be a fellow… fan of your work.”

Feeling a flush rise on his face, Remus looked down at his hands. He’d met fans before and it hadn't felt like this. “No, I’m just… me…”

Logan chuckled, “My brother said you were funny.”

Remus’ breath caught in his throat when he finally looked up and met the man’s eyes. Logan pulled out his chair and tilted his head toward Remus’. “Perhaps we should sit?”

Nodding, Remus sat down again. The two sat in silence for a few moments before Logan spoke again. “This is a nice restaurant. I’ve never been here before.”

“I live just a few blocks south. I like it here. It’s…” Remus' voice trailed off as he stared across the table, watching the candlelight dance over Logan’s features. His eyeglasses glinted and his whole face seemed to glow as the shadows and light worked together to caress his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. Carvaggio…

“Carvaggio?” Logan titled his head, still smiling, but with a slightly furrowed brow. Remus’ throat tightened as he realized he’d said that last bit out loud. He opened his mouth, grasping for an explanation when Logan continued. “Oh, Carvaggio was one of your characters in The Tragedy of Uomo Rotto, wasn't he?”

Remus blinked, recalling that, yes, in fact he had named each of the characters in that story after artists from the Counter Reformation. He chuckled, “If it ain’t Barouque…”

Logan laughed, a low musical sound that drew Remus closer. “There were so many puns hidden in that story. I almost convinced my brother to read it. He, well, couldn’t get past the first page, though.”

Sitting back in his chair, Remus nodded as the rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, the, ah, opening murder is rather…” Remus searched for a word more suitable to dinner conversation than grisly.

“The exposition was wonderfully detailed.” Logan rested his forearms on the edge of the table and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “The way you incorporated how the killer used the artist's tools for each assassination so that there would be no suspicion when they showed evidence of turpentine and the trace chemicals?” Logan’s eyes sparkled with the dance of the candle’s flames. “It was inspired. And the prose…” Logan’s face flushed and he took a sip of his water. “You painted an incredible picture.”

Remus grinned, “Nice pun there yourself…”

Logan’s eyes flew open and he covered a laugh behind his hand, a bright pink blush peeking out. “Don’t tell my brother! He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Reaching across the table with a grin, Remus gently pulled Logan’s hand away from his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

Logan’s eyes flicked over to the waiter who’d been hovering a respectable distance from their table. He murmured to Remus, “I think we should at least look at the menu… they appear anxious to take our order.”

Peering over his shoulder, Remus winked at the server and opened his menu. “I think you’re probably right.”

---

Logan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Remus as they’d ordered. After he quickly accepted the first thing their server recommended, Logan simply watched as Remus’ awkwardness fell away as he called the server by name and ordered with an easy, gracious confidence. He was so caught up by the change in Remus’ demeanor that he didn’t completely register when he’d finished ordering and the server had left their table. It wasn’t until Remus met his eyes again, a light blush blooming on his cheeks, that Logan managed to look away and sip at his water.

“So, Mr. King,” Logan pushed a braver-than-he-felt expression onto his face. “They like you here.”

“Oh, no, they have no idea who I am.” Remus shook his head and looked down at his napkin, running his thumbnails under the seams at the edges. “I just come here a lot with my editor and they know the name on my credit card.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “Well you must treat the staff decently for them to appear to like you so much.” Logan cleared his throat. “So… what are you working on now?”

“Well… I've just started a story set in the same universe as Gemini,” Logan’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward in his seat.

“Oh, I loved Gemini!” Logan quickly lowered his voice, wincing slightly and looking around at a few patrons’ disapproving expressions at the volume of his outburst. He felt a fan-boy grin spreading on his face but was powerless to stop it. “The technical detail was astounding. You must have spent half the production time just on research!”

The loss of his dignity was worth the proud smile that spread across Remus’ face. His shoulders softened and his eyes danced as he leaned toward Logan, mirroring his posture. “You really liked it? I was afraid people just bought it because the cover art was so interesting and…”

Logan stopped his self-deprecation by reaching across the table and placing his hand over Remus’. “I loved that book.” Remus’ hand was warm under his and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Remus turned his palm up, wrapping his long fingers around Logan’s hand, and smiled. “What can you tell me about your new book?”

“Well, I’m following some of the side characters from Gemini, including the one who helped the killer escape. And so…”

---

The night progressed with the two men barely aware of the restaurant around them. They ate, and talked, and laughed—sometimes to the mild annoyance of those seated closest to them. At some point in the evening, the server discretely brought the check and Remus signed for it along with a tip worth three times the total bill. Gradually, the other patrons began to leave and their tables were not filled with new parties.

Finally, the host approached their table. He smiled and bowed his head slightly. “Mr King, Mr. Sanders, I apologize for the intrusion, but I am afraid we need to close up.” Remus and Logan looked up and around the dining room, shocked to see that they were the last people seated, and that someone had even begun to vacuum the area closest to the bar.

“I’m sorry, Tom! We—” Remus looked across the table at Logan and blushed.

“You were having a pleasant evening that I hope I have not too badly interrupted,” Tom smiled at the pair.

Remus pulled out his wallet, folding a few bills and passing them to Tom. “Please, I don’t think what I signed for covered the time we’ve spent here.” When Tom met his eyes but wouldn’t reach for the tip, Remus pressed forward. “Please, Tom, I insist.”

“Thank you, Mr. King. The staff appreciates it.”

Tom walked them to the front and fetched their coats. “What do I owe for dinner?” Logan asked as he pulled on his heavy overcoat.

“Nope, I took care of it.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “Well, I feel I must do something—”

Remus met his eyes with a mischievous grin. “You could buy me a coffee…”

“That hardly seems like an even exchange… But I’d like that.”

The biting night wind hit them as soon as Remus and Logan stepped out of the cozy warmth of the restaurant. They drew closer to each other and Logan sucked in a sharp breath as he hurriedly finished fastening his coat and adjusting his scarf. His jaw was set and his eyes darted up and down the street as though he was looking for something. Finally he seemed to find what he was searching for and his expression marginally relaxed.

Relieved, Remus grinned at him as he rubbed his bare hands together to warm them. “Oh, c’mon spring! It shouldn't still be this cold.” He buried his hands deep in the pockets of his old green overcoat and held out his elbow toward Logan in invitation.

Returning his smile, Logan looped his arm through Remus’ and tucked his hand into his own pocket. He shivered slightly and hunched forward as a sharp gust of wind found a gap in his scarf. “Yes, please remind me of this weather when I complain about the humidity this summer.” Apparently realizing the implications of his words only after they escaped his lips, Logan’s eyes flew open and he began to stammer. “I mean to say—That is, not to presume that we will—I—”

The sudden warmth spreading through his chest girding him against the cold, Remus leaned in and murmured close to Logan's ear, “Gladly.” Gesturing down Tenth Avenue, Remus added, “I know a few coffee shops this way. With any luck we’ll find one that’s open.”

They walked quietly through the cold night, the wind a little too harsh to allow for easy conversation. They pressed close together to shield each other from the icy wind barrelling down the steel canyons of Tenth Avenue, their steps quickly finding a shared rhythm. Despite the cold night, Remus felt he could walk like this forever and wasn’t too disappointed to see that the first two shops they passed were closed. Remus shrugged, “If you don’t mind the walk, there are a few more a little further south.” He pulled out his phone, “Or we could get a Lyft…?”

Logan smiled—Remus thought that smile could warm him for days—“I do not mind the walk at all. Your company is… quite enjoyable.”

As they walked further downtown, the gentrified shops began to give way to smaller, steel-gated bodegas and old brick-faced apartment buildings. Logan’s eyes moved constantly, scanning the streets around them. Eventually, Remus noticed that Logan was positioning himself on the building-side of the sidewalk, keeping his body between the alleys—and whatever danger may lurk there—and him. Remus was about to comment on it when they neared a homeless person sitting next to a heating vent and Logan tugged gently at Remus’ elbow, stopping them. “Just one moment, please.”

Logan released Remus’ arm and opened his wallet. He took out a few bills, folding them to hide their denomination, but Remus thought they looked like twenties. Logan approached the man on the street and crouched down to his eye level, maintaining a bit of space between them.

“Sir, may I?” he asked, holding out the bills and meeting the man’s eyes. The man squinted at Logan and looked around them. He stared briefly at Remus standing a few feet away, then quickly accepted the money. Logan bowed his head and smiled at him. “Goodnight, Sir,” he said as the man nodded at him and quickly palmed the money.

“Thank you,” Logan murmured to Remus after he returned and slipped his arm back into place. They continued their walk in silence as Remus tried to think of how to ask about that exchange. He’d finally started to formulate a question when they approached someone else and Logan quietly repeated the pattern, including asking permission to give her money.

Remus found his voice. "Are you always this altruistic?" he asked with a little laugh.

Logan shook his head, looking down at the sidewalk as he hooked his arm around Remus'. "I… I wouldn't ascribe it to altruism. It's more…" he took a breath, then slowly exhaled. "If I have money in my wallet and I see someone who could use it and I don't share…" He shook his head again, eyebrows knit together. "I won't be able to stop thinking about them and wondering what would have happened if I had tried to help." Logan frowned. "It's not generosity. It's a compulsion."

They crossed the street and Remus hummed, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "There are worse things you could feel compelled to do." Logan's frown seemed to deepen as he continued to scan their surroundings while they walked.

Finally, they reached the last neighborhood coffee shop Remus could think of, only to find it was closed, as well. Remus checked the time again and whistled. “It is after 1. Hm.” Logan nodded, then spotted someone huddled under a thin blanket a few doors down. He squeezed Remus’ arm, then approached the man.

“Sir, may I?” he asked. The man's eyes glazed past Logan’s. Logan’s brow furrowed and Remus stepped a little closer. His breath hitched when he saw the man’s lips were nearly grey. Logan put the money away. “Sir, are you okay?" He spoke a little louder. "Can you hear me?”

Remus crouched down next to Logan, feeling his own pulse race at the sharp pitch of concern in Logan’s voice. “Hey, is he all right?”

Logan peered closely in his eyes then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He moved closer to the man. “Sir, may I touch you?” He gave no response. Frowning, Logan removed his glove and checked the man’s pulse at his neck. After a minute, he shook his head again. “His pulse is erratic.” He pulled out his phone, “I’m going to call an ambulance. I'm sorry…I—”

Remus shook his head, “What are you sorry for?”

“Will you take a rain check for that coffee?” Logan gave Remus a little half smile then looked up at a nearby intersection to read the cross streets. “Are you far from home?”

He scoffed, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait with you.”

“That is very kind but quite unnecessary.” Logan started to dial 911 and held the phone to his ear as he waited for the call to connect. “I’m not going to make you wait with me.”

Remus smiled. “You’re not making me do anything.” Still crouching, he bumped his knee against Logan’s. “I’m not in the habit of leaving my dates standing in an alley in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I assure you, I will be fine.” Logan stood, frowning a bit at his phone when a recording prompted him to start pressing keys.

“I know you’ll be fine.” Remus stood, as well. “And I’m staying with you.”

Remus couldn’t read Logan’s expression as he stared back at him but he couldn’t hide his own smile when the shorter man nodded just before a dispatcher finally answered the call.

While Logan answered the dispatcher’s questions, Remus crouched down again and tried to rouse the man enough to speak. “No he’s not dangerous. He’s barely alive.” Logan grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. “The man is living unsheltered in”—he looked at his phone screen, dragging down to see his weather app icon—”25 degree weather and requires medical assistance.”

Remus watched Logan’s suddenly fiery demeanor with a small smile tempered only by the serious state of the man sitting on the sidewalk before them. He shook the man’s foot a bit and got him to make eye contact. “There you are! C’mon and stay awake for us…” Remus shook his foot again and the man’s eyes focused briefly. “Hey, man, my name is Remus and your new best friend over there is Logan. What’s yours?”

The man blinked a few times and his eyes wandered a bit before he finally whispered, “Call me… Flint.”

“Hey, Flint! It’s nice to meet you.” Remus looked back and saw that Logan was watching their exchange. He nodded encouragingly to Remus and gestured for him to continue as Logan walked toward the corner and the sound of approaching sirens. “Hey, we’ve got an ambulance coming to take you somewhere warm where they can help you feel better, okay?” He shook the man’s foot again as his eyes drifted.

“C’mon, Flint, can you keep your eyes open for me?” Flint blinked slowly a few times but his eyes kept going back to meet Remus’. “That’s it, Flint, thank you.” Remus looked back over his shoulder and saw Logan rushing toward them, followed by two paramedics carrying a large bag and a rescue board.

“The patient is presenting with hypotension and severe disorientation. Without a thermometer, I can only presume by his pallor and demeanor that he is hypothermic.”

Remus was startled to hear the medical jargon suddenly pouring effortlessly from Logan's mouth. He watched, slightly stunned, as his date began directing the paramedics.

“Sir, there really isn’t anything to be done here. This man is uninjured. He appears fatigued, probably hung over, and just needs to sleep it—”

“No.” Logan pulled a small notepad and pen from an inner coat pocket and began jotting down the paramedics’ names and ID numbers. “No, that is unacceptable. Perhaps that’s just the way the FDNY runs its EMS units, but that would not fly at the OEMS across the Hudson. Who’s your unit head?” Logan stared at the pair, eyebrow raised and pen poised.

The paramedics exchanged a quick glance, “Um, Pete Glazer, but, um, you’re right.” The taller paramedic nodded to the shorter. “We should probably take him in to Bellevue just to be safe.” They began to lay Flint out onto the rescue board as Logan narrated for him what they were doing and why. Flint seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness but he had a brief moment of lucidity when Remus saw him meet Logan’s eyes and nod. While the paramedics and Logan were busy with Flint, Remus focused on gathering together Flint’s blanket and the small bag he’d hand hidden under his leg.

“Careful for sharps,” the shorter paramedic warned. “I wouldn’t touch his stuff.” Logan frowned at him but remained silent as he passed his thick leather gloves to Remus. He looked pointedly at Remus’ bare hands until he put them on.

Once Flint was strapped to the board and they began to carry him toward the back of the ambulance, Logan said firmly. “Very good. I will ride along with you.”

Remus strode forward, “Not alone.” He held up Flint’s bag. “I’ve got my ticket to ride right here.”

It was too dark to tell for certain, but Remus thought he caught a glint of a smile on Logan’s face before he turned to the taller paramedic, stating simply. “He’s coming with us, as well.”

---

When the ambulance arrived at Bellevue Hospital, the paramedics first attempted to leave Flint on a gurney in the hallway. Logan approached the intake desk and unbuttoned his overcoat, revealing his snazzy date attire. Remus watched from over the top of a newspaper from his seat in the waiting room. He caught how Logan’s gaze swept over the front desk, eyeing the three different nurses staffing the station. He approached the one in the middle. “Good evening, Nurse”—his eyes flicked down to her name tag—”Saker. I brought in the patient from EMS #926.” Remus shook his head slightly from behind the paper, wondering if that was the real number or if he’d just made it up on the spot.

Nurse Saker shuffled through some papers at the desk and replied in a tired voice, “Yes, the vagrant with a suspected OD?”

There was a beat when the hair on the back of Remus’ neck stood up as he watched Logan unlock his knees and adjust his stance. He seemed to thrum with energy, but his face remained in the same neutral expression. “Patient’s name is Flint. He presented as hypotensive and moderately tachycardic on the scene. I believe he is in a gurney in the hallway now. He should be in a monitored bed.” He leaned over the counter and spoke so softly that Remus missed most of what he said. “… a report of… word got out, would look bad for….”

What Remus couldn’t miss, though, was the way Nurse Saker's eyes widened.

“Do you see where I’m coming from, Nurse Saker?” Logan asked in an even tone.

“Yes, Doctor, I do. We will admit the patient—”

“Flint.” Logan smiled mildly. “The patient’s name is Flint.”

“We will admit Flint to a monitored bed as quickly as possible.”

“Very good. Thank you, Nurse Saker.” Logan turned and began to walk toward the waiting room. He called back as he approached the bank of seats where Remus still held the paper. “We will be here until you are able to find a space for him.”

Whether it was the late hour or the frigid temperatures that kept people away, Remus couldn’t tell, but they sat in a surprisingly vacant waiting room. He gently bumped his shoulder against Logan’s as the shorter man sank into the seat next to him. He tilted his chin toward the admissions desk. “That was, um… some pretty impressive role play back there.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, biting his lip. “I….” He sighed heavily and stared at the floor. “It helps to let people make assumptions.” He glanced quickly at Remus, eyebrows knit together. “I… I wouldn’t be duplicitous without a compelling need. Those paramedics would have left him on the street to die if I hadn’t—”

Remus reached for Logan’s hand. “No, I really meant you impressed me.” Logan looked up, lips pressed tightly together. Remus smiled as he gave his hand a little squeeze. “You did everything humanly possible to save that man’s life tonight.” He gave a little shrug. “So… maybe it was more Deadpool than Superman… it was pretty heroic all the same.”

Logan scoffed but his forehead finally smoothed and Remus’ smile grew broader. “I believe your assessment is exaggerative but I appreciate the sentiment.” They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Logan made no attempt to remove his hand from Remus’ gentle grip and, instead, interlaced their fingers.

Finally, Logan looked pointedly at the clock on the wall above the doors to the emergency ward. “I believe I have kept you out far beyond what could be considered reasonable for a first date.”

Remus laughed quietly. “It’s Sunday now and we had several changes in venue. I think this counts as our second date.”

Chuckling, Logan leaned back in his seat and rested his head against Remus’ shoulder. For a moment, all Remus could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He swallowed dryly and closed his eyes, the soft weight of Logan’s head against his shoulder grounding him. Gradually his racing heart slowed and he felt his breathing grow steadier.

Sitting in the dingy ER waiting room at Bellevue Hospital, holding hands with a man he’d met less than eight hours ago, Remus felt more relaxed than he had in what must have been years. A comforting weight dragged his eyelids shut but he pledged to open them on the next breath. Okay, maybe the next breath… Yeah, definitely the next….

---

Logan sat very still, listening to the slow easing of Remus’ breaths, feeling his heartbeat slow where his finger rested on a pulse point in his hand. He didn’t understand how this man could watch him lie and connive and threaten his way through their evening and then simply fall asleep next to him. He doesn’t know what you really are. If he knew… if anyone knew….

He shook his head and tightened his jaw. No. And he won’t ever know.

Carefully, Logan placed his other hand on top of Remus’, cradling the writer's hand between both of his while he listened to his soft, steady breathing.

After a couple of hours, Nurse Saker approached Logan in the waiting room. “We’ve admitted your patie—Flint.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “And his vitals?”

Smirking slightly, Nurse Saker read off the Post-it note in her hand. “His pulse-ox is up to 97%, BP is 128 over 64, and body temperature is 97.5. We have him on warm saline and constant monitoring.” She smiled thinly. “Why don’t you get some rest, Doctor, and come by tomorrow after 10?”

Logan would bet his portfolio that Nurse Saker’s shift ended before 10 AM.

“Thank you, Nurse. Perhaps some rest would do us good.” She pivoted on her heel and started to walk away before Logan finished his sentence. He narrowed his eyes. That might have offended me, if I were actually the doctor you think I am.

Turning toward the sleeping man next to him, Logan gently stroked his hand and murmured, “Remus? Remus, wake up.”

Squeezing his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply, Remus arched his back in a spine-cracking stretch, then opened his eyes. He squinted against the bright fluorescent lighting, blinking at Logan. Awareness burst across his face. “Oh, I fell asleep.” He shook his head, “I don’t do that,” he mumbled, eyes still slightly unfocused.

Logan chuckled, “You don’t sleep?”

“No, no, I mean… I… I have insomnia. I don’t sleep without… I have a routine.”

He rubbed Remus' hand softly. “The evening must have worn you out.” Logan stood, then reached for Remus’ other hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s go find a Lyft and get you home.”

They stood just outside the Emergency Room entrance and Logan opened the ride share app to select a car. The cold air seemed to help Remus regain his alertness. He furrowed his brow, looking carefully at Logan. “What about you? I at least had a nap.”

Logan smiled as he fastened his coat and accepted his gloves from Remus. “I’m fine. I live near Gravesend. I just need to catch the M train.”

Remus paused, peering closely at Logan’s pale face and watching how he struggled with the buttons on his coat. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I—I live a lot closer than Brooklyn. Can… I bring you to my place? Not to… you know”—he shimmied his shoulders with a little grin—”Just… Look, I’ve even got a guest room. It’s nice and comfy. You wouldn't even have to take the couch.”

A slow smile spread across Logan’s face as he slipped his phone into his pocket and stepped closer to Remus. He looked up into his eyes. “Have I done anything that would lead you to believe that I wouldn’t welcome sharing a bed with you? Either to sleep or…” Logan inched closer until they were nearly touching. “Not to sleep?”

“I—I’m um,” Remus’ voice cracked. “You know, I’m suddenly not very tired.”

Logan’s eyes looked dark in the pre-dawn light. “Neither am I.”

---

“I knew we’d find a place with coffee eventually,” Remus joked, hands shaking slightly as he scooped coffee grounds into the filter. It had been a quick Lyft ride back to Remus’ apartment but the only thing that had prevented them from tackling each other in the back seat of the rideshare had been the driver’s nervous eyes watching them in the rear view mirror.

There had been no watchful eyes in the lobby, on the staircase, or in the hallway just outside Remus’ door. Or now, in Remus’ kitchen.

The moment Remus clicked down the lid to the reservoir on the coffee maker and flicked the switch, Logan pressed his chest against his back as he slipped off Remus’ sport coat and started to untuck his shirt. Logan hissed as his chilled fingers made contact with Remus' hot skin. “Ah!” Remus exclaimed. “Cold hands, cold hands, cold hands…” Remus turned in Logan’s arms, drawing him into a slow kiss.

Logan’s low laugh came out like a growl, “Would you prefer I warmed them under water, or…?” He shifted his hands on Remus' body.

Remus’ eyes snapped open and he shook his head, gasping softly, “No, no, I’m good…”

Logan smiled and leaned in to press a line of kisses along Remus’ jaw. “Good….”

The slowly brewing coffee forgotten, they shed their clothes as they stumbled down the hall, Remus walking backwards to lead them to his bedroom. Remus fumbled with Logan’s tie as the shorter man suddenly froze and broke away from their hungry kiss. “Oh my god… is that—”

Fuck, no! No, no, no, no… I covered the board before I left for the restaurant. Remus spun around, and his heart sank to his feet. Somehow, the large sheet he had draped over his storyboard had slipped while he was out, revealing a series of hand-drawn crime scene sketches from his next book idea. Logan stood frozen before the board, mouth fallen open, wide eyes taking in the red string connecting each of Remus’ graphic sketches to a small blood-splattered token pinned to the board.

Fuck, no… Not again… Remus’ shoulders sank and he sat on the edge of the bed, head hanging down. His throat tightened as he tried to explain. “It’s not—I swear it’s not what it looks like. It’s—”

“It’s incredible!” Logan turned to face him and tugged at his hands, bringing Remus closer to the board. “Is this for your new story?”

Remus nodded mutely. Logan gave his attention back to the board. “May I?” He gestured to the corner of the sheet still obscuring half of it.

“Uh…yeah… Yes, of—of course.” Remus helped Logan completely remove the sheet, taking care not to let it snag on any of the items pinned to the surface. Logan stood silently, taking in the full board.

Like his others for previous books, this storyboard stretched the full width of Remus' desk, consuming most of the wall space next to the window. Remus had recently upgraded to a heavy, reusable board covered in green-corduroy. It was vast improvement over the old white foam boards that used start to disintegrate near the end of his story writing process. The left-hand edge of this board held a dense set of hand-drawn sketches and story cards, depicting both mocked crime scenes and line drawings of broken antique dolls. As the cards and drawings and red plotlines spread across the board toward the right-hand edge, the sketches and notes cards thinned. The story was still in its early stages, borrowing most of the character and plot details from the outcome of the previous book set in this universe.

Logan turned back to Remus, eyes dancing. “What can you tell me about it? I—I realize you might need to keep some things secret, spoilers and all, but can you tell me anything?”

“You—you really want to know?”

“Yes, of course! This is amazing, Remus! The technique is reminiscent of the new edition of The House of Leaves, but…” He let out a happy sigh as he slipped his arm around Remus’ waist. “But this just feels like your stories.” He stepped closer, bringing Remus with him. “What about this?” Logan asked, pointing to a tiny box of matches, one edge stained a dark rusty red.

“W-well… that’s from the protagonist’s first, well, assassination,” Remus began slowly. Logan nodded enthusiastically, gaze bouncing between the board and Remus’s face. His enthusiasm became contagious and soon Remus felt an excited bubbling in his chest, his own smile growing. “The protagonist is searching for a set of dolls that have been programmed with the consciousness of the test subjects from Gemini.”

Arm tightening around Remus’ waist, Logan looked up at him with bright eyes. “Oh, I was hoping you would continue that storyline!”

“Really?” Logan nodded again, giving Remus all of his attention. “Wow, um, well, the protagonist has a list of 8 dolls, one for each of the subjects. She was working the crime scene in the last chapter in Gemini and when she came across Dr. Joyce’s lab journal, she stole it.” Remus pointed to the upper left corner of the story board where there were a few sheets of gridded paper ripped from a notebook, covered edge to edge in scrawled words, equations, and sketches. “And so she studies the journal and figures out that Dr. Joyce had discovered how to capture the subjects' brainwaves before they died and to transfer them into, well, basically a hard drive.”

“And the hard drives are in the dolls?” Logan bit his lip, following the red string from item to item on the board.

He nodded. “I’m stuck on something with the story, though.” Remus crossed his arms and sighed. “If I can’t fix the plot hole I’ve dug, I may need to”—Remus waved his hands over the board—”convert this for some other idea.”

“What's the hole?”

He sighed again, pointing to the journal. “You remember Dominique from Gemini? The super strict, by-the-book, follow-the-rules lab tech?” Logan nodded, brow furrowed, then understanding washed over his face.

“Oh…” Logan nodded slowly.

Remus shrugged, “Right? Why would she tamper with evidence from a crime scene?” He shook his head. “But Dominique’s the only one from that story with both the inside knowledge of what was really happening and the skills to hunt down these dolls and, well… you know, take out the people keeping them.”

The pair stared at the board for several minutes. Logan suddenly turned to Remus. “What if she thought that someone else in the lab would have made sure the book was ‘lost’ if she had collected it properly?” Remus tilted his head, listening. “What if everything she saw in Gemini told her she couldn’t trust the ‘proper’ authorities to… be effectual?”

Remus tapped at his chin. “There is the Captain… I—I didn’t explicitly include this in the published story, but there are hints all over the place he’s as corrupt as they come. Oh… that could work!” Remus grabbed a pen from his desk, muttering under his breath and scribbling out ideas on cards and pinning them around the board. Logan stepped back a bit and watched.

After Remus had filled a dozen cards, he tucked the pen behind his ear and backed up, standing next to Logan as he perused the updated board. He dragged his hands through his hair and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Oh, yes! That’s it!” He grabbed Logan’s face with both hands and covered it with kisses. “It’s brilliant, thank you, thank you, thank you…” he cried between kisses.

Logan wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders, hands coming up to cradle the back of his neck. Remus melted in his arms as the shorter man pulled him down into a long kiss. When they both came up for air, Logan’s eyes were drawn to the sunlight beginning to peek through the open blinds.

“Oh, I apologize, I”—Remus interrupted him with another kiss, then began to gently mouth his neck—”I’ve kept you talking for… I don’t… The sun is up…” Logan’s voice faded into a low groan.

“Mm-hm,” Remus hummed, gripping Logan’s hips and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck and his collarbone. “And it was fucking hot….”

Logan was breathless, “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Remus whispered against his mouth and pulled him toward the bed.

---

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edupunkn00b · 3 years ago

Text

Matchr, Ch. 3: runtime error: illegal operation

Prev - runtime error: illegal operation - Next

Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Intrulogical Week 2021 Day 3: Crime - Crimes, both large and small, are committed every day. Results may vary.

Fic rated M, this chapter T - CW: swearing, nudity, sexually suggestive - WC: 5325

---

Remus jolted awake, arms and back chilled, bed sheets tangled around his legs. His eyes flew open and he groaned softly as he reached out for Logan next to him and—

And his hand closed on nothing but the empty bed, sheets cold. Remus sighed and rolled onto his back, wincing at the lonely ache behind his ribs. Afternoon sunlight poured from the window and streamed into his eyes so he quickly rolled to his side. The pillow Logan had slept on was now in front of him and he pulled it closer, burying his face in the soft fluff. He inhaled deeply and his eyes fluttered closed.

There was just a hint of Logan’s cologne left on the pillowcase. With his eyes closed, he could nearly feel the warmth of Logan’s arms wrapped around him, the little tickle of his chest hair against back that he'd felt as they'd drifted off to sleep earlier that morning. He hugged the pillow close against his chest, tucking the top into the crook of his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed back against the crushing ache still spreading in his chest.

Logan just went home. It’s okay. Everything is okay.

He lay there for another few minutes until the last wisps of Logan's cologne began to fade away. He tried to memorize his scent. The spice, the vanilla, and the—Remus inhaled deeply and hummed. Citrus. Finally, he let go of the pillow and sat up, looking around the room, vision still blurry from sleep. He blinked against the bright sunlight filling the room and squinted at the clock. 3:14. Remus sighed again as he freed himself from the bed sheets and flipped his legs over the side of the bed. His arms felt so empty without Logan to hold.

Shit. So much for a ‘Mr. Right Now.’ Remus dragged his hands through his hair. I’m so fucked.

The tail of Logan’s tie on the floor caught his eye just as Remus heard a low voice coming from somewhere in the apartment. It was followed by a sharp cry, pained and surprised. Janus’ voice. Without a thought—and without a scrap of clothes—he flung open his bedroom door, letting it slam against the wall as he raced to the living room.

Just as Remus registered the sound of the door hitting the wall, Logan called out to Remus from the other end of the hallway, “Stay back and call the police! There's an intruder!”

He stood in the hall, staring. Logan was in his living room, wearing Remus’ rarely-used robe from the back of his bedroom door. He was leaning over Janus and had pinned his arm behind his back. Logan's other hand kept an iron grip his shoulder. He had a steel baton tucked under his arm, still strapped to his wrist. Janus grit his teeth, face turning bright red and dotted with perspiration.

"Jan? What are you doing in here? Don’t you knock?"

Janus spat back, struggling against Logan’s grip and wincing. “Don’t you answer your phone? Or your door?” He tried to shake Logan off of him and only succeeded in further twisting his arm. "Want to call off the pit bull?"

“Do you know this man, Remus?” Logan asked, ignoring Janus’ struggling.

“Yeah, yeah, let him go.” Logan released Janus and backed out of his reach in one quick movement. He stood between them, shielding Remus’ body with his own.

The three men stood quietly assessing each other for several breaths. Janus wore a scarf and overcoat, and his hat and a small portfolio lay on the floor in front of him from when Logan had jumped on him. He bent to retrieve them, eyes warily fixed on Logan until he caught sight of—

“Ah, you’re a…” Janus looked away and waved toward where the robe had fallen open, revealing more than a little of Logan’s body.

Logan glared at Janus, baton pointed down, but still ready. He shrugged. “I have nothing to be ashamed of—”

“Hmm, you got that right…” Remus joked, stepped closer as he wrapped his arms around Logan from behind, taking the opportunity to draw the edges of his robe closed in the process. He kept one arm around Logan's waist and rubbed his hand down the arm that held the baton, encouraging him to relax. Logan leaned back a bit into Remus’ embrace and closed the baton.

Still, he kept his eyes trained on Janus. ”I have nothing to be ashamed of because I’m not the one who broke into someone’s apartment while they were sleeping.”

“I didn’t ‘break in’ like some criminal.” Janus dangled his keys as he spoke. ”Look, I have a key. I used to live here.”

Sunlight from the large front windows glinted off a distinctive yellow two-headed snake emblazoned on his keychain. Logan froze, staring at the familiar icon.

Remus laughed and tightened the arm around Logan’s waist, pulling the shorter man’s attention away from his musings. “Well, Jannie, if that’s the rule we're going with… Logan, babe”—Remus leaned in and winked at him to play along—”How do you feel about making a little room in the bedroom, if you know what I mean?”

“Remus!” Janus’ voice shook.

Sighing, Remus asked again. “Why are you here, Jan?”

“Your brother asked me to drop off his sample sketches for your book,” he waved the portfolio. “Pick one and he’ll do it to spec for the cover.” Logan’s brow furrowed, eyes lingering on Janus’ wedding ring.

The mention of Roman seemed to have drained the last of Janus’ indignation at Logan’s treatment of him. He sighed, giving his eyes a half-roll to the heavens. “I'm sorry for just letting myself in.” He avoided Logan’s glare and addressed Remus. “I called your cell and you didn't answer… I assumed you were out.”

“Yeah, we were sleeping, Jan.”

Janus looked at his watch. "It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon. You never sleep this late."

"Evidently 'never' is hyperbolic," Logan growled, eyes fixed on Janus and maintaining a protective stance in front of Remus.

“Right.” The taller man rubbed at the back of his neck and stepped away from Logan to yank a throw blanket off the couch to wrap around his waist. "Ugh. This is awkward. Logan, this is Janus Woods. Janus, this is Logan Sanders.” Remus stared meaningfully at him. “And, yes, Janus used to live here,” Remus gestured to the door on the other side of the hallway leading to Janus’ old office Remus’ guest room.

Logan eyed Janus up and down. "Ah."

Janus smirked, "You've heard of me."

"Actually, no." Logan said mildly.

He slid closer to Remus but didn't touch him. He simply stood sufficiently close that Remus could reach for him if he needed. Janus eyed them closely as Remus took his hand. A small smile spread on Janus' face until his eyes landed on Logan's baton. He scowled.

Logan shifted the hand not holding Remus' and concealed the baton behind his leg.

"I truly thought you were out. I… I didn't intend to disturb your afternoon." Janus patted the portfolio on the counter and looked down at the floor. “Perhaps you could walk me to the door, Re?”

Remus narrowed his eyes but Logan squeezed his hand, smiling. He kissed his cheek, then turned toward the bedroom, speaking over his shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, Janus. Perhaps we can do this again when we're all properly dressed?"

Janus nodded, "Yes. Yes of course." Logan disappeared behind the bedroom door.

Janus leaned close to Remus and hissed in his ear. “He’s your match. You brought him home on your first date?”

Remus raised his eyebrow, "Glass houses much, Jan?"

He blushed. "I just mean… How much do you really know about this guy? He;s… He's got a fucking collapsible baton. Those things are illegal in the city." Remus smirked and flicked at the tiny illicit canister of mace on Janus' keychain. He rolled his eyes. "It's not the same. I…" He sighed. "I just want you to be safe, Re."

Remus smiled and felt his face warm. "Oh, Jan Jan, I am. Logan’s amazing. And seriously, look at the two of us. He's gotta be 5'8" after a good stretch. I'm the scariest thing in the room when we're together."

Janus pursed his lips, brow furrowed. He sucked in a deep breath, staring past Remus’ shoulder at the closed bedroom door. “He’s tougher than he looks, Re. He came out of nowhere and tackled me before I even knew he was there. So much for five years of Krav Maga.” Janus blew out a sharp breath. "Just… be careful… please. I don’t want you to get hurt."

"I won't. He’s one of the good guys, Jan. You shoulda seen him last night.” Janus scoffed and looked away and Remus elbowed him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit I’ve got pretty good taste in men.”

Janus just bit his lip, face pinched, as he searched Remus’ eyes. At last, he nodded and stepped aside to let Remus open the door. He slipped through as Remus stood ready to close the door behind him. “And, Jan?”

Janus turned around, eyebrows raised “Yes, Re?”

Feeling his cheeks flush again, Remus grinned. “Thanks. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I ever would have met this guy. He’s…” Remus leaned closer to his friend. “Jan, he saw my storyboard and he loved it. He kept asking me questions about it and he had ideas and it’s why we were up so late.” Janus smirked. “Okay, it was definitely not the only reason why. But…" He sighed with a broadening grin. "I think… I think this could be the start of something big.” Remus fought to keep his eyes away from Janus’ wedding ring, that cold reminder of the last time he thought a relationship was destined for greatness.

He cleared his throat. “I have you to thank for bringing us together, Jan.”

Janus pulled Remus’ head down and kissed his forehead. “I hope you’re right, Re. I just want you safe and happy.” He gently nudged Remus back inside his apartment. “Okay, get inside, you’re half-naked.” He let slip a small laugh when Remus responded with a hula dance. “Call me later, alright? If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow morning, I’m sending a search party.”

“I’ll call you when he leaves. Bye, Jan….”

The moment the door closed, Remus ripped off the throw he’d been wearing and raced down the short hall to his bedroom. He knocked twice then poked his head through as Logan stepped out from the bathroom wearing slacks and his shirt from last night, open in the front. “Are you decent?” He stepped all the way through the door, laughing, and leaped onto the bed. “‘Cause I’m not!”

Logan grinned and sat next to him. He closed his eyes as he carded his fingers through the green streaks in his hair, smiling as the soft waves tickled his palm. He let out a surprised squeak when Remus pulled him down for a kiss and rolled him onto his back. After a few minutes Logan broke away and tried to catch his breath.

“Remus, I… I must apologize.” Remus pulled back a bit and met Logan’s eyes, listening. “I was caught off guard and… instinct took over. When—” he exhaled sharply and set his jaw. “When I heard the door open, I… I feared Janus was an intruder.”

“Aw, don’t apologize.” Remus waggled his eyebrows and started to nip at Logan’s neck. He pulled his collar aside and mumbled against the newly exposed skin. “You were trying to protect me. That's twelve different kinds of sexy in my book.”

“I overreacted.” Logan’s throat tightened as he recalled the triumph he’d felt when he’d so quickly subdued the taller man. “I… I could have injured your friend.”

Remus rolled on to his side and chuckled. “That would teach him to not just waltz into my apartment like he still lives here!” Remus traced little lines up and down Logan’s arm, fingers dancing over the silken sleeve.

Cupping Remus’ cheek, Logan turned to face him completely. “He cares for you…" Remus raised an eyebrow suggestively and he huffed out a small laugh, quickly adding, "I don't mean like that. But he’s clearly concerned for your safety.” Logan bit his lip and looked away when Remus’ hand brushed against the line of scars on his arm. “He's not wrong that it's… rather risky to bring home a man you've only just met.”

“Hmm…” Remus hummed thoughtfully, a fire growing in his eyes. “And what about doing this”—he rolled on top of Logan, slotting their legs together—”With a man I've just met?"

Logan’s breath hitched, “Oh, yes, definitely, you are taking a big risk.”

“Mm-hm…” Remus pressed a line of kisses along Logan’s collarbone. “So I should keep doing it, then?”

“Yes…" Logan whispered, "Please do….”

---

“Look, Jan, I promised I’d call. But you’ve gotta give me a chance to, okay?” He winked at Logan.

Several hours had passed since Janus had dropped by unannounced and it appeared he’d grown impatient waiting for Remus to check in. “Or else next time I’m putting you on speakerphone and you can just listen in! Okay? Bye-bye…” Remus disconnected the call, flung his phone on his desk and laid back against Logan’s chest. Logan tucked the blanket over his chilled skin. “Sorry about that. I told him I’d call when you left to let him know you didn’t steal my kidneys and leave me in a tub of ice or some shit.”

“It’s good to have a friend who cares about you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. He’s being a little overprotective right now.”

“Hm,” Logan hummed as he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair. “You seem very close. Were you two intimate?”

Remus tensed and he let out a choked sounding laugh. “You could say that,” his voice broke at the end.

Logan stuttered, “Oh… I—I apologize.” He stroked Remus’ cheek and kissed his head. “I did not wish to cause you distress. I… that was a very personal question.” Logan wrapped his arms tighter around him. “I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s okay.” He stroked Logan’s chest. “I think, given our current position, personal questions are, ah”—he waggled his eyebrows—”hardly improper.”

Logan shifted slightly, peering closely into his eyes. Remus felt an icy knot in his stomach start to thaw from the warmth in his gaze. He let out a slow breath. “Janus and I were together for over four years.” Logan nodded slowly.

“And it ended poorly?”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut but he couldn’t hide the vision from his mind. Janus sitting next to Roman on the couch. Janus reaching for Roman’s hand. Janus quietly murmuring, ‘Remus, there’s something we need to talk about.’

His throat constricted and he could barely whisper, “Very poorly.”

“Was marrying your brother the catalyst or the end result?”

Remus sat up, staring at Logan in the shadowed light cast by the desk lamp across the room. “How did—how did you know Jan was married to my brother? And how did you know that he and I used to be together?”

“You both said he used to live here.”

“We could've just been roommates.”

Logan shrugged lightly, eyebrow raised. “With benefits, perhaps. You were quite comfortable with him… and, well…” Logan smirked. “When he was here… He wasn’t watching your eyes…” He stroked Remus’ hip and pulled him closer for a kiss. “However it would be incredibly hypocritical of me to condemn him for that.”

Temporarily mollified, Remus kissed him back and then settled once more against his chest. He drew little circles through Logan’s chest hair with his fingertips. Suddenly he looked up again, shaking his head. “But wait… how did you know about everything else?”

“He was wearing a wedding ring. And…” Logan met his gaze as he gently brushed Remus’ hair from his eyes. “It provided an Occam’s Razor explanation for why your brother would ask him to deliver something to an ex-boyfriend rather than coming to see you himself. He feels more comfortable with Janus than with you.” Remus tilted his face away from Logan, feeling the sting of his observation.

Logan brushed the backs of his fingers against Remus’ cheek, then lifted his chin so their eyes would meet again. Logan’s eyes were soft and shining with concern. “Perhaps because he knows you feel more betrayed by his actions than by Janus’. That’s why you speak of Janus by name, but you've only referred to your brother as… ‘your brother.’ I do not believe I have heard you say his name once.”

“Lucky guess,” Remus joked, forcing a small laugh. Logan stroked his hair and leaned in to press kisses against the top of his head.

He whispered into his hair. “Were you and your brother not very close growing up?”

“We’re identical twins.”

Remus’ eyes filled with tears. He scoffed at himself and wiped them away with the heel of his hand, hiding his face.

“Oh, Remus.” Logan held him tighter, murmuring against his head. “That must have been very painful.”

“I can’t cry to my”—Remus caught himself before he said the word boyfriend—”To my date about an ex.”

“Yes, you can, Remus. I… I recognize we may have rushed into this in a—”

“Fit of wild, animalistic passion?” Remus tried to smile.

“Well, yes.” Logan was quiet, and Remus watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times as though he couldn’t decide what to say. Finally he took a deep breath and lifted Remus’ chin, meeting his eyes. “I am not in the habit of engaging in intimate relations with… abandon. Not… not like this. There is… there is something about you that I…” He licked his lips, mouth moving without speaking. Finally he blurted out “I—I care for you… deeply.” He shook his head. “I know we have just met… I… I do not have a reasonable justification.”

“Maybe there isn’t one.” Remus smiled up at him. “Do we have to justify it? I feel it, too.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I told you more about my past tonight than I told my last three shrinks over a decade. I feel safe with you.” He took Logan’s hand in his own and traced the veins and scars on either side. “Your hands are so… strong. Hard. But you've been so gentle with me. And after seeing how you fought for Flint and everything you did last night…” Remus blew out a little breath. “I’ve gotten really good at finding the worst in people. I write about the worst in people.”

Remus kissed the roughened knuckles on Logan’s hands. “But you… You are a good man and I readily”—he kissed the back of Logan’s hand—“happily”—he kissed his fingers, pressing extra kisses to the bent fingers on his left hand when Logan tried to hide them—“and unreservedly put myself in your hands.”

“I—” Logan’s voice cracked, “I will strive to be worthy of the trust you put in me.” He closed his eyes as Remus first kissed him then laid his head back on chest, cradling Logan’s hand between his own, lips gently pressed against his crooked fingers. Logan wrapped his other arm around him, the warm weight giving him a calmness that Remus had been missing for a long, long time.

They laid together for several minutes before the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably our order.” Remus raised his head to crush his lips against Logan’s one more time, then rolled off the bed. He passed his desk where their phones were charging on his way to the heap of last night's clothes on the floor. “Do you need your phone? Any, uh”—he winked—”next of kin to call?”

Logan took a deep breath and slid out from the other side of the bed. He found his glasses on the nightstand and began hunting for his twice-discarded slacks. He shook his head. “I checked in with my brother when Janus was here.”

Remus laughed. “Janus left six hours ago. Here,” he passed Logan his phone. “Call him before he calls the cops on me.”

Logan shrugged and accepted the device. “I supposed that would not be entirely out of the universe of possibilities. My brother’s a detective at the Tenth Precinct up the street.”

Still laughing, Remus nudged Logan then raced to answer the door. “This is the same brother from the app?” Logan shrugged and nodded. “Fuck,” he called over his shoulder. “Dial faster!”

---

A few hours later, Logan eased his key into the lock at his and Patton's apartment, turning it slowly while he held the rest of his keys with his other hand to muffle their usual jangle. After dinner and more than a few stolen kisses as they’d cleaned up, he’d finally steeled himself to leave the comforting bubble of Remus’ apartment.

“At least let me get you a Lyft. Please don’t take the subway home at 2 AM,” Remus had murmured against Logan’s neck as he’d struggled to button his hopelessly wrinkled shirt.

Logan closed his eyes, letting himself be lost to the sensation for just a moment more before firmly pushing himself back from Remus’ embrace. “If you continue, I will never want to leave.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Remus whined as he ran his hands over Logan's hips and down his thighs. “Aw, you figured out the plot twist in the first chapter!”

“It is… quite tempting to stay longer but I have business I must attend to in the morning. I will, however, follow your wise advice to take a Lyft home.” He raised an eyebrow at his phone, scrolling through the options. “It is undoubtedly faster than the M train at this hour.”

While they’d waited in the lobby for the rideshare, watching the car make a wrong turn on the little tracking map, Remus had grown very quiet. He gnawed at his lip until Logan kissed him and brushed his thumb over his lower lip, drawing it out from between his teeth. Remus stared down into eyes. “I… I’d like to see you again. I know we’re supposed to play it cool and be all ‘I’ll call ya, babe,’ but…”

Logan slipped his phone into his coat pocket and reached up to cup Remus’ face in his hands. “I think we have burned that rule book.” Remus grinned back at him, slipping his hands underneath Logan’s coat and around his waist. Logan shivered when Remus' warm hands splayed at the small of his back. Remus grinned and leaned in to kiss him. After a moment, Logan broke away, lips tingling. “Are you available Wednesday evening?”

He frowned, tapping at his chin. “Hm, I’d have to check my calendar”—Remus cracked and started to laugh—”I might have a hair appointment…”

Logan was fighting his own grin and shaking his head when his phone chimed. “The car’s here.” He pulled Remus down for one more kiss. “Goodnight, Remus, I…” Logan had forced his mouth shut, the heat of the moment and more than a touch of sleep deprivation had been making it difficult to not simply give voice to everything percolating through his mind and his heart. Logan had been finding it increasingly difficult to maintain any sort of filter around this incredible man.

Remus had just nodded and stroked Logan’s cheek as he’d opened the door. “I can’t wait.”

After turning the locks behind him and hanging his keys on their hook, Logan leaned back against the cool surface of the door. He touched his cheek and imagined that he could still feel Remus’ last gentle caress, that he could still feel the prickly tickle of his mustache against his skin. He closed his eyes, sensing the start of the soft, floating warmth that precedes the last stage before drifting off to sleep.

His eyes shot open at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. “Lo? Is that you?” Patton’s rough voice called from the kitchen. The kitchen light was on, the warm glow spilling out into the hallway. How did I not notice that the light was on?

“Um,” Logan cleared his throat and straightened his glasses, “Yes, Pat, it’s me.” He walked into the kitchen and froze. Patton sat at the table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate gripped tightly in his hands. His hair stuck out at odd angles on either side of his head as though he’d just been tugging at it. His pajama shirt was buttoned wrong and he had deep purple shadows under his eyes.

“Pat? What’s wrong?”

Patton didn’t answer and instead busied himself at the stove, taking down a mug and pouring hot chocolate into it. He silently slid the mug across the table and nodded at Logan’s usual chair. Logan slipped off his overcoat and sat down, brow furrowed. His eyes were fixed on his older brother.

“Do you remember…” Patton sighed and took another sip of his cocoa. “Do you remember that case I told you about a couple weeks ago?”

Logan nodded, resisting the urge to clarify that it would be precisely two weeks from tomorrow.

“Well, I… I didn’t tell you when it happened, but… but the suspect died in custody.”

“Oh?” Logan kept his eyes on his mug, letting the steam fog his glasses.

“Yeah. He had some kind of heart attack in the hospital. They were understaffed and nobody noticed until he’d already started to crash.” Patton chewed at his thumbnail until Logan reached across the table and gently tugged at his hand. Patton gave his little brother a half smile and folded his hands in his lap.

Logan waited for Patton to say more before finally asking, working to keep the tone of incredulity from his voice. “Do you grieve him? From what you’d said that night, he sounded like a—”

“I’m thrilled he’s dead.” Logan pretended not to notice when Patton rubbed the hidden rosary under his sleeve. He shook his head. “That came out wrong. I… “ he sighed heavily, tilting his head against the back of his chair.

The brothers sat together without speaking for several minutes. Logan broke the silence. “You will feel better if you talk about it.”

“The Captain says I’ve gotta let this go. Count it as a lucky break. The guy was gonna get off because of the way we handled the case. And probably go and do it again. But, I just—” Patton blew out a sharp breath. “There’s something about the case that just doesn’t sit right. The incident report from the officers who guarded his room described a doctor who checked on the suspect right before he died.”

Logan listened quietly, hands tightly gripping his mug to disguise the tremor he could feel in his fingertips.

“But nobody at the hospital can say who this doctor was. The officers don’t remember his name and there’s no corresponding report or notes in the suspect’s medical file. He just…” Patton ground his teeth. “This guy just appeared out of nowhere, went into the suspect's room and the next thing my officers say, he called for a crash cart ‘case the perp was dying.

“And then he just disappeared.”

Patton sat back in his chair, staring, eyes unfocused, at his now-empty mug. Logan stood and refilled both their drinks. “Are you concerned that this doctor may have done something to contribute to his death?”

“I wish that was it.” Logan looked up, furrowing his brow to hide his surprise at his brother’s words. “A manhunt I can handle. What I can’t handle is thinking my officers made the whole thing up.” Patton drank more of his cocoa and shook his head. “It feels a little too convenient that this perp was not only gonna walk but would probably sue the department for brutality and then he just mysteriously dies in our custody?”

Logan set his mug down on the table with a louder-than-intended thunk and put his hands in his lap, gripping his thighs under the table. “W-was there anything in the autopsy report that indicated foul play?”

“Nah.” Patton leaned his elbow on the table and rubbed at his forehead. “Maybe the Captain’s right. I’m just overthinking this.”

Logan nodded, unspeaking, not trusting his voice to remain steady.

“Thanks, Lo.” Patton looked up, beaming at his brother. “You’re such a good listener. I feel a lot better.” He stood and rinsed his cup then gave his brother a side hug and quick kiss on the top of his head. “Oh, your date! I’ve been so absorbed in all this”—he waved his hands around—”that I didn’t get to hear anything about Remus!”

Logan smiled and stretched his arms out, triggering a parasympathetic yawn response. “Perhaps tomorrow, Pat?” The yawn covered his tremulous voice. “It’s rather late.”

“Oh, of course, Lo!” Patton leaned over his brother, checking the time on his watch. “Oh, fuuuuuudge,” he drew out the word, catching himself just in time and drawing a small smirk from his brother. “It’s almost four! Okay, big brother rights. I order you to finish your cocoa and go to bed, mister!”

Logan forced a chuckle and nodded, “Yes, sir!”

“Okay. Good night, Lo.” Patton gave him one more hug and made his way down to his room.

He waited until he heard Patton’s door close before he leaned over the table and pressed his forehead against the cool, smooth surface, panting. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Logan counted out his breaths for a few minutes, waiting for the roaring in his ears to ease and his hands to still enough to lift his mug without dropping it. He stood, knees locked, and took a few more measured breaths. He brought his mug to the sink and rinsed it before fleeing to his room. He closed and locked both the bedroom and bathroom doors.

He turned on the shower in the dark. Logan stripped and sat on the floor of the shower under the stream of the water, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around his legs.

The water was hot. Too hot. It hurt the worst where the water first hit the side of his head and his face and his ribs. The tight chains of exhaustion and distraction strangling Logan’s mind slowly rusted away as the water pounded against his skin and he pictured his thoughts, his self drawing further and further away from the pain.

He was not his body. He was only his thoughts. It didn't matter what happened to his flesh. Nothing could reach him, nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him inside his mind.

Logan’s thoughts grew clearer, more focused, sharper, as he pulled all of himself into the confines of his skull. He turned the problem around in his mind like a puzzle.

As the water turned cool, then cold, and finally icy, he felt the fog lift and he could clearly see the list of his errors in his mind. I rushed into my action on Utuado. I should have waited until he was released from police custody and taken care of him in his home. Outside of custody, the extinguishment of his life wouldn’t have even made a blip on Patton’s radar, let alone cause him to lose sleep.

I let my emotions dictate my deeds and rushed ahead without thinking things through.

Finally, he stood and shut off the water, shaking from the cold. He remained in the shower until his hair no longer dripped. Slow down. Think. Control your emotions.

Logan stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and left the bathroom. The sun had begun to rise, casting his bedroom in a pink glow.

He dressed quickly and powered up his computer, then started his VPN. He felt his jaw slacken as he stared at the familiar emblem. Janus’ keychain.

Panicked, Logan slammed down the lid of his laptop and shoved his chair back, afraid to touch the computer. Stop. You have crossed the line from vigilant to paranoid. Logan took a deep breath and re-opened the laptop. He shook his head as he re-entered his password and restarted the VPN. Perhaps it would be good to dig just a little. Even paranoids are sometimes right. He opened a fresh Tor browser window and began to search.

As he poked at the edges of Matchr and the corporate ownership of TwoFaces VPN, feeling around for a loose thread to tug, Logan repeated his new mantra to himself. Slow down. Think. Control.

His phone buzzed next to him and an uncontrollable smile spread across his face when he read the notification that slipped down over the screen.

𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. -𝚁𝚎

Logan calculated and tapped out a response. He hit send before the rest of his mind could catch up.

𝟹,𝟻𝟷𝟶… -𝙻𝚘

He stared at the screen, then banged his head against the surface of his desk. ‘Control.’ Riiiight…

---

taglist: @mavenmush @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @intrulogicalweek2021

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edupunkn00b · 3 years ago

Text

Matchr, Ch. 7: reversed(light,dark)

Prev - reversed(light,dark) - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Intrulogical Week Day 7: Reversals Rated M - CW for this chapter: the opening sections contain threatening language and moderate violence; assault, swearing, weapons, sexually suggestive, hospitals, blood mentions, injuries - WC: 9386 A/N: Mars Tosh is an OC from the last chapter. Don't start here :). ---

Mars Tosh sat in his living room, comfortably sinking into his long, plush couch. He’d skipped the day’s meetings, insisting his assistant clear his calendar and then leave him in peace. He needed the day to recuperate and to prepare for his meeting with his father later tonight. His week had not gone according to plan and, as much as he despised asking for help from his father of all people, things had gotten out of hand and he would likely need his assistance this time around.

He lifted his tumbler to his lips and scowled when he discovered it was empty again.

Tosh stood, cursing at the loose carpet that made him stumble as he retrieved the bottle of JCB and filled his glass to the brim. The edge of the glass let some spill onto his open shirt and chest, the high-proof vodka stinging the scratches there. Damned glass. He took another sip, then leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes, slowly rubbing his temples and pondering what he would wear to dinner that evening.

He gradually became aware of a buzzing by the doors. He ignored it, waiting for Hillary to respond. The doorbell buzzed again. He frowned and closed his eyes tighter against the racket. Then he remembered he’d sent her home, as well. His housekeeper’s shrill complaints about the state of his laundry were the last thing he needed today. Swearing, he got up and carried his drink to the door.

“Do you have any idea the headache you’re giving me?” He shouted through the door as he turned the lock and swung it open.

Standing on his doorstep, hand half-way raised toward the doorbell, was a little smudge of a man, his long sleeved, crisp white oxford with a crooked Windsor knot tucked neatly under a black blazer, dress slacks, and rather boring loafers. He dropped his hand immediately when Tosh opened the door and instead clutched a small stack of files and yellow legal pads to his chest.

“Oh, wow. It's really you," he whispered, blushing. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, Mr. Tosh. I'm from the firm. Your doorman let me up. My boss sent me with some information they’ve just received from a contact at Bellevue Hospital.” He leaned in and whispered like he was in some Agatha Christie novel. “Umm, they sent me instead of calling so, you know, it wouldn’t end up in the phone records?” His sentence ended with an uptalk, turning the statement into a question. He looked down at the gleaming tiled floor.

Tosh stared wordlessly at the man and took another sip of his drink.

“Well, sir, it appears that, um, well…" He took a deep breath. "Your name came up in a lab result for, well… an assault case, sir. My boss wanted me to come by and, you know, talk with you about your day on the, uh... “ He flipped through pages in the folder. His hands began to shake.

Tosh rolled his eyes. “You don’t need me to establish an alibi. What do you think the retainer is for?” He started to close the door and the man pushed the stack of files against the surface, stopping it.

“Please, Mr. Tosh, I’m sorry. He was insistent I speak with you personally. Please, sir." He dropped his voice and stepped closer to the towering man. He lowered the files as he wedged his foot against the bottom edge of the door. "I could lose my job if I go back empty-handed. He said I can't take 'no' for an answer." He swallowed, jumpy eyes never quite meeting his. "What can I do to persuade you?” His full lips spread into a smile, face open and innocent and delicious.

Tosh's eyes dragged up and down the man. He was short and his clothes didn't reveal much of the body underneath, the drape of his slim black trousers and the stretch of his starched button down across his squared shoulders provided only a tantalizing hint of what he was hiding underneath. He was young, though, bouncing with energy and looked significantly easier to deal with than the last one.

He seemed eager to please, too, big doe eyes blinking up at him, fringed by thick dark hair the perfect length to wrap around his fingers and pull. In Tosh’s long silence, the man shifted the folders in his arms, holding them against his body like a shield. Tosh smiled, all teeth and no light. “I think we can come up with something.”

The man swallowed but nodded rapidly, adjusting his glasses. “Thank you, thank you, sir!” He reached his hand out to shake, “My name is—”

“I don’t need to know and won’t remember. Get inside.”

Tosh turned his back on the nervous man and walked down the hall into his apartment, not bothering to see if he followed or even to close the door behind them.

Logan’s smile dropped as soon as Tosh turned away. He let the door fall closed behind them, careful not to touch it with his hands, then followed him to the living room and the long, L-shaped plush couch that dominated the space. As they walked, he pulled a pair of clear nitrile gloves from his pocket and slipped them on and pressed his star-struck smile back on his face by the time Tosh looked in his direction again. The man sat down near the center of the couch and took another sip of his drink.

Sunlight flooded into the living room from the adjacent terrace, and Logan could clearly see where the man had applied foundation to his face and neck and forearms, ineffectively covering the scratches Roman had given him. It looked like they hurt. Good. Logan's simpering smile wavered slightly and he felt a coiling hatred burning in his bones when Tosh grinned lazily, openly ogling his body while his last victim lay in a hospital bed.

Tosh tossed a pillow at his feet and leaned back against the thick backrest of the couch. “Don’t ever say I wasn’t a gentleman.” He winked, then finished his drink and set the glass down on the table in front of him.

Logan cleared his throat, forcing his voice up an octave. “Oh… you want me to—”

Tosh stared at him. “I don’t have all night and neither do you.”

Logan approached the couch, shuffling his feet, and placed the small stack of manila folders and notepads on the coffee table next to Tosh’s tumbler. He waited until the man had leaned his head back and closed his eyes, then knelt on the pillow between his legs, pulling a modified Epipen auto-injector from his back pocket as he did so. Inside was 2.19 CCs of a 62.5% solution of rocuronium bromide.

Based on Logan’s calculations, a dose sufficient to paralyze a horse.

He brushed his free hand against Tosh's knee and smiled up at him, then dug his fingers between the quadriceps tendon and the vastus to hold him steady while he jammed the device against the fleshy part of his outer thigh. “You’re right, Mr. Tosh. You don’t have all night.”

---

Patton tugged off his glasses and slouched over his desk, elbows resting on a haphazard stack of case files, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The normally energizing buzz of the precinct’s typical ambient noise had begun to give him a headache but he refused to go home until he’d heard from the lab at Bellevue. He picked up his mug and frowned into the greyish dregs of this morning’s—last night’s?—coffee. Sighing, he stood and stretched, then stumbled his way to the break room for a fresher cup.

He was still walking back to his desk, blowing on the slightly-burnt tasting brew when he heard his desk phone ring. A few drops of coffee splashed over the edge of the mug as he raced to the phone, snatching up the receiver before it could go to voicemail. “This is Detective Sanders!” he near-shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Hi, Detective, this is Elizabeth Sadiq from the SAFE lab at Bellevue. You had a rush order for forensic analysis and DNA sampling?”

Scrambling to open Roman’s case file, Patton yanked the pen from his front pocket and held it over the inner cover of the folder. He also brought up his terminal to search the State’s database. “Yes, yes, thank you, we’ve been waiting for those results. I can send an officer to sign off on the chain of custody, but what can you tell me over the phone?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, yes, I can fax you the full summary, as well… and we did get a hit in the DNA index when we uploaded the results to the data warehouse.” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “You did not hear this from me, but… it’s ID #9826474.”

Patton typed into the search field as she read. Mars Tosh’s profile filled the screen. He had to scroll twice to see all of the times the man had been associated with a case in the State DNA index.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, thanks, Dr. Sadiq. I gotta call the DA.”

Patton hung up and had just begun to dial his favorite paralegal in the District Attorney’s office when the desk sergeant tapped his shoulder. He covered the mouthpiece as he listened to the phone ring.

“Hey, Sanders, Captain’s got something for you.” He reached over and depressed the plunger on Patton’s phone.

"What the—" Patton started.

Sergeant Bittman muttered, “Captain's orders.”

---

Logan's eyes widened when the needle on the auto-injector didn't engage. He jumped to his feet and leaned over Tosh, driving his knee into his groin as he tried it again. The needle wouldn't click.

Fuck. Initial shock and pain dissolving in a roar, Tosh pushed against Logan hard, knocking him to the floor. He landed with a heavy thud, his sternum frozen as he gasped for breath.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Tosh pulled a phone from his trouser pocket and started to unlock it. Still gripping the auto-injector, Logan kicked at Tosh's shins, landing a few blows more through luck than strategy while he struggled to get out from the tight space between the coffee table and the adjacent side of the couch. Logan got one more good kick in at Tosh's knee and he dropped to the floor with a cry. Logan scrambled to his feet and stomped on Tosh's hand, freeing the phone from his grip. He kicked it away and under the couch just as Tosh swung at his face, the blow knocking off his glasses. The frames hit the edge of the coffee table with a small crack.

Logan ran from the living room, fighting to recall the apartment floorplan he’d found on Zillow while he’d waited across the street for Tosh to be home and alone. Tosh was only a few feet behind him when he finally spotted a blurry stainless steel and glass reflection glinting from a framed mirror along the long hallway. He darted into the room and rushed toward a counter filled with gadgets.

Tosh growled as he barreled into the room behind him. “You fucking little punk, go ahead and run. We’re going to have some fun tonight.” Logan’s hand brushed against a large butcher’s block and his fingers closed around a heavy knife handle. The man’s eyes widened slightly but then he licked his lips, teeth showing in a nasty smile. “Oh, you like knives, honey? Me, too.”

Shoving the Epipen back into his pocket, Logan cried out and ran at the man, knife held high. The tactic worked and Tosh instinctively ducked, allowing Logan to slip past him and back toward the living room.

Swearing loudly, Tosh pursued.

---

Patton poked his head into the Captain’s office. “Cap’n? Bittman said you wanted to see me?”

He sighed. “Sit down.” He plucked a report from the printer sitting behind his desk. “The Commissioner’s little predictive policing program just flagged another potential vic.” He crossed his arms. “As you well know, we missed the last one—”

“Sir, that ‘vic’ was an accused child molester who offed himself!”

The captain sighed again. “We can’t afford to show up after the fact on this one.”

Patton leaned forward, pressing his hands against the Captain’s desk. “Sir, I’m right in the middle of something on the King case.”

“And that’s why I called you. A couple days ago you said your victim in that case identified Mars Tosh, right?”

“Yes, and we just got the lab report and the… the evidence is there.” Patton shuddered, recalling that long list of previous cases. "We might actually have a chance to put this slimeball away with this one."

The captain slapped the printout on the desk. “Well, now your perp is coming up as a predicted vic.” Patton scanned the report, lips curled in disgust.

“But, Captain—”

“You know who this guy is. We don’t need any more news cameras down here.” Patton stared at the floor. “Moss and Cortez will meet you up there. Go check it out. Bittman will request a warrant for the King case but in the meantime," he pointed a thick finger at the report in Patton's hands. "This is your case now.”

---

Logan raced across the living room and pushed through the patio doors out to the terrace. The rain had finally stopped sometime yesterday, but the stone tiles outside were still slippery. He skidded to the side, nearly falling as he rushed to get into defensible position. Tosh’s loud swearing carried through the open door, followed by a heavy thud and a pained groan. Logan swallowed and tried to slow his breathing as he tightened his grip on the knife.

Tosh burst through the doorway and Logan leaped at his back, holding the knife against his side and struggling to grasp the man's hand until he finally got a good grip on his wrist and twisted. He pulled upward, forcing his hand up and past his scapula.

The hulking man roared in pain and threw Logan off his back. Logan landed hard, the impact loosening his grip on the knife. Tosh kicked him until he tossed the knife away and curled up in a ball to protect his ribs, his stomach, and his groin, arms criss-crossed over his head. Leaving him there for a moment, Tosh found the knife and plucked it up with one hand and grabbed Logan’s hair with the other, yanking him up to his feet.

“You want it rough, honey? Oh, I can give you rough.”

Fighting to ignore the pain in his ribs and his head, Logan kicked at the man’s legs but Tosh just pulled harder on his hair. His longer arms effectively kept himself out of range of Logan’s shorter reach, preventing the sharp blows from landing. Tosh dragged him over to the terrace railing and pushed him against it, letting the stone features of a gargoyle planter dig into his lower back. “Now, time for you to learn some manners.” Shoving his knee into Logan’s stomach, Tosh sliced down with the knife, the long cut leaving a burning trail down his chest. He leaned in close, lips curled in a sneer. “Play nicely or the next cut will matter.” Turning his head away from the man’s hot, vodka-infused breath, Logan squinted, desperately seeking anything on the terrace to use as a weapon, anything at all he could use to get away and buy himself time to come up with a new plan.

Fingers still tangled in his hair, Tosh twisted Logan’s head to face him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Even through his daze, vision blurred from the blows and the pain, Logan could see the hatred burning in the man’s eyes. He thought about Roman facing down those same eyes, and the fear and worry and hurt in Remus’ face in the hospital from he he'd done.

Whatever you have to do.

Logan stopped struggling. He held his breath, fire shooting through his ribs, then slowly released it, forcing his muscles to relax. His skin crawled. Tosh's fingers in his hair burned like acid, and his whole body started to shake. “There, that’s better,” Tosh crooned with a smile. “This doesn’t have to hurt. Much.”

Still grinning, he leaned over and placed the knife on a patio chair out of Logan’s reach. Logan felt the taller man’s center of gravity shift as he moved back to fully face him. Taking a chance, he ducked, feeling hair rip from his scalp as Tosh leaned forward to grab at him. Twisting his shoulder and catching Tosh just under his belt, Logan suddenly pushed up with his legs and stood, lifting the man off his feet high enough to get his head, arms, and chest over the side of the rail.

Twisting back the other way, Logan shoved once more and Tosh flipped over the railing and down to the street below.

---

The crowd gathering on the sidewalk a few dozen yards from the lobby doors of Mars Tosh’s building reminded Patton of a circle of vultures. He shuddered as he engaged the parking brake. Slamming the car door closed behind him, he held his badge. “Okay, folks, let’s not block the sidewalk, please…”

A few tourists stepped aside, and Patton sidled past the hardened native New Yorkers who would need more than a ‘please’ to clear the way. Deeper in the crowd, Patton encountered two officers from his precinct. “Detective…”

Patton caught sight of the awkwardly bent form laid out on the sidewalk and draped in a sheet, a foot poking out at an unnatural angle. He bowed his head for a moment then asked the closest officer. “From the building?”

“Yes. Um, Detective… We talked to the doorman.” He jerked his head over to a man in one of those ridiculous hats talking to a detective from the 19th precinct. “It’s Mars Tosh.” Patton looked up at the building above them.

He whistled lowly. “His apartment's on the 18th floor.”

“Yeah. There's not much left.” The officer turned to nudge a few braver on-lookers further from the body. “There’s a team up there now.”

Patton gnawed at his lip. “Thanks. I’ll head up, too.”

---

Logan crouched in an electrical closet next to the service elevator on the 18th floor, listening to police radios beep and crackle while the NYPD team scoured Tosh’s apartment. He’d already counted at least five officers inspecting the space and the ding of the guest elevators on the other side of the wall signaled the arrival of more. He shifted and grit his teeth, fire radiating from his likely cracked ribs. He strove to avoid further jostling where his bloodied shirt clung to the wound from Tosh’s knife. The last time he’d pulled at the shirt, the long gash had reopened, causing a fresh round of blood to seep through the material. He cursed his decision to wear a white shirt. Black would have better obscured the stain.

In the first few breathless moments after Tosh’s feet had cleared the railing, Logan had collapsed on the stone tiles, panting heavily. Each jagged breath had sent stabbing pains through his ribcage, his stomach, his head. He’d counted to sixty, giving himself one minute of rest before he’d rolled over and worked out his next steps.

With gratitude, he looked down at his hands, still gloved, so at least fingerprints were not an issue.

Logan felt a warm wetness dripping down his chest and lifted his jacket. The front of his shirt was red. Careful to avoid touching his shirt or his own skin, he turned up his collar and closed his blazer closer around himself to ensure he didn’t leave a trail in Tosh’s apartment. He pulled himself to his knees and scanned the patio.

He blinked, the headrush from the sudden movement fuzzing his vision. At last, his eyes landed on the knife and he stood and picked it up. Using his sleeve, he wiped away the blood—his blood—from the patio chair where it had laid, then grabbed a bit of soil from the closest planter and sprinkled a small amount over the surrounding tiles, table, and chair. He brushed most of the dirt aside, too, hoping to make any spots picked up by a blacklight look like phosphorus from the soil.

Temporarily satisfied, Logan stumbled to the kitchen to wash and clean the knife.

Logan then returned to the living room. His ribs protested angrily as he bent to grab the stack of files he’d brought as a prop. He stumbled as he tucked them under his arm, knocking over Tosh’s empty tumbler. He fell to one knee and knelt for a moment, gripping the folders tightly as he struggled to breathe past the pain. He stared at the empty glass on the floor.

Hurry.

Sudden inspiration drove Logan to pick up the glass. He smelled the contents, shuddering when it brought back the memory of Tosh pressing him against the railing just a few minutes ago. Ignoring the icy, irrational fear squeezing his stomach, he checked the bar and found a half-empty bottle of vodka. He brought both back out to the terrace and poured some in the glass, then set the bottle on the ground, equidistant from the patio table and the spot where he’d fought with Tosh. He gently kicked over the bottle, rolling it slightly to let the vodka spill over the tiles, filling the terrace with the odor of alcohol. He worked quickly, the pain from his injuries already affecting his vision.

Hurry.

Logan returned to the living room once more, scanning the room for anything he may have missed. He squinted and reached up to adjust his glasses, wondering if he had time to clean them.

His hand closed on nothing.

He slapped at his temples and the bridge of his nose. His glasses! His mind flashed to Tosh striking him in the living room, knocking the glasses from his face.

Fuck. He looked around the room, but his compromised vision made it a daunting task. He’d just dropped to his knees and begun to feel around the floor for the missing frames when he heard the elevator ding.

Hurry.

Panicked, Logan jumped to his feet and limped back through the living room door into the rest of the house. Not to the right not to the right not to the right not to the right, he chanted, closing his eyes for a moment to envision the apartment layout. Go left.

He’d just slipped through to the corridor that led to the service elevators when the guest elevator dinged again and the doors had slid open. The crackle and chatter of police radios filled the space as Logan had slid to the floor in the electrical closet, biting his lip to stifle his pained whine as he'd tried to quiet his breaths.

That had been almost an hour ago.

Another ding announced the arrival of yet more officers and Logan grit his teeth, pushing back against the panic bubbling in his stomach. The elevator doors slid opened and a single set of footsteps echoed as the occupant left the elevator. He listened as an officer intercepted the new arrival. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is an active—Oh, sorry, Detective Sanders, didn’t recognize you there.”

---

Patton stepped off the elevator and suppressed a smile when an eager young rookie stopped him. The younger man’s eyes widened when he realized his mistake. “Protecting the inner perimeter, well done, Officer.” Patton nodded at him, then followed the sound of radios into the rest of the apartment.

He walked down a long, gleaming hallway toward a formal living room. A large, white L-shaped couch, dotted with coral and puce accent pillows was at one end. A bar was at the other, two rows of top-shelf spirits lined up along the back edge. There was an open space on the back row and a lowball glass appeared to be missing from what was otherwise a fully stocked shelf of stemware.

Patton stepped out onto the terrace.

The majority of the officers were there, measuring the height of the railing, peering over the edge, and speculating on whether Tosh had actually jumped or merely fell. The strong stench of alcohol and the half-drunk glass outside seemed to indicate the latter. His eyes caught on an empty bottle of vodka, just about the right size to fit in the gap he saw on the bar.

Patton shuddered as he went back inside. Was the slimeball having a celebratory drink?

Forcing his thoughts back to a more professional track, Patton walked around the living room, standing in front of the bar, miming the motions of pouring a drink and then turned toward the patio doors.

He tilted his head, staring at the pillows on the couch. One of the puce-colored pillows also appeared to be missing, breaking the orange-puke-orange-puke pattern. He walked around the short side of the couch and found the pillow on the floor. As he stared at it, his eye caught on a thin, long, bit of familiar dark blue plastic sticking out from under the coffee table.

Moving automatically, he bent to retrieve it and nearly choked.

Patton had teased Logan for unknowingly selecting matching frames the last time they’d both purchased fresh pairs online. Their orders had arrived the same day and they'd laughed as they'd tried on each other's glasses, wincing at the instant eye pain the incorrect prescriptions had triggered.

Logan had insisted on labeling his frames to distinguish them, using an Exact-o knife to carve his initials on the inner arms to ensure he could tell the difference even with blurred vision.

Holding his breath, Patton's hands shook as he looked down at the eyeglasses in his hand, one lens cracked. He traced the tiny LS on the inside edge of the frames.

"Detective?" The rookies' voice in the hall startled him and he shoved the frames into his pocket without thinking.

He cleared his throat and turned to face him. "Yes, Officer?" Patton asked in a voice far calmer than he felt.

"Captain's on the radio for you," he said as he stretched his receiver over to Patton, pressing it into his clammy hand.

“The detective from the One-Nine says she thinks this looks like a tragic accident.” The captain cleared his throat and Patton could feel his glare coming through the radio. “What’s your take, Detective?”

Patton licked his lips and gripped the radio a little tighter. “It… it looks like Tosh got drunk and fell off his terrace, sir.”

“Hmph.” The captain was quiet for a few moments, keeping the radio open. Finally, he muttered, “Keep your guys quiet. No media. Not until we get a hold of his family. Got it?”

“Yes, Captain.” Patton met the rookie’s eyes and he nodded rapidly.

“Wrap things up there before the paparazzi get word.”

“Yes, Captain,” he said again. “Thank you, sir.” The radio squawked and then fell silent.

Patton sucked in a deep breath. “You heard the Captain.” He raised his voice, walking toward the terrace as he spoke. “Pack it in. Captain's sending us home."

---

Logan grimaced, breathing shallowly in the closet, ignoring the advice to take deep breaths after breaking ribs. Deep breaths meant pain, and deep breaths meant another coughing fit, and he could afford neither while he continued to hide, listening as the NYPD team shut down their investigation and, bit by bit, left Tosh’s apartment.

He listening closely to their chatter, seeking any indication that they had found his glasses, but none ever came. He’d been able to surmise that the alcohol he’d left out on the terrace had helped convince them that Tosh had gotten drunk and fallen over the railing. And it sounded as though he’d succeeded in preventing any blood from dripping around the floor as he’d cleaned the scene.

The presence of his glasses, however, would prove more than incriminating. Particularly given that detective leading the investigation would recognize them in an instant.

He waited a long time in the electrical closet, counting out the seconds for several more minutes after the apartment grew silent, needing to be certain everyone had gone. Finally, he stood. A whimper escaped the back of his throat with the movement, a line of fire shooting through his ribcage as the muscles around his injured ribs shifted and stretched. Logan leaned against the doorway for a moment to catch his breath, then slipped through and began to hunt for his eyeglasses.

Logan allotted himself five minutes for his search. He didn’t know how much time he might have before someone from Tosh’s family or staff might appear. He counted out the seconds from 300 and by the time he’d gotten to zero, he still hadn’t found them. They could not have simply disappeared. In all likelihood, the police had found them during the investigation and they were sitting in an evidence bag at the precinct.

He wanted to make sure he didn’t follow to a holding cell, so Logan took the service elevator down to the basement, then slipped through a propped door leading to the alley behind the swanky apartment building. Tucking his blazer closely around his blood-stained shirt, he started walking downtown.

---

Roman shifted in his hospital bed, groaning slightly. Earlier that morning, a nurse had come in and disconnected him from the monitors and removed the oxygen tube, giving Roman a near-complete return of his mobility. That didn’t stop Janus from rearing up like an angry bear when the hospital staff prodded him or from doting on him once they were gone.

Janus tugged at his blanket a bit where his foot was catching at an awkward angle. "Hmm…" Roman hummed. "Okay, truth."

Janus rolled his eyes with a little smile.

"Oh, c'mon, Ro Bro. That's your third 'truth' in a row. I already know all your secrets. Show some chutzpah." He waggled his eyebrows. "Say dare."

"Okay, 'dare,'" Roman said, a little glint in his eye.

"The two of you!" Janus cried, a grin peeking out from the sides of his scowl. "You are in a hospital!" Remus winked at Roman.

"He's an angry elf," he whispered loudly.

Janus flung his arms up in the air feigning exasperation as Roman reached for his hand with a tiny smirk. Stretching his upper lip too much tugged at the stitches and they'd already had to have a few of them redone in the last two days.

Patton knocked on the half-open door. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Oh, Detective." Roman's voice cracked, laughter dying on the twins lips. Janus moved closer to Roman, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Please, come in."

Remus' knee began to bounce and he pushed against his thigh, forcing his heel to the floor. "Is there news?"

Patton nodded slowly. "There've been some... developments in the case." Roman pulled Janus a little closer and Remus reached for his hand. All three stared at the detective.

"I just got back from Tosh's apartment." He took a deep breath. "He's dead."

Remus' ears filled with static as he held his breath, watching Patton's face carefully for any sign of news about Logan. He gradually became aware of Roman's voice.

"... you sure?" Janus held Roman's hand to his lips, not speaking.

"I saw the body." Patton swallowed hard and bowed his head. "I'm sure."

Tears sprung to Roman's eyes and his hands shook. Remus gave his hand a little squeeze, eyes darting to his quiet phone charging on a counter across the room. "What—what happened? Did the arrest—"

Patton shook his head. "He, um… It looks like he'd been drinking… a lot... out on his terrace and he must've tripped or became disoriented and… he fell." Patton grimaced. "It was 18 storeys."

Janus rubbed the back of Roman's hand against his cheek. "I would like to pretend to be saddened by the loss of life, but…"

Remus remained silent, watching the seemingly permanent crimp in Roman's forehead begin to melt away, and his eyes soften. Roman took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, leaning back against the raised top half of his hospital bed.

"I… " Patton clasped his hands in front of him, also watching Roman's expression. "I wanted to make sure you knew that… that you don't have to worry about him anymore."

He nodded, wincing as his tears stung a healing scrape on his cheekbone. "Thank you Detective, um... Patton."

Reaching for the tissues, Remus carefully blotted the tears from Roman's face as Janus kissed the side of his head. Remus silently handed Janus a few tissues for his own tears.

He cleared his throat, still clutching his husband's bruised hand to his chest. "So what now?

"Well," Patton smiled for the first time that afternoon. "Roman was medically cleared to leave the hospital this morning. Landis from Victims Services pulled some strings and had the nurses slow walk it…" He shrugged. "The discharge order is still sitting in their inbox."

He tilted his head toward Roman. "I imagine you'd be more comfortable in your own bed?"

"Oh, dear Zeus, yes!" He poked at the mattress, making a face. "Not to complain but, well, these beds really could really use firmer mattresses and…" his voice trailed off, a slight flush covering his face as Remus raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Not to complain, though, right, Ro Bro?" Janus chuckled and shook his head at the twins.

"I'll let Landis know. She would also like to get you set up with some trauma counseling. It would be a good idea." He included both Janus and Remus in his gaze. "For all of you."

Patton finally looked around the room, lingering on the coat rack containing only Janus and Remus' outerwear. "Where's Logan? I figured he'd be in here with you."

Janus started to shrug but Remus quickly interjected, "He went searching for some decent coffee. Have you tried the bean water from the break room?" Roman narrowed his eyes at his brother. Remus put on an exaggerated shudder to hide the tremor in his voice. "I mean, it beats caffeine withdrawal but not by much," he laughed a little too loudly.

Patton nodded, looking down at Remus' shaking hands as he felt the weight of Logan's broken eyeglasses in his pocket. "I guess I'll have to I'll catch him at home after my shift ends, then."

"I'll let him know you're looking for him," Remus grinned at him with a bright and brittle smile.

"Thanks." Patton nodded again, curling his lips into a tight grin. "Well, I'll go talk to Landis. You have my card and hers. Call me when you're settled at home, if you like, to check in." He slipped back through the door.

"Re, what was—” Janus began quietly once Patton was out of earshot.

Roman suddenly turned to Janus, interrupting. "Oh, Sweetheart, would you mind handing me my water?" He smiled carefully at Janus.

"Of course, my dear." When Janus turned to fetch Roman's water cup, the latter met Remus' eye and winked.

"Fill me in later?" he later asked his brother when Janus had left to refill his water pitcher.

"You got it, Ro Bro."

---

Remus checked his phone for at least the tenth time since leaving Roman and Janus' place. And for the tenth time, there was still no message or call from Logan.

The mechanics of Roman's hospital discharge had been anticlimactic. The speed with which Landis arrived with a thick set of pamphlets, group therapy schedules and therapist referrals for each of them, plus a joint series for Roman and Janus, revealed just how much she had been holding back while she waited for an arrest.

Roman groaned, leaning heavily against Remus as they stepped off the elevator. "C'mon, Ro Bro, just a few more feet. You got this!"

"It's not my fault the meds make me so damned tired," Roman whined at first and then frowned as they waited for Janus to unlock the door. "I'm sorry. I feel like a child."

Janus turned as he pushed the door open. He smiled at Roman and lifted his palm to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against the unbroken skin. "My dear, we are here for you no matter what." Remus looked down at the floor as Roman allowed Janus to lead him inside their apartment.

"Wait," Roman interrupted them. "Are you both sure we have everything? And the wound check isn't until Friday? I really don't want to have to go all the way downstairs again."

"Hey, be grateful you and Jannie have an elevator and you don't have to walk up three flights! Remember that time I sprained my ankle? That fucking suuuuucked."

Roman chuckled.

"Yes, my dear." Janus kissed his hand again. "All you need to concern yourself with is relaxing and letting us take care of you."

Watching carefully as Remus shifted, putting his hands in his pockets, Roman leaned a little closer to Janus. "What I'd like to do most of all is sleep in my own bed." He raised an eyebrow at Remus. "You look pretty beat yourself there, Re."

"Wow, Ro Bro, you wound me," he grinned. "We can't all manage to look as fabulous as you and Jannie after zero sleep."

Roman's smile softened as he met Remus' gaze. "Go home and get some sleep, Re, so you don’t fall asleep on our floor.” He reached out and fussed with Remus' windswept waves. "I don't want to have to step over in the dark."

He'd huffed out a quiet laugh and had raised his hands in mock defeat. “All right, all right, you’ve convinced me. But you won’t get rid of me so easily when I come by later in the week.”

Roman had just laughed over his shoulder as Janus had waved and carefully led him into their apartment. “Damn right, I won’t.”

Remus put his phone in his pocket and unlocked his door, fumbling briefly with the keys and dropping them with a loud clang. He bent to retrieve them and noticed a small reddish-brown circle on the tile outside his door. He scratched at it with his thumbnail and it easily scraped away. Frowning, he smelled it, then swallowed, his throat gone dry. Blood.

Remus looked around him and saw another few drops leading away from his apartment. He re-locked his door and followed the drops. He hadn’t noticed them when he’d first come up the stairs and walked down the hallway, but now that he was looking for them, they seemed to pop out on the tile. Some of the drops were smaller than the others, with the larger drops interspersed with the smaller, and increasing in frequency as he got closer to the staircase.

He got to the landing and froze. Both the steps leading downstairs and those leading up were dotted in drops. The steps leading up had more of them and each was larger. Remus bit his lip and he started up the stairs, following the browning splotches of blood.

Remus followed them all the way to the top, the trail seeming to end a few feet from the door to the roof. He'd taken a step toward the roof door, about to pull it open when he was interrupted by a small groan. Turning, he saw Logan sitting on the floor, tucked into the space between the wall and a large, floor-to-ceiling fire controls box. Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the broad swath of red down his shirt and he rushed over and knelt in front of him.

“Lo?” His voice cracked as he reached for his hand and Logan's eyes turned and slowly focused on Remus. “Lo, is that… is that blood?"

He shook his head, blinking slowly. “Don’t worry, it’s mine…”

“What?!” Remus ripped open his shirt, the blood beginning to coagulate along the long, angry cut. The rest of Logan’s chest and sides are littered with deep purple bruises. “Oh my god, Lo, you’re hurt. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did not wish to concern you,” he said quietly. He leaned his head back against the wall, a small whine escaping the back of his throat with each inhalation. “Besides, you have my phone.”

“What? I don’t have your phone.”

Logan smiled and winced. “Check your pocket with the torn seam.” Remus fished through the lining of his coat, his hand finally closing on the small device and his missing button. He stared down at them. “It is almost unfair how easy it is to pull a sleight of hand trick on someone who’s crying.”

“What? Why would you do that, Lo?”

He shrugged and grimaced at the wave of pain that small gesture triggered. “GPS. And I needed it somewhere you wouldn’t happen upon it by accident in case you weren’t alone when you did.”

“But, Lo, what if you needed something?”

“I would… improvise.”

“But Lo.” Remus tentatively touched Logan's ribs, wincing when Logan flinched back in pain. "Lo, you need to go to the hospital."

"No. No, no hospital. Too suspicious." He panted and stared at a spot on the floor. "I am fine, I… I will be fine. I…" He paused, the effort of speaking and breathing seeming to be a bit too much. "I simply needed to rest a bit to work out what to do." He looked down at his chest and tried to pull his shirt closed. "I did not think I could hide the shirt on the train and I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go."

His voice grew quieter. "I'm sorry… I did not intend to trouble you, Remus…” He leaned his head against the side of the fire box and closed his eyes. A few tears began to trail down his face. Remus had just begun to think that perhaps Logan had passed out when he asked, “How did you find me?”

“You were bleeding in the hall.” Remus wiped away Logan’s tears and then his own. “I followed the trail.”

His brow furrowed and Remus thought he could see Logan calculating.“What time is it?”

“Almost 9.”

“Oh, no,” he opened his eyes and tried to straighten, groaning as he leaned against the wall. He panted and began to breathe more shallowly. “I have been here considerably longer than I'd planned. It is fortunate you found me and no other residents did.”

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, nobody likes to go on the roof. The view was ruined when they built the towers… you can't hardly see anything now.”

“I apologize for the stains in your hall. I will return tomorrow and clean them.”

“Oh my god Lo! You're so smart but you’re such an idiot. I don't care about the floor. I care that you're bleeding.” Remus scrubbed at the tears dripping from his own eyes. “Lo, let me bring you home.”

“Very well, thank you.” He waved toward Remus’ pocket where he’d slipped Logan’s phone and let his eyes fall closed. “Would you mind getting the Lyft?”

“No, Love. Let me bring you home. C'mon.” Remus reached for Logan’s hands as he stood. Logan sat, frozen, eyes fixed on Remus. His mouth fell open a little as he stared up at him.

“You called me Love.”

Remus smiled sadly at him. “Of course I did. I’m sorry that… I’m so, so sorry." Remus knelt again and cupped Logan’s face in his hands. "Of course I love you, Lo. I love all of you.” He gently brushed away the tears that started to tumble down his cheeks.

He stood again, carefully helping Logan to his feet. He wrapped one arm around his waist, letting Logan lean against him. “Let’s go home, Love.”

---

Logan slowly opened his eyes. He was in bed. His head and his ribs still hurt but considerably less than before. He felt a half-frozen gel icepack pressed against the most painful part of his side and the aching line on his chest was covered in gauze, held in place with light blue sensitive skin tape.

And pressed against his back was Remus, one arm draped over his hips, the other tucked in the crook of his neck, loosely cradling him. Logan listened to his quiet, steady breathing for several minutes as he gathered his strength to rise.

He shifted, a flash of pain in his side forcing a small groan from the back of his throat.

Remus inhaled sharply and raised up in his elbow, peering closely down at him. “Lo, what is it?” His voice was rough and gravelly from sleep. “What can I do?”

Logan shook his head and started to sit up, “I should—” he grunted, the sharp pain in his chest pushing him back on the bed. He lay against the mattress, panting. He allowed Remus to carefully pull him back against his chest.

“You should lie down,” Remus whispered near his ear. Logan nodded slowly and surrendered to the prickly softness of Remus’ lips as he pressed tender kisses against his shoulder, and to the heat in his hands as Remus stroked his arms, carefully avoiding the bruising on his left hand and arm. Logan closed his eyes and relished the comfort and warmth and safety of Remus’ embrace. He hoped it could last forever.

He knew it could not.

“Do you need anything?” Remus asked.

Logan gripped Remus’ hands in front of him, resting his cheek against the knuckles, blinking back hot tears. “Just this.”

Remus curved his body closer to him as he gently kissed the back of Logan's neck.

"Then go back to sleep, Love. I've got you."

---

Logan woke again, Remus' low voice washing over his sleep fuzzed thoughts.

“Yeah, Pat, he’s fine, just sleeping. I don’t think he slept a wink the whole time Ro was in the hospital. … Yeah, yeah your little brother takes good care of me. I’ll have him call you when he wakes up, okay?”

Remus ended the call and climbed back into bed, again curling himself against Logan’s back. “I think he still believes me, but…”

“I’ll need to go home and see him soon,” Logan whispered. He sighed and closed his eyes against his blurry vision, that constant reminder that the worst was yet to come.

Remus’ warm hands traced his arms, his hip, then finally rested on his belly, letting the heat sooth his bruises. “I don’t want to let go of you.”

Logan turned his face from him to hide the tears dripping down his cheeks. “Maybe just a little while longer.” He let himself melt into Remus' arms.

---

They waited together in Remus’ lobby for Logan's rideshare back to Brooklyn. Remus chuckled, looking over Logan's shoulder at the app screen. "How does no-one see that 38th is a one-way?"

Realization dawned on Remus’ face. “Oh! Oh, god, Lo! How could I not notice? Your glasses! Are they upstairs?” He started to turn toward the staircase.

Logan shook his head. “I… I left them at my apartment.”

“Oh. Oh, good.” Remus drew him close once again, gently wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the side of Logan’s head, avoiding the tender spots on the back and top of his scalp.

His phone buzzed. “Car's here,” Remus frowned. “Can… can we get together soon? I mean, I want you to rest but…”

Logan pressed a smile on his face. “Can I call you in the morning and we'll make a plan?”

“I'd like that,” Remus murmured against his neck and he turned Logan around in his arms. He stroked his hair and pulled him in for a long kiss.

Letting his eyes drift closed, Logan fell into the kiss, relishing the heat and the softness, sinking into Remus' gentle grip as he held back from crushing their bodies together, but tight enough to never slip away.

He broke away and whispered against his lips, “I love you so much, Remus.”

“And I love you, Lo.” He smiled down at him. “See you later.”

Logan left his building and got into the Lyft and before he whispered, “Goodbye,” and lowered his head as the tears started to fall.

---

“Lo, you’re home!” Patton had rushed to the door at the sound of Logan’s key in the lock and he stood now in the hallway, holding the door open for his brother. The key still hung in the lock and Patton watched as Logan carefully twisted it back out. He moved slowly, avoiding the twisting motion he knew would trigger the sharp pains he could not hide, or worse, a coughing spell that would leave him crying and breathless.

Patton stepped back, giving him room to remove his shoes. Logan felt his brother’s eyes on him as he turned his back, jaw tightening as he toed off his shoes and removed the borrowed sweater they'd found in the back of Remus’ closet. “How are you this evening, Patton?” he asked quietly, a little breathless from the effort of masking the shooting pain every breath sent through his ribs.

“Relieved that you’re home.” He nodded. He tugged at Logan’s, or, rather, Remus’ long-sleeved thermal. “Is this new?”

“Ah, no, it belongs to Remus.” Logan carefully turned to face Patton. “He was kind enough to lend me a change of clothes. My own are at the cleaners down the street from his building.”

Logan could just make out Patton’s broadening grin. “Hey, is it too warm out for hot cocoa?” Logan forced a small smile, shaking his head. “Then two hot cocoas, coming up. I’ll make them if you keep me company in the kitchen.”

Patton returned to the kitchen faster than Logan could reply, so he followed wordlessly and sat in his usual seat at the kitchen table. Patton took out the saucepan and the milk. He hummed quietly as he poured in the milk and chocolate, then turned on the heat and started to stir. He waited until the chocolate began to melt before speaking again, still facing the stove.

“So I guess Remus told you about Tosh.”

Logan nodded. “Yes. Yes, he did.” He cleared his throat, “I, um, I apologize for staying out so long without checking in. Remus also told me you called his phone this morning while I was asleep.”

Patton quietly nodded, stirring the chocolatey mixture, letting the wooden spoon scrape along the bottom and the edges of the pot so the hot chocolate wouldn’t stick. “You were really looking out for him and his family while Roman was in the hospital. Remus is lucky to have someone like you by his side.” He added a little more chocolate to the mixture.

“I’ve seen a lot of evil out there in the world,“ he said as he clicked off the stove and continued to stir the steaming mixture. “It felt good to be able to tell Roman that he didn’t have to worry about him any more.”

Logan nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. “I can imagine.”

Patton took down two mugs and filled them both before setting one down in front of Logan and settling into the chair opposite him with his own cup. He blew on the cocoa, not looking at Logan.

“All that evil, all those people doing horrible things. Murders, assaults…“ Patton sighed and took a sip from his mug. “You know what I mean?” He finally looked up at Logan.

Logan felt his throat clench. He couldn't read his expression, but there was no mistaking Patton's stare. He knows. They must have found my glasses at his apartment. Oh my god, Patton knows. He nodded wordlessly, afraid his shaking voice would be the final confirmation Patton seemed to be seeking.

“I’m glad there are still good men out there, too. Men willing to fight back against it. It’s why I joined the force. It helps me know I’m fighting on the right side, fighting alongside real heroes every day.” He quietly drank more of his cocoa. Logan forcibly pushed his heels against the legs of the chair to control the tremor in his calves.

“And the heroes are out there.” Patton turned his cup around on the table, the heavy ceramic causing vibrations to buzz up through Logan’s arms where they pressed against the surface of the table. “Sometimes it feels like the bad guys outnumber us. That they're just everywhere and we don't even know it. And you can’t always tell from the outside.”

He stared at Logan. “But the good guys are out there, too. And we can’t let the evil defeat us.” Logan lifted his cup to his lips, hoping to hide his shudder. He set down the cup before his trembling grip caused it to fall.

Humming, Patton finished his hot cocoa and brought his empty cup to the sink. He kept his back to Logan as he washed and dried the cup before returning it to the cupboard.

Logan stared down into his cup, afraid if he lifted it with his shaking hands it would spill. He silently counted his breaths, fighting back against the panic he felt rising up his chest and throat, tiny scrabbling claws digging into his him, threatening to tear through his mouth and pour all over the table.

Patton stopped next to Logan’s chair on his way out of the kitchen. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Logan’s broken eyeglasses and set them down next to Logan’s hand. He gently brushed the bruise on his left hand that shone through the foundation Remus had helped him apply on the marks that peeked out beyond the sleeves and collar of the borrowed shirt.

Logan stared down at the glasses, hands shaking. His shoulders slumped and he fought for breath. His eyes filled with tears as he squinted up at Patton. Between the tears and the uncorrected vision, he couldn’t make out Patton’s features.

Patton picked up the glasses and gently put them on Logan’s face. Despite the cracked lens, Logan could now clearly see the broad smile drawn across Patton’s face. "Remus isn't the only one who's lucky to have you on his side."

He tenderly pushed Logan’s hair from his eyes, wincing a bit when he spotted some of the bruising on his scalp. He leaned forward and softly kissed his forehead. “I love you, Kiddo." Logan gasped and reached for Patton's hand. He held his little brother's hand then gave it a gentle shake. "Big brother rights… don’t stay up too late.”

---

Logan sat at the kitchen table, half-way through his second cup of coffee. He smiled when he heard the radiator’s soft hiss grow louder. Winter did not want to let go of its grip on the city. It was already March and they'd just had three consecutive nights of below-freezing temperatures. It was a relief to know that the old building’s furnace was still powering through another long winter.

He scrolled through his phone, continuing to check his email, quickly swiping away the spam and scanning the auto-notifications for anything to flag. He’d just deleted another spam email when a text notification took over his screen. Taking another sip of his coffee, his brow furrowed slightly.

Remus walked into their kitchen and stood behind him, running his fingers through his damp hair, gently massaging his scalp and his temples. Remus smiled when Logan leaned into his touch, lowering his phone and closing his eyes. The tense line running across his forehead remained, though. Remus bent over and nuzzled his neck, “What’s wrong, Love?”

“It’s Patton. He wants me to meet him at Starbucks at 11.”

Remus nodded, then asked, “For coffee or cocoa?”

“Cocoa.”

Remus hummed and rubbed his shoulders as Logan let his head fall back against his stomach. “Home late tonight, then?” He bent down, pressing soft kisses against Logan’s temple, his cheek, then down to his neck.

He nodded. “Most likely.” Logan turned in his seat, looking up and meeting Remus’ eyes. “It’s a good night to meet up with Roman and Janus after therapy. Maybe take them to a show or to Pio’s?”

“‘Or both. Both. Both is good,’” he winked. Remus lifted Logan’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Should I reschedule our dinner with them on Saturday?”

“Reschedule your birthday dinner?” Logan shook his head. “No, of course not. I will not let anything interfere with that.”

A blushing smile played at his lips as he nodded again. Remus trailed his hands through Logan’s hair and down the back of his neck, lacing his fingers together. He stepped closer and slipped one leg between Logan’s knees. “See you after, then?” Logan melted under the heat of Remus’ gaze.

“Most definitely,” Logan whispered.

The soft grin spread across Remus’ face. “Have I told you that I love you?”

Logan chuckled, “Not in the past fifteen minutes or so.”

“Oh, well then.” Remus pulled Logan to his feet and drew him close, wrapping his arms around his waist to close the distance between them. “I must rectify that egregious gap in my communications immediately.” He first kissed the sliver of skin at Logan’s open collar, catching just the edge of the scar on his chest. Raising his head, he kissed a soft trail up Logan’s neck and across his jaw until he hovered over his love’s mouth. “I love you, Lo,” he whispered against his lips before capturing his mouth in a long, slow kiss.

When they broke away for air, Logan whispered back, “And I love you.”

Remus grinned, “Can I show you how much?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Logan laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

“For you, Love?” He shimmied his shoulders as he pulled Logan back down the hall toward their bedroom. “Anything.” --- taglist: @mavenmush @braingoburr @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred

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edupunkn00b · 3 years ago

Text

Matchr, Ch. 1: run matchr.exe

Matchr - run matchr.exe - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Day 1 of Intrulogical Week 2021: AU - Rated M - WC: 5576 CW: alcohol mentions, Remus-typical innuendo, swearing, brief self-harm Spotify playlist --- If anyone would be able to find a loophole that would permit VPNs to legally sell their customers’ data, it’s Janus Woods. I’m certain he would never do something so nefarious as seeking to profit from that… Would he? No, of course not. He’s just trying to find someone special for his ex-fiancee-turned-best friend. And if he happens to make a tidy profit so he can spoil the love of his life, his own King… well that’s just moral dessert, now, isn’t it? Remus' and Logan's days respectively begin just a few hours after the ends of Birthday Drinks and When The Bad Guys Win

ID: Close up photo of a green integrated circuit board by Harland Quarrington, via Wikimedia Commons. Used under Creative Common License 1.0.

---

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing his face deeper into the pillow he hugged against his chest. No. No, no, I'm not awake yet. Please. I'm still asleep.

The hissing of the radiator seemed to grow louder and the odd little corner seam that was poking through the pillowcase grew sharper. He swallowed against his dry throat and shifted his hips, his full bladder nudging him further toward wakefulness.

No, no, no. I am not awake yet.

He realized he'd been twisting his lips into a scowl, so he took a deep breath, consciously relaxing the muscles in his mouth, his jaw, his forehead. He willed his eyelids to relax, imagining them smooth and heavy, simply falling closed instead of being forced shut. He imagined himself floating, drifting, a leaf on the sea, bobbing back to sleep. Maybe he was in a boat, comfortably curled at the bottom, rocking gently on the sea. The warmth from the radiator was the sun shining against his skin. The radiator’s hiss was the sound of waves lapping at the distant shore. The fuzzy comforter draped over his legs, his chest, and his shoulders was the loving body of…

His eyes snapped open, the sounds and sensations of the world coming into perfect focus.

I'm awake.

Groaning, Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed and gulped some of the water from the glass next to him. It wasn't water but Gatorade and the unexpected sweetness nearly made him gag. Wincing against the growing pounding in his head, he stood, flinging out shaky arms as the room threatened to spin. He stood still for a moment, waiting for his equilibrium to resolve, then stumbled to the bathroom.

At first he clicked on the light but the glare from even the single bulb sliced through his eyes so he used the toilet in the dark, washed his hands and shuffled back to the bed. He sat down on the edge and finished the Gatorade on his nightstand. Why do I have Gatorade?

His eye snagged on the brightly wrapped gift in the center of his desk and the previous night came flooding back into his mind. Last night was his birthday and he'd met Janus for their twice-yearly birthday drinks.

He laid back against the bed.

Aw, fuck. And he'd hit on him. Fuck. Gotta learn to lay off the Bruichladdich.

He sat up, patting his hips, feeling for pockets he didn't have, searching for his phone. He looked down, finally registering that he was in his tee-shirt from last night and boxers. He stood, looking around in the dim ambient light cast from a street lamp outside. He found his jeans neatly folded on top of his dresser, his wallet and keys sitting next to them. He checked his desk and found his phone plugged in, fully charged.

Pushing back against the achy warmth spreading through his chest at the tiny series of kindnesses, he picked up the phone and opened his text thread with Janus.

𝙷𝚎𝚢, 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚋𝚗𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 🤪 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

He read over the message a few times, then intentionally changed the words to all lowercase and stripped out some of the punctuation his phone's auto-correction had unhelpfully inserted. He hit send and put down the phone, picked up his empty glass and padded off to the kitchen for a refill.

His apartment was so quiet that he could hear his phone buzz against the surface of his desk while he stood in front of the refrigerator. Fuck. There's no way Janus had still been awake. His text must have woken him.

Sighing, Remus brought back a couple bottles of Gatorade and tossed them on the bed. He adjusted the knob on the radiator and cracked the window, humming and wiggling his toes in the wave of cold air rushing in. He pushed away the sixth-grade science lesson that reminded him it was actually the hot air in his room rushing out, the cold air only appearing to push in due to convection currents. He shook his head and grabbed his phone, yanking the cord out of the device and flung himself on the bed.

Sitting up against the headboard, he pulled his heaviest weighted blanket out from behind his pillows and piled it onto his lap. Opening his phone, he checked his messages.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚙𝚝. 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚃𝚞𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚢 '𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎' 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝚑𝚝𝚝𝚙𝚜://𝚠𝚠𝚠.𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎.𝚌𝚘𝚖/𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑?𝚟=𝚍𝚀𝚠𝟺𝚠𝟿𝚆𝚐𝚇𝚌𝚀

Tilting his head with a tiny smile on his face, he tapped the link. Rick Astley began to sing.

Smashing down on the back button, he snorted.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 🥸

𝚁𝚘𝚕𝚕, 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕, 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕, 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗… 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘? 𝟺? 😇

Remus was typing and deleting a response when Janus texted again.

𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝?

Remus looked up, realizing he'd actually forgotten about the small package. He retrieved it from his desk and opened it, quickly ripping off the paper. Inside was a new set of watercolors. He whistled softly, tracing the embossed letters on the outer case. Sennelier. Nice ones too.

𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝙹𝚊𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐'𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚖.

After he hit send, he turned the small attached card over in his hand, ❤️ Jan & Ro

Remus bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the knife slicing between his ribs. How the fuck does that still hurt?

He texted again.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚁𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎, 𝚝𝚘𝚘. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙸'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚖 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚒?

---

The early spring sun had still not yet begun to peek over the horizon when Logan closed and locked the door to his bedroom. Patton had still been asleep when he came home, but would likely wake soon and he could not be interrupted.

Logan emptied the contents of the small paper bag from the bodega up the block. Inside was a small USB key, purchased for verisimilitude in case Patton had been awake when he'd returned. But Logan’s real purchase was the tiny paper box of straight blades. He’d used his last new blade the last time and he’d learned well from experience that the blades needed to be sharp. Besides, they should be fresh. It was the least he could do.

Taking the small package with him to his en suite bathroom and locking the door, Logan turned on both the exhaust fan and the bright lights around the mirror. He opened a sterile gauze pad from the box under the sink then stripped. Raising his right hand, he inspected the series of tiny scars on the back of his arm that ran from near his shoulder to half-way up his tricep.

The first two scars were crooked, cut at the same time in a distraught panic and with neither a plan nor a sharp blade. They had healed poorly and, years later, still showed the most visible scarring, with the still pink skin raised slightly in the middle. The other 11 scars were straight and even, the oldest ones closest to the first two now healed to a series of thin, nearly flat white lines. They darkened as they got closer to his elbow, with the newest scar only a few months old and still quite pink.

Leaning closer to the mirror, Logan closed his eyes, recalling the precise moment that the light had left Mr. Utuado’s eyes. He sucked in a breath, then opened his eyes and, hand steady, made a short, deep slice parallel to the last scar on his arm. Staunching the flow of blood with the gauze pad, Logan removed his glasses and turned on the shower with his right hand. He stepped inside, keeping the water at his back as he washed his hair.

He waited until the water hit his face to cry. Here, behind two locked doors, with the whir of the ventilation fan and the rushing of the water pouring out of the shower head, Logan could let his mask and his tears fall.

He scrubbed and lathered himself completely, washing away the events of the evening from his skin. Just like the others, all that would remain on the outside was a new 3/4-inch scar on his tricep. He stayed in the shower until the suds, the blood, the tears all slipped down the drain and the water ran clear.

It took a long time.

Hot water depleted, Logan stood under the stream until his teeth began to chatter and both the feeling in his fingertips and the ache in his chest had grown numb. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, cleansed inside and out, ready to start the day.

---

“Buying me off with coffee?” Remus laughed as Roman handed him a triple-sized bright yellow coffee mug emblazoned with a two-headed snake on one side. “Oh, you’ve sunk so low, dear brother.” Remus smiled as he held the warm mug with both hands, inhaling the sweet-scented steam. He took a slow sip as he eased back in the swanky Herman Miller chair in Matchr’s penthouse-level executive conference room. When he tilted his head back against the window, Remus could see down Fifth Avenue, the streets already teeming with tiny yellow taxi cabs. He sighed and took another long drag from the mug. “Fuck, you make good coffee, Ro Bro.”

“You can thank Virgil. He’s the resident coffee snob in the office.”

Remus bolted upright in his chair, narrowly avoiding spilling coffee on his favorite ripped jeans by virtue of finishing a quarter of the cup’s contents in those first two sips. “Shit, Virgil’s here?” Remus hissed, louder than he'd intended.

“What’s the problem?” Roman frowned at his brother. “I thought Jan had set you two up on a date.”

Remus rolled his eyes, sinking back down into his chair and letting his head hang back. “Yeah. And then he saw my storyboard.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” he said again.

“It’s fine, Remus, everything is just fine,” Janus purred as he entered the room.

Virgil followed behind by a few steps, carrying two laptops, an iPad, and a mechanical keyboard under one arm. “Hey,” he muttered in Remus’ direction, eyes trained on the floor.

“Hey, man, good to see ya… uh, no hard feelings?” Remus stood, hand outstretched. Virgil flinched backwards.

“Sorry, sorry, I um… I’m just a little, uh…” Virgil cleared his throat and dumped his equipment at the far end of the conference table.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” Remus dropped his hand and drank more of his coffee, glancing over at Virgil as he sat stiffly, avoiding his eyes. Fuck it. You still think I’m some kinda a serial killer? “Well, you know… you’re perfectly safe in here.” Virgil glanced up, eyebrows knit together. Remus stared down at his coffee, “There are cameras all over the place in this room.” He pointed to three of the corners in the room. “With that coverage, I’d have to convince you to sit… Huh. Right about where you’re sitting now.”

Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus then watched the coder's reaction. Virgil met Janus’ eyes briefly and visibly relaxed at his boss’ cool demeanor.

Remus shrugged. “I’d get caught if I tried anything.” His mustache twitched as he fought to keep the grin from his lips.

“Uh, thanks, that’s… that’s really reassuring to see how much you've thought about this, man.”

“And besides, you’re a smart guy. You’d be sure to scratch me with those long nails… my DNA would be all under ‘em for the CSI team to find.” He took another long draw of the coffee, nearly finished. “They’d catch me in no time.”

Remus then caught Janus’ eye and he burst out laughing. Roman rolled his eyes then mouthed a silent “Sorry about him…” to Virgil.

“Okay,” Remus set down his empty coffee mug and clapped his hands together. “So how long will it take for you to crawl my history and find my Mr. Right, or at least a Mr. Right Now?”

“Version 4.2 is blazing fast.” Roman’s chest seemed to expand as he smiled proudly from across the table at Remus and started tapping at the tablet between them. “We’re running off a bank of servers outside of Trondheim, and we compiled—okay, Virgil compiled—your results last night.”

“I haven’t even consented yet! Bad etiquette, Bro. I thought you knew better than that.” Remus winked at Janus, the message clear. I know you know better than that.

Growing serious, he added, “Wait, version 4.2? You’ve barely gone to market and you’re already past version 4?”

Virgil slouched further into his hoodie, but was no longer avoiding looking at Remus, seemingly relieved to have shifted away from the previous topic.

“We had some bugs to work out… the results used to be rather heteronormative.” Janus rolled his eyes, “Ridiculously so.”

Virgil fiddled with his zipper pull. “Yeah, I tried to warn you. Bullshit in means bullshit out. Algorithms only magnify biases in skewed datasets.”

Roman jumped in. “Yeah, so we increased the user base library dataset with a quiz and an ad campaign on Tumblr. Now we're outing people to themselves.”

Laughing, Roman turned to Virgil, “Hey, remember that one woman who flew in from Seattle to beta test?”

“It wasn't Seattle,” Virgil didn’t look up from his laptop.

“Whatever…. Near Seattle.” Roman put on his best Karen voice. "’I have three kids and a mortgage. I can't be gay.’"

“Fuck. Every part of that sentence is wrong.” Remus shook his head and propped his feet up on the table. “Did you throw her out?”

“No, Virgil was pretty convinced the algorithm was right so we talked to her for a while and guessed a few of her interests based on the report.”

Remus groaned. “Tell me you didn't ask her if she drove a Subaru…”

Shaking his head, Virgil interjected. ”The greater Seattle area is a poor sample for that particular cliche. They're a real outlier. 68% of all cars on the road in that region are either a Subaru, Honda, or Tesla.”

Janus looked up from his own tablet. “We were able to predict her last three professions, her favorite reading genres, and that she had a pseudonymous account on an internet writing website.”

Remus threw his head back and laughed, imagining her reaction. “And she was cool with all that?”

Shrugging, Janus spread out his hands, “It was enough to convince her to at least review the match.”

“And what did she say then?”

Janus smiled like a sated cat. “She said ‘Thank you.’ The wedding is in July.”

Remus sighed, thinking about the small helix he’d had made out of his and Janus’ old engagement rings. As it did every time they were in the same room, his eye caught on the tiny glimmer on his best friend’s and brother’s left hands and he had to drag his gaze away. He fiddled with his empty coffee cup, watching the last little drip slide around inside. He closed his eyes and fought a shudder at the thought of yet another cold night alone in his bed… “Alright, fine. Where do I sign the EULA?"

“Oh, your lawyer already took care of that for you.” Roman wouldn’t look at him.

Remus sat forward in his chair. “Wha—I don't have a law—” He caught Janus’ answering smirk. “That was supposed to only be for book contracts, Jan.”

Janus laid his elbows on the armrests of his chair, posing like a Bond villain. “Hmmm… our agreement doesn't specify.”

They stared at each other for several moments until Remus finally broke, shaking his head. “This match better be worth it.”

Taking a deep breath then slowly exhaling, Remus pushed down his trepidation. “Ok, so what does he do? You did match me to a he, right?” he winked at Janus and Virgil, pretending he wasn’t waiting for Roman’s impending indignant outburst.

“Yes, yes, yes, I just told you, we worked out that bug in pre-alpha testing. It's not my fault that the algorithm had trouble with—” Roman’s voice grew steadily higher until Janus interrupted his rant with a kiss.

“He knows, my dear.” Janus gently turned Roman’s chin so he’d look at his brother and notice the smirk on his face. Roman narrowed his eyes and opened the match file.

Roman took a deep breath, then flipped his head up like he was assuming a new character back in his old improv days. “Ok, let's see, you have been matched with… oh, he’s… very local. He lives in Brooklyn, but spends a lot of time in your neighborhood."

Virgil interjected. "That's expected. 32% of internet searches essentially replaced the phone book.”

Roman suddenly frowned, then looked up at Virgil. “Is this rating right?”

Virgil nodded slightly. Remus’ knee started to bounce, eyes tracking between the three of them. “What? What is it?” It’s all a joke and there’s no match. Roman just invited me here to get back at me for scaring Virgil on our date and they’re all in on it.

“Hm.” Roman blushed, looking up at Remus. “You have a 89% match with this guy. I didn't know the algorithm went that high.”

Shaking his head, Virgil muttered. “Neither had I. And I wrote the thing. I re-ran the algorithm eleven different times.” He gnawed at his noticeably shorter left thumbnail. “It’s correct. It should be impossible, but it’s correct.”

“Regardless,” Janus murmured, “It is an incredibly high match score.” He took the tablet from Roman and finally passed it across the table to Remus. “Here, take a look.”

Remus scrolled through the matched profile. “A stockbroker?” He looked over the tablet at Janus. “Really? You think I'm gonna get along with a fucking Wall Street tycoon?”

“Look at your match breakdown by category and ask me that again. Professional compatibility is important, but it’s not the primary factor.” Janus nodded and Remus tried not to notice how the former lawyer-turned-software developer's eyes were drawn seemingly unconsciously to Roman. “It’s often one of the most changeable features about a person.”

Reading from his own copy of the file, Virgil spoke again. “Movie and music streaming, 67% match. Family composition is remarkably similar. Technically you are both younger brothers, if only by a few minutes in your case. Library—”

“Hey!” Roman suddenly interrupted, snatching the tablet from Remus’ hands.

“What is it, my dear?” Janus moved to the seat in between the brothers.

“DNA under his nails?”

Remus snickered. “Took you long enough, Ro Bro.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and Roman crossed his arms in front of his chest as he glared at his brother. “We’re twins. Identical twins.” His eyes flicked over to Janus’. “We have identical DNA. A crime lab wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.”

"So you do read my books!" Laughing, Remus reached for the tablet again, “Show me the rest of it.” Janus shook his head, his bemused smile poking through as Virgil cleared his throat and continued to narrate the results from his own screen.

“Library, by usage and materials—”

“Your little program spies on people’s library accounts?” Remus asked, eyebrow raised.

Janus shrugged gamely, “You both have it set to public.”

Voice stiff, Virgil continued. “75% match.”

“Thank you, Virge.” Janus smiled, releasing Virgil from his task. “Your financials, locale, age, social media usage, are all well above a 50% match.

“Your actual internet search history—one that includes what you do through a VPN to hide from the trackers is—” Janus scowled. “Ok, Virgil, maybe you do need to test this again. You have a 91% fuzzy match on search history, once correcting for trending topics…. We take out the kind of things everyone searches for in a given time period.”

Remus thought about his last five searches. If this guy’s really interested in the same kind of things he is…“Okay,” he nodded slowly, “I suppose it's worth a date. What does he look like?”

“What is wrong with you?” Roman’s voice was a full octave higher than usual. “You didn't bother to click the profile picture?”

“We’re all the same in the dark.” He shimmied his shoulders and smirked. “Unless you’ve got a picture of his—”

“Remus!”

He shrugged, “I just wanted to see the rest of the profile first. See who he is.”

Roman scoffed as he fiddled with the tablet, tapping and swiping as he worked to load the gallery of images. "Most of the images we scraped are from his brother's Facebook account.” Roman grunted in surprise. “He doesn’t actually have his own account, inactive or otherwise. Well…" Roman exchanged a glance with Virgil. Virgil nodded reluctantly, making an 'okay, fine' motion with his hands and rolling his eyes.

Virgil took the tablet and stabbed at the screen. "Okay, we've identified six different Facebook and LinkedIn accounts that use his image in their profiles." Remus narrowed his eyes at the coder, tugging at his mustache. "But I think they're bot accounts. They only respond to posts from other users with the same job title or geographic area, and post no personal information other than the exact same profile photo."

"Show him the pictures already, Vee!"

Virgil pushed the tablet into Remus’ hands.

He sucked in a breath as he stared at the screen, swiping through the gallery of images. The man was smiling in only one of the dozen or so pictures, and Remus felt his own lips curve upwards in response, warmth spreading through his chest as he tried to imagine what had drawn out the dazzling grin. “Okay, yeah—” his voice cracked and he couldn’t look away from the screen.

“Yeah, let's make this happen.”

---

“Good morning, sleepy head!” Patton cheered as Logan stumbled into a kitchen chair late one Saturday morning. “Coffee?”

A muffled‘Mm-hm’ emerged from where Logan had laid his head on his arms. Patton chuckled and wordlessly filled a mug and set it down in front of his younger brother.

“You were up late last night, Kiddo. Did I hear you go out, too?”

“Hm. Just taking out the trash,” Logan mumbled around the lip of his coffee cup, draining back half the mug at once. He sighed, gazing blearily down into the dark liquid. “Thank you, Pat. I needed this.”

Patton topped off his cup and then slid into the seat opposite Logan with his own mug. He took a sip, eyes fixed on his brother, watching him and waiting for his eyes to focus and his spine to straighten, all the little tells that showed he was alert and ready to talk.

Patton was half-way through his coffee when Logan took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, straightening his back and looking up at his older brother properly for the first time that morning. Patton grinned.

“I think I have something else you need, too.”

Logan raised his eyebrow and finished the last of his coffee before rising to refill it and find some yogurt for breakfast. A small smile peeked out from his stern expression. “You look quite pleased with yourself, Pat. What have you done?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, still carefully watching his brother. He waited until Logan sat back down and had begun to eat. “Have you ever heard of Matchr?”

“How could I not? They’ve been buying up ads all over the internet.” He set down his spoon, staring at Patton with a furrowed brow for a moment before a surprised smile spread on his face. “Oh… Have you found a match?”

“Well, yes, in a manner of speaking, I have.”

“That’s wonderful, Pat! Do you think you’ll meet him in person?” Logan resumed his breakfast.

“I suppose that’s up to you.” Patton hid his face behind his over-sized coffee mug.

Logan tilted his head, a confused smile still dancing across his face. “Pat, you’re six years my elder. You don’t need my permission to see someone.”

“I…” Patton set down his mug and flipped his phone around in his hands. “I didn’t exactly find a match… for me.”

“Pat, what have you done?”

“Nothing bad. And I only did this because I love you and I can’t stand to see how lonely you are and—”

“Pat?” Logan’s voice grew dangerously low.

Patton took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His words fell out in a jumble. “I signed you up for the Matchr service and you matched with this great guy and I think you’ll really hit it off and I—”

“You did what?!” Logan scraped his chair back and away from the table. His eyes grew wide and he looked around the room as though this mystery match was hiding in a corner somewhere.

He’s taking it well, Patton thought to himself.

“Lo, calm down. It’s okay. They vet everyone who signs up,” Logan’s eyes somehow grew wider and his breathing only increased at his attempt at reassurance. Patton shook his head, taking another tack. “The guy checks out. He’s perfectly safe. I had the boys down at the precinct run a background check on him.”

Patton shifted over to the chair closest to his brother and reached up for his shoulder, encouraging him to sit back down. “He came up squeaky clean. Just an ‘expunged’ arrest for marching without a permit in 2008. Not even an unpaid parking ticket.” Patton shrugged at the look of surprise on his brother’s face. “I had the officer run it twice with a fuzzy match, too. This guy’s a model citizen.”

“Wait, rewind. You did what? I thought that running background checks outside of a case was an ‘egregious misuse of your police powers?’”

Patton stood and hugged him. “You’re my little brother. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

The unspoken word ‘again’ hung in the air, suspended in the thick silence that bloomed between them.

Voice raised slightly as though that could push back the dark thoughts swirling across both of their faces, Patton finally prompted Logan. “Well, are you gonna take a look or what? Supposedly this is a record-breaking match in their system.”

Logan sighed, resolve rapidly receding in the face of his older brother’s excitement. “Okay, let’s see who this magic algorithm matched me with.”

Raising his arms over his head with a little cheer, Patton reached for his phone. "Check him out. He’s even got a cool name.”

“Wait, how do you run a background check? We don’t have his real name.”

“What are you talking about? It’s right there in his profile….“

Logan raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Remus King? Next will you set me up with Neil Gaiman? Oh, I heard Ted Chiang has a book signing down at The Strand next week, maybe you could set me up with him.”

Patton shrugged, “Okay, I know who Neil Gaiman is… He’s that Good Omens author, right?" He shook his head. "What am I missing?”

Logan walked over to the closest bookcase, pulling down the latest book he’d been re-reading. It had the most recent full-face picture of the author on the back. The photos for his newest books were all taken in profile or were partially obscured.

He handed the book to Patton. “This is Remus King.”

“Oh…” Patton looked up at Logan, grinning. “Oh, he’s hot.”

“I thought you didn’t—”

“I can have an appreciation for aesthetics even if I don’t want to…” Patton jerked his thumb dismissively down the hallway toward his bedroom.

“Anyway, my point is, there is no way someone like this”—Logan gestured at the book—”needs a matchmaking service.” Patton shrugged and returned the book. Logan looked down at Remus King’s picture, staring into his eyes. The photograph was in black and white, but he’d watched YouTube videos of the author speaking at events and his brain almost convinced him they were the same brilliant green on the book cover as they were in real life.

“Oh! I remember when you were reading this now… He’s the one who wrote the book about the contagious moss that ate a house.”

“Yes, that’s him. That was in Umbrage."

Patton bit his lip and fidgeted with his coffee cup. “Oh… he’s… kinda scary.”

Setting down the book, Logan smirked at his brother. “Pat, you’re a senior detective in the NYPD Special Crimes Unit in Hell’s Kitchen. But a work of fiction bothers you?”

He shrugged, deepening his voice and scowling. “'I like to keep work at work.'”

The brothers’ eyes met and they both laughed. “'Hot Pocket'” they sang together.

“'Jesus Christ!'” Logan growled.

Patton finished the quote in a high-pitched, breathy voice. “'Oh, you already know about it…'”

As their laughter died down, Patton scrolled through the profile on his phone. “Are you totally sure there’s no way that it could actually be him? I mean, how old is he…” Patton opened a new tab and searched Wikipedia for 'Remus King'. Logan finished his coffee, thumbing through the book on the table.

“Whoa… his Wikipedia page is, uh….” He slid his chair closer to Logan and showed him the screen.

“You see? There’s no way in the world that guy is wanting for company. He’s gorgeous, successful…” Logan reached over and tapped the link in the page marked ‘Charities.’ “He does fundraising work, he’s brilliant….”

Logan smiled sadly at his brother. “It’s either a remarkable coincidence and someone just happens to share his name or… more likely, it’s a pseudonym.” Logan shook his head, gaze lingering on the photo of Remus speaking at last year’s True Colors event. “My match can’t possibly be that Remus King.”

Patton shrugged and smirked lightly at his little brother. “So the guy uses a fake name online. Can you blame him? Sounds smart to me.”

Logan crossed his arms, holding Remus’ book against his chest. He frowned down at the floor, thumbs absently running up and down either side of the book’s binding.

“C’mon, Lo.” Patton gently bumped his shoulder against Logan’s. “It’ll be good for you. I know you keep all that private, I know it's been a while. You haven’t been on a date in… how long?”

“I would prefer not to perform the calculation,” Logan muttered. Patton smirked and raised his eyebrow. Logan rolled his eyes. “Two—”

“Two months? Oh, that’s not bad—”

“Years,” Logan continued, “three months and eighteen days.”

“Do it for me? Please?” Patton bent over and turned his head so he could catch Logan’s eyes. “Just give it a try? At the very least you found a buddy to geek out over your favorite author with. I mean, he’s gotta like the guy if he uses his name and book cover photo for a dating profile.”

“A buddy?” Logan finally met Patton’s eyes. “Have you set me up on a playdate?”

He grinned. “Indulge me in my dottage. You’ll always be five in my head.” Patton held his gaze.

Wincing, Logan nodded, “Okay. Okay, I will give it a try.” He sighed. “You’re right, maybe I found a book buddy.”

“Great!” Patton squeezed his shoulder in a little half-hug. “You’ve got a dinner date at seven.” Patton’s smile only grew.

“What? Pat?” Logan ran a hand through his sleep-swept hair and looked down at his worn jeans and faded burgundy Brooklyn College t-shirt. “I need time to prepare.”

“Well go on, then.” Patton pulled out his phone, tapping open the app, dancing in his chair. “I’ll message him to find out what he’ll be wearing…”

“God, Pat, don’t ask him that.” Logan lowered his head until it tapped the edge of the book still clutched to his chest. He slowly exhaled. “Here, let me,” he took Patton’s phone and started rapidly swiping and tapping away.

“Wait, what are you doing to my phone?”

“I am sending the account information to my own device. I will message him.” Logan’s brow furrowed and he nodded slightly. “I need to do some research as well.”

“But what do you think you’re going to find out from a dating app?”

“There might be information in the text messages,” Logan muttered, eyes fixed on the screen as he scrolled through the message history. His eyes grew and his mouth gradually dropped open as he continued to scroll. He glanced up at Patton. “How many times have you messaged this man?”

“We had a couple good conversations. He lives a block from my precinct. He seems like a decent guy.” Patton grinned, “He’s funny. I don’t know if I would have hit ‘accept match’, though, if I knew who he was saying he was.” Patton shook his head, “I know you like his books and all, but he doesn’t seem your type.

“Still…" Patton mused. "His brother signed him up for the service too. So you have something in common…” Patton grinned at his younger brother as he danced his shoulders back and forth.

Logan frowned down at the phone.

“I’m doing this for you, Pat. I refuse to get my hopes up that this isn’t all some disaster in the making.” He blew out a quick breath and shook his head. “I need to prepare.”

Patton cheered and pulled his brother into a bear hug. “I’m just so excited for you…”

Sighing, Logan muttered, “We shall see.”

Logan stared at the book as he walked back to his room. Once inside, he booted up his computer. While he waited for the operating system to load, he started the TwoFace VPN on his phone and logged on to the dating app.

He held the book in one hand and his phone in the other. It was definitely the same person in the photos, just about ten years' difference. He hummed. The photo in the app didn’t appear to be a professionally taken image. Perhaps he should start with a reverse image lookup. That might tell him something about where this guy got the picture in the first place.

Logan set an alarm for two hours, ensuring he would have time to make himself presentable, then began his search. Laptop finally booted, he started the VPN. The splash screen immediately displayed and Logan winced as the bright yellow of the two-headed snake logo overrode the dark mode setting on his screen. As he waited for the reverse image search to complete, he penciled a small note to remind himself to file a data request for his complete record from this Matchr company.

It was an old habit and, frankly, the entire process was much easier now that the GDPR had American companies scrambling over themselves to roll out data release plans to support their international users. Logan knew he was vigilant in his usage of the VPN, but uncovering what had seeped through could prove to be a productive test of his defensive measures.

The screen suddenly resolved and Logan hummed as he narrowed his eyes at the frivolously sad cartoon face above the report that no matches were found for the profile image. Interesting.

Cracking his knuckles, Logan got to work.

---

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