#background moceit

[edupunkn00b]

Pencils Down

You know those schools where you're stuck with the same kids year after year after year? Where everybody knows everybody's business because you've been in classes with the same exact people since you were five? Virgil finally discovers he doesn't know everything about the very perfect Logan Stone.

Written for @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes for @tss-camp-and-coffee's Camp Cartoon writing event. Prompt: Analogical academic rivals to lovers. I hope you enjoy! - WC: 3075 - Rated: T - CW: there's a lot of hidden angst here with a happy ending. - For more of my Camp stories

Twenty-one yellow #2 pencils scratching against paper couldn't compete with tick-tick-tick of Mrs. Rosenblum’s big wall clock. With a half-hour to go, Virgil was already on the second-to-last page of their exam, the hours—and hours and hours—of drills and practice tests with his dads finally leaving him feeling like might, just might have a handle on this thing.

The scrape of a chair drew his—and Mrs. Rosenblum’s—attention. “Mr. Stone, please remain seated until you are finished with your exam,” she said in that overly chipper voice she used during tests.

Virgil didn’t need to look up from his own exam to imagine Logan Stone’s nervous little twitches, the patented eye-glass nudge or the way he’d fiddle with his tie. Who the hell wore a tie to high school, anyway?

“Yes, ma’am”—suck up—“I am finished.”

What the—

“Oh, well then, yes, please,” she waved him forward and he shuffled down the aisle, the tips of his ears burning bright red from the glares of his fellow classmates.

This exam, all of their exams this year, really, put them in the running for one of two full-ride scholarships for the school of their choice. With the first spot practically allotted to the principal’s own kid, it was a race to the top.

And fucking Logan Stone was in his way.

“Kiddo, if you don’t get the spot, it’s okay, we’ll make it work,” Pops had said over dinner last night. “When the universe closes one door, another opens. And you can look at other schools, too.”

Dad had ruffled his hair, smirking when he failed to dip away fast enough. “We want you happy, Virge,” he’d said, no trace of his typical joking sarcasm. “Whatever that looks like.”

“I really want to go to GenTech.”

Dad had tiled his head then, that spark in his eye. “Then maybe you just need to… nudge this guy down a flight of stairs before the next test. Steal his spot.”

“Jay!” Pops had scolded, playfully tapping his shoulder.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Dad had protested, then winked at him. “Unless…”

Dragging his concentration back to his work, Virgil turned the page and dove into the final problem set.

He didn’t notice the way Logan lingered in the doorway before turning and disappearing into the hall.

~

Three days later, Virgil sat bouncing his knee at the kitchen table. He refreshed the StandardScore dashboard for the tenth time in half as many minutes, waiting for the little pending box to be replaced with his updated rank.

With less than fifty kids in the entire grade, class rankings were an open secret at school. It wasn’t hard to do the math, to work out exactly where the top five or six students slotted in. And for the past three and a half years, Logan Stone had stood proud at the top of the list quarter after quarter after quarter.

There was the singular exception of that one blessed quarter last spring. Aside from that, Virgil had always been right behind him, running to keep up in a race it seemed he’d never win.

But last April, Logan had missed three days of class in a row, unexcused and unexplained. It was the first time Virgil could remember Logan missing school. Like, ever.

On the fourth day, he’d strolled into the classroom, new tie perfect and hair slicked back like nothing had ever happened. If it wasn’t for the blip in Virgil’s own ranking that month, touching the number one spot just to ricochet back down by the end of May, he might have believed he’d simply misremembered the whole thing.

Logan never talked about it and, frankly, Virgil never asked.

He hit refresh again and the screen took a little longer to load this time. He waited, jiggling knee sending ripples through his half-drunk orange juice. Finally the screen resolved.

Class rank: 2nd

“Unnggggh!” Virgil slammed his laptop shut and fell forward, stopping himself before he banged into it with too much force.

“Aw, Kiddo,” Pops murmured, his big broad hand gentle on Virgil’s shoulder. “Not what you wanted to see?”

“He’s still ahead of me,” he muttered, sitting up and drawing his hood down over his eyes. If he couldn't go to GenTech, he’d end up at State.

With his brothers.

“I know I aced that test, too,” he said, slumping against Pop’s shoulder.

Pops hummed low in his chest, his breathing a steady, reassuring beat. Virgil let out a low sigh. “He’s gotta be only a little ahead. If I could just—“ He groaned and tugged his hoodie lower.

“Do you ever think maybe he feels a little like you do?”

Virgil stilled. He had not.

Smooth, styled, stoic Logan Stone just as anxious as he was? It was absurd. Virgil stared down at his hands. Cuticles jagged, nails bitten to the quick, polish chipped. “There’s no way that guy’s agonizing over all this. He’s way too—“ Virgil cut himself off before he said something that would make Pops pinch his cheek and coo. “Polished.”

“Hm.” Pops said instead. It was almost worse than his cooing. “Have you ever asked him?”

~

“I dunno even know if his family still lives there,” Virgil muttered, feet up on the dash.

One eye on the navigation, the other on the road, Dad nodded as he drove. “So you’ve said,” he murmured, slowing to a stop at the sign. “At least four times now. Worst case, the address in last year’s directory is wrong.” He winked before easing through the intersection. “Best case, you do a little shovie-shove and your problem’s solved.”

“Ugh, Dad,” Virgil muttered. He looked out the window to hide the stupid grin his Dad’s dark humor never failed to yank out of him. "You sound like Remus."

“Just sayin.’” He hummed as he pulled over in front of the two-story brick house on the corner. “Brought the big car. He’s about your size?” Dad made a show of inspecting the back seat and the cargo area behind it. “Plenty of room for a body back there.”

“I’m telling Pops you said that.”

Chuckling, Dad put the car in Park.

Virgil made no move to leave. “Maybe nobody’s home,” he said after a while. The driveway sat empty. “The light’s aren’t on.”

“It’s two o’clock on a bright, sunny day,” Dad remarked, adjusting his sun visor. “I should hope they don’t have their porch light on.”

The house, just like everything else about the inimitable Logan Stone, was immaculate. Lawn perfectly sculpted, the paint job looked fresh, gutters clean, not a scrap of moss or weed in sight.

Even their mailbox sparkled in the sunlight, the letters The Stone Family painted in precise block letters on a fresh white background. The mailbox answered the question of whether they still lived there, at least.

“An HOA’s dream,” Dad murmured, peering past him. “And their neighbors' worst nightmares.”

And Dad was likely right. Compared to the Stone house, the rest of the homes on the block looked downright dumpy. Every dandelion on their next-door-neighbor’s lawn sparkled in neon yellow. The cracked curb across the street and the just slightly askew water spout on the corner shouted their presence when compared to the Stone's perfect house.

A floral sign hung from the Stone’s front door, the big, bright letters legible from the street.

Welcome, Friends!

The other houses on the street bustled with neighborly activity. A lemonade stand sat halfway up the next block and a busy garage sale spread out three houses down. Dads chatted over fences across the street and a little gang of middle schoolers laughed as they raced their bikes down the side street. No-one lingered near the Stone's house. “I bet they have no idea, too,” Dad finally said.

Virgil caught movement in the upstairs window, a flash of Logan’s raven-black hair. “Just like at school,” he sighed. He crossed his arms and glared at his dad, even if he couldn’t put any heat behind it. “Why do you two hafta always be right?”

Dad threw his head back and laughed before reaching across to open his door. “Blame the twins,” he said, giving him a little nudge. “We got it wrong most of the time with them. We've learned.”

Dad waited for him to step of the car, then waved. “Call when you’re done.”

He watched Dad drive away before turning to face the perfectly paved path up to Logan’s front door. The general cheeriness of the neighborhood propelled him forward, certain the ‘gothy emo’ staring at their block’s model home was going to draw more attention than he wanted.

Virgil had barely run the bell when the door cracked open. Shit. Logan had probably been watching from the window.

“Virgil Sanders?” he asked as though he didn’t quite believe his eyes. Voice cracking and eyes wide, Logan bore none of his usual classroom arrogance.

“Um, yeah,” he said. “Hi.” Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets before taking them out again. “Hi,” he said again. “Sorry I didn’t call first, I, uh—“

“My phone number changed,” he said. “My old one from sixth grade?”

Confusion twisted Virgil’s brow before he remembered. “Science fair,” he whispered.

Logan smiled, well, almost smiled. He’d been giddy that night, though, going over their presentation again and again for every parent, student, and teacher who got within three feet of their table.

Their exhibit had won first place.

“We came here to celebrate,” Virgil finished quietly, looking around at the porch. How had he forgotten?

The house had looked different then with Logan’s baby brother’s tricycle and toys littering the yard, the steps, the whole house really. Wild flowers had grown in the front yard and the porch steps had still been singed from their first attempt at their hydrogen peroxide rocket.

Logan had been thrilled that night, brandishing their first place ribbons and posing with him again and again and again for both their parents’ cameras.

His house had been loud, chaotic—happy and active. Now it was just… quiet.

Like Logan was.

He adjusted his glasses, gaze following Virgil’s. “Ah, did you come by to… Well, rather—“ His voice cracked again and he squared his shoulders. A string tugged his spine straight. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He looked more like a teacher than a high schooler. A hot teacher, but—

Shaking himself from his spiraling thoughts, Virgil looked out at the street, imagining his dad might drive up and rescue him from his own cringe-worthy fumbling. No such luck. “I, uh…” He started to nibble his thumbnail, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I got the class ranking update this morning.”

“Indeed,” Logan murmured without a trace of joy or celebration. Hell, Virgil'd take gloating over that weird, flat mask.

“Yeah, well, um,” he shrugged, jolting at a screech from the lemonade stand down the street. Two of the middle schoolers were there, chasing each other with cups of ice. “Can I come in?”

‘Ah…” Owl eyes blinked back at him, mouth working without forming any words. Virgil was about to take it back, to abort this whole mission, to make up some reason, any reason to just bolt.

He could jog down to the garage sale and get lost in the sea of people. He could call his dad and make a run for it. He could homeschool the rest of the year and just pretend none of this happened. He could—

“Please,” Logan finally said, stepping back and opening the door all the way.

Sunlight streamed inside the dark house, gleaming on the polished wood floor. Virgil pivoted as Logan closed and locked the door behind him, then he looked down at Logan’s stockinged feet and his own ratty Converse. “Should I…” he trailed off, wiggling one foot.

Logan nodded. “If… if you do not mind.”

Virgil kicked off his shoes then bent to align them neatly next to the pair of sneakers and loafers already at the door. He straightened and faced the family portraits covering the hall. The glass sparkled, not a speck of dust to be seen, even on the fancy little swirly bits of the frames.

The house was spotless, and so, so quiet. “It’s like a museum,” he whispered with a little laugh. “Or a—“

He stopped in front of the fireplace. The mantle was crowded with more framed pictures. Some of Logan and his baby brother, some of his parents from when they much, much younger. A few with all of them together. One of the pictures was of him and Logan, at that damn science fair.

Virgil didn’t remember this one being taken, but Logan’s mom had been a speed demon behind the camera that day, snapping candid shots so quick he eventually gave up and stopped paying attention.

In the picture, Virgil was pointing to the rocket boosters, explaining to somebody off-camera some detail of their work. Honestly, didn’t remember much of it anymore. Logan was off to one side, still in-frame, but instead of looking at the camera or the display… he was watching him, a little smile on his face, almost like…

Virgil’s face got hot and he looked away. He was reading way too much into a six year old picture.

“So, um…” Toes scrunching the floor, he peered down the hall and into the empty kitchen. “Everybody out?” he asked. Duh, of course they were out.

Logan shrugged and cleared his throat. “I am here.”

“Right, yeah, I just meant—“ His eye caught on a little desk off in the corner of the big den. A row of their textbooks were laid out neatly in alphabetical order, a stack of notebooks sat in the corner. A pencil cup with pens, highlighters. Scissors and a ruler. It reminded Virgil of the study room desks back in middle school.

Beside the desk was a little table with even more pictures on it. Three pictures, one of Logan’s baby brother—not so baby now Virgil guessed. He looked about eight or nine. There was one of his parents, too, a wedding photo. Those big corny ones where they pose with the rings. The third was all four of them together, dressed up in the dorkiest Christmas sweaters Virgil could imagine.

He chuckled. “Don’t let my dads see that,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ll make us dress up like that, too.”

Logan’s face twitched and he looked away. “They might,” he whispered.

Something else caught his eye on the table he moved closer to inspect it. “So, ah…” Logan’s voice called after him, louder. “You were about to say why you’d stopped by?”

Virgil stood in front of the table. At the center, framed by the family photographs, sat a flat polished grey stone, like the kind you could get for a pet that had died or…

In loving memory, Greg, Olive, and Marcus

“Shit, Logan.” His hand hovered over the stone, wanting to touch it, to know it was real. Knowing he shouldn’t. “Is this…” Logan stood frozen a few feet away, staring at the stone. “Is this what it looks like it is?”

Hands folded, Logan didn’t speak, just nodded.

“What?” Virgil shook his head. “Wh—when? When—what happened?”

Logan slowly joined him in front of the table—the shrine—and picked up the stone. His fingers closed over it and he held it close to his stomach. “They were driving,” he said. His voice was thin and flat and he wouldn’t look at him, just at the family photos on the table. “They were coming to pick—“ His voice cracked and he returned the stone to its spot. “They picked up Marcus first.”

Words failing, Virgil said the only thing he could think of. “When?” As soon as the question formed, though, he was pretty sure he knew.

“Last April.”

“Your parents—“ he couldn’t say the word. “They—last year?” Virgil turned to him but Logan’s eyes were glued to the Christmas photo. That whole month, that whole rest of the year, Logan just acted like nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened. But… Virgil followed his gaze to the picture. “Why… why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Who was I going to tell?”

Virgil looked up. Logan’s eyes were wet behind his glasses and his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I turn eighteen in the fall. The house is under a trust and—“ His voice broke and Virgil moved closer. He wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands so he kept one in his pocket and let the other one rest on Logan’s shoulder.

“A social worker visits twice a month, unannounced, to be sure I’m—” Shaking, his words stopped, tears spilling down his cheeks. “If I am not doing well, she is authorized to place me in foster care until I’m eighteen. So I… I demonstrate I can take care of myself.”

The desk for homework, the immaculate house. Virgil looked at his clothes, shirt pressed, a tie on a fucking Saturday. Hair styled, even his nails looked manicured. Logan looked absolutely perfect.

Absolutely perfect so some social worker would have no reason to think he couldn’t care for himself.

“Jeez, Logan… Yeah, but…” Logan looked up at him, mouth a thin line. A tremor started in his jaw, spreading to his chin, his lips. “But you’re alone.”

And Logan crumpled, falling forward with a sob. Virgil caught him and wrapped his arms around him. Face pressed to his shoulder, Logan’s sobs were muffled by his hoodie. But he clung to him, hands twisting in the fleece as he cried.

Virgil didn’t know how long they stood there like but when he looked up the shadows in the room had changed. Logan’s sobs had quieted but he wouldn’t let go. “I… I must apologize for—“

“Shut up,” he said and Logan stiffened in his arms. “You don’t have to apologize. I should—I never—“ Looking over the top of Logan's head, Virgil's eyes snagged on the photo from the science fair. That had been the last group project they’d done together, their teachers always splitting them up.

And Virgil’s just let them.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, man,” he whispered and Logan melted against him, quiet tears starting again. Virgil held him tighter. He rubbed his back, his hair, and whispered, “You’re not alone anymore.”

[cheesycheesyches]

been having artblock lately, so i made transfem! moceit

[sagelynn20]

Alrighty! So I've had this Sanders Sides au festering in my head for a few years now. Has it been done before? I don't know! But I'm gonna talk about it anyway.

I also want to clarify that this is more of a concept. I don't have much (or any) real story thought up for it. Or maybe I do. I don't know.

So the idea is, what if the sides wake up in a strange fantasy world as different animal hybrids/mythical creatures? They awake, no longer in the mind palace, split in two groups. They don't know where they are or how they got there. Cue the confusion, fear (Virgil), and excitement (Roman and Remus) as they take everything in. Now they gotta figure out how their gonna get back to the mind palace, or if they even can, while dealing with whatever wacky shenanigans and/or dangers that come with this new environment.

Some sides were pretty easy to think up of what they would be, others not so much (*cough cough* Roman *cough*)

Janus is a naga. You know. A snake.

Patton's a frog of course.

Remus - an octopus 🐙

Virgil's a spider (it'd be really funny if Patton were to freak out at first before realizing, "Oh wait, it's Virgil.")

Logan would be an avian, specifically a Raven.

Now I decided to make Roman a kind of siren. I wanted him and Remus to kind of go hand in hand since their brother's, so of course I mean the kind of sirens we typically see in media, not their original depictions. I also played with the idea of Roman being the only side to be a regular human 'cause I think that could create some good comedic/angst potential, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now I also said that the sides would be split up. I decided to split them into two groups: Roman, Remus, and Logan; and Patton, Virgil, and Janus. I mainly wanted their to be an opportunity to focus on the dynamics between Roman & Remus and Virgil & Janus. Set some kind of arc where the two pairs learn to settle their differences and work together (I know that Roman and Janus also have a tense relationship right now in the series but they can get their focus another time). But I also didn't want to just split them into pairs 'cause I still wanted their to be a chance to explore other dynamics.

Another reason I didn't want to just split everyone into pairs was because I didn't want their to be any obvious ship pairings.

The three main ships I want to include ('cause of course I'm gonna include ships. I like shipping) are Prinxiety, Intrulogical, and Moceit. The relationships would be more of a background focus that develops naturally over the course of the story. Nothing would be established at the start, except maybe Prinxiety, but I wouldn't have them be officially together yet, just some feelings (I mainly would do that 'cause it would be a little difficult to develop their relationship if they're split up).

That's pretty much all I've got thought up for this. Don't think I'd ever actually write something for it either, hence this post, but who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I might, however, draw some things for it, so if anyone's interested I might post those.

[dndeceit]

Fander Fic Rec Friday Sides Suggestions Sunday (#37)

(Down to Earth Drama - Human AUs)

Kiss and Tell by Greenninjagal High School AU (Analoceit) Rating: NR It starts when Logan gives his boyfriend's ex permission to kiss him during a game of spin the bottle. (Except it doesn't—of course it doesn't—there's far too much history for it to be that simple.) Notes: The amount of dramatic emotional tension in this, my god.

The I Promise series by GiveMeMyOwn Human AU (Gen, Logicality) Rating: G Logan and Patton weren't expecting their adoption of Virgil to be simple, not when the boy clearly had his challenges. But they definitely weren't expecting the harried teen that showed up at their door, insisting (despite everything they had been told) that he was Virgil's older brother. (Janus might have made the mistake of agreeing to be separated for his brother's sake, but he was not going to stand by and let himself be erased from Virgil's life.) Notes: This one kicked me in the teeth with emotions.

A Kind of Understanding by Fangirlwriting Human AU (Gen, background Prinxiety) Rating: G Remus gets a job babysitting a kid for some extra cash, he wasn't expecting any surprises. "It’s just one little girl, anyway. How hard could it be?" (Spoilers...) Notes: In which Remus winds up a supportive older-brother figure to Janus the tiny trans menace. Their friendship in this is so sweet.

Roomies by edupunkn00b College AU (Intruality, Logince) Rating: T Patton was supposed to be rooming with Roman when college started. Unfortunately, plans changed, and it looked like Patton might be left handling college (and a lot more on top of that) entirely on his own. At least until Roman's brother unexpectedly steps in. Notes: So many feels in this one. (Roman's so oblivious that it should probably be illegal.)

how to tell if you're in love by aliferously High School AU (Loceit) Rating: T Declan realizes that he's fallen for his best friend at the worst possible time. It seems pointless to even think about trying to tell him when he can't even figure out how'll say goodbye... Notes: In which life is complicated and sudden feelings might be the least of anyone's problems...

persistent ghosts (sing of home) by angelsdemonsducks Human AU (Dukeceit) Rating: T Months after his disappearance, Janus is declared dead. A funeral is held and they all try to move on, which isn't easy, but at least they have each other to lean on. (Of course, healing from loss becomes a lot more complicated once it turns out that Janus isn't dead.) Notes: This one is a rather heavy one (warnings for mentions of kidnapping and torture), but ultimately has a hopeful happy ending.

WIPs

Something Worth Stealing by Jungle321jungle Human AU (Analogical) Rating: NR Moved to desperation after taking over care of his young nephew, Virgil makes the mistake of trying to steal from his boss. Fortunately, when he gets caught, Logan proves to be both understanding and lenient. Now he's working more hours and for more pay as nanny to his boss's sons. Notes: This is a really good one.

once you're in the hive the other bees assume you're supposed to be there by PaigePenn Human AU (LMP, Dukeceit, Moceit) Rating: T One night spent over at an acquaintance's house after a party turns into another, the inescapable gravity of hospitality, company, and free food making it harder to leave each time. And in a household with this many moving parts, it's easy to lose track of the fact that he was practically a stranger at the start. Notes: Or, how Virgil moves in with his best friend's brother's polycule kind of on accident.

[stardustsides]

Love is a Beach

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Patton and Janus broke up months ago. The problem? They still haven’t told their friends, and their annual beach trip is looming. Not wanting to break the news and ruin the vacation, they come to an…unconventional agreement.

Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety

Content Warnings: Drinking/flashback to underage drinking, drunkenness, breakups, lmk if i missed anything!!

Word Count: ~2100

Author’s Note: The second chapter is here!! Writing the flashback in this chapter made me miss freshman year of college so bad actually i need to go back i fear.

~

Janus stood in the emptiness of the master bedroom and stared at the space where Patton had been. The late afternoon sun spilled across the polished hardwood floor, painting the room in a hazy gold. Muffled from downstairs, he could hear him telling Virgil that he would cook after all tonight, which didn’t surprise him in the slightest. He knew from six years of being in a relationship with the man that he cooked under stress. Memories of coming home to their apartment to find Patton in the kitchen surrounded by trays upon trays of cookies came flooding back to him, and his heart gave a painful tug.

He blew out a careful, measured breath and sat on the corner of the bed. He hadn’t been lying—Patton really was a terrible actor, which provided two massive problems for Janus: one, because they had to keep the charade up all week, and two, because Janus secretly found Patton’s complete inability to lie one of his most endearing qualities.

Really, this had been a terrible idea to begin with, but when he had come over to the apartment to pick up his things, he couldn’t help but notice the deep circles under Patton’s puffy red eyes, his unkempt hair, his rumpled shirt. No matter how upset with each other they still were, when Patton had turned to look at him, the only thing that he wanted to do was close the space between them, take him into his arms, and smooth down his hair. Even now, he hated seeing him so upset. And so, he did the only thing that he could think to do:

Propose the world’s worst plan.

They still hadn’t told the others about the breakup yet. It was getting to the point where it was starting to worry Janus, so he could only imagine how much it was destroying Patton. If the bags under his eyes were any indication, he had been turning the question of how to tell them over and over in that worrywart way of his. And so, the plan was concocted: by keeping the act up until after their vacation, they both got to enjoy one final week of normalcy with their friends, and it gave them time to cool down enough that when they did break the news, they could at least present a united front.

And, though he wouldn’t admit it, the selfish part of him wanted to avoid the crushing finality of telling everyone for as long as possible.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again, his brain had always seemed to turn to mush when it came to Patton.

The bastard was impossible not to adore.

And so, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed that he would be sharing with his ex-boyfriend for the next week, in a lovely little house that he could so clearly picture the two of them sharing a life in, surrounded by all of their closest friends.

One week. That was all he had to get through.

One week, and then everything would change.

~

Dinner was, of course, delicious.

Janus twirled his spaghetti around his fork and tried to look as nonchalant as possible, situated directly next to Patton. He cut a sidelong glance at him—at the very least, he seemed a fraction less tense than a few hours ago, which he supposed was an improvement. He had been white-knuckling the steering wheel on the ride over.

His face was also prettily flushed, the way it always was after a few glasses of wine, which Janus was valiantly trying to ignore.

“This is wonderful, dear,” Janus said as naturally as he could. Patton started a little.

“Thank you!” He responded, the flush creeping down to his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. A small, traitorous part of Janus’s brain wondered how far down it went. “…honey.”

“I was thinking we could all head down to the beach at around ten tomorrow?” Roman cut in brightly. “Make some sandwiches, bring a cooler?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Virgil, picking at his salad. In spite of himself, Janus had to fight back a smile. Roman could have suggested they all walk over hot coals at six AM sharp, and Virgil would have readily agreed.

“Everyone good for margaritas after dinner?” Roman asked. He had worked as a bartender in college, and as such, always took it upon himself to make drinks for the group at large. Not that Janus complained. Roman knew exactly how Janus liked his drinks–syrupy sweet, the alcohol nearly undetectable–and scarcely teased him for it.

Patton nodded so emphatically that a bit of white wine from the glass that he was holding nearly sloshed over the side, and understanding hit Janus like a stone sinking in water. He’s planning on getting drunk.

Janus could hardly blame him–the thought had crossed his mind too, as a way to cope with the comically uncomfortable situation the two of them had found themselves in–but Patton was a notoriously chatty drunk.

The first time they had all drank together as a group was in freshman year, sitting in a cramped circle around Roman and Patton’s shared dorm room, playing some drinking game that Roman had found online and nursing some truly disgusting vodka mixers with whatever beverages they could scavenge from the vending machines. It had been two years before he and Patton had started dating, and at the time, Janus had been determinedly ignoring the way his stomach swooped at the sound of his laugh like a bird dipping and gliding in the air. He knew fully well from his older sister what happened to friend groups when two of the members started dating. Despite having only met in August, these were some of the closest friends that Janus had ever had, and he wasn’t willing to give it up on the off chance that Patton liked him back.

On his left, Logan took a shot of New Amsterdam, his face scrunching up in disgust as the others cheered. On his right, Patton, leaning against his dresser and eyes slightly unfocused, shushed them halfheartedly, mumbling something about keeping quiet for the RA. Remus reached to the deck of cards in the center of their lopsided circle, and drew the top one, crowing, “Queen!”

“Whaddoes that one do again?” Virgil asked, readjusting the weighted dinosaur from Patton’s bed he was holding in his lap. He hadn’t relinquished it all night.

“I gotta ask someone a question, then that person asks someone else a question, and so on. First person who doesn’t want to answer drinks. Logan–what’s the worst grade you’ve ever gotten in a class?”

Logan blushed beet red and glared down into his red solo cup, as if trying to divine the answer from his rancid blue Gatorade mixer. At last, he mumbled, “A B. Plus. In junior year English.”

They all roundly booed him.

Logan straightened up and cast his gaze around the circle. “Um…Patton. What is the worst thing you’ve done in the past week?”

Patton’s eyes immediately widened, and he looked guiltily down at the floor. “Yes’trday, I…killed a spider.”

“The horror,” said Remus.

“I didn’ mean to, it jus’ startled me!” Patton said, the alcohol slurring his words together. They had never gotten drunk together as a group before, and Janus suspected that this may be Patton’s first time getting drunk at all.

“‘S alright, Pat,” Virgil snorted, not much more sober than Patton was. “‘S your turn.”

Patton immediately perked up. “So I ask a question?”

“Yep!” Roman said from Patton’s other side.

“Can be anything,” Remus added.

Patton thought for a moment, then turned to Janus so suddenly he startled. Patton’s face was inches away from his, eyes glittering, a pretty flush on his cheeks. ”Janus!” he chirped, and nearly tipped forward into Janus’ lap. “Do you like me?”

The reaction was immediate. Remus choked on his drink, and Roman made a noise that was somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a delighted gasp. Logan’s mouth fell open as he gaped at Patton, and Virgil, despite his inebriation, tugged at Patton’s hand firmly and gave him a pointed glare, hissing, “Pat.”

Janus sat rooted to the spot, the world seeming to tip beneath him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Patton, looking at him so earnestly with those melted chocolate eyes, his lips slightly parted. He was so close that Janus could count the freckles on his face.

He could feel the response on his tongue; could feel the shape of the words, the weight of them. He opened his mouth, and managed a humiliating sound that was something like a frog croaking, which made the twins laugh even harder.

Yes, his brain screamed at him. Yes, I do, and if you keep looking at me like that, I might fall in love with you, too.

Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

~

Now he sat on the couch, margarita in hand and trying his best to ignore the way his nerve endings lit up at every square inch of Patton’s body pressed against his side.

They were all a few drinks deep by now; the twins had insisted on playing drinking games, despite the fact that they were certainly getting too old for such things. Still, it was a welcome distraction: facing off against Roman and Virgil with Remus in a game of pong as Logan and Patton watched bemusedly from the couch was a welcome distraction. At some point, though, he had tapped out, swapping places with Logan, and now he found himself on the couch with Patton.

The room had gone pleasantly fuzzy around the edges; Janus closed his eyes, allowing himself to savor the feeling. His friends were together, the house was quaint and cozy, and Patton was leaning against him, his warmth as comforting as Janus remembered. He could almost pretend that everything was as it should be; that he and Patton were still together, and that they could sit like this again, curled up on each other, not having to worry about jumping back as if the other had burned them.

Janus shoved the thought away; it wasn’t fair to Patton to let himself pretend. They had broken up, and Patton had probably moved on by now. Regardless of whatever lingering feelings Janus still had for him, he needed to respect that.

Patton shifted, and his head lolled gently against Janus’ shoulder. He had been strangely quiet all night—at least he was keeping his lips sealed about the agreement—but Janus was being very much reminded what a cuddly drunk Patton was.

He supposed he should be grateful; if Patton hadn’t decided to sit next to him, it might have seemed suspicious. But him sitting here brought on a new host of problems, chief of which is that Janus would have given anything for the two of them to stay there forever.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his mind. The breakup was his own fault, after all; if he had wanted this forever, then he should have stepped up when he had the chance. But still, that wouldn’t have been fair to Patton.

Things are better this way, he told himself firmly. He had been repeating the words over and over again for the past few months, hoping that one day, he’d believe them.

He shifted, and found himself nose-to-nose with Patton, who was blearily blinking up at him through long eyelashes. Janus didn’t know how long he had been staring at him like that.

“Hello,” Janus said, hoping that the flush in his cheeks could be chalked up to the alcohol. “Enjoying the party?”

“Mmmhm,” Patton mumbled sleepily. “Dr’nk too much.”

“I can see that.”

Patton’s brow furrowed, face scrunched up in a pout. “Mean.”

“Honest.” He could feel Patton’s soft curls tickling his chin. “Perhaps we should get you to bed.”

“No,” he whined. “‘M comfy.”

“You won’t be when you wake up on the couch tomorrow with a terrible hangover.”

He poked Janus in the arm. “You’re comfy.”

“Patton,” Janus said, sterner this time. This—whatever this was—couldn’t happen. “Come on, let’s get up.”

“You going to bed?” Roman asked from the pong table, wincing as Logan sank a shot into one of his cups.

“Mhm,” Janus said, looping an arm around a very reluctant Patton. “Someone had a bit too much to drink.”

“‘M fine,” Patton insisted, an argument that was made less convincing by the way he started hiccuping.

“Bed, Patton.”

Remus snorted. “Don’t let him trip up the stairs!” He called after them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Janus said back easily, even as Patton stumbled over his own feet.

They were almost to the landing, Patton tucked against Janus’ side, when Janus heard him mumble, almost too quietly for him to hear it, “I wish you din’ break up with me.”

If Janus hadn’t been so focused on getting him safely to bed, he might have accidentally dropped him. A million emotions clawed their way through his body, filling up his heart: guilt, longing, anger towards himself.

He pushed them all down and readjusted Patton under his arm. “I promise, Patton. It’s better this way.”

TAGLIST: @bluejay-of-the-west @scare-amor @harmonialcollisions @emoprincey @dragonboots @just-my-interpretation @spicycreativity @infawrit10 @emophoenixreborn @6-paris-6 @thedeadandthedecaying @moceit @lily-janus @instantromannoodles @betamash @nandysparadox @halfhissandwich @sanderssidesthehouse @littlerat2 @giraffeboat

[tss-storytime-summaries]

14

Expected Rating: Mature

Warnings: Surrealism, Elements of horror, (There might be more to add in the future)

Characters: Thomas, Patton, Logan, Roman, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Remy (background), Picani (background), Aunt Patty (Mentioned), Thomas's friends (Mentioned/background)

Romantic Relationships: Logicality, Pre-relationship Prinxiety, Pre-relationship Dukeceit, Unrequited Moceit, (possibly mentioned Remile)

Summary: Ever since Thomas was a child, he'd felt a strange tugging in his chest. A tugging, telling him that there's somewhere he should be.

It doesn't help that he has reoccurring dreams about a house he doesn't live in, but that feels far too familiar. It feels like home.

When his aunt Patty decides to move out of her own house, she asks Thomas if he'd like it. Since Thomas doesn't feel at home in his place and since it's rather cramped, he says yes.

Unfortunately, the house is located far away, in a town he's never even visited. Yet, he feels that it's the right decision to move.

Upon arriving in the town, called Moonville, he discovers a few things. The house he's moving into is the same that appears in his dreams, the town itself is rather strange, and… he seems to have some form of connection to people he'd never met before.

[ace-ace-in-yo-face]

Hello!!! I did a moceit collab with s good friend of mine (@lost_fanders on Instagram). I did the sketch and lineart and he did the coloring and the background! Hope y'all like it!

[halfhissandwich]

What’s the first piece of fanart you ever made, if you remember?

According to my gallery it’s this short comic, but I’m pretty sure I doodled moceit several times on my math homework which I no longer have access to 🤷

Observe that Janus’ hat is actually on his head lol. Also observe: no background—some things never change :)

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Devoted

Word count: 1851

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Moxieceit (Patton/Virgil/Janus), Moceit

Warnings: background violence and murder, religious imagery (written by a very non religious person who’s certain that there’s better words she could have been using but she doesn’t know them and trying to google them just gets her unhelpful Bible study websites), the inherent gay hornyness that comes from the religious imagery

~~~START~~~

When the invaders came, Virgil watched from the temple steps with the rest of the priestesses. The temple of Truth and Lies sat atop a hill overlooking the city and the sea beyond; they had seen the invaders’ ships even as the watchmen sent up the alarm. 

The priestesses watched, uncaring, as the city’s ships sank under the assault of the invaders’. They watched, unmoving, as the invaders reached the ports and descended upon the city. They watched, unaffected, as the city began to burn — their duties were to their Gods, not to the city from which some of them had been nursed. Even as citizens fled the city on foot, the priestesses of Truth and Lies watched steadfast from the temple steps. Some citizens begged to shelter in the temple, but only those who bore tokens of the temple’s Gods were permitted. 

Not until the Grand Temple of The Twins in the center of the city began to smoke did the priestesses stir. In the past, invaders to the city had left the temples untouched, fearing the retaliation of the Gods, but these invaders… they were barbarians. The temple would not keep the priestesses safe. 

Some of the priestess fled, forsaking their Gods and deciding their chances would be better as blasphemers out in the wilderness. The remaining priestesses, Virgil included, retreated into the temple and shut the stone doors. 

Inside the temple, patrons and priestesses alike rushed about in panic. Some tried to arm themselves with the ceremonial armament that normally hung from the wall as tributes from the city’s greatest warriors, some prayed at the feet of the two twenty-foot stone statues of the Gods for their delivery from peril, and some drank the sacrificial wine, fermented in the temple from the finest grapes grown in the valley beyond the temple for the Gods to enjoy as they may, hoping to be so senseless by the time death came for them that they would be none the wiser at the end. Virgil watched the blasphemy impassionately. 

Unlike most of his fellow priestesses, Virgil had been brought to the temple as a babe, he had been tribute to his Gods, and he was raised on nothing but Them. He did not try to arm himself, nor did he beg for his life or defile his Gods’ tribute, instead, he wandered deeper into the temple. He ignored the sounds of running feet and the fearful yelling and came to a halt only once he had reached the mosaic tile fresco of The Snake and The Frog, there he fell on his knees and prayed. The fresco was not generally considered to be a formal prayer site, but it was where Virgil had always felt closest to his Gods. 

He did not pray for his life, for his life was worth nothing if it was not spent in worship of his Gods. He did not pray for the city, for the city was worth nothing whether it was populated by his people or by the invaders’. He did not pray for his fellow priestesses, for they had already disrespected their Gods. 

No, Virgil prayed for the temple. He prayed that no invader would defile what belonged to his Gods, that the temple would stand no matter how much fire the invaders brought with them, that the temple would stand long after the invaders perished, whether by war or old age. 

And as the invaders reached the temple’s stone doors and began to beat on them, he continued to pray. He prayed that his Gods would always have tribute and that their cult would go on long after Virgil and the priestesses were cut down. 

As the stone doors gave and the screaming began, Virgil prayed that the beauty of the temple not be diminished as it was decorated with the blood of the slain. 

Screams and footsteps echoed around Virgil, but he did not move from his supplication. He was afraid of the invaders and he was afraid of dying, but more than that, he was afraid of abandoning his Gods. He remained, unmoving before the fresco, quiet prayers falling from his lips. 

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” 

Virgil could not stop his flinch of fear as a dark voice croaked with glee behind him, but he continued his prayers. 

“Beg your false gods for their mercy,” the invader laughed, seizing Virgil by the hair with one hand and bringing his knife to his throat with the other. “They cannot save you.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and added one last prayer that his blood would only add to the fresco’s beauty, if his Gods allowed it to sully Their imagery at all. 

The screams in the temple behind him seemed to change pitch as he waited for his executioner to strike. But no strike came. 

The invader’s laughter was cut off with a strangled gasp as the knife fell to the ground near Virgil’s knees with a clatter. Then the hand untwisted from Virgil’s hair, and a body fell to the ground with a heavy thump!

Virgil’s eyes snapped open as a cool, gloved hand cupped his cheek. Before him, clad in black and yellow vestments, stood a man– no, not a man. A God. His God, to whom his life was but a humble tribute. 

His God — Janus, God of lies, secrets, and selfishness — stood before him in the guise of a half-man, half-snake. The human half of His face was all sharp angles and smooth skin as though cut from the same stone as His statue in the temple’s gallery, and the snake half of His face was decorated with a mosaic of yellow and green scales that put the fresco behind Him to shame. His human eye was brown as the bark of the trees in the forest, as the jasper inset in the temple walls, as the dirt from which all life grew, His snake eye was as yellow as the sun and almost seemed twice as bright. 

A smile graced His lips as He swiped His thumb gently against Virgil’s cheekbone. 

“As stunning as your blood would look decorating Our temple,” He said in a smooth voice that was almost as mesmerizing as His eyes and was sparked with humor and affection, the source of which Virgil could not fathom. “It would not be worth even half as much as it is coursing through your lovely veins.”

Virgil blinked dumbly, awed and confused by the emergence of his God. 

The God smiled a little wider and reached for Virgil’s hands, still clasped together in prayer, with His free hand. He pulled Virgil to his feet before snaking His arm around Virgil’s waist and pulling him against the God’s stone-like body, trapping his clasped hand between them. 

“Look at you, precious,” the God cooed reverently. “So devote, even when Death has you in Her grasp.”

A scream started just down the passageway before being cut off suddenly. Unable to help himself, Virgil tried to turn to look, but his God’s hand held fast upon his cheek. 

The God’s smile lost some of its humor but none of its affection. “Now, now, precious, Patton will be done soon and then you won’t need to worry any longer.”

None of this made any sense to Virgil, he was but a speck of dust to his Gods, something to be washed away when he became too much of a nuisance, not something to be held close and called precious. 

Janus continued to smile affectionately at Virgil and pet his cheek gently as the screams and cries died down until the temple finally sat silent once more but for Virgil’s quiet breathing. 

“I hope you’re not planning on keeping him all to yourself, love,” another voice, this one light and musical, broke the silence from close behind Virgil.

Janus held Virgil’s face fast, but allowed His own eyes to lift to view the newcomer with the same affection He had been sending Virgil’s way. 

“Of course not, darling,” He answered, rubbing His hand up and down Virgil’s spine possessively. “He is Ours after all.”

Another body, softer and warmer than Janus’s pressed into Virgil’s back. “Our most devoted priestess,” the voice cooed affectionately. “Safe in his salvation.”

“I-I didn’t ask for salvation,” Virgil stuttered quietly, afraid to contradict his Gods, but even more afraid to let them misunderstand his prayers. 

“Of course you did!” Patton — God of truth, morality, and selflessness — exclaimed, turning Virgil around in Janus’s grip. Janus allowed His hand to drop from Virgil’s face, but His other hand stayed firm around his waist, resting on Virgil’s stomach as Virgil faced His Husband. “You asked that no invader defile what was Ours.”

Patton had chosen to dress Himself in full human form and blue vestments, though His height might be pushing what man could reach on their own. He chose softer lines and a fuller form than His Husband had; His eyes sparkled blue as the ocean as it melts into sky, and were twice as deep as either. His gaze, trained firmly on Virgil despite the fact that at his back was His Husband, was full of a naked affection that made Virgil’s knees weak — not that it mattered, the way Janus held him firmly. 

“You are Ours, aren’t you?” The God asked, though He clearly already knew the answer. 

“Yes,” Virgil answered. Though the appearance of his Gods confused him, of this he was certain: he was Theirs, however They wanted him. 

Patton smiled and cupped Virgil’s face in both of His large, soft hands. “Then as long as Our cult goes on, no harm shall befall you, and as long as you are Ours, Our cult shall go on.”

“I am always Yours,” Virgil swore. “My life will always be spent in devotion to Your divinity.”

Patton’s smile grew wider, and he leaned down to kiss Virgil on the forehead. 

“Our divinity now, precious,” Janus corrected him gently, though Virgil did not understand what difference there was. 

“Our divinity,” Patton agreed, leaning over Virgil to kiss His Husband. “Yours, Mine, and Our most devoted priestess’s.”

Then He leaned down once more, but instead of kissing Virgil on the forehead, He claimed his lips instead. For just the briefest moment, Virgil worried about what His Husband would do, but Janus gently thumbed at Virgil’s stomach and rested His free hand on Patton’s hip, pulling His Husband even closer, and pressing Virgil more firmly between Them. 

Only when Patton slipped one hand from Virgil’s face and used it to hold to His Husband did Virgil allow himself to sink into the kiss, to allow himself to become lost in this new form of prayer to his Gods. 

And when Janus grew impatient and turned him to face Him once more, Virgil prayed to Him as well. 

In the temple of Truth and Lies, which no power could reduce to rubble be it man or beast or time, lived a priestess who prayed to his Gods with his every breath in every way he knew how. 

~~~END~~~

It took me a real long time to find the word “vestments” cuz I wanted the word “vestiges” which is not the same, though you can have vestiges of vestments

I’ve been meaning to write this fic for a while and last night I just went feral and didn’t sleep

General taglist

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

[brandstifter-sys]

The Great Bitchin Bake-Off

Chapter 3: You Got Buns Hun (Ao3)

Word Count: 2563

Rating: T

Characters: Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, Virgil

Warnings: Innuendo, food, gore, fainting, background moceit, background dukexiety

Roman and Remus have no internet, no cookbooks, and they have to make breakfast for everyone in the mindscape. Rather than work together, the creativitwins just have to make it a competition, if only so there's something edible in the end.

--

Roman rose up into the dining room holding two covered platters. He loathed that he couldn't simply conjure perfectly cooked food because it wasn't as nutritious as home cooked. He would much rather save time and energy, but no, only Virgil and Remus were fine with conjured meals! At least he could cook decent food on his own, and he would have bragging rights later. 

He was more confident with the security of those bragging rights than the security of the ones regarding his baking. He couldn’t smell anything burning as he made his way to the kitchen, which was a relief. In fact, he was assaulted with the pleasant aroma of cinnamon. 

Roman entered the kitchen, unsurprised to find that it was still a mess of flour, sugar, eggs, and blood. He never expected Remus to actually clean, so the lack of dirty dishes was a shock. Of course he was also surprised to see that Remus put all of the cinnamon rolls on two platters. 

“You close!? You close!?” 

The mentioned gremlin was stirring up the glaze he made with a spatula, hugging the bowl to his chest and going feral. 

“You close?! You bad bad boy! You close?!” Remus said with wild eyes as he continued to mix. 

“Unfortunately, too close,” Roman said and crossed his arms. At least Remus immediately stopped his tirade. 

“Just in time!” he giggled, “I burnt my fingies getting the rolls out of the pans! They just need a sugar bukkake and they’ll be ready to eat!” 

Roman let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes. He would only have to endure this for a little longer. Instead of letting Remus get under his skin, he decided to examine the baked goods. 

His rolls were golden-brown and they puffed up beautifully. He could see the cinnamon and cream cheese peeking through the spirals. They were gorgeous, and he was satisfied with them. He was certain his were better than Remus’ rolls. 

Remus didn’t really give him a chance to compare directly. He poured about half of the glaze over the red rolls with a lewd moan, just to be a little shit. It certainly looked erotic enough to warrant a little noise. It wasn’t like he was doing anything unsavory to the dish! 

“Do you have any chill?” Roman pouted. 

“Me?” Remus laughed and handed him the bowl and spatula, “As if you have to ask!” 

Roman took the bowl and examined its contents. It was a simple glaze with nothing obviously wrong with it. If there were something awry, Roman could blame his brother. 

Remus seemed to be quite pleased himself. Roman could understand why, he had something that looked like cinnamon rolls despite the glaring sanguine issue. He was wiping off the edges of his platter with a paper towel, as if he had something worth presenting. 

“Well, we're all done! May the best duke win!” Remus chirped and picked up his platter. Roman scoffed at his confidence, but remembered that technically he was also a duke, and Remus was technically a prince. Clearly Remus wanted to get under his skin, by either assuming the winner or reminding Roman that they were equally ranked. 

Remus wiggled his hips and skipped out of the kitchen. It was amazing that he still had so much energy after such a long night. Roman considered the distance a blessing as he added the finishing touch to his dish. 

He was rather impressed by the glaze. It was so smooth as it fell over his pastries like a waterfall. It sent a dark chill up his spine to think that Remus had any culinary prowess. Even so, Roman's rolls were gorgeous and they were going to be a hit. 

Roman set the empty bowl aside and picked up his platter. Unlike Remus, he had no need to wipe up any excess glaze because he took care and pride in his presentation. 

He carried his cinnamon rolls into the dining room and set them next to Remus’ platter. He stood by Remus and tried not to cringe as his brother squirmed. And not a moment too soon! 

Janus and Patton rose up, tired but anticipating a delicious meal. It would have been adorable to see the two of them leaning against each other in their mismatched bathrobes, clearly hinting that they were cuddling before and accidentally grabbed the other’s robe before leaving. 

It would have been adorable if Patton were with anyone other than Janus. At least that was Roman's opinion. Remus would say that they should just bone instead of acting all domestic and sappy. 

“Ooh!” Patton cooed when he looked at the table, “Cinnamon buns! They're so cute! But why are there two plates?” 

“Because one is edible and one is not,” Roman said proudly and gestured to his plate. 

“What he means is, we both made our own batches since we couldn't find a recipe,” Remus butted in. Janus stared at him and then at Roman and shuddered. Baking was more of a science than an art project, and doing so without a recipe was a disaster waiting to happen. 

Patton was a little concerned but the sweet scent filling his nose was soothing his worries. But not all of them.

“Why are yours red, Remus?” he asked and pointed to the rolls in question. 

“I had to use blood!” Remus beamed. He chose to ignore the wide-eyed distress that took over Patton's face. 

“He's just trying to gross you out, Patton,” Janus said softly and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. At the same time he was glaring daggers at the twins, daring them to contradict him. 

“He is?” Patton pouted. 

“Of course not!” Remus huffed, “They're red because I had to use blood. Blood! Gallons of the stuff!” He would not let Janus stifle his creative flow!

“Roman?” Patton whimpered and clung to Janus, hoping that the prince would deny Remus' claims. 

“It's too early for this,” a cold, groggy voice said from behind the stressed father-figure. 

Patton yelped and jolted, slamming into Janus. 

“Virgil!” 

Virgil tilted his chin at Patton and eyed the table. The covered platters were probably just boring breakfast food, but the cinnamon rolls caught his attention.

“Who made breakfast?” he asked and shoved his fist in his mouth to hide a yawn. 

“Roman,” Janus said, getting Virgil’s eyebrows to rise towards his hairline, ���and Remus.” 

Roman was almost offended when Virgil relaxed at the mention of his brother. 

“So why is Patton freaking out?” 

“Remus said there's blood in his!” Patton whimpered, trying to appear calm, and failing. Virgil glanced at Janus and their eyes met. Remus wasn't lying. 

“Yeah, he's just saying that so you don't eat them all,” Virgil shrugged and grabbed one of the bloody cinnamon rolls, “He tried this kind of stuff with me before.” 

“What do you mean he's tried this before?” Patton questioned as Virgil took a large bite out of the roll. Roman was unsettled as the roll sank from the pressure only to spring back up, as if it were light and fluffy. Remus was basking in the glow of somewhat positive attention. 

“Simply that Remus bakes far too frequently for anyone's relationship with a scale,” Janus said, “He's tried to trick Virgil into not devouring an entire batch of pastries on several occasions.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. He was a novice and he willingly entered a contest with a professional level baker. He could practically hear the gloating Remus would spew. 

Remus, on the other hand, was too busy watching Virgil chew. He hated not having a recipe to follow and he wanted to know if he managed to make something close to his usual quality. 

Virgil swallowed and pouted at Remus, as if he were disappointed. Remus was ready to assume the worst. 

“There's no blood in these. You can eat them, Pat,” Virgil said and set the half-eaten bun on a napkin. 

“There's not?” Patton squeaked hopefully. 

“Nope. I can't taste any blood. It's just a good cinnamon roll,” Virgil shrugged and grabbed one of Roman's rolls. 

“You think they're good?” Remus gasped with an infectious grin. 

“Yeah. And I'm guessing you decided to be idiots and turn this into a competition,” he said and took a large bite out of Roman's roll. 

Roman held his breath as Virgil chewed. But after only a short moment, he started coughing and fumbled for a napkin. 

“Virgil!” Patton gasped as Virgil spit out the partly chewed roll into a napkin. He was still coughing to the point his eyes were tearing up.

“Water—” he managed to choke out between coughs. Patton immediately ran to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. 

“How—how much—” Virgil tried to ask between coughs. 

“How much cinnamon did you use?” Janus asked, saving Virgil some trouble. Roman was mortified. How could this get any worse?

EEEEEK!

Thud 

“Patton!” Janus yelped and ran to the kitchen. Virgil and Roman followed him while Remus casually picked up one of Roman's rolls and started eating it. 

Oh yeah that was a lot of cinnamon! No wonder Virgil was coughing up a lung! 

“Remus!” Janus shouted. Oh no he was angry! It was best not to keep him waiting. 

Remus skipped into the kitchen to find Roman and Janus kneeling by an unconscious Patton. The kitchen was a mess and there was blood on the floor, so that was expected. Virgil was by the sink drinking something to ease his cough. 

“I will be taking Patton to his room, and we will eat there once he comes to,” Janus hissed, “You and Roman are going to scrub this kitchen spotless. If I come back and you aren't cleaning or if this room is a mess, I will take action. Do you understand me?” 

“Yeah, yeah, clean up,” Remus brushed him off, “Whatever you say, Mom.” 

Janus rolled his eyes and looked at Roman. The prince was distraught but he would clean with Remus no matter how much he resisted. 

“Virgil, make sure these two actually clean up,” he added. Virgil gave him a thumbs up, which was all he needed to sink out with Patton. Roman was left, staring at the floor and wallowing in his own misery.

That's when Remus realized what Virgil chose to drink in his little coughing fit—his clarified pig blood! 

“Virgil! That took me forever to make!” he whined. Virgil put the empty jug down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

“Yeah? Well I would’ve gone for my tea, except it’s gone,” Virgil retorted and leaned against the counter, “Now why is that?”

Remus giggled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. It was a drastic enough estrangement from the norm to snap Roman out of his internal lament. Was his brother acting like a shy schoolgirl on purpose, or was it just another act? 

“I drinked it. It was really good!” 

“Are you trying to distract me so you don’t have to clean?” 

“Nope! If anything, you’re distracting me! There’s just something so hot about a man who can encourage all complete cooperation!” Remus teased and fluttered his lashes. Virgil snorted and shook his head. 

“No flirting until you’re finished here. Go get some bleach.” 

Remus saluted him and disappeared. He would have cleaned up anyway, but with the promise of a teasing spider, he was all the more motivated. 

Roman got to his feet and went to the sink. He could clean the countertops at the very least. He was feeling a lot more like Cinderella than before. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Roman asked Virgil as he grabbed a sponge. 

“Tell you what?” 

“That Remus has experience baking!” he groaned. 

“I thought you knew, and you didn't exactly ask,” Virgil shrugged, “But now you feel like an idiot.” 

“Of course I do!” Roman whined and pressed his wrist to his forehead, “I'm ruined! Humiliated! A laughing stock! I am a fool! The king of fools!” 

“Right,” Virgil droned and clicked his tongue, “You know it's my job to overthink things. You're embarrassed and an idiot—” he paused so Roman could sputter, “—but you aren't the biggest fool in the world.” 

“I'm back!” Remus sang as he reappeared, right on time. He had a bucket of bleach water and his rubber gloves, but he chose to wear the single skimpiest maid dress that barely covered him. His shoulders were exposed as were most of his legs. To add insult to injury, he had fishnet thigh-highs and chunky platform heels, plus a frilly white bonnet clipped to his hair. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said to Roman, “You're not the biggest fool in the world.” 

Remus giggled and skipped over to the blood splatter, getting on his knees to scrub. He was going to clean up so good that no one would ever know about Roman’s little oopsie! 

“I'll be right back,” Virgil grunted and left the kitchen. Roman wished he would have stayed, if only so he wouldn't have to deal with the festering embarrassment and Remus by himself. 

He got busy wiping down the counters, praying for an awkward silence. He might have needed to pray to something other than Disney.

“We should totally do this again!” Remus mused as he pulled a scrub brush from his bucket. 

“What?” 

“We should bake together again!” Remus clarified, “It was fun!” 

“Fun?” Roman scoffed, “Of course you had fun—you got to mock me and show everyone that I am less than capable!” 

“I had fun spending time with you. I would have had fun even without a competition,” Remus pouted, “I had to beg Specs to put us together on his schedule with benefits.” 

“You pushed for this?” 

“Yeah! I wanted to hang out with my prissy little brother. Believe it or not, I actually like you. I only try to crush your skull when I think you'll kill me. That's why I begged to get baking time with you—so I wouldn't give in to those thoughts.” 

“Perhaps we could do this again, and work together next time,” Roman ceded and continued to clean, “If they let us near the kitchen together again.”

Remus squeaked and immediately fell to his hands. He started scrubbing the floor roughly, grunting with the effort he was using to get the grout between the tiles. He would make this kitchen spotless if it meant he could bond with his brother again! 

Roman ignored the grunting in favor of getting wrapped up in his own thoughts. Remus didn’t gloat, he didn’t put Roman down, he just wanted quality brother time. He didn’t do anything to hinder Roman when baking, in fact he seemed to have tried to help inconspicuously. Maybe Remus wasn’t evil. He was crass and lewd and obnoxious, but he wasn’t so bad. 

Virgil returned holding the plate of red cinnamon rolls, casually eating them with the intent to finish them. He saw Remus on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor and grunting. He was so glad Remus was wearing underwear. 

He walked up to Remus and nudged him with his foot, getting the duke to pause and look up at him. 

“You close?” Virgil droned, fighting back a smirk. 

“Yeah, I’m a bad bad boy!” Remus laughed, “You close?” 

Roman sighed to himself and shook his head. Remus wasn’t so bad, most of the time.

--

(1)(2)

[warnadudenexttime]

Insert virgil + moceit in background joke

[sandersidesbigbang]

An Ol Switcharoo

Rating: Gen

Pairings: Moceit (main), Intrulogical (side), Prinxiety (side), possibly Remile (background), and temporarily Janus x Remy (not sure what their ship name is)

Summary/Excerpt: 

In this Sanders Sides Parent Trap AU, Janus and Patton met and fell in love 16 years ago, on a cruise that changed their life for the better. However, despite having twins they loved dearly, and big dreams they built together, their young love wasn’t meant to be… Or so they thought.

It has been 15 years now since they divorced. Patton moved to London to live with his father and run a toy store while Janus stayed in California and ran a vineyard. They agreed that Patton would raise Roman and Janus would raise Remus.

Present day, Roman and Remus are incidentally sent to the same summer camp, where they learn that they are more alike than they first believe.

AUTHOR

@loganofthenorth

BETAS

@dystopiagnome

ARTISTS

@thefloofinator

@dystopiagnome

[ladyinsertnamehere]

For @intrulogicalweek2021 !

Day 1: AU

What if Logan and Remus were guardian angels of two blossoming lovers (Pat and Jan respectively)?

Not really enemies-to-lovers intrulogical, more of a begrudging-associates-to-friends-to-lovers, while moceit seem to hit it off right away?

[doomstypewriter]

Excuse me while I panic

Hi, I'm back from finals, but my brain is kind of dead right now, so enjoy this silly two-shot in the meantime.

Word count: 996 | AO3

Summary: Roman needs to get on with the program, realise his crush on Virgil and ask him out, because it's getting ridiculous.

At least Janus thinks so. Everybody does.

A wild crush has appeared, except it was there all along, Roman is just dumb <3

“It’d be a pity if you got over yourself and told Virgil you loved him already. Not that I care about his happiness or anything”.

Roman turned to face the back of the room, where Janus was sitting with a lap full of Patton, who just shrugged in agreement with a quizzical smile.

The treacherous acceptance Patton showed after Janus’ out-of-the-blue comment almost made Roman gasp.

“I just said I want to hang out with him this week”.

“And marry him the month after that, I suppose” Janus retorted.

“Okay, first of all, nah-uh, and second of all, I’d have expected this outright attack for you, but, Patton, are you going to stand watching him bullying me?!”

Just when he was about to reply, Janus intervened again, pretending to be distracted playing with Patton’s curls.

“Not quite, let me rephrase that for you: bullying you into getting ahead in life”.

“Hello?” Roman gestured at himself, only to feel even more increpated by Janus’ glancing at him up and down. “I’m dashing at all times, it’s you who should be putting in the effort”.

As per usual, Janus smirked, unimpressed. He ran a finger, scratching lightly, up Patton’s neck. Underneath the cardigan, a pair of shoulders rolled in a contained shudder.

“I already have. You, though, have achieved nothing. Also, why am I detecting” Janus said, raising a hand to cup behind his ear, “a hint of defensiveness? Honestly… well… as honestly as the budget allows, I am saying this for your sake. Take notes or something, Roman”.

Roman’s weight shifted from one leg to the other, he crossed his arms and gasped, for real this time.

“Excuse me?”

“Excused. I’ll dictate it for you: number one, dot, Janus has made me realise my lack of ambition, comma, I will ask Virgil out”. Janus changed the tone for a second, considering. “Hmmm… let’s say, at once, sounds very you, doesn’t it? Blah, blah, no ambition, I’m very dim, I will ask Virgil out at once, full stop. New paragraph: number two, dot, from now on, comma, I shall listen to Janus’ advice, comma, because he’s so right all the time, full stop”.

Once Roman came out of his astonishment, he closed his gaping mouth and pursed his lips like a child.

“Okay, that’s it, you did this. I’m calling the nerd”.

Janus had no time to complain, as Logan was summoned immediately thereafter.

“Lo, are you okay?!” Patton stirred in place after seeing Logan’s looks.

There, in all bizarre glory, stood Logan, draped in a lab coat with some unidentified stains, knee-length black rubber boots, safety glasses with what dangerously looked like a speckle of blood and a pair of gloves holding a scalpel.

“Don’t worry Patton, he’s just been playing with Remus” Janus offered.

Logan examined the room quickly, then cleared up his throat and blinked himself into his usual attire.

“I was in the middle of something”.

“Clearly” Roman muttered sarcastically.

“What do you need?” Logan made a point to ignore Roman’s comment.

Janus smiled calmly.

“Roman just called you so you can prove him wrong”.

Before the prince could retort, Logan nodded with a vague hint of amusement.

“Well, I can certainly do that”.

“You won’t need to, because it’s him who’s saying” Roman paused and endeavoured to make his best impression of Logan, “falsehoods”.

Logan frowned and crossed his arms.

“That is to be expected, so what is the context?”

“He says I need to ask Virgil out because he’s always right”.

Roman went on saying something along the lines of ‘like, I like Virgil, but not like that. And he’s just implying I’m in love with him, and I would know because, hi, Roman, romance? And Patton isn’t even defending me!’. All of that, Logan didn’t listen to, deciding to speak plainly.

“That’s incorrect, Janus gets things wrong often, it is, in fact, a statistical improbability to be right all the time. But, to be fair, out of all of you, he holds a higher average”.

“Exactly, that’s what I said” Roman shook his hand forward as if to underline how justified he felt. A moment later he went quiet. “Wait…”

“No need. I’ll finish dispatching this soon. So, no, Janus is not always right, but you would do well to heed to his advice on this occasion, seeing how it would help resolve your feelings for Virgil”.

“What?”

“Thank you, Logan” Janus said.

Logan nodded, satisfied with a good job.

“No need, happy to help”.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Roman exclaimed. “I have no feelings for Virgil…” he reconsidered, “not like that!”

In a quick save, Logan hid his laugh with a frown and an inhale.

“Excellent example of being wrong, you’ll be a great help to Logan’s statistics” Janus grinned.

Everybody was looking at him.

Normally, he’d like that, because it was the natural order of things. At the present time, though, he felt paralysed by a sudden onslaught of contradicting feelings and thoughts. Unfortunately, all of these things running through his mind popped in and out too fast for him to process them as more than a jumble of nonsense.

That is to say, he drew a complete blank, cursing his ADHD.

“But-but… I’m not in” he started slowly, trying to organise his ideas.

Then, went down with the first thing to come out of his mouth because working under pressure is not his thing.

“Like, I spend a ton of time with him, but what do you know? And, honestly, you’re just jealous Virge pays more attention to me because he’s almost as great as me. By the way, Janus steals your crofters when you don’t look, someone has to say it, because we’re outing people’s secrets, except not mine’s ‘cause I’m not in love with…”

Patton stood up, knowing he’d have to help everyone brace themselves.

All at the same time, the following was spoken or shouted:

“Snitch!”

“He did what?!”

“Oh my... I’m in love with Virgil”

Next>>

Thx for reading. Reblog or comment if it made you laugh <3

Taglist: COME AT ME BRO, COME AT ME, write a comment and tell me to tag you for the next chapter, I DARE YOU /nm /lh /j

[anxiouslyfred]

Connections - Logicality

Summary: A world of various soulmate connections forming at different ages, The sides need to navigate each having multiple types of soulmate connections and finding each other. Shared soulmates make finding each other a bit easier, especially when Logan can copy Janus's methods to try and find the soulmate he writes letters to. 

Part of an ongoing daily DRLAMP series with each part focusing on one pairing

/\/\

Logan was learning, not stealing ideas, just learning from his soulmates methods of finding each other.

Honestly with this specific soulmate he'd been learning almost immediately after he got his first reply. She had corrected him over the importance of being himself and not needing to fit into some questionnaire format for other people to understand him by.

Nowadays he was a little embarrassed to remember that his first letter sent was essentially a dating site profile, barely even looking like a letter to anyone. His soulmate had sent it back to him covered in question marks for his first reply.

That letter was still at the front of the folder he kept their correspondence in though.

Dear Soulmate Hi Honey

??? Name: I'm not allowed to provide this. Perhaps you may call me Scientist since that is a passion of mine

Age: 15 as this process dictates I must be to know of our connection Did you base this off an online dating profile?

Location: I live in a 2 story family home with a pond in the garden.?? That sounds like a lovely home. What are your siblings like?

Turn Ons: I do not understand this section. Does it mean my interests? It could do to be clearer. My interests are in astronomy and chemistry primarily but beyond that I desire to learn everything I can about the world we live in. Honey, it means what gets you excited according to my parents. If your passionate about science then I guess that would class as a turn on.

Turn Offs: Another section I do not understand. As humans the only way for us to be turned off, as it were, would be in death. For machinery and electronics perhaps there are other ways to turn them off but for every living thing we are only truly off in death. I asked my mum to explain turn-offs too and she says they're things that stop you wanting to be around someone. It could be small things, pet peeves, like how someone constantly taps things, or larger like hating the political views people hold.

Perfect Date: The ideal time of year for me is usually as Autumn truly sets in cooling the fervour of summer. I suppose to give that a more specific date would be early to mid October. I love sweater weather too.

Dear soulmate,

This was interesting to read but you don't need to fill out a form to tell me about yourself. We're just talking you know, even if that's talking through letters. Are you okay with me calling you Honey? My family is big on pet names and that one just seems to fit you.

What are your siblings like? I've always wished I could have younger siblings to look after, but I often get to babysit for my cousins and our neighbours anyway. Kids have the biggest imaginations you know, and don't care about staying in the lines when colouring either.

Love Popsie (that's my cousins nickname for me)

Of course the letter was old now, and the folder it was kept in had changed a few times to have space for all their letters to be kept together, but Logan still re-read them often enough.

What was hanging on his mind more than that first letter though was that Janus had managed to find Virgil through him, and both of them mentioning how they met each other to them. He wondered if there could be a way to meet his letter connection by doing the same; If by some miracle, Janus or Roman already knew her.

They had both already told him of the one they knew that he hadn't managed to meet yet, Patton, and the connections shared with him. It even seemed plausible since both his letter soulmate and Patton used she/he pronouns and happily asked people to swap between them regularly. The only thing he needed to know now was if she truly was his soulmate.

Dear Soulmate,

I hesitate to write this, since I know we agreed not to push the limits of what we can share in an attempt to meet up before life gives us that chance, but curiosity makes me ask.

As I've mentioned before in letters I currently know 3 of my soulmates, with only yourself and my item swap soulmate left to meet. What I did not wish to share as the story wasn't mine to tell, is that 2 of my soulmates also know another of their own who uses pronouns the same way you do.

The first I met, whom I had a timer counting down to when we'd meet, met this other a few months after we first met. They had soulmate creatures, themself a frog and their soulmate a serpent and encountered each other at the city zoo.

My ribbon soulmate informs me that the other they've met was the cause they believed the ribbon that connected us was black for the longest time. He described a rather fantastical scene of colours coming back to him mid-performance and interrupting the entire show. I suspect he's embellished some since surely the theatrical company he was performing with would not be so happy to give him roles again if that was the case.

If either of these situations sound at all familiar to you, please can you meet me in the astronomy exhibit that's currently visiting the town museum? I'll be visiting everyday after work for this week.

Yours Hopefully

Astronomer.

/\/\

Patton read the letter and froze, knowing that his scientist had just described how he met Janus and how Roman felt things happened when they met. There was no way she wasn't going to the museum that week, and it did have the exhibit mentioned showing on the website for it.

He was going to meet his third soulmate deliberately, and knowing that it was going to happen. It sounded like a lie, as if they'd managed to break some unspoken rule, even if they were just letting their soulmate connections help each other. Then again she was too nervous to ask either of her soulmates about Logan directly. Once they met, he could get to know Logan more in person, although he already knew him fairly well from all the letter's they'd written over the years. Perhaps he should take a few, just to confirm again that they're meant to be.

It's the first and latest that end up in her bag come Monday evening when she's entering the museum, following the arrows around for the exhibit. Her soulmate had mentioned preferring to look and dress smart, so she was looking around for someone in a suit, or at least a shirt and tie. If Roman had thought the ribbon connecting him to Logan was black that meant he was likely wearing blue as well, so there were definitely clues to help Patton locate him.

There was a man stood tracing the constellations with his fingers on one of the displays who was dressed how Patton thought his penpal would be. He hesitated to interrupt, but went over to stand next to him, glancing over occasionally and pulling the pages from his bag. “Excuse me, Kiddo. Can I just ask if you were the one to write these letters to me?” He asks when he realises the man glancing over at him.

“I am, although I would prefer not to see a copy of that one ever again. It was quite mortifying for you to return it questioning my methods of introduction. Are you Patton?” Logan turned to her, flushing slightly as he recognised the profile of his first letter.

“Are you Logan?” She replied, nodding to answer his question. “And it was cute. Don't be embarrassed. I doubt anyone had such a unique first letter.”

Logan paused before nodding back, “That is a much kinder view of it than I've allowed myself and yes, I am Logan. How useful it is for us to share soulmates in Janus and Roman.”

“Best thing to share ever!” Patton agreed, almost cheering the words but trying not to since they were in a museum and shouldn't disturb the other visitors.

[stardustsides]

Love is a Beach

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Patton and Janus broke up months ago. The problem? They still haven’t told their friends, and their annual beach trip is looming. Not wanting to break the news and ruin the vacation, they come to an…unconventional agreement.

Word Count: 2597

Pairings: moceit, background prinxiety

Content Warnings: drinking, breakups, mild innuendo

Author’s Note: I finally wrote the fake-dating-exes “there’s only one bed” moceit fic I’ve been threatening you all with!! I tagged everyone who expressed interest in reading this when I posted about it months ago. This fic is loosely based off of the novel “Happy Place” by Emily Henry :)

~

Not for the first time, the rational part of Patton’s brain was telling him that this was a bad idea. He had known it since they cooked it up, but he guessed that it was one thing to talk about it and another entirely to put it into action. He stood in the driveway, holding a bag of pool noodles and feeling slightly nauseous.

The rush of blood in his ears nearly drowned out the familiar chatter of his friends: Logan reading their checklist aloud in his typical drone, the twins cracking jokes from the backseat, Virgil groaning and telling them to shut it, trying and failing to smother the grin on his face. It was a perfect tableau of the people he loved most in the world, who, under different circumstances, he would have been thrilled to spend the week on vacation with, as he was every year.

As Janus loaded the last of the bags into the trunk, Patton met his eyes, and looked away as quickly as he could, staring at the gravel by his feet. Off to a flying start.

Plastering a smile onto his face, he clapped his hands. “Everyone ready?” He asked cheerfully, plopping into the driver’s seat. “AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!” Roman and Remus crowed in unison, to which Logan rolled his eyes. Janus slid into the passenger’s seat next to him with the grace of a lethargic cat. Patton dutifully kept his eyes on the rear view mirror as he pulled out of the driveway.

“I’m trusting you on aux, Jan,” Roman called from the back. “You better not disappoint!” Roman was usually the DJ of their road trips, as he always called dibs on shotgun (“dibs” used loosely, as he’d fight anyone who dared take his place as the resident passenger princess), but he had graciously relinquished his seat to Janus for this particular trip.

In fact, all of them had been exceptionally kind to both him and Janus for the past few weeks; Virgil had dropped a homemade loaf of sourdough at his apartment last week, saying that he “made too much”; Logan had told Patton that he’d pay the gas bill that Patton’s minivan was racking up for this trip; and, of course, Roman wouldn’t hear a word against Patton and Janus taking the master bedroom in the beach house they were renting.

It would melt Patton’s heart if it didn’t make his stomach twist with guilt.

He knew exactly where it was all coming from: they were expecting a proposal soon.

When Patton and Janus had first started dating in junior year of college, they could sense the wariness in their friends; they had all been inseparable since they first met in freshman year, and their concern that it would ruin the group dynamic was palpable.

That had been six years ago, though, and it really had only brought them all closer together. Janus and Patton had earned the nicknames “Mom” and “Dad”, respectively, and the others had all delighted in the prospect of one day being uncles to their kids.

And so, six years on in their relationship, everyone was clearly trying to contain their excitement about the proposal that they knew had to be coming soon.

So no, they couldn’t just tell the others about the breakup.

When it happened two months ago, Patton had fretted for days over how to break the news. Their trip to the beach, which had been a yearly tradition since they were sophomores in college, was looming, and he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking their hearts. His own was shattered already.

So when Janus showed up to move his stuff out of their apartment and suggested that they not tell the others until after the trip, it seemed like the best course of action at the time.

Now, the reality of the situation was really settling in as he drove on the freeway. He was facing down a week of playing lovebirds with his ex-boyfriend, actively deceiving the people in his life who knew him best, so yeah, you could say his resolve weakened a bit.

“Just to confirm, to avoid any confusion,” Logan began for what had to have been the fifteenth time that week. “Patton and Janus will be staying in the master bedroom. Roman and Virgil will take the first guest room, and myself and Remus will be staying in the second one, correct?”

Patton caught Roman’s eye in the rear view and exchanged a wry glance. Logan was clearly reiterating the sleeping arrangements over and over again in a futile attempt to get out of staying with Remus. Based on the way that Virgil had flushed bright red when Roman declared that they could room together, though, Logan’s efforts were completely in vain. Patton smiled a little in spite of himself. Virgil’s massive crush on Roman was one of the worst-kept secrets in the group; everyone knew about it except, of course, Roman himself, who was almost impressively oblivious.

“Yep,” Roman replied. “That’s what we all agreed on two weeks ago, L.” Logan said nothing in response and turned to stare out the window.

Their planning day two weeks ago was the first time that Patton had seen Janus since he had moved out. It also served as their “test run” for their charade, and it was just about as soul-crushing as Patton was anticipating it would be. He sat as close to Janus as he could bear, and forced himself to keep smiling, even as Roman showed them pictures of the room that they’d be sharing—he wasn’t really paying attention, as he was too preoccupied with the proximity of Janus’ knee to his. A wisp of blond hair escaped from Janus’ bun, as it often did, and Patton fought the urge to tuck it back. Instead, he gulped down a glass of the wine Logan had brought a bit too eagerly and studiously ignored the look it got him from Janus, who had the audacity to look amused.

Easy-peasy, he thought to himself, desperately avoiding Janus’s gaze.

All he’d have to do is make it through the week. One week, and then they could drop the charade and stop the lying and nothing would ever be the same in the group again.

He’d poured himself another glass of wine.

“Are we almost there?” Remus whined from the back row of seats, jolting Patton back to the present.

“Still another hour or so, Ree,” he responded, glancing at the GPS. Remus let out an anguished groan.

“Would you like a book to pass the time?” Logan asked, reaching into the bag at his feet. Every year, they’d all place bets on how many books Logan would read on vacation. His record was currently sitting at twelve.

“I’d rather have my arm torn off by wolves, no offense.”

“You’re quiet, Janus,” Virgil remarked.

“Hm?” Janus said, jolting a little beside him. Patton gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, but it filled him with a grim satisfaction to know that at the very least, he was on edge too. “Oh, just lost in thought. I’m ready to get into bed.”

“I’ll bet,” Remus grinned devilishly.

“Shut up, Remus,” Virgil laughed, smacking his arm.

“Anyways, we’ll be there soon enough,” Patton said, hoping that the frantic pitch in his voice came across as embarrassment. He could feel the hot blush creeping across his face. “And I’ll make spaghetti once we get there!”

“You don’t have to do that,” Janus said, and Patton startled. “You just drove, the least we could do is cook dinner.”

“Oh,” Patton managed. “That’s alright, I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll order pizza,” he said decisively, and Patton felt a mix of annoyance and appreciation. He’s so thoughtful. He always had been.

“Okay, if that’s alright with everyone else,” he replied unsteadily. “Thanks, honey.”

The pet name was out before he could stop himself, a habit the product of six years together. He thanked his lucky stars that he was driving, so he wouldn’t have to look at Janus.

“Of course, dear.”

His face burned.

Easy-peasy.

~

The house was stupidly perfect. Nestled in the heart of a picturesque beach town, it stood behind a picket fence, with white shutters and blue trim, framed by yellow rose bushes. It looked exactly like the kind of house he and Janus had always talked about moving to once they got married, and Patton’s heart gave another painful twist.

Everyone clambered out of the car, Remus darting forward to unlock the front door, everyone else grabbing their luggage. Patton breathed in the sea air and tried to steady himself.

The interior was just as lovely as the outside; light blue wood paneled walls decorated with paintings of the beach, with a pristine white couch that Patton had no doubt somebody would spill some brightly colored beverage on by the end of the week. Roman was breezing from room to room, showing everyone around, clearly quite pleased with himself for being the one to pick out their lodgings.

“You can choose which bed you want, I don’t mind either way,” he was saying to Virgil, their luggage piled in the center of their room.

“The place is beautiful, Ro!” Patton exclaimed as he poked his head through the doorway. Roman swelled with pride.

“Wait until you see your room! Here, lemme show you—it’s the one upstairs, at the end of the hall!”

“There’s an upstairs?” Patton asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yep! You and Janus will have the floor all to yourself,” Roman said, throwing a playful wink at him. Patton hoped that the giggle he forced out was convincing. “Here, let me help you get your stuff upstairs.”

They trudged to the top of the stairs, bags in tow. As Roman pushed open the door to the room at the top, clearly awaiting his reaction, Patton schooled his features into what he hoped resembled joy.

The room was lovely. There was a seafoam green loveseat in the corner, a big window thrown open to reveal a clear view of the bay on the far side, white linen curtains dancing in the light breeze, and in the middle, of course, there was a plush king sized bed, covered in throw pillows shaped like seashells.

He had known that there would only be one bed. Obviously there would only be one bed. It was the master bedroom and him and Janus had been together for six years, of course they’d be sharing a bed.

But knowing that beforehand and seeing the bed in person were two entirely different things.

“Oh, Ro,” he managed. “It’s…it’s lovely. Thank you.”

Janus appeared in the doorway behind Roman, holding his own luggage.

“Of course, Pat,” Roman said, squeezing his hand. “I knew you’d love it. I’ll let you two get settled!” And with that, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.

The silence stretched out, filling the room. It dawned on Patton that this was their first moment alone together in months. He felt uncomfortably warm. Finally, as the silence threatened to swallow them whole, Janus huffed. “You,” he began, “are a terrible actor.”

Patton opened his mouth and closed it. There was so much to say, and yet he could find no words at all. The tension was unbearable. He wanted to take Janus’s face in his hands, to search his gaze until he could fix whatever had broken between them. Instead, he pursed his lips and turned away, hoping that Janus wouldn’t hear the waver in his voice. “You knew that already.”

“I did,” Janus responded.

Patton cleared his throat. “There’s only one bed.”

“I’ve noticed.” Patton hated how utterly unbothered he sounded. So calm, cool, and collected while Patton was unraveling at the seams. As if six years down the drain meant nothing to him.

He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “So…?”

“So?” He could hear the edges of amusement creep into Janus’ voice, and his face burned.

“So, what do you want to do about it?”

Janus sighed. “I could sleep on the floor, if you want.”

“What? No! You—I wouldn’t make you do that!” He stammered out.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You sleeping on the floor for a week because of me would make me uncomfortable, Janus,” Patton shot back. “Please, let’s just—it’s fine. It’s a big bed, and it’s only a week.”

Janus was silent for a moment, staring at him. Patton tried not to squirm under his gaze.

“Fine. If that’s what you want,” he said finally.

“It is,” he responded, certain that his face was spectacularly red. “Um. I’m going to—grab my things.” He headed for the door.

Janus raised an eyebrow towards his luggage already piled in the doorway but said nothing.

He flew down the stairs, cheeks on fire, and into the kitchen, where Virgil was busy unpacking the food for the week.

“Oh, hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Patton responded, unsure why he was already so out of breath. “Um. I’ll cook tonight.”

“I thought we were ordering pizza, like Jan said?”

“I know, I know, I just—have a lot of energy right now, I want to keep myself busy.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Uh, alright. Everything okay?”

“Yep!” he said, wincing at the strain in his voice. “I just had too much coffee this morning before the drive, so. You know.” Terrible actor, indeed.

Virgil looked unconvinced. “Okay, if you’re sure. Just, uh—take it easy, alright? It’s supposed to be a vacation.”

“Says you,” he said, grinning a little and poking Virgil’s arm. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“This isn’t about me.”

“It is now!” Virgil huffed.

“Just…take care of yourself, okay?” he asked, his voice softening a bit, hints of real concern in his eyes. “You’ve been a little…uh, off, lately—“

“Off?” Patton’s stomach twisted.

“Not off,” he amended. “Just…tightly wound? And, y’know, I get why, but—“

“What?” He asked, panicked. If Virgil already knew…

Virgil looked abjectly confused, holding up his hands. “Just, y’know…” he lowered his voice a little bit. “The proposal?”

Oh. Yeah. That made more sense. It did nothing to ease his nerves, though.

“Right,” he choked out. Virgil stared at him for a long moment, his eyes searching his face. Finally, he looked away, sighing.

“All I wanted to say was that I want you to take care of yourself. It’s a vacation, and none of us want you to spend it working yourself to the bone for our sake.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know, Virge. Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he said resignedly, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the countertop. There was an uncertain air between them, and Patton did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t have Virgil worrying about him—he wouldn’t have it. Otherwise, what was this whole charade even for?

He helped Virgil unpack the rest of the food, trying his best to diffuse the tension between them. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when Virgil finally retreated into his room, resting his face in his hands.

He shouldn’t have come here. He should have pretended he had the flu, or told them that his apartment was robbed, or that his dog had gotten into chemical waste and was now a mutant wreaking havoc on the city, or—or something.

But then, that wouldn’t have really done anything—the others would have just rescheduled the trip for him, and then he’d have felt doubly bad.

He glanced at the clock, blinking green above the oven, sighed, and uncorked a bottle of wine.

Whatever happened tonight, at least he wouldn’t be sober for it.

~

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