#eighteen pages of Virgil being a happy boy in space

[greenninjagal-blog]

Happy Little Stars

Hello Lovelies! I’m back with more of the Alien au! If you missed the previous parts you can find them [Here] on Ao3!

Previous: [Stars Die (But We Don’t)]

Start: [The Space Between Us]

Summary: Virgil is Happy. Logan helps him realize how much. (ft: Anxceit, gays in space, and good feelings)

Words: 6885

Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || General Writing Masterlist

Virgil stretched out his shoulders as he walked into the kitchen area. It was somewhere between too-late and why-the-fuck-was-he-awake-this-early o’clock and his body was bemoaning it. But Space revolutions and rotations had long since thrown off his circadian rhythm. He wasn’t sure how much he was sleeping compared to how much he’d been sleeping on Earth: he hadn’t exactly been abducted with a watch and different planets regulated time by different intervals. 

Logically Virgil knew that one rotation of a planet was one day, and one revolution was a year, but aliens used the word “Qisannu” to describe minutes, but their minutes were something like 84 seconds and their hours (“Phisannu”) were about 42 quisannu each and Virgil had decided that he was perfectly happy not knowing what time it was, ever. Logan had been very interested in how humans told time but had gotten distracted by the finger multiplication Virgil had been doing while trying to explain it all and they had never gotten back on track.

The point was that Virgil had slept and that even in the expanse of Space, the Final Frontier(™) he was still not a morning person. Janus and Logan were already up though: the former sipping tea from Patton’s secret stash and the latter reading off one of the Interspace Nook-like devices that usually brought news of the important type to them while sitting at the table quietly.

Virgil gave a blurry, still sleepy nod in the direction of the living beings and shuffled over to the cabinet where food was stored. He poked around for a moment before picking out some weird substance that Roman had specifically told him not to eat. It had reminded him of Jello, but the flavor was more towards cough syrups than fruit. They had picked it up off a distant planet and Roman had nearly paid thrice the amount of griot for it. Virgil didn't see what the hype was, but it was substance and he was hungry and really Roman had practically invited him to take it when he said don’t even look at it, you Deathworlder!

“I was thinking,” Janus started. “Rozario.”

“Rozario?” Virgil echoed.

“Spanish origins to remind us of Spanish class where you repeated embarrassed yourself every single day--”

“Seriously,” Virgil said, “Can’t you wait until I wake up to insult me?”

“--And it's elegant. Listen to it: Virgil Rozario, Janus Rozario.” He paused for emphasis as Virgil blinked at him slowly, “Really it's my favorite so far--”

"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SCIENCE!" Logan yelled, "I CONCEDE! I GIVE UP!"

At any other moment this would be a momentous occasion. Logan, the smartest of the Tenekarie, the most feared alien on this side of the cosmos, the relentless scientist, finally admitting defeat. Virgil hadn’t thought that Logan even knew the Common words for "give up" much less how to use them in a sentence. He was passionate and determined and once he set his mind to something there was a better chance of stopping a black hole’s gravitational pull than getting him to back down.

And yet, at stupid-early o'clock on their mostly silent spaceship in the middle of completely silent Space, hearing Logan scream at the top of his lungs was not what Virgil was expecting nor was he prepared for.

"What the fuck!" The human growled from on the floor surrounded by the remains of his breakfast, whatever alien food it was. “Actual fucking Hell! Logan!”

Janus looked down at him from his delicate perch on the table, humming into his cup of tea like he hadn't also startled at the sound of Logan's exclamation and poured half his drink on the ground. "Oh dear," he said innocently, intentionally, asshole-ishly. "That's quite a mess there, Virgil. You should really be more careful."

Virgil flipped him the bird, which of course only made him laugh. He ignored it in favor of turning back toward Logan. The alien was dancing with lights all singing so brightly it was near hard to look at and with so many colors Virgil's empty stomach attempted to rebel.

"What the Hell, man?” Virgil squinted and raised a hand to blot out the sight, while his heart was fluttering like a butterfly over a fucking venus fly trap. “What's wrong?"

Logan's lights briefly concluded, shutting off like he was taking a deep breath and then flickering back on at a less intense, less violent pace. His lower arms crossed themselves while his upper arms kneaded the table. 

"You!" Logan snarled, "You two are my problem!"

Virgil's shoulders tensed and his back straightened and every single thought of his when careening out the goddamn airlock in the void. Because, yeah, this was it! This was the start to every single nightmare Virgil had ever had since joining the crew: Logan the only one who had wanted him around, the one who brought him here and gave him a place to stay, the one was now fed up with him for something he didn't realize he was doing wrong and now going to kick him off into space or sell him back to the Welsors or something equally terrible that Virgil can't even imagine because he's not entirely space savvy yet. And the worst part would be that Virgil didn't even know what he was doing wrong! And he dragged Janus into it by default which meant Janus was getting the same punishment and then Janus would hate him for getting them into the same mess all over again and Virgil can withstand a lot but the mere idea of Janus sneering at him and pushing him away had hislungs shrinking right there in his chest, shriveling up as a way to make it easy for him to just die--

Janus slipped off the table in a fluid motion and landed softly next to Virgil. He placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder blade but used the other to help clean up some of his dropped breakfast and the slipped tea with a towel he materialized out of who knows where. "Breathe," Janus's words ghosted into Virgil's brain without him actually having to say them. "Breathe and relax."

Logan let out a frustrated screech again, "I do not understand! You both are confusing me!" His lights flicked again harshly around his neck notches, "Please just tell me: what is the human greeting custom?"

"The what now?" Virgil asked all eloquently out of breath and strained and near dying. His heartbeat was thumping in his throat, like a frog and no amount of breathing could get the foggy panic to subside.

Logan, though, appeared to be oblivious to his plight. He pulled out a pocket notebook, and flipped through it angrily. "Roman reported that when you two saw each other you had- and I quote-- "open mouth kissed in the grossest display of love I have ever seen, you should have been there Lo it was terrifying seeing Virgil looking so emotional" end quote. However!! I have been documenting your interactions on the ship and out of seventeen times that you two have greeted each other, only six times have those been with kissing and only twice has it been with tongue--"

"OKAY!" Virgil screeched, cutting him off. “That’s enough Science for today and probably tomorrow, too!” 

Logan plowed on like he hadn’t even spoken, “--On the days that you two do not greet each other with a kiss, your interactions range from a nod, to actually speaking words, to brushing a hand over one or the other or to becoming hostile-- although Patton has informed me that those last interactions may be considered as “play fighting” or “flirting”. As you can see there is a large amount of inconsistency--”

“Oh my god, Logan,” Virgil begged, “How long have you been watching us?”

“Eighteen days, six phisannu, and eleven qisannu.” Logan recited.

“Jesus…” Virgil dug his chin into his chest and forced himself to exhale long and slow. Eighteen days? That was just about when Janus and Remus had first come aboard. Now that he was thinking about it….yeah Logan had been watching them closer than normal. Virgil had been so distracted by Janus being alive and breathing and not dead, that he had written off most everything else. 

Speaking of, he peaked up at Janus, at Janus’s stupid smirk and his shaking shoulders and realized, the jerk was laughing. 

“You knew about this?�� Virgil accused, launching a hand in the distressed Logan’s direction.

Janus held up a jiggly cube of alien food and ever so sweetly winked at him. “I had my suspicions. He is hardly subtle when it comes to taking notes.”

“And you let him?!”

“Who am I to get in the middle of a scientist’s project?”

Logan gave another frustrated screech and tossed his upper arms into the air. “So you’ve been intentionally messing with my observations instead? You have been manipulating my data! No wonder I cannot get a significant answer!”

“You could have just asked us,” Virgil groaned. He grabbed another Jello-like cube and put it in his empty bowl. His stomach growled faintly at the smell of them, because while they tasted like cough syrup they gave off the aroma of fresh strawberries. Was it wrong to want to eat them off the floor? Surely Patton had just cleaned the kitchen and really Virgil had eaten worse back on Earth and hadn’t died. Could he die of alien germs?

Janus plucked the next Jello cube from his hand and put it in the bowl as if he knew exactly what Virgil was thinking and taking action against it like the killjoy he was.

It was hard to make out Logan’s exact expression because of the thick light blocking glasses he was wearing, but Virgil thought he could guess. Tenekarie expressions were similar enough to humans that he could see the “I’m regretting everything” look from galaxies away.

“Roman told me that it was rude to ask a human about their customs,” Logan said.

“And you listened to him?” Janus asked, not at all delicately. Logan made a series of noises in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like an engine dropping out of warp drive.

“Roman literally calls us Deathworlders,” Virgil pointed out.

“Roman is also more experienced in the customs of other species than I am,” Logan said, stubbornly. “I am perhaps one of the only ones of my kind to venture off world. Social niceties of other species do not make sense to me.”

“Logan, you literally taught me how to speak,” Virgil said. “All you had to do was ask. I would tell you anything.” And it wasn’t even a lie. If Logan asked him to explain the governing system from back on Earth, Virgil would begrudgingly rack his brain for all he knew about the Electoral College from eighth grade Government class.

“But you greatly dislike talking about humans!” Logan snapped his pocket notebook closed, his upper hands twisted in the air like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with them. “I do not know much of anything about human expressions and culture, but your mood greatly decreases when Earth is mentioned and you are caused great distress when any one of us attempt to uncover knowledge of your childhood.”

Virgil was well aware of the eyes on him: both Logan’s hidden light sensitive ones and Janus’s curious heterochromic ones. He plopped another cube in the bowl and stood up, measuring out his breaths as evenly as he could.

“I mean, I guess--” Virgil tried to play it off like his mind wasn’t furiously fighting off unwelcome memories, like he was perfectly fine and there was nothing wrong with where this conversation was going at all, period. “You could have still asked.”

Logan’s face pinched. “What sort of friend would I be if I caused you intentional distress?”

Janus didn’t say anything, just sat back on his hunches and watched Virgil with that critical gaze of his. Virgil could barely even remember the last time Janus had to analyse him for information. Was it before the Robotics Show from Hell or later when they were lying on the floor of Janus’s room for the first time so sleep deprived that they were enjoying each other's company? It was the look he used when he was picking apart words and tone and emphasis and intention, the look he used when he was weedling his way into someone’s mind and figuring out how they thought, the look he used when he was filling in gaps of information without needing to ask.

Virgil didn’t necessarily hate when Janus did it to him, but it made his body go rigid and his eyes stiffly avoid contact and connection and all the things that amateur profilists used to determine when one was lying and telling the truth.

Virgil sighed out another breath, “Alright, alright.” He left the bowl on the counter and sat down in one of the chairs at the table, opening his palms to Logan. “Ask your questions.”

Logan’s lights slowed, flooding purple and green with dashes of red in between, Northern Lights style. He tapped two of his four fingers on the table across from Virgil as if he wasn’t satisfied with Virgil suddenly opening up. 

“I do not want to bring harm to your emotional status,” the alien said.

“Whatever he doesn’t want to answer, I will,” Janus offered, pulling himself up off the ground and brushing imaginary space dirt off his pants (which were actually Virgil’s, because they still hadn’t stopped somewhere to pick up supplies. Not that Virgil was complaining. Janus calves really stood out in the slim fit). Janus smiled without teeth and Virgil saw Logan doing an extensive overthinking process before finally nodding.

“Okay,” Logan said. “What is the normal way for humans to greet each other?”

“Depends,” Virgil said. 

There was a beat of silence, before Janus huffed and sat himself on Virgil’s lap. “What he means, Logan, is that humans have a lot of ways to greet each other based on their relationship to one another. The closer the relationship the more personal the greetings tend to be. I might greet a new acquaintance with a handshake, but hug a close friend or ruffle the hair of a younger cousin.”

Logan scribbled something in his notebook, which Virgil knew from experience was in ancient Tenekarie language as well as in a code that only Logan knew the key of. Supposedly it helped keep all his information organized and prevented theft but they had yet to encounter someone willing to fight Logan for his information.

“These things change between humans,” Virgil added, “In some families it might be normal to kiss a relative on the cheek, and in others that can be weird or uncomfortable. Between cultures too.”

“Cultures?” Logan repeated, “How many cultures are on your planet?”

“Please don’t make me count them,” Virgil said. 

Janus shuffled so he was better seated in between Virgil’s thighs. “Perhaps it's easier to explain like this: if there is something for humans to disagree over, there is a different culture for it.”

Logan stopped writing to look up at them. When neither of them corrected each other he hummed. “That sounds truly chaotic and ill designed.”

Virgil shrugged, “Its not all that bad.” He carefully carted his fingers through Janus’s hair. It was soft, a little greasy because it had been a day and a half since he showered and he smelled like the healing aloe even though the scars on his face were as healed as they were getting. Still he was warm to the touch and Virgil felt himself practically melting into him.

“Sometimes it's really cool,” Virgil said. “You meet people from an entirely different way of life and if everyone doesn’t suck, you get to learn something new.”

“Suck?” Logan echoed confusedly, but Janus warded it off with a wave of his hand and a sip of his tea.

“Many cultures,” Janus summarized, “Many ways to greet each other. Next question.”

Logan accepted the answer with all the grace of the Tenekarie. “From my observations, kissing is a very personal act. This means that you two have a very personal relationship, correct?”

“Yes,” They answered together.

Logan nodded. “So what is your relationship?”

Virgil’s fingers froze midway through their path in Janus’s hair. “Uhhh…”

Janus frowned, and looked back at Virgil. Even now their faces were less than a couple inches apart and his breath smelled pretty awful, but Virgil didn’t think he could push him away even if all life in the cosmos depended on it. It was something about his eyes-- always about his eyes. Virgil had probably made a million metaphors and similes about his eyes before and he could probably make a million more and still not manage to capture his quintessential essence of him.

It was nearly embarrassing as all hell. Middle School Virgil who righteously suffered through all English classes would be completely mortified to know that he had turned into a poetic sap who liked to make love songs out of the way that Janus’s lips taste and the rhythm of his heartbeat. All those times he had ripped up his own emo writing and now he was trying to figure out if “vivacious” rhymed with “Janus” because there was no other way to describe how his heart was acting any time the other boy fluttered his eyelashes.

Maybe words weren’t enough, maybe they would never be enough. Janus would probably know better anyway, because he knew so many different words in different languages, but Virgil would rather eject himself into space than admit all those very real, very mushy, very gushy emotions in his head. 

Maybe that was the reason why Virgil was breathlessly staring into Janus’s eyes scrambling for an answer he wasn’t sure even existed.

Poor little Virgil, who never got a chance to tell Janus how he felt three years ago and now chased him down in Space and still couldn’t get the words “I’m super fucking gay for you” out unironically. It wasn’t like Janus didn’t know. Virgil knew he knew already. The words weren’t necessary between them, when they could look at each other and recognize that they’d do anything for each other.

How can he put a name to that? Virgil didn’t think there was a name. 

The emotion in his chest, the burning desire in his heart, the hum in his soul that finally settled when Janus was next to him-- those weren’t things that Virgil thought had a name. It wasn’t simple to explain, not like sadness, or anger, or fear.

It was dangerous, Virgil knew. Because it was the emotion, the feeling, the urge that made him want to bend over backwards for Janus’s smile, that made him bullheaded enough to sneak over the mansion walls into the Ekans Estate and climb the trellis to the Janus’s bedroom window, that made him want to pick out Prom Tuxes and dream of a perfect world where Janus’s parents didn’t hate the mere idea of Virgil. Virgil had done stupid things for the sake of Janus’s real smile already; what was stopping him from doing more? What was stopping him from doing stupider things? Virgil would fight the whole world, dozens of worlds, thousands for the sake of Janus.

And Logan wants him to define a dedication like that in a simple relationship status?

“Oh my god,” Janus said, staring at Virgil, “You are way over thinking this.”

He rotated on Virgil’s lap and faced Logan with a look of determination that Virgil was honestly a little terrified of. “Our relationship is Fuckbuddies, okay? Fuckbuddies with emotions.”

“EXCUSE ME,” Virgil yelped, “What?!” 

“Fuck.” Janus said, “Buddies.” Deliberately. Slowly. Cheekily. “Am I wrong, Virgil?”

And oh. 

Virgil was right there, right next to Janus’s lips, right next to his wide eyes and soft, very kissable lips, right next to--

And then suddenly he was closer.

Kissing Janus was like setting himself on fire, but in a good way or whatever. Virgil didn’t know. In a single breath Janus managed to make him stupid, caused him lose focus of everything around him, drew him in and held him tight in his clutches until Virgil honestly forgot what his own name was. All that matter was Janus, Janus’s hands cupping Virgil's face, and Janus’s sneaky clever little tongue was darting between Virgil’s lips, searching for a gap between his teeth--

“Pardon my interruption,” Logan said. Like a beacon of light in the middle of a rainstorm, like the fire alarm in the middle of the night, like Janus’s mother knocking on the door to ask why he’s still awake when Virgil is not welcomed in her home and he’s currently lounging on the bed next to Janus. 

Virgil yanked back on instinct and Janus gave him a toothy, smug grin in return. The boy in his lap patted Virgil’s cheeks, and licked his lips again because he was an asshole and Virgil was very much blushing across his entire face. 

“But what exactly is a-- What did you say?” Logan tapped his pen, “A Fuckboodie?”

“A fuckbuddy,” Janus repeated the English word which he did not bother to try and convert to any sort of alien language. 

“Yes,” Logan said. “That. What is that?”

Virgil was so lost in the sensation of Janus running his thumb over Virgil’s lips, of the sight of Janus looking all coy on Virgil’s lap, twisting just ever so much….he totally completely missed what Janus said next.

The next thing he knew Janus was plucking himself out of Virgil’s lap drawing his fingers across the underside of Virgil’s chin and walking away with a sway in his hips that definitely wasn’t there before and definitely impossible to look away from. He was hypnotizing all the way out the door and out of sight.

“--Virgil?” Logan said.

Virgil blinked twice. “What the fuck just happened?”

Logan adjusted his glasses, “Janus said that you would be better suited for answering what a fuckboodie was… are you okay?”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, “Asshole.” He shook his head slightly, but he couldn’t keep that stupid smile off his face. Absently he wondered if his cheeks should be hurting this much from smiling. When was the last time he smiled this much? Had he ever?

“Virgil, I will admit, you are starting to scare me,” Logan said. “It is very unlike you to act so…aloof and whimsical. Ever since I have known you, you have been very direct and, well, possibly paranoid. Is there perhaps a pheromone that Janus is giving off that is making you like this?”

“Pheromone?” Virgil repeated to make sure he heard that right, “Pheromone? Humans don’t give off like pheromones-- at least I don’t think they do? At least not pheromones that other humans can really pick up on. I think I read a Wikipedia article about some basic stuff that suggested early humans did but Janus can’t and doesn’t-- I’m not acting weird.”

Logan didn’t say anything and Virgil felt the weight of his own words come careening back down on him. Like a guillotine. 

“Okay, maybe I’m acting a little weird,” Virgil allowed, with a sigh. He gently touched the underside of his chin where Janus had drawn his fingers. The ghost imprint of his fingertips made him shiver and maybe hold that stupid fond smile longer than he meant to. 

Logan wrote something in his notebook with the fluidity that made Virgil certain he was writing down possible pheromones types. 

“Janus and I are not fuckbuddies,” Virgil blurted out, if only to distract him. “We’re uh...what’s the word…” Boyfriends. Lovers. Stupid Idiots. Best Friends. Don’t they all mean the same thing between the two of them, anyway? “Partners.”

“Romantic partners?”

“Yes.” Virgil said. He picked up Janus’s abandoned tea and twisted the tea bag around his finger. “Yeah.”

Logan tracked the motion, as shown by the tilt of his head and the press of his lips together. The lights racing through his body slowed further into a contemplative tempo, something that someone could slow dance too, not that Virgil was thinking of slow dancing or anything. He was a scorned poetic, not a masochist.

The tea tasted like Jasmine although Virgil doubted any planets this far from Earth produced the plant they were used to. 

“You are happy,” Logan stated. Which very much sounded like an unchangeable fact than a guess or an observation. 

Virgil blinked at the sudden change of tone, but he nodded carefully. “Yeah?” 

“Janus makes you happy.” Logan stated again.

“Yeah,” Virgil answered again. He couldn’t help but feel like he was taking a test suddenly, like Logan was his Spanish Teacher and he was being graded on his pronunciation in front of the entire class, like there was a lot riding on his every answer but he couldn’t figure out the trick that was going on.

Logan tapped his writing pen on his notebook, and drummed two fingers from another hand on the edge of the table, much like Virgil’s actual Spanish Teacher when she was about to fail him. 

“I am causing you distress,” Logan said leaning back, “I apologize. My line of thinking was not intended to make you uncomfortable. Through my observations and with the help of your answers I am formulating conclusions--”

“That is way too much thinking for this early in the morning, Logan.” Virgil told him, shifting slightly. “Really too much--

“Were you unhappy?”

Virgil froze. 

He felt his blood run cold and turn to ice crystals in his veins, cutting off all feeling to his extremities. He felt the warmth disappear from his cheeks, felt the air in his lungs come to an absolute stop and the vacuum of space suck away every moderately decent feeling he was having. Virgil had never been tossed out into space but he figured that this feeling was pretty close to how his carbon based body would react to Absolute Zero.

“We have known you for two years,” Logan continued, talking much like he was the dam and the words were the water breaking through his barriers and drowning them both. “Ever since we picked you up from TS-1219, you have portrayed a certain personality: you don’t smile, despite having told us that humans smile to show happiness, you’ve always held yourself at a distance and been closed off about your past. You have always been a difficult person to get to know, although Roman, Patton, and I have put forth a valiant effort to befriend you, Virgil. However in just the short time Janus and Remus have been on our ship, you have-- you have--”

His upper arms writhed in the air with hopelessness bordering on frustration that was covering some other emotion Virgil couldn’t quite pick out and was afraid to pick out. This was Logan, and he didn’t do “hopeless”. He had a plan for everything. He was the anchor in the storm, the calm in the chaos, the reassurance in the panic. When Virgil had lost everything and everyone, Logan had shown up and pulled him out of that dark place.

“Were you unhappy?” Logan asked quietly with all his lights going dark, “Did we make you unhappy?”

Virgil's mouth moved, but the lack of oxygen in his lungs twisted his insides into a mess, wriggling like a knot of snakes that were devouring each other. Before he even knew what he was doing he sprung across the table, catching Logan in the Cosmos’s Most Awkward Hug ever. Janus’s stupid tea spilled again but Virgil couldn’t have cared less about getting hot leaf juice on himself when Logan was sitting across from him wondering if he was the reason that Virgil had hated living for so long.

Logan was larger than him, but Virgil fit his arms between Logan’s upper and lower ones and held him as tight as he could, tighter than he could, tightly enough to convey all the words he couldn’t articulate. He buried his face into Logan’s crystal collarbone just as Logan’s probably completely confused, maybe a little terrified arms circle back around to tentatively hold him back.

“Vir...gil…” He whispered. “What…?”

“No, no, nonono,” Virgil said, “No, Logan. I wasn’t-- I’m not-- I swear--”

There was something warm trailing down his cheeks, and it took him a half a quisannu to realize, oh, those were tears. His tears. 

He was crying. 

Logan floundered his upper arms. “Virgil you-- your eyes--!”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said.

Logan made a hysterical noise in the back of his throat, running lines of agitated lights up and down his arms. Virgil could feel the warmth of them as he pressed his face into Logan’s chest, like holding his palm to a birthday candle. The alien smelled like dish soap-- the fancy stuff that the Ekans kept in their kitchen that made the best bubbles at two in the morning when they were trying to clean up any signs that they had been making cookies.

“I do not understand why you are apologizing,” Logan said desperately, “Please do not apologize! I was the one who asked--”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said again, “That I made you… fuck, Lo...Did I really…?” He sucked in a dangerous breath, an urgent, determined, dire breath and forced it back out. 

“You guys made me so happy, Lo,” Virgil told him. “You don’t… you really don’t know how happy you guys made me.” 

Because they did make him happy. They made him so stupid happy. Virgil’s favorite memories were the ones where Patton was hopping around the kitchen, experimenting with new foods and sweeping everyone else in to dances, the ones where Roman was polishing his sword collection and telling the corresponding tales for each weapon, the ones where Logan read off science tidbits to the room and got excited for new experiments in testing, the ones where the others let him play around with their broken electronics and he created something ultimately useless but that the others were so amazed over. They were the memories that bandaged up the gaping wound in his heart and finally allowed it to heal over, the ones that reminded him he could smile, that there were still things to smile about. 

They pulled him out of the black hole of despair he’d fallen into, they brushed the Welsor fighting ring’s dirt off of him, and they accepted him-- even when Patton had started out so terrified of him and Roman was so distrustful and Logan was struggling to climb that language barrier between them. 

When Janus had disappeared from Earth, Virgil had been left empty. The three of them had filled him up again.

And they hadn’t asked for anything in return for it.

Virgil wasn’t sure how to tell Logan that in definite words, in concrete breaths, in a way that didn’t dredge up the memories of who he was before Logan, Patton, and Roman. Because he was sorry he ever made them doubt how happy Virgil had been with them, that he made Logan so scared he had to ask the question out loud, that he hadn’t realized his actions could have been perceived that way at all.

Sometimes Virgil forgot as alien as they were to him, he was just as much as an unknown to them.

There were a billion, million, trillion stars in all the galaxies and Virgil would give them all up for the sake of the people he called family. Screw Earth and the Human Race; Virgil had already decided he didn’t want to save his own last name. He didn’t want the people that he had grown up with. 

He wanted the three aliens and Janus and hell maybe even Remus too, when the guy stopped trying to sell them to the Space Pirates of the Caribbean. He wanted to travel and see nebulas, watch the death of a star and the formation of a sun and all that stupid stuff he never thought he was ever gonna see. 

He wanted to be able to turn around and grasp at the nearest person and ask “Are you seeing this?! Isn’t it so fucking cool?!” Because that was his deepest desire, what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, what he would be happy doing for the rest of his tiny, insignificant life. 

There was a thin line between being content and being happy and Virgil had walked on the far side of it for most of his life. Before Janus, he had clawed his way through his parent’s disappointed gazes and he had resigned himself to being content on the days where they’d rather ignore him than ask him if he had gotten any better at kissing his teachers shoes. Before Janus’s death, he had been content with those stolen late nights with Janus and happy with the cherished few hours he could get away with. 

Before, before, before. Virgil had been content with what he had. He wrapped himself around those things that brought him warmth and he held onto those memories even when they burned him-- even when Janus’s ghost had been laughing in his ears and he had torn himself apart missing it, he clung to the concept of it. He had been content once upon a time, and he was content knowing that even if he had never reached that state again.

But now?

Now, he was more than content.

He was happy. 

Because Janus wasn’t dead and he had Logan, Patton, and Roman who wanted him around. Because he was in space and learning new things. Because it was everything he had never dared dreamed of and more. 

“Oh Great Disney,” A voice behind them said, “What did you do to him, Pocket Calculator?”

Logan shifted slightly, but he did not go as far as to try to remove Virgil from clutching him. Even from behind closed eyes, Virgil could tell he was giving off purple flashes in regular slow inverals, the type that usually calmed Virgil down when he was waking up from a nightmare and couldn’t get imaginary alien blood out from under his nails.

“I ah… I’m afraid I’m not entirely certain,” Logan admitted. “He mentioned that perhaps I was doing too much thinking this early in the rotation.”

Roman-- Virgil couldn’t think of another person who’s footsteps could sound so dramatic other than Janus, but Janus didn’t have a tail-- let out a huff, “Yeah well! I would also burst into tears if you started talking about warp cores and all that junk before I got my Shishdouble.”

“Is that what this is?” Logan asked tiredly. “Crying?”

There were some sounds of things being pushed around, cabinets being opened and closed; Roman must have been looking for food. A specific type of food. The food that Virgil had already poured all over the floor and then cleaned up hurriedly and placed back on the counter.

“Uh yeah,” Roman said, “Seriously, what did you say to him? Virge, whatever it was, I’m sure he didn’t mean--where is my Shishdouble?”

Virgil gave Logan another, last tight squeeze and untangled himself from the rocky alien. He was a little wobbly standing back up, but he managed and he even got to rub away the slight tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Sorry, Lo,” He rasped out. 

Logan was peering at him curiously and Roman, too, now. The latter had a spoon in his mouth and was watching from next to the counter, his bone plates clacking together in what Virgil thought might have been surprise.

It took Virgil a moment to figure out why. He was sure he looked great: his bed head was probably still in effect and he was wearing a sleep shirt with too many holes in it, not to mention the way his face grew blotchy when he cried and the red rim to his eyes. 

But even through all that, he was smiling. Teeth and all. Oh God, when was the last time he smiled like this? Had he ever?

“You broke him!” Roman hissed.

“I didn’t--!!” Logan snapped back.

And Virgil laughed. It felt a bit like he was letting go of a weight he didn’t know he was holding, like an invisible straight jacket being cut off him, like he had been drowning his entire life and just now came up for air for the first time. 

“S-sorry,” He laughed between gasps for breath, “I-- oh fuck, god, sh-shit! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t let Pat hear you say that,” Roman said, “You’ll make both his hearts give out with such strong language.”

“I have already said this, but it bears repeating,” Logan said, “You do not need to apologize, Virgil. I appeared to have overstepped your boundaries with my personal questions and that is my fault. I should be apologizing to you.”

“Disney, guys,” Roman moaned. His tail knocked against the counter, “Just how deep did the two of you get this morning? Its only the seventh Phisannu.”

Virgil laughed again, shorter, lighter. 

Because he was happy.

Not just content with things, but happy. 

Happier than he thought he had ever been.

“To answer…” Virgil said, looking at Logan, “to answer your question, Lo, I am the happiest fucking man in the galaxy. I am living my best life. If I die right now I will have, like, no regrets at all.”

Logan and Roman shared a look. Roman sucked on his spoon for a second before popping it back out and using it to point at him. 

“So this whole…. “Pleasant personality” gimmick is sticking around?” The Erefren asked, sounding damn near disappointed. “You’re much less entertaining to make fun of when you’re upbeat.”

“You like kicking men when they’re down, Princey?”

“Only when they attempt to steal the 350 griot Shishdouble that I bought for myself and specifically told them not to even think about taking.” Roman pointed to Virgil’s abandoned bowl of jello like cubes. They jiggled in accordance with the barely recognizable power of the distant engines.

“Who says I wasn’t getting it for you?” Virgil asked sweetly. “Maybe I was being a decent person!”

Roman blinked several times, twisting between Virgil and the bowl. Virgil could see the moment his suspicions melted away: Roman’s telltale tail started wriggling in the air behind him dangerously close to lodging into the cupboards (Which, unfortunately would not have been a new occurrence, but Virgil doubted that Patton and Logan’s combined budget plan included funds for new cabinet doors. Again.) His face flushed purple in a way that suggested he was letting himself be flattered and he picked up the bowl delicately.

“Oh, well,” He said, “That was really nice of you, Vee. This “kind actions” routine is different but I think we could all certainly get used to it! Needless to say no small actions will go unappreciated under my watch from here on out!”

“You trust me way too much,” Virgil told him as he took an exaggerated bite of his stupid cough syrup tasting Jello.

“Wait what--”

Logan winced from his spot at the table, “He poured that all over the floor.”

“Unapologetically,” Virgil added, because being nice was overrated and watching Roman get an impressive distance with his spit take was his new favorite breakfast event. 

The Erefren pawed at his purple tongue and spit the rest of the half eaten Jello on the floor. He cursed in his native language, growled something in Common, and threw the bowl back on the counter. 

“You heathen!” He cried. “You don’t mess with a man’s food! Don’t you know how much that cost me?”

“Is now a bad time to tell you I used the last of your shampoo last night?”

Roman’s bone plates clicked and then fanned out, oozing the red toxin that his race was known wildly for. He growled, baring his teeth and took a threatening step towards Virgil. 

“I’ll take that as a “no”,” Virgil said, and offered a quick double thumbs up to Logan, “Like I said, no regrets!” Then he sprinted towards the door back to the inner bowels of the ship. 

Roman let out an Erefren warcry and charged after him.

Erefrens were fast, but Virgil was faster. By just a little bit. It also helped that Virgil was able to dodge the sleepy Patton coming around the corner when Roman tripped right over him-- if the series of thuds and slew of curses were anything to go by. Virgil thought about turning to check but then a bone lodged into the wall mere inches from his face and the flight instincts kicked in again.

“Hey Pat! Bye Pat!” Virgil yelled.

“Careful!” Patton’s voice called after him. “No Running in the halls--”

“I’m gonna eject you into Space, you Deathworlder!” Roman bellowed drowning out the rest of Patton’s helpful advice. “My Shishdouble! Virgil! Have you no honor?!”

And yeah, Virgil thought that if every morning started like this for the rest of his life….he wouldn’t mind it. At all.

Out here in Space? He was happier than he thought he could ever be.

[missfay49]

I just experienced every emotion

Happy Little Stars

Hello Lovelies! I’m back with more of the Alien au! If you missed the previous parts you can find them [Here] on Ao3!

Previous: [Stars Die (But We Don’t)]

Start: [The Space Between Us]

Summary: Virgil is Happy. Logan helps him realize how much. (ft: Anxceit, gays in space, and good feelings)

Words: 6885

Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || General Writing Masterlist

Virgil stretched out his shoulders as he walked into the kitchen area. It was somewhere between too-late and why-the-fuck-was-he-awake-this-early o’clock and his body was bemoaning it. But Space revolutions and rotations had long since thrown off his circadian rhythm. He wasn’t sure how much he was sleeping compared to how much he’d been sleeping on Earth: he hadn’t exactly been abducted with a watch and different planets regulated time by different intervals. 

Logically Virgil knew that one rotation of a planet was one day, and one revolution was a year, but aliens used the word “Qisannu” to describe minutes, but their minutes were something like 84 seconds and their hours (“Phisannu”) were about 42 quisannu each and Virgil had decided that he was perfectly happy not knowing what time it was, ever. Logan had been very interested in how humans told time but had gotten distracted by the finger multiplication Virgil had been doing while trying to explain it all and they had never gotten back on track.

The point was that Virgil had slept and that even in the expanse of Space, the Final Frontier(™) he was still not a morning person. Janus and Logan were already up though: the former sipping tea from Patton’s secret stash and the latter reading off one of the Interspace Nook-like devices that usually brought news of the important type to them while sitting at the table quietly.

Virgil gave a blurry, still sleepy nod in the direction of the living beings and shuffled over to the cabinet where food was stored. He poked around for a moment before picking out some weird substance that Roman had specifically told him not to eat. It had reminded him of Jello, but the flavor was more towards cough syrups than fruit. They had picked it up off a distant planet and Roman had nearly paid thrice the amount of griot for it. Virgil didn’t see what the hype was, but it was substance and he was hungry and really Roman had practically invited him to take it when he said don’t even look at it, you Deathworlder!

“I was thinking,” Janus started. “Rozario.”

“Rozario?” Virgil echoed.

“Spanish origins to remind us of Spanish class where you repeated embarrassed yourself every single day–”

“Seriously,” Virgil said, “Can’t you wait until I wake up to insult me?”

“–And it’s elegant. Listen to it: Virgil Rozario, Janus Rozario.” He paused for emphasis as Virgil blinked at him slowly, “Really it’s my favorite so far–”

“FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SCIENCE!” Logan yelled, “I CONCEDE! I GIVE UP!”

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