#happy birthday emile! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 8: Roman

Prev - Roman - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3195 - Rated G but for an f-bomb or two - Fluff and hidden angst

“Dad?” Remy poked his head through the door as he wiggled his key out of the lock. “I guess it’s been a while, huh?” he grinned at Emile over his shoulder.

“Mm-hm,” Emile smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’ve chosen not to be offended that it was the promise of a reunion with your first crush that finally got you to come down for a visit to your dad’s house,” he murmured close to his ear, a puff of laughter warming his cheek.

“I didn’t have a—” Remy’s protest was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

“Remy! You’re here!” Dad dried his hands on a tea towel tucked primly into the ties of his apron and pulled him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you,” he said, quieter. He held him tighter for a long moment before pushing himself away, hands still gripping his shoulders. “I know, I know, dad hugs,” he murmured. “I won’t embarrass you.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I missed you, too,” Remy murmured back. “Is that a new tie?” he asked pulling back. He swore Dad blushed, smoothing it down.

“Too loud?” he asked

“Naw, it looks great, Dad,” Remy grinned and Dad’s face lost some of the tension around the eyes.

“Hugs are quite alright, Mr. Sanders!” Emile as he stepped through the doorway, wiping his feet on the mat. “My parents did the same thing when we visited last week.”

“Emile!” Dad grinned and clapped his shoulder. “Welcome! It’s always nice to see Remy’s friends. Come in, come in,” he held the door for them and they moved into the hallway, slipping off their shoes. “So do your parents live close to the University?”

“No, sir, they live a couple miles from here, over on Mercer Island,” he answered, distracted as he struggled with a knot in his bootlace. Emile froze when his words registered and his eyes darted up to Remy’s. "Fuck, I’m sorry," he mouthed and they both watched his dad’s back.

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “That’s… really good that you got out to see them.” He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before turning around and smiling back at them.

“We would’ve come by, Dad,” Remy began, reaching for his arm. Damn. “We were just—” We were just too busy with the dinner Emile’s parents threw to celebrate the engagement I haven’t told you about yet.

“Remy, you don’t need to justify to me how you spend your time.” Dad covered his hand and gave it a little squeeze. Remy searched his eyes and… he meant it. His dad was shit at hiding the hurt but he meant what he said. “You’re here now,” he smiled. “Patton’s still on his way and Virgil won’t be here until late—he’s at a gig. And—”

The doorbell rang and both Dad and Emile jumped. Dad cleared his throat again and patted his hand. “And that’s likely Roman,” he said, staring at the door like it might bite him. Finally, he stepped forward and pulled open the door.

A deep, weirdly familiar voice rumbled from the doorstep, “Permission to board your TARDIS, Doctor?”

“Ro—” Dad’s voice cracked behind a bubble of laughter. “Roman, yes, of course.” Emile shot him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, eyebrows raised with a little crooked smile, and they both watched as his dad reached out as though to shake and hug him at the same time. “Oh, sorry,” he said as they both fumbled with a bag. “Please come in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door along with a large bag from Piroshky’s. Remy’s stomach grumbled when the sweet, heavy aroma of honey, cinamon, and cheese filled the hallway.

Roman was tall. Not as tall as Remy remembered him, of course, but taller than Dad. Backlit with the late morning sun pouring into the dim hall, Roman’s hair glowed and he waved at them with a movie star’s smile. Well, a West End star, for sure. “Remy?” he asked, eyes wide and his grin even wider. “Look at you!” Roman stepped closer, arms open in invitation. “You look just like your dad!”

Remy felt his cheeks warm and Emile grinned at him, giving his shoulder a little bump to nudge him closer. He stepped forward and accepted Roman’s hug, his heart doing a weird cozy flip flop in his chest. He'd been afraid his childish crush might seep through, but it wasn’t at all like when he hugged Emile. It was kinda like when he hugged Dad. Warm and safe. Roman pulled back and ruffled his hair, “You’ve grown into a handsome young man.” He grinned, looking between him at Emile. “Well, are you going to introduce me to your—”

“This is Emile Patshke. Emile’s my housemate up at Western,” Remy nodded. Roman never lost his friendly smile, but his eyes lingered on the onyx and pink quartz ring on Emile’s outstretched hand, then back and forth between the matching pink and black streaks in their hair.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emile,” he said, bowing his head before catching Remy’s eyes one more time. “So,” he started, looking around the group. “I’m afraid it took me a little longer than I’d planned to get here…” He touched the Piroshky’s bag in Dad’s hand with a little grin. “These might need a few minutes wrapped in foil in the oven.” He gave Dad a happy little shrug. “Want to lead the way?”

“Oh, I’ll take care of that,” Dad nodded, eyes on the bag and missing the falter in Roman’s smile. “Here, Remy…” His voice drifted as he hurried to the kitchen and returned with a tray of cups and tumblers, a sweaty pitcher and a teapot in a cozy. “Will you take this to the living room and help everyone get settled? I’ll be just a moment.”

“Of course, Dad,” Remy smiled, watching Roman watch his dad retreat into the kitchen. He caught his eyes and he started to follow him down the hall. Roman didn’t get far before looking one more time over his shoulder. Possessed by who knew what, Remy mouthed, “Go on,” and jerked his chin toward the kitchen doorway.

Roman’s eyebrows raised but a bright smile spread across his face. He ruffled Remy’s hair one more time before turning back to the kitchen. “Lo, please allow me to help,” he said, flashing one more smile at the younger pair.

Once in the living room, Emile curled into the corner of the couch, relaxing into the sunniest spot like a cat. His gaze danced between the kitchen and Remy’s face as he poured him a cup of tea. “You know…" Emile murmured near his ear once he sat next to him. "I’m pretty sure your dad’s new boyfriend is a solid sign he’ll be safe for you to come out to,”

“What? My dad’s not—” A peal of laughter interrupted him and they watched through the cutout over the counter dividing the kitchen and the living room. Cheeks flushed, Dad threw his head back, laughing at something Roman had said. Gasping with laughter, he leaned forward, hand resting on the taller man’s shoulder. The cabinets blocked their view of Roman’s face, but his body was relaxed and turned toward Dad, his own low laughter spilling out.

Emile’s lips were curled in a knowing smile that would’ve been cocky on anyone else. On him it just looked cute. “When’s the last time your dad bought himself a new tie?” He bumped his shoulder and let their thighs brush together. “In fact, when’s the last time your dad laughed like that?”

“I don’t know,” Remy finally said. “A long time.” Maybe never.

Despite his protestations that it had been a while since he’d worked with kids, Roman was still just as kind, just as gentle with Remy as he’d been when the boys were little. And Remy grinned like s a little boy when he’d ruffled his hair, glancing at his friend like he might join in. It was sweet and, for a moment, his eldest son looked just as young as he did in Logan’s head.

Remy was about to graduate from college but Logan couldn’t quite give up the image of the little boy he’d once been. Even his contact picture was still the same selfie twelve-year old Remy had taken with his first little camera phone. Grainy, too tiny to use for much more than an icon or profile picture. But Logan cherished it.

Distracted by his musings, he nearly dropped the bag when Roman’s long, strong fingers brushed his hand where he gripped the twisted paper handle. His hand was warm and soft, and he seemed not to have noticed he’d accidentally touched Logan's hand. “Oh…” he sucked in a breath and nodded. “I’ll take care of that,” he managed, a flash of last night’s dream exploding through his mind as he retreated to the kitchen. He put the bag on the counter and pressed his palms flat against the cool surface and stole a second to breathe.

His thinking brain kicked in when his eyes landed on the drink tray he’d prepared. Get it together, man. Luckily, Remy was as cooperative as ever and readily accepted the tray. After only a moment, Logan was left alone to think—no, not think. Don't think, just get the pastries warmed up. He turned on the oven and the timer, and was reaching for the foil when Roman’s voice rumbled just behind him, offering to help.

He spun around, ready to shoo him back to the living room, but a brush of worry clouded his bright green eyes. If Logan didn’t know better, he might’ve thought Roman looked afraid he’d say no. “That would be nice,” he nodded once, cheeks warming at the way Roman’s smile seemed to grow. “Thank you, Roman.”

Waggling his fingers. he gestured toward the sink. “I’ll wash my hands.” Roman hummed as he sudsed up, a low baritone that might've sounded showy coming from anyone else. From Roman, though, it simply sounded like music filled him, slipping out as easily as breathing and just as impossible to control. His head bobbed to the beat of some song Logan didn’t recognize, sunlight glinting off his hair and leaving behind fiery highlights. Roman had nearly finished before Logan dragged his eyes away and hurried to tear off a sheet of foil and lay the sweet rolls in the center.

Still grinning, Roman joined him at the counter as he was folding the foil packet. He pointed at the TARDIS cookie jar and bumped his shoulder. “I like your decor,” he said.

“Oh, right.” Moving to place the rolls in the oven, Logan felt his cheeks grow hot and he looked up, expecting a sarcastic smirk or eye roll but… Roman’s smile was broad and joyful. “I guess we’re a little geeky around here,” he chuckled.

“I like it,” he said again, green eyes even brighter with the sunlight pouring in from the side windows. “You know, subjectively, Dr. Who really is the best sci-fi show out there.”

Nodding, the knot between Logan’s shoulder blades loosened and he grinned back. “I… I would tend to agree with that assessment.”

“Objectively, though…” Roman winked at him. “I’d have to say it’s Dr. Whom.”

Logan covered his mouth, trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh. The sparkle in Roman’s eyes won and a loud laugh burst out. Roman soon joined in and Logan only laughed harder, leaning forward and fighting to catch his breath. “Oh, no,” he panted, eyes watering. “Leave it to a Shakespeareophile to make a joke like that.”

Roman grinned back at him. “Leave it to another to get it,” he chuckled.

Slowly, Logan caught his breath. He was still grasping Roman’s shoulder, half leaning against his warm, solid form. “Sorry,” he murmured, and stepped back, restoring his personal space.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, easy, confident. As though it was no big deal that he was leaning all over him. “Oh, there are some cream piroshkys in there, too.” He watched Logan retrieve the box still nestled at the bottom of the bag before pushing away from the counter. “Which cabinet for plates?” he asked and Logan bit back a refusal, his hopeful smile leaving him wanting to do anything to keep him smiling.

“Above the dishwasher,” he said, a burst of warmth filling his chest when Roman rewarded him with another million-watt smile.

They were arranging the pastries on a large plate when Remy and Emile’s muffled voices drew their attention. Logan and Roman both smiled, surreptitiously watching them through the cutout over the counter. “I’m so glad he’s found someone he gets along with. They’ve been roommates since Remy’s sophomore year,” he murmured. “He's not like me," spilled out. Roman stopped laying out the pastries and moved a little closer, a little frown of worry pulling down his lips. "Ke—My… ex is the only person I still know from college.” Logan covered his left hand with his right before clearing his throat. “Well, and Janus from law school.” Roman shifted next to him, looking down at his own hands on the counter. Logan copied his earlier movement, knocking into his shoulder with a smile. “And of course, now, you, too.”

Roman nodded, mouth slowly curling up in a smile as he bumped back. “Maybe sometimes it just takes a while for you to find your tribe.”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling. “You know,” he chuckled. “I—I don’t know what your secret is, but…” Logan shrugged, mouth suddenly dry. “You’re… you're so easy to smile around.”

“Yeah?” Roman turned, elbow resting on the counter. His hand was close enough to Logan’s that he could feel the warmth radiating off it. Logan hid his left hand a little more fully, his crooked fingers feeling like a crone’s claws next to Roman’s shapely ones. “You make me smile, too, Lo,” he said. “In fact I—”

Logan started when the oven timer buzzed, heart leaping up into his throat, and he huffed out a thin laugh. “I—I’ll get it,” he said, flashing Roman a grin before grabbing the oven mitts and setting down a trivet for the hot pan.

In no time, they’d finished plating both the warm and cold piroshkis and brought them out to the living room with a stack of adorable TARDIS blue napkins. Roman waited until Logan had settled next to Remy, leaving him the choice of an armchair or a spot next to him on the couch.

Roman took the couch.

The conversation dipped and bobbed, dancing between Remy and Emile’s studies—they were both up for fellowships at UW, Roman’s latest touring show, and Remy and Virgil’s time at the Seattle U childcare center.

“Oh, they were the best behaved kids in the entire center,” Roman grinned, refilling Lo’s tea cup before he topped off his own. “Super sweet, kind to the other kids. Oh!" Do you still sign?” he asked aloud and in ASL.

“Of course,” he signed. “My high school taught it as a ‘foreign’ language,” Remy added, the exaggerated look of disgust on his face pulling a laugh from him. The young man’s eyes widened in surprise. “You still sign?”

“We use it in shows,” he nodded. “You haven’t signed until you’ve translated Othello and Shakespeare’s ‘beast with two backs’ line.”

“I believe I got part of that,” Logan chuckled, the soft pink dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose revealing which part. It looked like Emile had gotten the rest.

Roman waited until Lo was drinking his tea and signed quickly to Remy. “You’re not out to your dad?”

His eyes darted over to his father then signed a quick, “No.”

“Were you going to tell him at the wedding?” he winked, looking pointedly at Emile’s ring before taking a bite of his piroshky. “You know where he works, right? You don’t have to tell me that some parents are assholes but… your dad’s not one of them.”

“I think they’re scheming against us, Emile,” Logan joked, the genuine joy in his eyes easing Roman’s worry that he was offended at their private conversation.

Emile's eyes followed each of them as they spoke, clearly grasping more of the conversation than he was letting on. He laughed. “I think you’re right Mr. Sanders. We should—”

The front door opened with a clatter, both Logan and Emile jerking in their seats, and Roman and Remy each reached for them, Remy’s hand on Emile’s clenched in his lap and Roman’s on Logan’s knee. A younger voice rang out from the hallway. “Dad? Remy? I’m home! Is he here yet?”

The squeaky clatter of sneakers dropping to the floor accompanied quieter footsteps racing down the hall and a younger, blond version of Remy and Logan raced into the living room. Roman rose and smiled. Logan stood with him. “Patton? This is Roman Prince.”

Bubbling with energy, Patton bounced over, grinning. “Hi! I’m Patton!” he said, shoving his hand out to shake. He was still pumping Roman’s hand when he turned to his brother. “So is this the same Roman you had that—”

“Roman was our teacher back when Dad was still in law school,” he said quickly, looking up at Roman. He pretended not to notice that Remy blushed the same way his dad did.

“Oh, right. Hiya, Emile!” he said, giving him a little fist bump before he wiggled his way between Logan and Remy. His knee bounced even as he rested his head on his dad’s shoulder and settled in.

Remy and Logan exchanged an amused look and Patton suddenly sat up straighter. “Oh, no, I’m doing the thing again, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay, Pat,” Remy smiled and ruffled his little brother’s hair just as Roman had done to him.

“I always sit between them,” Patton explained, reaching for a piroshky. Logan wordlessly set a napkin on his lap, a pleased smile tugging at his lips when Patton settled back between them. “I swear I don’t mean to,” he said.

“We know, Pat,” Remy assured him. Emile watched their exchange with a little grin.

He scarfed down the piroshky then turned his attention to Roman again. “Your name is cool,” he said. “‘Roman Prince,’” he said, hands waving like the words were written in the air. “Is it a stage name?”

“No, Roman Prince is my legal name,” Roman smiled. The couch decidedly more crowded with Patton’s arrival, he now sat closer to Logan, thighs touching. Logan didn't seem to mind and it was… nice. Almost distractingly so. “My brother and I chose our own names when we turned 18 and moved out on our own.”

Something must have leaked through on his face because Logan turned to face him. “Roman, if this is overly personal, you needn’t—” he began, worry creasing his brow.

“It was a long time ago," Roman assured, “Besides—”

“That’s so cool! That’s what Jax is gonna do.” He scowled and Logan drew an arm over his shoulders, clearly more to the story than Roman knew. “Their parents won’t stop deadnaming them, so I just don’t say their name when I visit.” His knee started to bounce again and he wiggled back out from between his dad and his brother. “Hey, Dad, can I go call them? Tell them somebody else did it?”

“Of course, Patton,” he said. No longer forced to squeeze in, Logan made no move to slide away from him and Roman couldn’t help his growing smile. Maybe… maybe Remy wasn't the only one with a secret.

“Oh, that’s just cold, man,” Remy called after him, laughter revealing the lack of bite behind his words. “I changed my name when I turned 18, too.”

“Yeah, that was just your last name,” Patton said with the irreverence of a little sibling. “Roman changed his whole name,” he added, sticking out his tongue before scampering up the stairs, phone already in hand.

“Wow,” Remy laughed. “A few years at college and I’m nothing but chopped liver to him.”

Emile patted his knee. “Gehakte leber is really good if you know how to cook it,” he joked. “Remember when Stopsky’s catered my parent’s anniversary last year?”

“That’s different,” he laughed. Logan watched them banter for a while before he shook his head lightly, a perplexed little smile on his face, and he turned his clear blue eyes to Roman.

“What else can you tell us about your show?”

~~~

My taglist is completely out of date. Please ask to be added if you're so inclined!

#the uses of adversity #life out of order series #a happily ever after butterfly story #logince #logan sanders #roman prince #remus prince #remy sanders #emile patshke #remile #secret remile #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #Happy Birthday Roman #sorry for the slow burn #i thought we'd get you two further along by now

16 notes · View notes