#lil bit of analogical snuck in there bc apparently i cant help myself hehe

[spicycreativity]

Thank you for the ingredients, now I cook

Don't ask me what this AU is 😝 It's whatever you want it to be

cw for alcohol use, very slight blood mention, and some innuendo

Virgil's attempt at a chill Halloween get-together had spiraled out of control in spectacular fashion. He'd only wanted to watch movies with friends, but soon found himself at the head of a decades-themed rager (courtesy of Roman and Remus, of course).

Fortunately for him, as the twins had gotten more and more excited about the party, they had stripped more and more responsibilities from him. Over the course of a mere two days, Virgil had gone from Head of the Halloween Party Council (whatever the hell that meant) to Co-Head to "guy in charge of buying cups and wrangling together a '90's-themed costume."

He'd mostly checked out after that.

Halloween night found him one of the first guests at the party which gave him the relative advantage of watching his friends trickle in. Comfortable in his skater clothes and guyliner, he settled back with a cup of something green that Remus had made.

The twins flitted around in their respective outfits, strange opposing forces in the empty house. Roman, who had chosen the 2000s, was dressed in his Disney Channel finest: layers and layers and pink camo and a vintage baby tee he'd no doubt spent far too much money on. Remus, by contrast, wore shades of mud-crusted brown and a noose around his neck.

"What are you supposed to be?" Virgil asked, waving him over.

"1930s," Remus said, draping faux spider webs around Virgil's neck. "I'm a farmer who killed himself during the Dust Bowl." He tugged on the noose, sticking his tongue out demonstratively.

"Jeeze," Virgil mumbled into his cup, "sorry I asked."

Next to arrive was Virgil's favorite person in the whole universe. Clad head to toe in a suit of black and gold, Janus strode in like he owned the place, his glossy black cane tapping on the floor with each footstep. Remus, who appeared to be on alcohol duty, brought him a wine glass filled to the top with something shimmery and black.

"Virgil," Janus said coolly, sprawling on the couch perpendicular to Virgil. "Looking classy as always."

"You look like the human embodiment of 'creative accounting,'" Virgil said in lieu of a greeting.

"You look like you're willing to give me a great deal on the Brooklyn Bridge," Roman chimed in before Janus could so much as open his mouth to respond.

"You look like the name 'John D Rockefeller' makes you break out in hives," Virgil added.

Janus' expression shifted from calmly bemused to wrathful in an instant, but Logan's arrival headed off the argument before it could begin.

"Hi, Logan!" Remus said, bounding in with another Solo cup. "Nice pocket rocket."

"It's a pocket protector," Logan corrected, adjusting his tie.

Virgil sat back to appreciate the view. A simple white shirt and black tie were all Logan needed to sell the '50s nerd aesthetic, but he'd even parted and pomaded his hair and swapped his usual glasses for chunkier black frames. "Come sit by me, Lo!" he called. Anything to put a body between him and Janus.

Logan took it upon himself to strike up a polite, if awkward conversation with Janus, leaving Virgil to sit with his thoughts and the green apple drink Remus has given him.

It tasted like juice.

That could be dangerous.

Virgil sipped it and stared at the floor. Five people did not a rager make, so where was everyone else? Where was Patton?

"Hey, Roman?" he asked, catching Roman by the tail of one of his many fringe scarves. "Where is everybody?"

Roman jerked his scarf free and scowled at Virgil, but made no smart remarks. "I told everyone else to come later."

"Even Patton? That's kinda harsh, man."

"Of course not Patton." Roman closed his arms. "I don't know where he is."

"Oh."

"Anyway, you all were supposed to help with party prep before Remus started handing out booze."

"Oh, yeah." Virgil glanced into the depths of his cup like it might hold answers. "What's in here, anyway?"

Roman waved a hand. "I don't know. Vodka? Tequila? I just heard a lot of cackling and splashing and saw some empty bottles. I'd drink it slowly if I were you."

"That's the plan, Sebastian Stan."

Roman continued on his way, leaving Virgil to eavesdrop. Remus had joined the conversation now and it had taken a distinct turn for the unhinged, but Virgil couldn't be bothered to tune in. The room around him spun gently, reality pulsing in gentle waves— Fuck, he'd already drank too fast, hadn't he? Someone really should have put a warning on the cups.

Virgil sat back just as Logan leaned forward, giving him the sickening impression that the world was moving in fast forward for a split second. Whatever Logan, Janus, and Remus were talking about, they'd gotten invested in it.

Virgil couldn't really bring himself to care. He stared straight ahead at the entry way, his gaze fixed on one of the giant rubber spiders taped to the door.

He was the only one who noticed when the door opened.

This gave him a few key seconds to adjust to the shock of seeing Patton's outfit in all its glory. He'd been expecting '80s technicolor and swishy fabric, not... manwhore couture.

Patton had obviously cropped his shirt and shorts himself; the crooked lines wobbled dangerously, showing off a daring expanse of thigh and belly— was that a two-inch inseam? Shaggy golden hair gleamed on his thighs and stomach, most prominently in the form of a happy trail that disappeared into the hem of his denim cutoffs. His cropped tee had once borne some sort of logo, but now the only remaining ink showed the top halves of the letters 'XXL.' Virgil swallowed and didn't let his gaze linger as he looked down and found just what he'd expected: knee high tube socks and a pair of roller skates.

It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping as Patton rolled into the sitting room and promptly crashed into the back of an armchair with a blithe "whoops!"

Everyone looked up at once and the room went deadly quiet. A heartbeat passed and the sound of shattering glass split the air.

Virgil flinched, head whipping instinctively toward the source of the sound, and found Janus gripping the bloodied stem of a wine glass, blushing furiously. Shards of glass rested on his legs and on the arm of the couch, an inky black stain creeping over the upholstery.

Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, but Remus evidently had no such qualms; he tipped his head back and howled, tears already pooling at the corners of his eyes. "I think..." he started breathlessly, gesturing spasmodically at Patton, "I think Janus... likes your costume!" He dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter, threatening Virgil's desperate grip on his decorum. Lunging to his feet, he grabbed Remus by the lapels and yanked him deeper into the house before laughter overtook him.

"Did you see his face?" Virgil asked, grabbing Remus' shoulder to keep from losing his balance. "Oh my god!"

"Stop," Remus choked, finding his own balance against the wall. He was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out, each one a desperate squeak. "Stop stop stop. The fucking— the wine glass!"

They both sank into stifled incoherence again. Virgil's abs were starting to ache and he steadied himself with a few deep, shaky breaths.

The sound of footsteps on the hardwood startled him into genuine composure and he yanked Remus into a bedroom just in time for voices to emerge from above the heavy thump of rollerskates against the floor.

"...sorry I startled you, Janus!" came Patton's easy tone. "Is it just the one cut on your finger?"

There was a long pause before Janus spoke, and the tension was enough to make Remus squeak and stuff a fist into his mouth. "It... I, um..." He cleared his throat. "I can't tell."

"Ooh, you know what helps?" Patton asked rhetorically. "Putting it in your mouth. Here, I'll show you."

"That won't be necessary!" Janus said, far too loudly and with none of his usual composure. "I'll just... pressure."

"He has to be doing that on purpose," Virgil whispered.

"If you're sure!" Patton said cheerfully. "Oh, here's the bathroom. Okay, give me your hand. I'll get you aaall taken care of."

"I'm sure you will," Remus whispered before covering his mouth again.

Still shaking with stifled laughter, Virgil smacked him in the arm.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting marked the end of the little show. Virgil sank to the floor, finally giving in the hysterical laughter he'd been so desperately staving off.

Whatever else happened tonight, he'd certainly gotten his money's worth.

Constantly tortured by the mental image of Patton rocking up to the function in full-on 80s roller skates, knee-high tube socks, teeny tiny little bitty denim cutoffs, diy college tee crop top, hairy legs and dad bod on full display and Janus tenses up so much his wine glass shatters in his hand