#prinxiety saturday

[romancore]

Roman: Wow, Virgil, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Virgil: We literally slept together yesterday.

Roman: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

[monkeythefander]

Prinxiety Headcannons #4 ❤️💜

I’m finally returning to the ship that started my headcannon series. Here is my fourth set of Prinxiety Headcannons.

Content warnings: None that I’m aware of, but let me know if I missed anything and I’ll update this.

Click to keep reading the headcannons.

- After finding out that Roman is afraid of the dark, Virgil got Roman a night light. The night light looks like a dragon and Roman uses it every night. Virgil is always ready to change the light bulb whenever it needs to be switched.

- Roman gives Virgil a sticky note every morning with a sweet message on it to remind the anxious side that he’s loved and appreciated. In return, Virgil always kisses Roman on the forehead and reminds him that he’s his hero.

- The couple wears matching earrings. Roman wears a storm cloud earring on his left ear and Virgil wears a crown earring on his right ear.

- After they started dating, Roman asked Virgil if they could do the “my boyfriend does my makeup” challenge. Virgil agrees as long as Roman doesn’t try to post whatever video or photos he takes of the activity. Virgil ends up giving Roman an emo makeover. The two look back at the video Roman took of the challenge fondly.

- Roman would get Virgil a promise ring after they have been dating for a year to show that he’s very committed to their relationship, without rushing into proposing. This is because Virgil said he’d want to be dating for at least two years before thinking about marriage. The promise ring Roman got for him is silver with a purple, heart shaped gem stone in it.

- Roman and Virgil have movie dates every Saturday night. They wear their favorite onesies and cuddle while watching a movie in one of their rooms.

- Every Halloween, Roman creates a couple’s costume for him and Virgil.

- Whenever Roman gets stressed or feels really insecure, Virgil will pull him into a hug and run his fingers gently through Roman’s hair. Roman finds this touch very comforting and always relaxes into the embrace.

-Monkey💜

End notes: As always, if you like any of these headcannons and want to make a fanfic or fanart based on them you can as long as you ask me first, and then tag/credit me in the post so I can see it.

[wolfprincesszola]

Echoes of 50 Chapter 4

As always, check the TWs and CWs in the masterlist. EEK, Prinxiety AND Logicality in one chapter? An absolute slay. Enjoy <3. ——————– Now Playing: COFFEE SHOP by RC AVENUE

<Masterlist>

<Previous Chapter> <Next Chapter> ——————–

“Come on, L. We’re going to be late!” Virgil groaned as he was jumping up and down anxiously, waiting for Logan to walk through the front door.

“To get some vitamin D?” Logan raised an eyebrow as he walked out of the door with his laptop bag hung on his shoulder. If Virgil was going to be so insistent to drag Logan out to the coffee shop early on a Saturday morning, Logan was going to at least spend the time he sat around researching.

“Exactly!” Virgil spoke up as he grabbed Logan’s wrist tightly, “Now pick up the pace for once in your life.”

“Alright, fine!” Logan sighed as he let Virgil drag him after locking the door to his apartment.

Once they had arrived at the coffee shop, Virgil hesitated.

“Just open the door. It’ll be fine. Calm your heart. It won’t be anything.”

Logan didn’t say anything to Virgil’s thoughts, just waiting for Virgil to overcome his social anxiety and open the door. After a deep breath, Virgil opened the door to pull both him and Logan in. As they came in, Logan was surprised to find a small crowd forming to the side of the front counter, chatting excitedly.

“It’s about to start. I can’t wait.”

“Do you think he’ll dedicate a song to me?”

“Oh, I hope he notices me today.”

“How many more minutes until it starts?”

In the mix of the voices, Logan heard Virgil’s thoughts loud and clear.

“Where is he?”

“Alright, come on. Let a Prince through. There are customers that are waiting for their orders! The show will start in a few minutes.” A familiar voice traveled through the crowd, causing the crowd to open up. There, Roman stood, grinning at everyone before turning to the two best friends. Immediately, the light in his eyes faltered for a second as he stared directly at Virgil.

“Oh god. He’s looking at me.” Virgil’s thoughts panicked.

“Virgil and Logan, huh?” Roman’s thoughts seemed to be more melancholic, as if he wasn’t expecting to see the two of them together. “Never thought they’d be together.”

Oh. Logan understood now.

“Hi, Ro.” Virgil waved to Roman.

“Vir, you came.” Roman finally managed to utter out as he mustered up a bright smile, the light in his eyes flickering the longer he stared at Logan and Virgil. “And what’s this? You’ve brought Logan. You don’t come in on Saturdays usually.”

“Why me? Why am I the unfortunate soul?” Roman’s thoughts spoke almost angrily. Logan wondered what Roman was talking about.

“Hello, Roman.” Logan nodded, “Unfortunately, I was forcefully coerced by Virgil to…remove myself from my apartment and come see what I can assume is a performance you will be doing.”

Roman cleared his throat, nodding, “Oh yes! Every Saturday, I come and perform for the regulars! I never expected you to be interested in it though, Logan.”

“I’m not.” Logan admitted.

“Why him? What does he have that I don’t?” Roman stared at Logan with an unreadable expression as his thoughts screamed.

“Well then, may I get the two of you something to drink before the performance starts? Hopefully, you two can stick around and watch.” Roman remarked as he started to walk behind the counter to grab two cups.

“Shit, shit, shit. He’s looking at me. I have to answer.” Virgil’s thoughts were completely opposite from Roman’s. While Roman’s were more upset, Virgil’s were more excited and panicked.

“That sounds awesome.” Virgil nodded, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Virgil.” Roman’s voice was soft as he began to pull up the menu for the register, “Just the usuals for you two?”

Virgil looked at Logan nervously. Logan could feel Virgil’s hand starting to clam up around Logan’s wrist, so Logan finally stepped in to help Virgil out.

“Yes. A caffè mocha for me and a hazelnut cold brew for Virgil.” Logan spoke.

“He even knows his coffee order. What chance do I even have? Did I even have a chance to begin with? Was I delusional?” Roman’s thoughts spoke in despair.

“That will be $10.37.” Roman spoke up as he began to write the two orders down for the two of them.

Virgil stumbled to grab his card to pay as Roman turned to make the drinks. And for the first time since Logan met Roman Prince, Roman had nothing to say to them. Roman stayed completely silent and fulfilled Logan’s request to not speak to him. And Logan hated every second of it.

It wasn’t like Roman. It wasn’t like Roman to miss up a chance to poke fun at Logan and it wasn’t like Roman to not be cheery upon seeing Logan because it was always that Roman wanted to mess with Logan. They were friends.

Logan hated to admit it, but Roman was no longer just a close acquaintance, but instead an actual friend.

“Just ask him. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re not together. I should just say it. I’ll pretend like I was curious if I’m wrong. I just can’t keep thinking about this for eternity.” Roman’s thoughts obsessed over how to say it so loudly that it was completely overpowering all the other thoughts in the area.

Logan turned to Virgil to see Virgil shifting and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. He could see Virgil’s flushed cheeks and he could practically hear how loud Virgil’s heart was pounding.

“To get some vitamin D, huh?” Logan raised an eyebrow unamused at Virgil, who broke out of his anxiety-ridden thoughts to glare at Logan.

“Shut up.” Virgil scowled quietly. “Get out of my head and don’t speak too loudly. He might hear you.”

“Oh, no. What a shame.” Logan’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he crossed his arms, grabbing Virgil’s hand from his wrist to put it down.

Before Virgil could retort, Roman turned to the two of them with their two newly-made drinks. The smile that Roman was forcing on was no longer happy, but now melancholic.

“Here you two go. Will you be staying for the performance?”

Logan gave a knowing look to Virgil and spoke for Virgil before the man could froth at the mouth over Roman talking to him. “Yes. We’ll be staying.”

“Great.” Roman nodded. “Excuse me. I’m going to get ready for my performance now that I’ve attended to the two of you.”

“Call out to him, dammit. Stop being such a coward and just tell him good luck. That’s all I can tell him.” Virgil was screaming in his head, trying to protest against his social anxiety, but it seemed no matter what he thought, nothing was changing. So Logan, unfortunately, had to step in once more and pushed Virgil. Physically.

“Logan, I’m going to kill you!”

Virgil yelped, which caused Roman to look back at him and manage to catch Virgil before he fell to the ground.

“Woah there, Marilyn Morose, you alright?”

“Uh, thank you.” Virgil cleared his throat as Roman helped Virgil back up. “Good luck out there.”

Roman’s eyes brightened at the words Virgil spoke and his smile widened, “Thank you. I hope you and your boyfriend enjoy the show.”

“Oh, uh…no, boyfriend?” Virgil cocked his head to the side in confusion towards Roman, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Roman’s eyes widened as he looked from Virgil towards Logan back to Virgil back to Logan. “Oh, sorry, did I misread the situation? It’s just that you were holding his hand when you came in and-” “Oh jeez, no.” Virgil groaned, “Logan’s my best friend. He was refusing to come, so I had to drag him in. I’m sorry for giving you that impression and-”

“Oh thank the Broadway! My love story with Virgil is not quite lost yet.”

Finally. Logan hated being the wingman and he hated misunderstandings.

“Oh shit. Is that why Roman was acting so weird to us? Fuck, it was all my fault. Why did I have to pull Logan here?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Roman let out an embarrassed laugh, “I was just surprised at first. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” Virgil raised an eyebrow, his face stricken with worry that Roman hated him.

“Nothing else.” Roman reassured Virgil, “I’ll be going back now. I hope you and Logan enjoy the show.”

“Thank you. You too!” Virgil smiled before turning to a reading Logan with an embarrassed face.

“You too? That was all I had to say? Fuck!”

“Can you quiet down? I have research to read before the show.” Logan remarked as he could see Virgil’s face shifting with multiple stages of embarrassment.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Virgil glared, “You knew Roman misunderstood the situation and you didn’t bother to clear it up?”

“If you’re ever thinking about being in a relationship with him, you need to learn how to assert yourself and speak to him without a middle man. Besides, you always complain I don’t have a sense of humor. I thought this was pretty humorous if you ask me.”

“You didn’t smile or laugh once.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was a requirement to think things are funny.” Logan rolled his eyes, “Last time I checked, you constantly thought things were funny without smiling or laughing. Hypocrite.”

The show began before Virgil could give his retort back and the two turned towards the person who had come into the middle of the crowd. The crowd had formed a semi-circle around what seemed to be a makeshift stage in the coffee shop.

“Bitch.” Virgil thought to get the last word. Logan just rolled his eyes at Virgil’s pettiness.

Roman smiled, “Thank you. Thank you. Today, I will be performing a couple of theater songs from The Greatest Showman. My friend, Patton, will be singing any duets with me. If you want any drinks throughout, Patton will also take your orders.” Patton walked through the crowd, shyly smiling around with a bright smile. Logan’s heart stopped at the sight of Patton. Just as the first time he saw Patton, Patton looked just as beautiful. He looked happier even. Logan blinked, trying to pry his eyes from the man, but found himself unable to. Patton, unlike before, was wearing a light blue t-shirt with no cardigan against his back. The same light blue as the polo he first saw Patton in. That must be Patton’s signature color because he seemed to love that color. It fit him, that was for sure.

A smug voice interrupted his entrancement.

“Who’s the hypocrite now, L?”

“Still you.” Logan whispered to Virgil as he continued to stare at Patton. There was something entrancing about the way that Patton was dancing around on stage with Roman. The two sang A Million Dreams and Rewrite the Stars together before Roman began to sing more solo songs like Tightrope and This is Me. Around the time of Roman’s solo singing, Patton had gone to take the orders of some customers that had entered the coffee shop. While Virgil was busy watching Roman sing, Logan observed Patton interacting with the different customers. Patton intrigued him. Despite the thousands of thoughts Logan could hear warping through his head, Logan couldn’t hear a single one that came from Patton.

Patton, himself, was intriguing. He always smiled and he seemed to enjoy social interaction with many of the other customers, but he wasn’t skilled the way Roman was. Roman took pride in the singing and the coffee he made. Patton, on the other hand, was clumsy. He fumbled with certain tools. He tripped with his feet. His singing was just as good at Roman, but his confidence was misplaced, letting Roman’s voice overpower his instead of keeping the same volume as Roman’s. Even when Roman tried to soften his voice to make way for Patton to have the spotlight, Patton’s voice was shaky, almost as if he was second-guessing the words he was singing. Patton wasn’t skilled in coffee by any means necessary, but the thing about Patton was that he continued to try. No matter how much struggle he got into, Patton kept trying. He would make a stupid coffee pun and waive off any concerns. That was certainly admirable.

As soon as Patton finished the last customer who had come in, Roman had called Patton.

“Patton! You know piano, right?” Roman asked excitingly.

Patton turned towards Roman, leaving his back facing towards the audience. “Well, sort of. I’m not the best at it, so I might mess up.”

There was something on Patton’s middle trapezius. Something that Logan could barely discern was a tattoo of some kind. It was barely visible with his t-shirt covering half of it, but Logan could see the top part. It seemed to be a long tattoo that panned the entirety of Patton’s t-shirt.

“Oh, nonsense, Padre. Come on up here. Everybody, give a round of applause to my friend Patton.”

Patton gave a smile as he walked on stage towards his friend. He turned towards the audience, leaving Logan unable to read what the tattoo was. Dammit, Patton. Logan knew how entrancing looking at Patton’s face was, but all Logan wanted in that moment was to see what had been written on Patton’s neck. Everyone began to applaud and Logan followed after, keeping his eyes trained on the man.

“Thank you?” Patton waved towards the audience before walking up onto the stage, “What song are we doing?”

“Never Enough!” Roman grinned.

“Ooo, I love that song! And lucky for you, I can definitely Handel that song.” Patton grinned and looked around the room for anyone that got the pun. There were a few laughs, but Logan couldn’t help the way he groaned at the joke.

“For those that got that joke, you must be pretty sharp.”

Another groan escaped from Logan.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll count you off, Roman?”

“You got it, Pat!” Roman grinned as he patted Patton’s back. Patton began to head down from the makeshift stage to go to the nearby keyboard that Roman had. Logan stared as Patton turned, quickly noting down what was on the tattoo. Roman’s pat on the back had allowed for the entire tattoo to be visible for just a second that Logan could read it.

50 61 74 74 6F 6E. There were spaces for every two characters. Six “words” overall. Where was that familiar? “Hey…what was on Patton’s neck?” Virgil whispered, turning towards Logan.

“Fifty, sixty-one-” Logan began before Virgil widened his eyes and Logan cut himself off to ask, “What?” “Patient 50.”

Logan’s eyes widened at the thought as he went to roll up his sleeve, analyzing his handwriting on his arm he had done the previous night.

Five. Zero. Fifty. Six. One. Sixty-one. Seven. Four. Seventy-four. Seven. Four. Seventy-four. Six. F. Six and an F. Six. E. Six and an E. Patient 50 61 74 74 6F 6E.

“There’s no way. Is there?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t know.” Logan admitted as he rolled his sleeve back down and grabbed the manila folder from his laptop bag. There had to be some correlation between Patton and Patient 50, at the very least.

Six groups of two characters. There were six letters in Patton. Logan could rule out each group of characters corresponding to a letter of the Phonecian alphabet, considering that there were letters and numbers more than 26.

Something about the arrangement of characters seemed familiar.

For someone who claimed he was so smart, Logan sure as hell was drawing a blank as to what correlation Patton and six groups could mean. It could be the letters of his name, but it didn’t make sense unless it was in a code.

Logan was a part of a tech company. Logan went to CalTech. He graduated a year early with his bachelors. He got his masters degree. He should be able to figure it out.

Should being the key word.

Before long, Roman had finished singing and the crowd erupted into applause. Logan jumped out of his thoughts to give applause to the two performers before turning to Virgil.

“May we go now?” Logan raised an eyebrow, “I have work to do and I’ve spent enough time not researching.” “Hold on. It’d be rude to leave without talking to Roman and Patton first.” Virgil stared at Logan’s cup, still untouched, “Besides, you didn’t finish your drink.”

Logan sighed as he stayed where he was, sipping his drink as he waited for the crowd to clear out. It took ten minutes before the crowd had finally dispersed, Roman and Patton turning their attention towards Logan and Virgil.

“My chemically imbalanced romance! How did you think my performance was?” Roman grinned, turning to Virgil.

“It was good.��� Virgil nodded, his confidence to stay to congratulate Roman now disappearing the more he stood there in front of Roman. Logan could hear the exchanging thoughts that ran through each of their minds, trying to displace whether or not the next thing someone said would be the thing that got them to confess.

Instead, Logan moved off to the side to talk to Patton. Having put away the manila folder just moments before and set his laptop bag down on the table he was at, he spoke to Patton, “Congratulations, Patton, on your performance.”

“Oh, thank you.” Patton smiled, his eyes lighting up as he turned his full attention to Logan, instead of the conversation of the two men acting like high schoolers with a giddy crush. “I didn’t think that this would be your type of scene.”

“It isn’t. Virgil unfortunately brought me here.” Logan sighed. “I didn’t take you as the type to know piano.”

“Yeah.” Patton chuckled awkwardly, not sure what to really say, “I learned when I was really young. I learned a lot of things when I was young, but there weren’t that many good memories associated with them.”

“I see.” Logan nodded.

The more Logan talked to Patton, the more Logan was curious about the man Patton was. He wanted to pick apart Patton’s brain, especially since Logan hadn’t heard a single thought come out of Patton. He wanted to read the stories Patton had been a part of and he wanted to see the way Patton wrote the new ones he would be a part of. Logan craved the knowledge of who Patton was in the most surface level and in the deeper levels. He wanted to know Patton’s favorites and the little habits Patton did, but he also wanted to know Patton’s deepest darkest secret and the feelings Patton had when he was awake at 3 in the morning. He wanted to know the hopes, fears, childhood experiences, and goals that Patton had. He wanted to know how Patton was when the rest of the world was asleep and what Patton found beautiful in nature. Maybe Patton liked blue and space, just like Logan. Maybe Patton was scared of the dark and of true apathy, just like Logan. Or maybe, Patton preferred black and sunsets; maybe the two could spend hours arguing about which were subjectively and objectively better. Maybe Patton disliked olives, unlike Logan. Maybe Patton would pick off all the olives on combo pizzas and maybe if they knew each other better, Patton would give them to Logan to eat. Maybe, just maybe, Logan and Patton could work out together and Logan could truly get to know Patton in the same way that he knew himself.

“I wanted to say sorry again for spilling that coffee on you the first time we met.”

“Oh, Patton, it’s alright. I already got it back from the dry-cleaners, perfectly cleaned. I’m actually quite happy the way things turned out.” “Oh really? Why?”

“Because I got to meet you.”

Patton smiled, “Wow…that means a lot to me…”

Logan raised an eyebrow at the way Patton trailed off, almost as if he wanted to finish the sentence with a name, but couldn’t come up with it.

“I’m so sorry, affogato your name. Do you mind en-latte-ning me?”

“Two coffee-based puns? You must be really nervous.” Logan smirked.

“Roman told me you’re not someone that is easily pleased. I just feel awful for all the mistakes I’ve made around you.”

“It’s alright, Patton.” Logan chuckled, “I don’t mind. Logan Sanders.”

“Logan. Logan. Logan.” Patton nodded, repeating the name to try and brand it into his brain. “Got it. Thank you, Logan. For everything.” Logan just brushed it off as him being a normal human being doing normal societal things.

“You don’t seem too fond of my puns, Logan. I saw you groaning at the ones I made on stage.”

“I have a general distaste for them, but it does not mean you have to stop making them on my behalf.” Logan adjusted his glasses to try and read Patton’s expression. He didn’t seem too hurt by Logan’s statement and in fact, there seemed to be a mischievous glint that appeared in his smile.

“Oh, Logan. That just means I have to make more of them!” Patton giggled, “That way, you’ll get used to them and then maybe you’ll start making some of them too.”

“Truly a father figure.” Logan sighed before looking over to see that Virgil and Roman were still awkwardly talking to each other, trying to gain more hints from what the other could want. It looked like he was stuck conversing with Patton until it was over, not that Logan minded. “Do you normally wear this shade of blue? You were wearing the same color when I last saw you.”

“Oh, yes! Light blue is my favorite color. My cardigan got dirty yesterday though, so I couldn’t wear it and I just ran out of polo shirts, but what you saw me in that Thursday is what I usually am wearing!” Patton grinned. “Are you usually wearing formal clothing like this every day?”

“Yes. It’s clean-cut, precise, and serious.”

“Do you change the color of the ties you wear?”

“I like dark blue. It’s my favorite color.”

“We’re so similar! We have the same glasses and we like the same color!”

“That is true.” Logan nodded.

“You must be very smart with how hard you work. I mean, your laptop bag and the way you talk must hold some meaning. Your work must be happy to have someone like you helping them with your knowledge.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Logan adjusted his glasses, letting his arm cover his cheeks’ slight tint. That type of complement meant a lot more from Patton than anyone else he had talked to. For some reason. “I work at a tech company. I’m sure I am a valuable asset to the team, as I am the head chemical engineer. However, for some odd reason, I mainly work on their software.”

“You know software? Then you must know cool number systems like hexadecimal!”

Hexadecimal? That was a weird thing to bring up upon hearing about tech. Usually, Logan got a simple question like what type of electronic devices he worked with and if it was someone more knowledgeable in the field, they would ask what coding languages Logan used. Never in his life had he been asked about number systems. Although a fairly easy concept to get with practice, it was usually not the first number system that was brought up even when talked about. He was always asked about binary.

“I do. If you’re bringing up hexadecimal, then you must know software as well. After all, number systems is not something a beginner normally learns.”

“Ah, I’m not that good. I don’t know software at all, but I grew up around using different number systems. I think the people that raised me just wanted a way to communicate without me understanding, so they taught me all the ones except hexadecimal. I just recently managed to learn it, although I’m still a bit shaky on it.” Patton scratched the back of his neck, almost subconscious.

Now that Patton had brought it up, it began to click.

50 in hexadecimal was ‘P’. 61 was ‘a’. 74 and 74 were both ‘t’ and ‘t’ respectively. 6F was ‘o’ and 6E was ‘n’.

In regular text, Patient 50 61 74 74 6F 6E had become Patient Patton, shortened from Patient 50 to Patient P.

Whoever Patton was, he was the final piece of the puzzle that Logan was missing in solving what the government had planned. Logan didn’t know what to do with that information.

“That’s great, Patton.” Logan forced a small smile as he turned towards Virgil slightly to try to give him a sign that Patton was someone that he needed to learn more about. He just needed to figure out his plan before jumping right into it. Unfortunately for him, Virgil hadn’t seen the signal. Fortunately for him, Virgil and Roman were failing so badly at flirting that both were practically begging in their minds for Logan or Patton to step in.

“Logan, if you’re not too busy flirting with Patton over there, I need you to take the nearest sharp blade there is out there and stab me before I mess things up more with Roman. Or tell Patton to do so.”

“My sweet Patton, I understand that Logan can be so fun to mess with, but please pay attention to how desperately I am trying to talk to Virgil with no luck. He’s just as spooked by my presence as a bunny is to a wolf. I fear I have ruined everything.”

So Logan did exactly that.

“Virgil, you mentioned that you wanted to meet your mother in fifteen minutes. It is imperative that we stay on time to your appointments, so we should really wrap up here.”

“Thank you, Logan. I owe you another jar of Crofter’s.”

Logan was going to make sure Virgil lived up to his promise because nothing mattered to him more than Crofters. Virgil’s eyes lit up at the save as he nodded, “Yes! I have to go see my mother. I’m so sorry that I have to cut this short, Ro. I just-”

“Great save, Logan! You cut off our conversation and Virgil doesn’t hate me just yet because he still calls me a nickname! Thank the dragon witch! I must make you a celebratory coffee as thanks.”

Logan was also going to cash in that favor the next time he saw Roman.

“No, no, I get it. We must make sure to tend to all the women in our life and make sure that our mothers know how appreciative we are of them.” Roman grinned, “I hope you enjoyed today’s performance.”

“You were great, Sir Sing-a-Lot.”

“You should maybe think about coming to our next performance.”

“Definitely.” Virgil nodded as he turned to Logan, “You ready?” Logan nodded, “Thank you for the show today, Roman and Patton. I will see you back on Monday.”

“No, thank you, Logan.” Patton gave a small smile, “It was nice talking to you.”

Logan nodded as he began to follow Virgil out of the coffee shop. Once they were fully outside, Virgil turned to Logan, sucking his teeth in with a wince. “How bad was that?”

“Awful.” Logan gave his point of view.

“Okay, thanks.” Virgil rolled his eyes, “I mean, could you do any better? You say yourself that emotions are the bane of your existence.”

Logan gave a look, “You think I could do worse than standing there frozen?” Virgil glared at Logan, “Listen, I have anxiety.”

“I know.” Logan sighed, “It’s fine. I figured out Patient 50 is Patton.”

“Really? What are you going to do with that information?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh wow, the three words Logan hates more than ‘I love you’.” Virgil snorted, “You seriously don’t know?” “Yet.” Logan emphasized.

“You should ask him about more things then. Get to know him as a friend and see if he could open up to you.”

“Like how Roman is attempting with you?” Logan raised an eyebrow, “No thanks, I saw how unsuccessful that attempt was.”

“Okay, yes! I’m awful at socializing and I hate people, but L, Pat seems like a nice guy. He’s served me a couple of times and he’s one of those people that are actually truly kind to me. If he’s the answer to all your problems, then maybe you should talk to him and become friends with him.”

“Wow, Virgil. I didn’t think you would ever support me so openly with my research.”

“I don’t. I’m just tired of this obsession. It’s been more than a year. If you can get closure about this and stop yapping, I will be grateful.” Virgil groaned.

Logan rolled his eyes, “Of course, Virge. The same as always.”

“Hey…where’s your laptop bag?”

“It’s right here…” Logan trailed off as he turned to see that his laptop bag was in fact not on his shoulder like he had originally thought it was.

“Must still be in the coffee shop. Want me to come help you get it?”

“No need. I can go in by myself.” Logan shook his head as he turned to go back into the coffee shop.

“Logan? What brings you back here?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just leave with Virgil?”

“Virgil is going ahead to meet his mother. I seemed to have misplaced my laptop bag.”

“Logan Sanders? Forgetting something? I never thought I’d see the day.” Roman snorted as he motioned for Logan to look around, “Go ahead and look around for it. I asked Patton to clean up right after you left though, so it might be with him.”

One quick look at the table confirmed that it wasn’t in its place where Logan last set it down.

“It is not there.”

“We can wait for Patton then. He’s on his break right now.” Roman nodded.

“Is Patton employed here?”

“Yeah. I needed the extra help and Patton needed the extra money. It was a win-win.” Roman shrugged, “He’s been an old friend of mine, so I thought I’d help him out.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“I know.” Roman grinned before turning to Logan with a serious expression, “You never told me you knew Virgil.”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“I know you can read my thoughts. Why didn’t you correct my thinking when I first assumed you were together?”

“I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Someone who cares.” Logan deadpanned, “What you deal with Virgil is strictly nothing I should be meddling in.”

“Meddle all you want! I want to know if he likes me or if he’s simply too intimidated by me. I’m going insane. I’ve never had to chase after anyone. I just smile and they come flocking towards me, even if I’m not into them. Virgil’s different. He didn’t immediately fall and he knows how to respond back to my quips. But he freezes up when I try to ask him about anything in his life, so I’m not even sure if he sees me as a friend.” Roman sighed.

For bitching’s sake, Logan could meddle so easily, but he also knew that it was not his place. So he had to go for the next best thing. Advice.

“For someone plays on his bravery, you sure are a coward.” Logan commented, “If you’re really that brave, you’d ask him out despite your fear of rejection. After all, the worst he could say is no. You move on and you find someone else that is worth your time and your affection. That’s all you can do.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, surprised, “Where did that come from, Mr. Info Dump? I thought you were a robot.”

“Unfortunately, they were unable to complete the process of turning me fully robotic.” Logan remarked before he saw Patton coming in and went to talk to him.

“Smart ass.”

Logan ignored Roman’s comment, instead turning his attention to Patton, “Hello, Patton.”

“Oh, hi, Logan! Are you here for your laptop bag? I noticed you left it in a hurry to push Virgil out.”

“Yes, I did. Do you think I could retrieve it?”

“Of course. It’s just in the back.” Patton nodded as he went to go get it. When he came back, he handed it to Logan. “There you go. And just so you’re not freaked out, I didn’t look. I don’t know what’s inside the bag.”

“Thank you, Patton.” Logan nodded as he slipped the bag over his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll see you later, percolator.”

“Not your best.” Logan shook his head.

“I agree.” Patton winced.

Logan gave a smile to Patton, one very rare, before starting to leave. Patton was so intertwined with his research, more than Logan could even comprehend at the moment. He just needed to talk to Patton more, he knew that much. But what could he do? Patton was the prettiest man that Logan had ever seen and someone interesting that Logan wanted to know. The only option flickering through his mind was asking Patton on a date. That was ridiculous.

Logan didn’t date. He rarely even liked people. The only reason he found out he was gay was because he had developed a huge crush on Sherlock Holmes. Otherwise, he would’ve been completely content with being aromatic. But there was something so entrancing about Patton. Something that made Logan forget most of his senses and something that made Logan become so distracted that he’d miss work for the man or focus all his attention on watching him over researching.

So it was stupid. Irrational. Delusional, even. What made Logan think that Patton would even say yes? Still, it was Logan’s only option. So Logan stopped in his tracks and turned towards the man behind him.

“Patton?”

“Yes, Logan?” Patton looked at Logan earnestly.

“Would you maybe like to go on a date with me in the coming days to get to know each other? You’re an interesting character and I’d like to learn more about you.”

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath hitching as he waited for Patton’s answer. There was no possible way that Patton would say yes. It didn’t make sense. They only met each other a few weeks ago. Logan wasn’t that interesting as a person. He was robotic, professional, and apathetic. Patton was full of energy and happiness. There could be no possible scenario that Patton would say yes.

Except Patton smiled, tilted his head to the side excitedly, and replied back, “I’d like that a latte.”

Something rang in his ears. His heart stopped as soon as he heard the answer. He started to breathe a lot faster than he was before. He was dying. No. It was just his nerves starting to dissipate as he had gotten his answer. He didn’t even care about the pun Patton had made as his thoughts began to whirl around, trying to understand what it was that made Patton say yes. Why Patton would want to get to know Logan more. Or if there was some alternative motive. No, Patton was too sweet to have an alternative motive. It couldn’t have been that.

“Here. I’ll give you my number and you can text me about it. I’d like to get to know you too. You’re an interesting character, Logan.”

Logan exhaled, trying to regain his breathing without letting Patton know that he had been nervous over asking Patton out. As far as they knew it, it was a friend date. They were getting to know each other as friends. Not as lovers. That was all there was to it.

Logan grabbed the slip of paper that Patton handed to him and nodded, “Thank you. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Later.” Patton smiled, waving goodbye to Logan as Logan walked out of the coffee shop.

He was going to go on a date with Patton Morris, but it was not because Logan wanted to date Patton and it was definitely not because Logan was attracted to Patton. It was solely because Patton was the key factor to Logan’s research.

He just had to convince his dumb heart that was pounding so fast and his flushed cheeks so. He had to convince his stupid feelings that it was only because Patton was an important part of finding out what the government wanted with the Medeis.

That was all there was to it.

[starlightinhumanform]

Friday Night Lights: Chapter Two

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Sleepxiety 

Summary: Roman and Virgil play opposite positions on their rival high school football teams. It’s the Homecoming game and tensions are high. Neither are willing to lose but one must rise above the other...

Warnings: Descriptions of pain/injury, Moderate language, One mention of drinking (Please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff 

A/N: Well... nearly a year since the first chapter came out I’m finally writing again!!! I really love this AU (even though I know very little about football lmao) and I have a lot of ideas about how I would like to include more Sanders Sides characters into this world. If I can get some more of my unfinished fics done, I really want to expand this series. Until then, I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Chapter One   Ao3   Fic Masterpost   Fic Request Info

The first play passed by in a blink. Most of the guys at the front went down quickly, even the largest crumpling under Prince and his brigade. Somehow in the chaos, the ball had been passed to Remy instead of Virgil and the fullback was tackled to the ground.

Virgil rolled his eyes at Remy as the team fell back into formation, only a few feet forward from where they had begun, “Dude, why’d the fuck did it get passed to you? It’s not like a knucklehead like you would know what to do with it.”

Remy huffed a laugh in response, “I have no clue. I’ll make sure it gets to you this time… hopefully.”

He glanced over in the direction that Remy was grimacing. It was Prince, of course, lumbering toward his position with what seemed to Virgil to be nothing but brutish arrogance. Roman acted like the entire game was about him; he acted like it was West Shore Vs Roman instead of West Shore Vs Knights. He probably didn’t even care about the game— it was all about showing off.

Crouched in the back of the formation, it was hard to see anyone at the front but he could picture Roman, somehow managing to smirk behind his mouthguard. Virgil hoped that Remy would rub his face in the turf.

—————————————-

Roman prepared for the second down, glad to see that the jock in front of him wasn’t looking nearly as confident as he had at the first down. Knocking someone to the ground always seemed to do the trick.

The ball was hurled straight back to Tempeste and the bitch who had growled at him earlier didn’t even try to block Roman. Good. All that was left between him and the weird little halfback was Remy Ristretto.

Roman tried to steady himself before the expected slam, but Ristretto’s tackle hit him low in the stomach, managing to knock him off balance. From the ground, he could just barely see the purple form of Tempeste weaving down the field and avoiding every single one of the Monarch Knight’s defense.

Roman tried to throw off the weight of the boy on his back but found himself thoroughly pinned down. His mouth was filled with the taste of plastic turf and dusty rubber and almost the entirety of his vision was blocked by the grape juice flavoured uniform on top of him. It was humiliating. And Tempeste was still running, reaching the end zone without being touched by a single Knight. It was like his feet didn’t even touch the ground, flying across the field.

The West Shore team were given the chance to make a field goal, and made it, but Roman hardly noticed. He was too busy grumbling about how he was going to get back at Tempeste the second he got the chance.

—————————————-

By halftime, Virgil felt like he had been driven over by a steamroller. Multiple times. A steamroller covered in baseball bats.

As the marching band paraded past where Virgil was sitting, he wondered vaguely about the operability of a steamroller that had baseball bats attached to it. Maybe the hit he had taken to the head earlier in the game had been harder than he thought.

Remy sat down besides him, “What’s going on in that big old head of yours?”

“Uhhhhh, a lot of cartoon gong sound effects. Now that I think about it, that might just be the band.”

Virgil looked out across the field as the marching band made their final pass around the turf. The sky was completely dark by now but the stadium glowed bright as day under the huge lights. It was always wonderfully surreal to Virgil, the time of night when the field became its own little world still holding onto the glory of day. He hoped glory was still how he felt about this field by the end of the game. The alternative would be shame; the alternative would be defeat.

And defeat was not an option for a game right before homecoming. It’s not that Virgil particularly cared about the school dances, quite the opposite in fact, he hated them. They were crowded, noisy, and you had to wear uncomfortable clothes and stand around with a bunch of people you don’t like instead of being at home watching scary movies and eating pizza in your pajamas. But there’s only one thing worse than going to a school dance— going to the a school dance after losing the biggest game of the season.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Remy’s voice broke through Virgil’s thoughts, “Well stop it. We’re ahead of the Knights—“

“Barely.”

“—you’ve made some great runs so far—“

“I’ve gotten blocked plenty of times too.”

“—and you’re always at your best in the second half of the game. Now stop putting all your energy towards making the little hamster wheel in your brain turn faster and go use it on the field. C’mon man, the third quarter is about to start.”

Virgil shook his head as if to dislodge the distracting thoughts, letting his purple bangs fall in front of his face for a moment before brushing them back and putting his helmet on. Remy was right. Virgil had started football as a way to channel his anxiety, not to cause himself more. He just needed to get on that field and start running.

He jumped up and started bouncing on his feet, letting the adrenaline flow through his body until it felt like he was buzzing. Virgil was ready to win.

—————————————-

Roman was ready to win.

He could feel it boiling in stomach, the drive, the push to alway be the best. The teams had been neck-and-neck the entire game but West Shore’s grape-coloured menace had managed to scrape by with a slight lead by the end of the second quarter. Roman had no idea how Tempeste could even run that fast; he had short little legs and was about as delicate as a twig. Maybe West Shore just hooked him up to a car battery and gave him 20 energy drinks before every game.

However they made it happen, the kid could run. He didn’t look like he belonged on a football team, more like a trackstar or even a dancer. Roman knew he looked like a football player— tall, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, his extra weight part of what made him such a good defense. But Tempeste... he was like no player Roman had ever seen. Maybe that’s why Roman couldn’t beat him like any other player.

As the teams fell into formation, Roman looked across the row of helmets and accidentally made eye contact with Virgil. His stare burned with intensity. Roman hated to admit it, but he liked that about the rival school’s halfback, the feverish energy that seemed to storm around him. In fact, if Roman was being really honest, he loved playing against the West Shore because he loved playing against Tempeste. The energy was infectious. Playing against him made Roman want to run faster, hit harder, be better.

Roman smiled behind the mouthguard that rested on his bottom teeth. Maybe he did know how to beat Virgil; maybe he had to be just as crazy and vicious as his opponent.

—————————————-

Virgil knew what it felt like to get tackled. In his high school career he had gotten jumped on top and thrown to the ground by various sweaty, muscly dudes more times than he could ever dream of counting or would ever care to. He had been dragged to the ground, sat on, and pushed over from every angle and in every way.

But he had never, never felt a tackle like Roman’s in the beginning of the third quarter of that game.

He saw it coming, practically in slow motion, before Prince actually hit him. The boy’s shoulders were nearly twice as big as Virgil’s even with all his gear. He came charging towards Virgil head-down like a bull, his bright red helmet set with a direct trajectory to Virgil’s solar plexus.

Virgil tried to sidestep, skirting just past the moving wall of Roman Prince, but somehow Roman was moving simply too fast. The impact struck just at his core and a deep kind of pain, like a bruise that goes all the way to the bone, resonated outwards through his entire body. A vibration ran all the way to his fingertips.

Virgil could see the crowd going wild, booing and cheering and maybe just screaming with no inflection, making noise for the hell of it. He couldn’t hear any of it. Maybe the entire world had been put on mute or maybe the ringing in his ears was drowning it out.

He fell backwards and Roman flew over him, momentum carrying him forward. When he landed— and boy, did he land— he fell on directly onto Virgil’s chest. Virgil thought Roman had knocked the wind out of him by hitting him in the sternum. By landing flat on his chest with the entire bulk of his body, Roman found another ounce of breath left in Virgil’s body to shock out of him.

His vision and hearing tunneled out, focusing on the one thing capturing his entire attention: Roman. The boy on top of him was heavy, crushing Virgil through his thick shoulder pads. The heat of Prince’s body spread through his gear as well, although, based on the sweat damping his hairline, Virgil really wasn’t one to talk.

Roman was strong, stronger than him. Virgil tried to squirm away but he could feel Prince throwing his weight downwards and his arms straining to keep Virgil caged to the ground.

Just as intense as his physical strength, Prince’s eyes seemed to burn. Before, they always seemed to be depthless, simply dark and brutish like a bear. Now, breathlessly close, there seemed to be a light behind them, a thousand times brighter than the stadium lights. Gold tones shining through the dark brown of his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. It was also easily one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen.

Virgil kept the ball close to his chest. As long as he could keep it, the West Shore team would still have possession and could continue to move forward across the field. They could still win.

—————————————-

Roman had Tempeste pinned to the ground and somehow it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever done. Which isn’t to say he had never tackled the halfback before— they had been playing against each other for several years now— but this was different somehow, more personal.

Tempeste growled beneath him, wriggling to escape the tackle like water slipping between his fingers. Roman push down harder, refusing to let him go.

Footsteps pounded behind them, turf crunching under the stampede of Knights quickly charging forward. Roman braced himself for the pile-up he knew was coming, over a thousand pounds worth of his team jumping to join the tackle.

One guy slammed into Roman’s back then another, then another. The pressure of the game must have been getting to them as well because they threw themselves at Roman and Tempeste like a pack of wild animals.

It felt like every single Knight, including the offense players, were joining the tackle. And feel was the correct term. He could hardly see anything besides Tempeste’s face within his purple helmet. But he could feel everything, every hit of his teammates as their full weight fell against his back. Beneath him, Tempeste’s breath began quickening, like he was sprinting again. But of course he wasn’t, he was pinned down just like Roman was.

Roman glanced down into the depths of Virgil’s helmet, searching past the grill. Shining in the dark, his eyes caught a small reflection of the stadium lights. They were large, startled, and obviously panicked. He looked like a trapped animal and his breathing only continued to become more rapid.

Their eyes met as Roman looked down and he realized this was the first time he had ever seen Virgil look really, truly afraid. He had seen Tempeste in the fourth quarter, 20 points behind and looking as determined and fierce as ever. He had seen Tempeste sprint across the field, followed by the entire Monarchs team, with a huge grin on his face like there was nothing he would rather do than be hunted after. He had seen Tempeste stand toe-toe-to, small chest puffed out and jaw set confidently, with some guy over a foot taller than him because he tried to mouth off about Virgil’s ability. He had never seen him like this.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok,” Roman set his helmet grill against Virgil’s. He knew Virgil couldn’t hear him and probably didn’t even know why he was putting his face so close. Hell, Roman didn’t even know why he was doing it. There was something about Virgil’s genuine fear that he felt the need to comfort him, tell him that it was just a game, that he would be alright.

The weight of another player hit him and Roman was slammed against Virgil’s chest. The sudden shift forced Roman onto his wrist, the small joint carrying him and the entirety of his team. Something cracked. He gasped sharply as pain struck every molecule in his body. Roman’s vision went black.

—————————————-

Virgil sat in the locker room, staring vaguely across at the rows of blue shelves in front of him as he held a pack of ice against his shoulder. The nurse said that it might have been dislocated in the pileup.

He wished he could blame it on Roman, that oaf was the one who had tackled him to begin with. He couldn’t though. It was Roman’s job to tackle him and that’s exactly what Roman had done and as much as it confused and somewhat infuriated Virgil, he also knew the other boy had protected him from the blunt force of his teammates. Why? Why would he do that?

Dull pain throbbed through the entirety of his body, clouding his mind. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had happened.

Virgil was pretty sure Roman got hurt too. As he had walked off the field, gritting his teeth, he caught a glimpse of Prince cradling his hand as he walked in the opposite direction.

It was one hell of a pileup; four years of football and he had only been in a tangle that bad the first time he had played against the Monarchs. Maybe he and Roman were just destined to create disasters.

Virgil grimaced as his mind kept wandering back to Roman. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but worry if Prince was alright. Virgil had no idea what was going on in his mind, or on the field, or in the locker room on the other side.

—————————————-

Roman was bored. He sat on the bleachers, watching the game drag on ahead of him as he held a pack of ice to his wrist. The nurse had told him it was probably just strained but Roman wasn’t convinced. He could feel the ache throbbing up his arm with every beat of his heart. Between the pain and the pressure spreading out from grinding his teeth, Roman’s head was trapped in a haze that he could barely see through.

From what he could tell, the Monarch Knights were winning. With Virgil out, Westshore’s offense had been greatly weakened. Roman hardly cared; he wasn’t out there, Virgil wasn’t out there, none of the spark was left in the game. What was the point of winning if there was no one to win against?

The crowd roared as the final quarter came to a close. The Knights won, but Roman didn’t. He felt disappointed, dejected, and like he didn’t quite understand where he was. This wasn’t his game.

The night came to an end and Roman opted to go straight to the locker room instead of shaking hands with the other team, blaming it on his wrist.  Usually, he loved facing the other team after a win— admittedly because it gave him a chance to gloat over them— but he just couldn’t find that same feeling tonight.

—————————————-

Virgil leaned against a cold concrete wall of the bleachers, staring up at the stadium light’s false sun above him. If he looked far enough, he could find the dark sky and the twinkling lights of the city below him and beyond the intense glow of the school.

A cool breeze was picking up as the world shifted into night. It was beautiful but Virgil couldn’t appreciate it. He just wished there had been some sort of ending, a closure of some kind. He and Prince’s last hurrah against each other. But they hadn’t gotten a hurrah, all they got was a game that petered out and came to sputtering stop as they both sat on the sidelines. Virgil didn’t even care that West Shore lost; it was never about West Shore and the Monarchs. It was about him and Roman.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, “You mind if I join your sulking or would you rather be left alone to mope?”

Virgil spun around, his body tensing at Roman’s voice and sending a twinge of pain down from his shoulder, “What do you want?”

Roman stepped closer, “I told you, I came to sulk with you because that’s obviously what we’re both doing.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right well... fuck off.”

“Man, I thought you might bite before but now I’m sure of it.”

Prince took another casual step forward as Virgil’s mind began racing. What is he doing? Virgil’s eyes swept over Roman. He had never really seen him out of his football uniform and damn. In denim jeans and a red tee shirt, Virgil was actually able to see him for the first time. Most guys were greatly exaggerated by the uniform, making them look bigger and stronger, but nope, Roman was really just built like that. His gaze reached Prince’s face. Like the rest of his body, his features looked like they had been sculpted and chiseled like some type of statue. He was reminded of how beautiful Roman’s eyes were when he actually took the time to look at them, the warm shades of brown filtering through each other.

“Uh, what are you looking at?” Roman laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the edge of his voice.

Virgil felt blood rushing to his face as a deep blush rose to his cheeks. He had been staring, hadn’t he? “Sorry.”

Roman stepped even closer, clearing his throat again, “I actually came over here because... I wanted just wanted to tell you I’ve really enjoyed playing against you. And it can’t just be summed up by saying ‘good game;’ it’s been a hell of a good four years... you’re a phenomenal player.”

Virgil stared down at his feet. This was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting any of this, “You know... it hasn’t been easy to be the smallest person on the team— shit, I’m the smallest player in any of the district teams. I don’t think I would have kept playing, or would have tried as hard to stay on the team if I wasn’t absolutely set on kicking your ass.”

Roman laughed— a deep, genuine sound flooding from somewhere in his broad chest— and Virgil couldn’t help but grin.

“So yeah... thanks for that. And good game,” Virgil smiled up at the other boy.

“Well, we can’t exactly shake hands like usual,” Roman glanced down at his swollen wrist and Virgil’s shoulder that he was still nursing.

“Can we do something else then?” Virgil moved so he was standing face to face with Roman, his heart pounding in his ears.

Virgil could feel Roman’s breathing quicken as he reached up with his good arm, sliding his hand to the base of Roman’s neck. Put he didn’t startle, he didn’t try to move away. If anything, he seemed to be leaning into the touch.

Virgil moved forward, standing on the tips of his toes to press his lips against Roman’s. For a horrific second, he thought Roman wouldn’t return it but after a moment of apparent shock, Roman bowed his head to deepen the kiss. He tipped them forward, supporting the entirety of Virgil’s weight with his uninjured hand.

When they finally broke away, Virgil was completely breathless. He definitely hadn’t seen that coming at the beginning of the evening.

Roman looked equally surprised but he began grinning like an idiot as the realization of what had just happened settled over him, “Can we do that again??”

Virgil laughed at Roman’s eager, puppy-dog-eyes expression, “At least buy me a drink first.”

“Well, I can’t exactly do that seeing as we’re both like 17–“

“Excuse you, I’m 18,” Virgil stuck his tongue out in mock indignation.

“Yeah, well, uh, would you maybe want to go to homecoming with me?” Roman began rushing his words out, “I mean, I totally get if not. There’s absolutely no pressure. And I’m sure you already have plans so—“

“That’d be cool,” Virgil broke in, “I’d really, really like that.”

Roman’s face once again broke into a beaming smile, “Really??”

“Yeah you big idiot, that’s why I said it. Besides, it’s awful going to a dance after losing a game so I might as well bring a trophy,” Virgil slipped his hand into Roman’s and began leading them out of the stadium and into the parking lot. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened tonight. He had started the evening determined to win, but even though West Shore lost, he didn’t feel disappointed.

Virgil looked at the silhouette of Roman against the fading campus lights as he walked alongside him. Maybe he had won something even more important than the game.

if you would like to be added to the Friday Night Lights taglist, please just send an ask or reply to this post ;D

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok @softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

Friday Night Lights Taglist: @lcrnbw @amazing-creepyfloof @badluckkaren @athenashipsthings @chronophobica @icequeenoriginal @delicateherolightscissors @romano-hottopic @yourneighbourhooddisaster @sonny-ray-of-goth @itsnycto @captain-oats

[weirdsthenewnormal]

Inktober day 25

Merpeople - Logicality and Prinxiety

Tag list below the cut (ask to be added/removed)

@iris-sanders-athena

@that1theatregirl

@artistic-camo-penguin

@the-spookiest-potato-chip

@novasingalaxies

@roni-isnt-okay

@probablyghosting

@detroit-become-pan

@romansanders

@the-incedible-sulk

@thatawkmomentwhenulickafry

@peachy-patton-writes

@evan-of-the-heavens

@0beansprout0

@skelelexiunderlord

[tonxed]

Prinxiety incoming

@justyncase and I are going online as Human!Virgil, and Human!Roman. So hit up that ask box

[nonchalantsanders]

Ships

Week Ending October 12th, 2020

Lumity +1 Luz Noceda & Amity Blight, The Owl House 

Prinxiety Princey & Anxiety, Thomas Sanders

Zukka Zuko & Sokka, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Catradora +2 Catra & Adora, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Geraskier +5 Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier, The Witcher 

Jikook +1 Park Jimin & Jeon Jungkook, BTS 

Destiel +2 Dean Winchester & Castiel, Supernatural

Bakudeku -4 Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Boku no Hero Academia

Dani x Jamie Dani Clayton & Jamie, The Haunting of Bly Manor

Drarry +3 Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, the Harry Potter universe 

Joe x Nicky +1 Joe (Yusuf Al-Kaysani) & Nicky (Niccolò di Genova), The Old Guard

Zutara -4 Zuko & Katara, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Wangxian +1 Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian, Mo Dao Zu Shi

Supercorp +1 Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Supergirl

Korrasami +2 Korra & Asami Sato, The Legend of Korra

Kiribaku Kirishima Eijirou & Bakugou Katsuki, Boku No Hero Academia

Solangelo Will Solace & Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson

Hannigram +1 Hannibal Lecter & Will Graham, Hannibal

Jonmartin -8 Jonathan Sims & Martin Blackwood, The Magnus Archives

Ineffable Husbands -2 Aziraphale & Crowley, Good Omens

The number in italics indicates how many spots a ship moved up or down from the previous week. The ones in bold weren’t on the list last week.

[xandriagreat]

It’s Show Time

Author’s note: This is for @hopelessly-aro (this post)

Notice/warnings: anxiety, caps, food/drinks

Relationship(s): prinxiety, loceit, intruality

▪▪▪

It's been a few weeks since the cast list for the spring's musical, West Side Story, was posted and Virgil Stars was thinking about inviting Roman Gold to his house to help practice lines.

“Roman?”  said Virgil, walking to him with his skateboard out.

Roman looked up at Virgil as he was getting his pens in his pencil case.

“Yes, Virgil? What do you need?” he said, putting his pencil case away in his backpack.

Virgil breathed as he closed his eyes and asked, “Do you want to help me practice lines at my house?”

Virgil waited for the answer. ‘It’s going to be a no.’ he thought nervously. ‘It’s going to be a no-’

“Yes, I would like to help.” Roman said happily. Virgil opened his eyes to see Roman smiling. “When should we do that?” 

Virgil smiled back. “Saturday at noon?”

Roman hummed and picked his backpack. “I’ll talk to my parents about it.”

Before Virgil walked away, the smile still on his face, he turned back to Roman. "We'll need each other's numbers." He explains, putting his skateboard down and getting his phone out. "So, we can contact each other." 

Roman nodded and got his phone out. 

Virgil put his number in Roman's phone before handing it back to him. Then he sent a text. Roman looked at his phone when it buzzed. 

[Hey, it's Virgil.]

Roman smiled. "Thanks." he said with a chuckle, looking at Virgil. 

The skater boy nodded. “No problem.” he said before picking up the skateboard again. “Just don’t spam me, okay?” Virgil pointed at him like a warning. 

Roman put his hands up, his phone in his hand, and nodded. “Promise.”

When the both of them walked outside, Roman noticed his dad driving to the school pick up. “My dad’s here.” Roman said, looking at Virgil. 

The skater boy nodded. "'Kay. See you later, Roman." Virgil said waving bye to him before skating off to get the city bus.

When Virgil got home, he put his backpack and skateboard away.

He saw both of his parents making dinner. It smelled like meatloaf.

"Sup." he said as he went to put his backpack away before going to them.

His father looked over at him and smiled. “Hello Virgil.” he said. He started cutting vegetables. “How was your day?”

Virgil sighed, “Long…”

His father stopped cutting and looked at him. “You need to be more specific, Virgil.” he said, deadpanning.

Both of his parents want him to talk more and think instead of saying just one word for a conversation. Virgl hates it but he understands why.

Virgil sighed again and explained how his day was. His parents listens as his father cuts the vegetables and puts them in a bowl while his dad got the meatloaf on the severing plate.

Virgil was setting the table as he continued, “At the end of the day, I asked a boy…" Virgil noticed both of his parents' eyes widened with excitement. "TO help me with my lines for the show!" Virgil yelled in panic.

“Ah!” his father hummed, bringing food over to the table with his husband. "dinner is ready."

Virgil nodded and sat down at his seat. His parents sat down in their seat as well.

"So, what's this boy like?" His dad asked, smiling as he got some salad.

Virgil blushed deep, causing his pops to laugh and his father exclaimed, "Janus!"

☆

Roman was getting ready to go to Virgil's house. He asked his parents to see if he can go, they both said “yes”, which got him excited. 

His papa drove him to the place. Roman was surprised to see that Virgil's place was Torrid. "Well, this is a nice place." his papa said, chuckling.

Roman nodded and got out of the car. "We'll probably be done around 2PM."

Papa nodded. "Okay, see you later, kiddo." he said, smiling.

Roman smiled back and closed the car door with his bag. He went to the door and knocked on it as his papa left.

The door opened by a man who looked like a professor.

"Uh... hi?" Roman said, raising a hand to wave. "Hello," The professor, smiling, "you must be here for the practice with Virgil."

Roman nodded nodded, looking suprised. "Um... yes... I am. How did you know that?"

The professor points at the backpack and said, "The backpack. It looks light but it has somethings inside, like books-"

"Scripts." Roman said, interrupting. "They're called scripts." He started to regret for interrupting him.

The professor nodded and hummed, not looking sad, mad, or offended. He stepped to the side to let Roman in.

Roman was surprised when he came in.

The place looks clean.

The walls have a light color of yellow, nice furniture, some photos hang on the wall, a few doors that lead into different rooms, and a staircase that goes up.

Roman looked at the Professor. "Where's Virgil?" he asked.

The man points upstairs. "In his room," he said, "and you can either call me Professor Stars or Logan."

Roman smiled at him. "Okay. Thank you, Logan." he said and went up stairs. He saw Virgil at the top of the stairs. "Hi, Virgil." Roman said, waving.

Virgil smiled a bit at him. "Hey, Roman."

He guided him to his room, so they can practice lines.

Virgil's room is... interesting. It's a bit messy but mostly clean.

Roman saw that Virgil has some Broadway musical posters. Wicked, Hadestown, and Hamilton.

He had to keep his cool as they started to practice the lines.

Roman looked at the time after practicing the lines. He has about three minutes until his Papa comes by a pick him up. He hummed, "That's a good practice."

He started to get his script in his bag.

Roman took in a breath and asked, “So, which musical do you like?”

Virgil turned around and looked at him. “What?”

Roman pointed at the posters. “Which musical do you like, Virgil?” he asked again. “If these are your favorites.”

The emo chuckled softly and walked over to him. “I like Hadestown. Both West End and Brodway. I also like Wicked and Hamliton.” Virgil said, pointing at the posters. Virgil noticed that Roman looked surprised at him. “What? What did you expect it to be? Avenue Q or something?”

Roman shrugged, saying, “Something like that.”

Virgil started to smile. “It’s alright. I like some musicals.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But some are too much. Avenue Q is one of the too much.”

Roman chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. I can agree.”

Roman’s phone buzzed. He checked it. 

It’s his dad.

[I’m here Kiddo]

Roman looked at Virgil and said, “My papa is here.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay.” he said, walking Roman downstairs. “See you at practice?” Virgil asked, pointing at him.

“See you at practice.” Roman replied, pointing back at him before he left.

☆ 

For the past few weeks, Roman started to notice the small things about Virgil and felt a feeling of love. 

Roman was screaming into his pillow, because knew he was in trouble when he noticed that he had feelings for Virgil.

He laid on his bed after screaming into his pillow, pouting. 

There was a knock on his door.

“Come in…” Roman horsley said, looking at the door. 

Both of his dads came in.

“Hi dad… Hi papa…” Roman said, sitting up and facing them. 

“Hey Kiddo.” Dad said, sitting down next to him. Papa sat down on the other side of Roman.

Roman noticed that his dad had a cup of tea. “...That for me?” he asked, looking at Dad.

His dad nodded and handed it to him. “It has honey, sweetie.” he told him.

Roman hummed and sipped the tea. He leaned on Dad while Papa rubbed his back. “Want to talk about it?” Papa asked.

Roman shrugged. “Maybe… I’m just… mad at myself… ”

Roman noticed Dad was going to say something but Papa mouthed, “Patton… please don’t.”

“Okay.” Dad mouthed back. 

Roman sighed and continued, “Because I like one of the cast members and it’s not okay.”

His parents looked surprised. “Roman…” Papa and Dad said together.

Roman started to cry. 

His parents comforted him.

“I don’t know what to do…” he said after crying a bit. Papa and Dad looked at each other before looking back at Roman. “Hmm… maybe tell him when the shows are over, since the first show is in a few days.” Papa said. 

Roman thinks about it. “Okay, I’ll tell him on the closing night of the show.” he said, nodding.

☆ 

The first night went well.

The second night went very well.

The third night went great. 

Tonight is the last show. 

Virgil was practicing his lines while he went to his entrance on the stage. He bumped into Roman. 

“Oh! Roman!” Virgil exclaimed and Roman exclaimed, “Oh hi Virgil!” at the same time.

They both chuckled. 

They walked to Virgil’s entrance.

“Are you nervous?” Roman asked, looking at him. 

Virgil nodded. “I am. What about you?”

Roman nodded. “Yep and I’m excited too.”

Virgil chuckled softly and smiled at Roman. “Hey, Roman?” he said before Roman went to help in the light booth.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna say thank you for helping.”

Roman smiled and nodded. “I’m glad that I could help,” he replied. Then Roman ran out of the backstage doors to get to the light booth.

Virgil chuckled again before going into his mindset of Tony.

This last show went amazing!

After the curtain call, Roman and Virgil went to find their parents. 

Virgil was still in his costume when they looked for them.

“You did SO good Virgil!” Roman exclaimed, patting Virgil’s back. 

Virgil chuckled softly. “Thanks. You did great too. With all of the sets and lights and quick changes-”

He stopped when he looked at Roman. 

Roman looked nervous. 

“Hey, you okay?” Virgil asked, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. Roman nodded. “I wanted to tell you something that’s been on my mind for a while.” he said after a moment. 

“Okay, what is it?”

Roman took in a deep breath and said, “I realized that I love you.” Virgil’s eyes widened as Roman continued “And I understand if you don’t…”

“I’ve realized that I love you too.” Virgil said, smiling. Roman looked at him, smiling back. 

They eventually found their parents talking to each other. 

Their parents are proud of them and they went to Wendy’s to celebrate after Virgil changed into his normal clothes.

Roman and Virgil went on a date on a Saturday night and it went great.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Sometimes You Have No Option

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: scar mentions, mostly just vague nothing too graphic at all, very quick mention of the ‘heat death of the universe‘, it’s one throwaway line but just to be safe!

Summary: Virgil wonders what Roman gets up to on his adventures that leaves him battered and bruised. What he finds isn’t what he expected....

---------

There was always this unpleasant feeling that followed Virgil whenever Roman came back from traversing the mindscape on an ‘adventure’; sometimes he’d come back bruised and bashed, other times he’d sport a limp, but nearly every time, Roman would come home with new scars.

Virgil couldn’t understand the appeal of it, though far be it for him to say anything about it. Sure, maybe it did hurt a little seeing someone he cared about come back each time more banged up than before. 

But that's none of his business, right?

Virgil wondered just what Roman got up to each time he went out. He’d never seen the things Roman could conjure outside of the main mindscape; some called it the ‘imagination’ but they were already within the imagination technically. No, what Roman would conjure was more like a simulation within the mindscape, as far as Virgil understood it. Like adding an extension onto a home…. Only to tear it down once you were done with it in the end. 

Perhaps calling them ‘daydreams’ was a more accurate comparison.

There were many times Virgil would let his own imagination run wild with the kind of journeys Roman must have gone on. Forests and kingdoms, perhaps a seafaring adventure if Remus agreed to not set the kraken on him. Or maybe he branched out even more. Something like the spaceports of Treasure Planet, or something more akin to a spiritual journey you’d find in a Ghibli movie. Who knew what Roman was up to most days, honestly.

It was a lazy Saturday in the mindscape when Virgil finally decided to ask Roman about it.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to do so, but Logan and Patton were both busy elsewhere, and all Virgil had to do was watch TV and contemplate the inevitable heat death of the universe when Roman had returned. Mismatched eyes latched onto the creative side as the prince made his way to the kitchen. He winced as he watched Roman root around for frozen peas and press the bag to his left cheek.

The injury was just out of Virgil’s sight, but as Roman turned and made eye contact, he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming. Despite the way the sight made Virgil’s lips pinch into a frown, Roman met him with a smile that made his stomach do flips as he made his way over to the sofa,

“What’s that look for, Woe Troham?”

Virgil snorted, “Wow, we’re getting obscure with the nicknames now? You’re really earning that extra credit in Emo Studies, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and sat down next to Virgil, careful of the anxious side’s bunched up legs, “You do realise we ALL went through Thomas’ emo phase, right?”.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever...”, he was about to leave the conversation there when he remembered the matter at hand, “Hey, uh, Roman?”

“That’s what they call me, yes.”, the creative side smirked playfully, “Typically preceded by ‘Prince’ but I’ll cut you some slack this once.”. Virgil wanted to slap that smirk away. Or maybe smooch it. The jury was still out on that one.

He sighed in mock annoyance, “Can we cut out the nonsense for once, Romano?”

He bit his lip to stifle a chuckle at the insulted huff Roman let out. 

“Okay, seriously, I was gonna ask what happened,”, Virgil continued when Roman fixed him with a perplexed frown, “Y’know, to cause that.” .

He freed one hand from his hoodie paws to gesture to the bruise under the frozen peas in Roman’s hand. Said creative side shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about, Virge. I’ve had far worse before.”.

Oh great, because that’s what Virgil was absolutely dying to hear. 

The words left his mouth before the anxious side could stop them, “.. Can I see?”

Okay, that had to have crossed a line, surely. Those scars were probably super traumatic or heavy with meaning, or perhaps they were-

“Okay.”, Roman shrugged. He was already hauling his shirt off by the time Virgil had registered how casual Roman was about this whole thing. He was about to voice his confusion when Roman’s shirt fluttered to the floor; leaving Virgil with a moment of gay crisis, but even more so a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Roman’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were fresh, likely only days old, while others were already paling with time. The anxious side had no idea where his hands obtained the audacity to trail themselves along Roman’s skin without permission, but the creative side seemed content to let him continue.

Surprisingly confident fingertips traced valleys and trenches of healed and healing skin, only ever stopping on each route if Roman protested. Virgil had no idea why Roman let him even do something that felt this intimate in the first place, but the question that bubbled out of his throat instead was, “What…. Happened to you?”

He expected Roman to turn away, to dramatically cover himself once more, perhaps muttering a barely audible “some things are left unsaid” or “it’s…. Personal”, and then he’d retire to his room while Virgil did the same and let his mind swim in it’s usual cloud of anxious self depreciation. 

What Virgil did not expect was for Roman to immediately start pointing them out and listing every single cause like it was his grocery list.

“Well!”, Roman began, pointing to a scar on his left hip, “This is one I got from accidentally laying down on a light bulb.”

The prince pointed to more scars as he went, all too oblivious of Virgil’s stunned silence, “This one here is from running through corn stalks with my shirt off, and that one was a mosquito bite I scratched, which yes I know you shouldn’t do that, but you know how dreadfully those itch.This one here is from the time I tried to fight a goose- Oh! And this one I procured from falling out of a window during an impromptu tickle fight with Remus-” 

“Why does anyone try to fight a goose?!”, Virgil blurted out. Of all the rapidfire information his brain just tried to absorb, he wasn’t sure why that was what his brain latched onto, but he couldn’t exactly take back the question now.

The anxious side watched Roman’s expression take on a distant, stoic edge, but having known him so well by now Virgil knew the prince’s fake dramatic long distance stare a mile away. “Sometimes,”, Roman began, and Virgil did his best not to give a fond huff of annoyed laughter at the creative side’s faux drama tone, “The goose leaves you no option-”

Virgil couldn’t stifle the peal of laughter that slipped through his teeth and betrayed his irritated facade. The whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster but Virgil was mostly just happy that even if Roman was constantly getting into scrapes, at least it was nothing overly serious. By the time Virgil had stopped laughing, he realised Roman had also fallen victim to the case of the giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, goddamit, Roman!”, Virgil snarked weakly, the gentle smile he wore betraying any attempt at true irritation. Roman simply continued to beam at Virgil, brilliant and bright, a beacon of pure adoration. 

“That’s a rather funny way to pronounce ‘handsome and dashing’, but I’ll take it!”

It’s unfair that Roman got to be so well put together while Virgil was just standing there, hands still resting on Roman’s bare chest, blushing up an absolute storm. Something about the way Roman smiled at him - so gentle and adoring - made Virgil want to do something crazy. 

Like kissing him.

Yeah.

He should kiss him.

No, wait, he absolutely should NOT do that.

In fact, Virgil caught himself just as he was leaning towards Roman, intending to turn away. However, Roman’s arms snaked their way smoothly around his waist, keeping him close but still remaining loose enough that Virgil could break away if he wanted. 

“.... Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Roman’s voice was hesitant, a little less sure of himself than his expression implied. To save himself from embarrassment by not subjecting Roman to any barely passable attempts at a verbal affirmation, Virgil nodded bashfully. 

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil’s lips then settled back into half lidded eye contact, a small quirk of laughter dancing across the prince’s features.

“Am I the only one who’s been subtly flirting this entire time? Because if so, I am going to be utterly scandalized.”

Even Virgil was surprised by the relieved laughter he let out; it was the ugly kind that gave away just how smitten he was with Roman. He tapped his fingers against Roman’s chest, humming playfully.

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll just have to be scandalized, pretty boy.”, he teased.

Roman’s shocked expression was too cute, how could Virgil resist? The anxious side sighed out a low chuckle, rolled his eyes, and lent forward to reward him with a much earned kiss.

-----------

We love us a couple of pining dorks

Based on this post and so I tag @count-woe-laf as promised!

[romancore]

Roman: Do crabs think people walk sideways?

Virgil: ... Roman, what the hell.

[eucalyptus-plants]

Random AU time

Okay so I saw a post some time ago where it said something along the lines of Remy is the child of prinxiety (Roman and Virgil) while Emile is the child of logicality (Patton and Logan) so I came up with some scenarios I guess basically about that!

1:

Emile got adopted by Patton and Logan at around the age of 5 and from the time he lived with them, he started to look up to Logan because he seemed so smart and cool to Emile and Patton noticed this so for his 7th birthday he gifted him his pink tie and the kid started to bawl his eyes out and hugged Patton saying things like “does this mean I’m a smart guy now?” and Patton replied by saying “You always were”. Although it was really big for him he would wear it everywhere, especially school.

2:

Remy got adopted by Roman and Virgil a little later than Emile so he was around 7 when that happened. Remy was a bit closed off from the two but as time grew he spent more and more time with Virgil and Roman was feeling a bit left out and, although he won’t admit it, jealous. Plus it didn’t help his acting career made him spend less time with him so he and Remy set up a thing they would do every Saturday after or before his work where they would go out to Starbucks and just chat and drink their drinks. Hence, Remy’s love of Starbucks.

Isn’t that cute?

[two-am-outlines-only]

Rise and Fall

Summary:  Roman is finally starting to feel better and it shows, though the others are understandably still worried. 

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, discussion of suicide, referenced and implied depression

Ships: Virgil x Roman, Prinxiety (not very focused on)

Word Count: 2, 723

AO3 Link

Logan stepped out of his room rolling up his sleeves and nudging the door closed with his foot. Looking across the hall to one of his roommates' rooms. They lived in a fairly big apartment to accommodate all four of them since they had all decided to keep living together after college for companionship's sake. The doors were all decorated in accordance to their individual styles; Logan’s was a bit plainer with galaxy printed washi tape around a printed paper name plate. Patton’s of course was covered in bright stickers in all shapes and textures while Virgil’s looked like if you walked into his room you’d be expecting a Halloween store; bats, spiders and other dark decorations absolutely covered its surface. 

The one across from his own, Roman’s, was a practical explosion compared to the other two however. The entire thing glittered which he had chastised the other about for months after he had done it since it had then covered the rest of the apartment in microscopic glittery pieces of foil that was impossible to vacuum all of no matter how many passes were made over the floor and other surfaces. Drawings and doodles from both Roman and Patton and less so from Virgil and Logan himself were taped and stickered on with a variety of differently printed materials. It was an absolute mess but today that was the furthest concern from Logan’s mind.

The actual concern was the fact that the door was shut tight, no source of light even shining from underneath the jam. Walking closer revealed that there was no sound to be heard from inside either. No music, no singing, no furious scratching of pens and pencils. Just complete silence that made Logan frown and file the observation away for later. It was only nine in the morning on a Saturday, it wouldn't be unusual for Roman to have a late morning to the start of his weekend and he refused to be worried about it when in reality he was probably the only one awake at this hour.

Moving down the hall with coffee and cartoons on his mind echoed in his head as the first sound he’d heard this morning made itself known: rhythmic snapping. Raising his eyebrows he followed the sound to the living room, the sight before him catching him with surprise.

Roman sat on the floor in front of the couch, music playing softly from his phone with coloring books stacked one side and colored pencils spread out on the other. He couldn't quite make out what was playing but he watched as Roman quietly mouthed along to the lyrics and snapped a rhythm with his other hand. He looked relaxed and happy, and the sight nearly made Logan tear up in the doorway. Instead he made his way to the side of the couch and cleared his throat to make his presence known, smiling more as Roman turned and flashed his own genuine one his way.

“Morning Pocket Protector. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I- I had my alarm set for 8:30. I thought everyone was still asleep; are you alright?”

Roman’s face softened somewhat as he nodded. “I’m fine Logan. Just got an early start this morning and wanted to relax.”

“Oh, well then by all means, don’t let me distract you.” Turning to go to the kitchen he stopped as Roman called for him.

“Hey wait! You don't have to leave nerd, I’d like the company if you wanna hang out.” He rummaged in his pile and grinned triumphantly as he found the one he was looking for, waving it for Logan to see. “I even have a coloring book for you if you want to join my creative hour!”

Anatomy by Color was shaken in front of his face, something Logan assumed had once been used as a studying tool by Roman before he had no longer needed it, having used that genre of coloring book himself in high school for Biology. Smiling he plucked it from Roman’s hands and turned on his heel, making a beeline for the kitchen before he could get distracted again. “Coffee first!” He offered over his shoulder as Roman laughed after him. Logan smiled wide as he heard the TV being switched on and moments later The Owl House theme being paused for him to come in when he was done. It had been a while since he had caught Roman enjoying a bit of free time and stimming along with music, and he was very glad for the tentative return to normal.

-----

Later that day Roman heard clanking in the kitchen, smiling with a wince as he stretched and stood up from his cramped position on the floor. Logan had left after a few hours of binging their newest show with him and coloring in an old study book he still kept in his collection. Sweeping his pencils back into their box and stacking the books neatly in a pile he waltzed his way into the kitchen with his headphones still playing his playlist on loop. Shoving his hands in his pocket as he leaned against the doorframe he watched as Patton bustled around the kitchen gathering ingredients since it was his turn to make dinner that day. He could see a pile of potatoes in the sink waiting to be washed and a deep dish pan filled with chicken yet to be seasoned. Patton wasn’t...the best cook in their small group but he did try his hardest. Very often he ended up burning whatever he tried to make either trying to make sure it was truly cooked or because he forgot it was in the oven and the smoke alarm letting them all know that dinner was definitely ready. As a result the meals were usually simpler ones that required him to simply put them in the oven for an allotted amount of time and tell at least one other person so that they could keep track of the time together.

Stepping into the kitchen, Roman unplugged his headphones and set his phone down on the table as Patton turned around, the other giggling as Roman caught his heads and set them twirling around the kitchen in an improvised dance that had them both tripping over each other and laughing like madmen until Roman stopped by the sink and bowed, rolling up his sleeves to wash the potatoes.

“What kind of seasoning are you trying today Padre?”

Shaking out the last of his giggles Patton grabbed up the seasoning containers he had been grabbing before Roman entered. “Just something simple since movie night is later! Little bit of garlic and onion, some salt and pepper, and curry.”

“Sounds delicious Patton. You're getting better at mixing flavors.” Roman meant that genuinely, they had all improved drastically with their cooking, but Patton was making better and better dishes all the time, even if he did still burn half of what he tried to make.

“Thank you!” Patton beamed at him as he started on measuring out the spices, leaving Roman to scrub at the potatoes and start cutting them up to roast, both of them moving and shimmying to their own beat as the music continued to play. Roman missed however the many careful looks Patton shot him as they worked, smiling softly after each one seeing how truly happy he really seemed to be.

-----

Virgil settled his chin atop his boyfriends fluffy head as they all got comfortable for movie night, bowls of customized, microwave popcorn in front of each of them with a shared bowl for Roman and Virgil nestled in the formers lap since they had the same taste. He squeezed around Roman’s middle gently causing him to squirm back into him and huff out a quiet laugh as the movie started. The opening notes of Cinderella started playing, an old favorite of all of them that they had voted on earlier and he could feel any lingering tension in the room leave as they all seemed to sigh contently at the same time. Roman was warm and relaxed in his arms and Virgil knew the soft smile that had been present on his lips all day would be there still even if he couldn’t see it.

He reached for some popcorn at the same time as Roman but when he tried to pull away his hand was caught and brought up for a chaste kiss by the cheeky flirt in his arms, making his laugh softly and smack at his face before grabbing a big handful and shoving it in his mouth.

“You get popcorn crumbs in my hair and I will never forgive you.” Roman muttered quietly.

Grinning Virgil wiped his lips before leaning his head down and planting a lingering kiss on top of his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it my Prince.”

Knowing Roman’s face would be scarlet he grinned devilishly and settled careful hands on the others hips, massaging slowly as they continued watching the movie, Logan and Patton politely pretending they didn’t hear anything over the film.

-----

“Roman?” Virgil carefully closed the door behind him, biting his lip as he quickly opened his phone and went to his speed dials. Roman turned slightly and smiled, not at all easing the anxiety spiking in his chest as he watched Him shift slightly in his cross legged position on the wide roof railing.

“I’m okay, I’m just sitting.”

“Yeah?” Virgil licked his lips nervously, putting his phone in his pocket but keeping it on. He had no idea how much delicacy this situation would need but if Roman needed him, he would be here. He tried not to feel too hurt that he hadn’t come to him before deciding the top of their apartment building was the best place to sit.

“Yeah, here I’m sorry for making you nervous.” He breathed a grateful sigh of relief as Roman turned and slid off the short wall and made his way over to sit against the gate surrounding the satellite dish instead. Carefully walking over and sitting beside him, Virgil looked over to him attentively. He had seemed to be getting better, had been leaving his room and making things again, taking time to relax and slept on a more regular schedule. It didn’t take a monumental effort to get him to eat anymore and Virgil didn’t have to take junk food away from him at a two in the morning binge of hunger and try to convince him to eat just a small meal instead and to drink water. He had even been changing his clothes more regularly and the bags around his eyes were gone, stimming happily with music and smiling more.

All that said Virgil had read there was a possibility it would get worse before anything got better, and even scarier that things could seem better before they got worse. Major depressive episodes weren’t anything to take lightly, Virgil definitely knew that which was why he had been trying so hard to keep an eye on his partner even more than usual. Did he feel smothered? Did he feel too babied? Not taken care of enough? Should he check in with him more often or was he being pushy already?

“You think really loud.” Roman voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making him shake his head and reach for his hand, grateful when it was gripped tightly between them. “I really am okay now Virge, you don’t have to worry so much.”

“I do anyway, you know that. You’ve been really busy lately both with work and what you work on after and I just- I’m afraid you’re pushing yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why-” did you look like you were going to jump. The unspoken though made him tense and Roman squeezed his hand, offering him a small smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m just...a mess.” Roman laughed and looked away, making Virgil’s heart clench.

“You aren’t. Tell me what’s happening Ro.”

Roman breathed deeply and let it out in a whoosh of air. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately and it’s making me a little...scattered.”

Squeezing his hand again Virgil nodded. Thinking. He could handle thoughts. “Thinking about what?” He encouraged.

“Thinking that- things were a lot...easier when I was alone.” Roman pressed his lips together. “Before I met any of you, I could sit and wallow as much as I wanted. I could self-pity in peace without worrying anyone. It’s nice to have people that care about me and that I care about but now that I do- people would care if I left. I have people that would be disappointed and sad so I can’t- I can’t go. And sometimes that’s worse, for the most selfish reasons.”

“It isn’t selfish.” Virgil breathed out, earning a rueful smile.

“Not everyone would agree.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before Roman broke it again. “Before I met any of you I was very sad, all the time. There didn’t always have to be a reason sometimes I just...was. Nothing I did worked but I honestly didn’t try too hard. I didn’t feel like there was a need to. I just kind of existed. And I was always tired and sad and lonely, though I didn’t know I was the last one at the time. I isolated myself on purpose for whatever reason, it isn’t important now. I felt like I was nothing.”

He shifted closer to Virgil and Virgil detangled their fingers to wrap his arm around him instead, reaching across to hold his hand that way instead. Roman gratefully sank into the warmth before speaking up again.

“I’m not suicidal now, but I was then. I just turned numb to the idea I suppose. Almost like a ‘Well I’m not doing anything else’ sort of thing.” He let out a joyless laugh. “And then I got inspired again. I still wanted to die, that just got pushed to the background in favor of doing other things. I told myself I would still do it, I just had to finish some things first. But I never finished them.”

He shifted again to look up at Virgil. “I kept feeling guilty for leaving half finished projects so I told myself I had to finish those first. And then I met you, and Patton and Logan and I knew I couldn’t leave. I missed my chance, because I knew you all would be devastated. As much as I didn’t care about myself you three did ten times as hard for me. I got really sad again that I hadn’t been able to go through with it in time. And as happy as I am now, I’m frustrated because I thought I would be dead by now so I didn’t think there was any point in working on so many things I had ideas for, and now that I know I’m staying here there’s so many things I want to finish and start and it’s so much. I could have done so many things before this but I feel like I’m just getting started. It’s...overwhelming.”

Virgil sat in thought for a moment before speaking. “There’s nothing wrong with just getting started, especially if that means you're focused on those creative things that make you happy instead of the thoughts of wanting to end your life. As frustrating as you feel like it is, and as behind as you think you are, you don’t have a time limit anymore. You can do anything and everything you want, and take it one step at a time because you know you’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Leaning down Virgil planted a soft kiss on Roman’s forehead. “I’m really proud of you that you were able to find something to keep you here, and I couldn’t be happier that Logan, Patton and I can care for you.”

Roman hummed and turned his face into the hoodie covered chest, scrunching his face as the rough stitching scratch at it. “I’m happy I’m here too, especially with the three of you.”

Resting his cheek on Roman’s head, Virgil squeezed tightly around the others shoulders in an awkward half hug. They’d definitely have to talk about this tomorrow, preferably with their other roommates so they all knew how to move forward with Roman’s mental state, but for now it was enough to simply hold him close. And be.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 21: Prinxiety (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Combine two soulmate prompts. (This will make sense soon, I promise.)

It’s the sequel you’ve all been waiting for! This is the second part to day 16 (read that first!!!!!), and y’all finally get to see what happened to Virgil! Please heed the trigger warnings below.

TRIGGER/content WARNINGS!! Anxiety, food mention, crappy foster system/group homes, implied past abuse, religious guilt/negative view of religion, homophobia, conversion therapy/abuse, starvation, sneaking medication (antipsychotics/side effects), electrocution, seizure, ambulance. I’m sorry. 

Word count: 3.8k

Unlike most kids in the foster system, Virgil didn’t know his birthday. He knew it was sometime in December, but that didn’t do much. Technically, birthdays weren’t really a huge thing anyways, not when the group home he rarely left was awfully underfunded, and a party came second to little things like working sinks and clothes without holes. Even still, all the other kids at least got a little cupcake and a half hearted birthday song on their special day, and his festivities were pushed onto Christmas. He didn’t get a weak excuse for a celebration, because the other kids ‘found it unfair’ that he got that and Christmas in the same month. To prevent an upheaval, the workers told him that he’d just have to be happy with what he got.

But it wasn’t fair, because some kids got Easter and a birthday, or Halloween and a birthday, or New Years and a birthday, and poor Virgil didn’t. The fact of the matter was, they plain didn’t like him. The other kids didn’t like that he got extra free time because of his anxiety, or was allowed to leave the table when they weren’t, and they especially didn’t like he was the youngest of the bunch. The youngest had the highest chance of getting adopted, it was just facts, so they had seemingly decided that if his stay here would be the shortest, it would be the most tortured. 

It wasn’t the shortest stay, though. With his barrage of anxiety related issues and group-home-toughened demeanor, no foster home wanted to deal with him. He was snarky, ran away, regularly got in fights with the biological children of the parents, and was promptly labeled a problem child. Eventually, it was deemed easier for him to just stay in a group home until he outgrew the system, since he seemed set to escape every other place. Virgil tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did; it was his fault, after all. As he watched all his older tormentors grow out of a crooked system, he resigned himself to the same fate. After all, he was almost sixteen now, and he knew his chances were out. So he stayed stuck in his group home, lashing out at his caretakers and therapists, refusing to eat unless it was alone in his room (technically, three kids slept in there, but he so rarely left it, and they wanted to avoid him, it was unofficially deemed his room), and listening to music on his phone.

He’d been given the phone on his fifteenth birthday, a gift from one of his caretakers. It was the cheapest piece of crap he’d ever seen, glitched out every other minute and needed to be charged at least three times a day, but it was a phone nonetheless. Granted, he had no one to text. But he had access to a computer, a totally one hundred percent legal music downloading website, and a strong sense of determination, so he’d soon filled the phone’s entire measly storage with all the music he could cram on the thing. 

That’s what he was doing on the night of December 18th, listening to his “Emo Playlist” on a pair of $4 Dollar Store earbuds, laying on his bed and finding shapes in his popcorn ceiling as the moon shone through the window. In the bunk beds across the room from him, his two other roommates were fast asleep, but he couldn’t follow suit. It was sadly normal for Virgil to have sleepless nights where no matter what, his anxious brain just wouldn’t shut off, and it just felt like one of those nights. His hands shook and his eyelids flinched every few seconds for no reason, so he turned the music just a little bit louder and tried to calm his breathing. 

It was just past 1 am when his life changed forever. 

He was on the fourth cycle of his playlist, eyes no more heavy than hours before and just as flinchy. It was just entering the “existential crisis” time of the night where he started questioning reality, and he was about to give in and start letting his mind drift to darker places, when a song distinctly not his began to play in the midst of a song switch.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don’t know you yet.

He froze, eyes suddenly wide open, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears. The song continued; not in his headphones, but in his head. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that it was his soulmate, responding, and as an afterthought, Virgil suddenly identified that today was probably his birthday. Both amazing revelations, but one was slightly more time sensitive. 

Desperately scrolling through his playlists as the song stopped after the chorus, he tried to find a song that would be an adequate introduction to this new person. When his eyes landed on a song from his Adele phase (he didn’t talk about that time) that he hadn’t had the energy to delete yet, he simultaneously groaned and grinned. Subtly meme-y, heartfelt like the song his soulmate had played, a decent greeting. He tapped play. 

Hello,

It’s me.

He hoped his soulmate had the same sense of humor of him and had actually given a laugh, since he was trying to stifle laughter behind his sleeve to avoid waking the sleeping kids. He paused after the first verse, since he didn’t really want to remember that phase of his life more than he had to, and waited for the other to play the next song. Hopefully they could work out some sort of rhythm, play songs back and forth. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

(The next song his soulmate played was an almost atrocious obviously-musical-theatre song that almost made Virgil hit his head against the wall, so he retaliated with a favorite of his, the most ear assaulting screamo he could find on his playlist.)

The clock had just passed four in the morning when there was a small pause in the routine, before his soulmate played a children’s lullaby. It definitely wasn’t something you’d listen to in everyday life, so Virgil could only assume it was the other’s way of indicating that they had to sleep. As if I’m going to let you go that easily, Virgil smirked, opening YouTube and begging that the video he’d chosen would play without an ad.

It did, filling his crackling, cheap earbuds with the opening chorus of Baby Shark. Fight fire with fire, he decided, chuckling to himself as he turned off the song just before the ‘mommy shark’ verse. Silence filled his head and he mentally wished the other a good night, turning onto his stomach and screaming into his pillow, grinning madly. 

Eight months later, their new way of life was deeply imbedded into him; getting woken up at asscrack o’clock in the morning by a worker who wanted to be there as much as he did, and either playing his morning playlist to get himself slightly more ready to face another monotonous day or waiting in silence until his soulmate woke up and played their own music. He’d begrudgingly started to even enjoy the showtunes. Everyone around the home had noticed his gradual shift in attitude, and he couldn’t help the natural smiles that pulled at his cheeks when a new song played out of nowhere. It got to the point where his therapist noticed his lifted mood, and the other kids stopped avoiding him and, unknown to Virgil, his social workers decided that he was ready to try another foster home. 

That’s why, eight months later, there was a knock on his bedroom door and his main worker poked in her head, asking him to come downstairs. He’d been playing music for his soulmate, so he silently apologized and joined her at the dining room table, giving her a half hearted smile. 

“Virgil, we’ve found a new home for you. A foster home that specializes in… harder to place cases. They’ve opened their doors to you, and we’re hoping to get you into a trial period there within the next week.”

At first, Virgil vehemently refused. No. He didn’t want to go back to foster homes, not after… everything he went to in the first few. The ones that hurt him, the ones that were more densely crowded than group homes, the ones that turned him into the angry shell he was before he had met a sign of a possibly happy future. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made. 

But Bev looked so hopeful, so pleadingly at him, that he gave in after three days of denying. He said goodbye to the kids he’d unfortunately grown attached to, threw his few belongings into a black garbage bag, and got into his worker’s car for the first time in years. Just rebuckling that seatbelt caused a shudder to run up his spine. 

------1 month later------

“Virgil, what are you doing? Do you have earbuds in? We’ve made it abundantly clear that you are not to have technology at the table.”

Virgil fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes, flicking his hair behind his ears to show they were empty. It had gotten long and shaggy, just reaching his jaw in the back. “No earbuds. My soulmate’s listening to music, and it’s catchy.” Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t been caught bopping along to silence before by the stiflers. 

They were nice enough, a woman and a man and their two biological children, but they were too religious for Virgil’s liking. He’d never had qualms with religion before, but he had grown tired of spending Saturdays and Sundays (his only days off from their homeschool regime) in a church, surrounded by older people singing repetitive songs and being yelled at by a guy on the pulpit. Faking being sick only worked so many times before they refused to listen to his excuses. They also insisted he go to a specialized youth group on Tuesdays, but that was easy enough to escape. He just waved by and booked it to the closest 7/11 when they left, making sure he was back at the church by the time it was over and made up some bullshit about the gathering. Jameson, the attendant at the gas station, was becoming the closest friend he’d ever had. 

“Your soulmate?” One of the children asked around a bite of toast, spitting a decent amount onto Virgil’s sleeve. 

“Like daddy and I, Mariam.” The woman explained briefly, not bothering to chastise her about speaking with her mouth full. 

“Yeah.” Unlike most of the kids at his old group home, he wasn’t warming up to theirs. They were too spoiled, too bratty. One had even bit him in his first week here and he was still bitter about it. 

“When did you connect with yours, Virgil?” The question wasn’t asked kindly, more for the sake of being polite, and he assumed if he didn’t answer in an equally polite tone, they’d probably make him paint a fence or something. 

He knew they cared about his bond about as much as he did about theirs. Which was approximately none. The mom took her children’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, Virgil quickly following suit. No use losing more computer time because he didn’t clean his plate.  

“Last December. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, and they started playing music out of nowhere. It was pretty cool.” He finished rinsing off his plate and was confused at the sudden stillness in the room.

“‘They’?” The mom asked, giving her husband what she must have believed to be a subtle glance.

“Uhm… yeah?” Virgil said slowly, “I’m bisexual. So I’m not sure if my partner’s a guy or a girl or… something in between. So… they?” 

He stared with rising anxiety as the two parents had a silent interaction over the kitchen island, before the dad stood up. “Kids, plates in the sink and then go get ready for church. Virgil, you too.”

There was minimal whining as the younger ones did as they were asked, racing each other up the stairs. Virgil followed, slower, listening to hushed beginnings of a conversation, unable to fight the feeling that he’d just royally fucked up. 

------------------------

“Virgil, may we speak with you for a moment?”

He froze, slowly turning from where he’d been half way up the stairs. They’d just wrapped up lessons for the day (Virgil never thought he’d miss an actual school building before, but alas) and the kids had been excused, leaving just him and the parents behind. It had been almost a week since the incident, and a part of him had been hoping they’d just drop it. There wasn’t much they could do, anyways; if their religion conflicted so badly with his sexuality, the worst they would do is send him back to the home anyways. In all honesty, he kind of hoped they would. He was sick of being here, and it was better for his record if he didn’t run. 

Not that it mattered much anymore. He was almost aged out of the system anyways. 

He took a cautious seat back at the dining room table, which they had just cleared from classes. The mom sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully, as the dad began to speak.

“We spoke with our pastor the other day, and we think it would be best if we put you in therapy.”

“I don’t…” He’d stopped regular therapy at the group home almost a month before coming here, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d need to go back. He definitely wasn’t happy here, but he didn’t figure a grumpy mood was enough to warrant counseling. “I don’t understand.”

“After… what you told us? About your… urges-”

“Urges.” He couldn’t help his own disgusted tone. Of course they were homophobic.

“Yes. Our pastor suggested we try conversion therapy.”

Virgil scoffed, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding, “Right. As if you could ever get my social workers to approve that. Ward of the state, remember?” He tapped his chest a couple times.

“Fortunately, we already talked to your social worker, Virgil. We had it approved just this morning.” The man finally stopped, as if waiting for a response.

Virgil’s eyes grew wide as he looked frantically between the two of them, the woman quickly avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t normal. 

“There’s no way in hell that you-”

“Profanity, Virgil!” The man barked and Virgil shrank back in his chair, impulsively ducking to avoid a fist that didn’t come. They hadn’t hit him so far, but old habits die hard. “We’ve already signed you up. Your first session is tomorrow. First thing’s first-” He stood up, reaching a hand out to a still-shaking Virgil, “Hand over your phone.”

-------------------------

His hair was short now. Shorter than he could ever remember it being. He missed his bangs, he missed the tiny boosts of confidence it gave him when the rest of his appearance disgusted him. Now there was nothing for his hands to run through. There was no style to it, just an electric razor in the hands of his silent foster mother. He should have fought it, he really should have, but he was shaking far too much to try to move.

He didn’t like hands so near his throat. 

------------------------

Surely, his social worker didn’t approve of this. The only explanation Virgil could possibly rationalize was they’d lied about the purpose of the therapy, or the method, or something. But any type of change in a foster kid's life had to go through about a million different levels to get approved, so how the hell were they getting away with this?

It wasn’t too bad. A lot of it was using religious guilt, something Virgil did not have much of, saying he was immoral and inhumane. The rest of it was just his new therapist trying to dig into his supposed ‘trauma’ that made him ‘this way’, as if there was something that caused it. They talked a lot about his old foster homes, and his therapist seemed positive something there had to be the root to everything. It made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that they still hadn’t given his phone back, and they confined him to his room when he wasn’t doing school work at the kitchen table. He could hear the way his soulmate was losing morale, the longer he didn’t respond. The songs were darker, and were few and far between. They still refused to play songs on what he’d called ‘his days’.

--------------------

His ‘therapy’ had ended hours ago, and yet he couldn’t stop twitching. Every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, it was like the electrodes were attached to him again. The images they’d shown him flashed before his eyes, of men kissing, holding hands, and were quickly followed by the sharp sting of electric shocks. He couldn’t close his eyes without flinching violently, no music to calm his nerves.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

----------------------

He held to the music like an anchor, soaking in every rare song his soulmate played like a sponge. It was his only relief from the hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t been allowed to eat at all in the day leading up to another therapy session. Apparently they wanted to put him on some kind of medication, try to increase the intensity of his sessions. It was getting to the point where Virgil was tempted to pretend it was working just to make them stop. 

He missed his soulmate. 

----------------------

No. He’d said no to the drugs. They wanted to put him on anti-psychotics, claiming he was severely mentally ill, and he’d downright refused. There was no way in hell he was going on anti-psychotics. Finally, after days of their demanding being met with stubbornness, they’d given in. 

That had been a month ago. Maybe. Time had gotten kind of funny, like in that limbo between Christmas and New Years, or in the depths of summer break. It had been a while, for sure. They still fed him so rarely a growling stomach was more common than a full one, claiming it was part of his new therapy. He couldn’t help wonder why he was gaining weight, though. He’d been underweight for a majority of his life, thanks to a constantly overworking metabolism and genetics, along with the nasty food they served at group homes that he gladly avoided, but he was starting to fill out slightly. His ribs were barely showing. 

That would be a symptom of being on antipsychotics, he knew from previous research. But he wasn’t on them, so why…?

He took another sip of his apple juice his foster mom had brought him, trying to focus on his homework. Had apple juice always tasted that bitter?

-----------------------

They’d gone too far this time, Virgil knew that much. Curse his stubbornness, his inability to just lie and go along with it. He could have just claimed the conversion therapy was working, ‘oh golly, I’m healed!’, and go on with his life, finally talk to his fucking social worker, but no. He wasn’t capable of that. 

They’d shown him more pictures, shocking him more frequently, refusing to stop the session even as tears streamed down his face. It just hurt so bad. Then he remembered a shout (maybe his own?), blinding pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in his foster dad’s car. He said he’d had a seizure, but he was okay now, so they were heading home. A cup of water was forced down his throat and he was laid down in bed, commanded to rest. He was so confused, but also so tired, so he let his eyes drift shut. 

Just before he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he heard a soft melody drift through his mind as his soulmate played another song. It had been so long since the last time he’d heard them play music… despite his exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

--------------------

The days had been a bit of a blur since his seizure. It was probably because his brain had done the human equivalent to ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’, but even that was hazy in his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, to rest, to not have to do the school work that they were still shoving down his throat. From where he was laying motionless in his bed, he watched the slowly setting sun dip below the horizon. 

There was a knock at the door downstairs. Virgil flinched from the noise, triggering a series of twitches down his spine and into his limbs. People were talking downstairs. He could distinctly hear the voice of his foster parents, but the others were unfamiliar. They were getting louder, near shouting, and there were pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs and down his hallway. 

He couldn’t even find the energy to be scared as his door was thrown open and a man’s voice shouted, “He’s in here!”. A flurry of people stormed into the room, the ones in the lead dressed in blue. 

Clambering, people shifting to make space, a woman holding his hand. She was asking him questions as they loaded him into a stretcher and he tried his best to answer, but he was just so tired. His name was said multiple times, as well as the names of his foster parents, but it was hazy, so hazy… 

“We were just trying to help, I didn’t want this to happen, I don’t-”

“Quiet, woman!”

She raised her voice but it was growing farther away. Virgil realized with a start that he was looking at the sky, bumping along on the gravel path, the bright lights of an ambulance flashing across his vision. 

The husband shouted again, trying to silence his wife. That was the last thing Virgil heard as the doors slammed shut, and he finally allowed his eyes to close. 

Part 3 HERE

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[likethesword]

I saw your writing thing you're doing and I just had to follow you for it, but then i decided I wanted to come up with an idea for you and idk if you've done anything like this or similar but i was thinking maybe a prinxiety fic with the word "sugar" or "honey"? just a thought .

Hi anon! Thank you so much for following! Sorry this sat in my inbox for a bit, I had no idea what to write with it lol. But I think I’ve come up with something that you’ll enjoy!

Sugar and Sweat

Pairing: prinxiety, very background logicality

Words: 3045

Warnings: alcohol (no one gets full drunk, just a little tipsy), kissing, a bit suggestive I guess? (roman thinks virgil is really hot (he’s right)). Let me know if i missed one!

  It was a bright Saturday afternoon when Roman’s world shifted. 

 He was walking out of his favorite coffee shop, a locally owned place called Remy’s Roast, tea in hand. It was a new flavor today, and he was excited to try it. He opened the glass door and bumped right into someone. They had been walking with headphones on and looking at their phone, so they hadn’t seen him coming. They took a few startled steps back on impact and watched in horror as Roman’s tea dropped from his hand and spilled all over the floor. 

 Roman swore quietly as the hot drink splashed onto his shoes, but he was more annoyed than anything. He’d definitely be late to the theatre at this point.

    The stranger gasped in horror at what they’d done and reached toward Roman as though they were trying to protect him from something. “I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy, oh my God. Are you alright?” They asked, the look in their eyes nearing panic. 

  Roman sighed in annoyance. “I’m fine,” he said, reaching toward a stack of paper napkins on the counter to dry his shoes. “Not burned or anything.” 

 “I’m seriously so sorry. Could I buy you a replacement drink to make up for it?” 

 Roman stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall. He was already going to be horribly late considering the traffic, but as he looked at the stranger in front of him, he figured that the cast could live one day without him. 

  “Alright, that would be nice.” He said, giving them a smile that he hoped didn’t seem too forced.

  Thankfully though, the stranger smiled in return as they held their hand out for Roman to shake. “Awesome…” they trailed off as they came to the realization that Roman hadn’t given his name yet. “Sorry,” they chuckled to themselves. “I don’t think I caught your name.” 

 “I didn’t throw it,” Roman remarked, and nearly laughed out loud as the stranger seemed to struggle between being offended and being intrigued. “Sorry, I can never resist a Heathers reference,” he said, shaking their hand. “I’m Roman, he/him pronouns.”  

“Virgil, he/him.” He said, visibly relaxing. After standing and holding Roman’s hand under the pretense of a handshake for maybe a bit too long, Virgil shook himself and started to head further into the cafe. As they stood in line to order, Roman struck up a conversation about the pins he had noticed on his backpack. He especially made sure to call out the Nightmare Before Christmas he had noticed, commenting that it was one of his favorite stop-motion movies of all time.  

This, apparently, was the right thing to say, because Virgil’s eyes lit up as he rambled about the movie. He flapped his hands in excitement a few times, but stopped as soon as he caught himself. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I do that when I get excited sometimes.” 

 “Oh, don’t apologize!” Roman said quickly. “I do it too. Usually I have some kind of stim toy with me that I can use so I don’t hit anyone in the face. Seriously, you hit an old lady once and you’re never allowed to live it down.” He rolled his eyes for extra effect.

   Virgil snorted, pulling his hands out and touching each fingertip to his thumb again and again. “Wow, didn’t think I was talking to an old lady hitter,” he snarked, making Roman press a hand to his chest in mock offense. 

 “Wow, I didn’t know I was talking to someone who has no empathy for past mistakes!” He shot back, making Virgil cackle. He grinned at the sound, and strangely, felt his face warm slightly. That was a bit strange. He didn’t feel particularly hot at the moment. He shook it off when they finally reached the front of the line and Virgil asked him what he wanted.

   “A peppermint tea,” he said with a smile. Virgil considered him for a second, then gave his order.  

 “Peppermint tea with two spoonfuls with sugar,” he said, taking Roman slightly off guard. He wouldn’t have pegged this short emo as a tea person, let alone with sugar. They sat at a table as they waited for the drinks.

  “I wouldn’t have labeled you as a tea person,” he remarked after they were settled.  

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side slightly. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

 “No offense, Hot Topic, but I’d assume you’re more a coffee person. Gotta have the bitter drink to match the bitter personality, after all.” He chuckled, resting his elbows on the table and propping his chin in his hands.

  “Oh, no way,” Virgil wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I don’t need that much caffeine in my system. I’m already gay and anxious, I don’t need to walk any faster.” He laughed, seemingly ignoring the fact that he had just come out to a complete stranger.

   Roman allowed himself to laugh casually, trying desperately to ignore the voice that was cheering in his mind. He’s gay, he’s gay, he’s gay!!! It chirped, to his annoyance. “Trust me, I know. As a pan person, I’d just kinda… hover over the sidewalk.”

  Virgil snorted, and the voice inside Roman’s mind squealed at the top of its metaphorical lungs. It was that kind of day, apparently. 

  He also didn’t miss the way Virgil’s cheeks flushed and his eyes trailed over him.

  Luckily, he was saved from any more embarrassing thoughts by the barista calling their order.   

They sat and sipped their drinks in mostly silence, occasionally breaking it to ask a question or quote a meme. It felt as though they had known each other a lot longer than an hour. Eventually, Roman’s roommate called asking him to bring home ingredients for dinner, and Virgil had to get home to work.

  They walked out the door together, but Roman stopped him outside under the large blue awning of the cafe.

  “I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed talking to you today, Virgil,” Roman started, fidgeting with his hands. “And, if you’ll let me, maybe next time you’ll let me take you out on a real date? Something casual like bowling, I don’t know.” 

 Virgil snorted, trying to hide his smile behind his hand. “Really? Your first thought for a casual date is bowling?”

  “I’m kind of thinking on the fly here!” Roman defended himself, smacking Virgil’s arm playfully, which only made him laugh harder. Roman allowed himself to smile too, though it was more like a sappy grin. When he finally stopped laughing so hard, Virgil reached out and grabbed one of his restless hands. 

 “Yeah, that sounds good, Princey. Hopefully next time I won’t spill your tea as an opener.” 

 Roman snickered, feeling butterflies in his stomach. “Oh!” He exclaimed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening it up. “Could I have your number?” 

 Virgil noticeably blushed as he took the phone. “Yeah,” he said shyly. The moment he was done, he shoved the phone back at Roman, still blushing. “I’ve gotta run, sorry. Text me?”

  “Definitely.”

  They shared one last smile before Virgil turned and walked away down the sidewalk. Roman glanced down at his phone and caught sight at the name Virgil had entered. He had typed the letter V, followed by a stormcloud, a tea cup, and a purple heart. And damn if Roman’s heart didn’t nearly burst out of his chest over it.

~~~~~ 

 About a week later, Roman was stressed out of his mind. He had his first date with Virgil tonight, and despite being a self proclaimed romance expert, he couldn’t find a single thing to wear. In an act of desperation, he called Logan. 

 He poked his head in the doorway of the room, looking bored. “What do you need?” 

 “How did you get Patton to fall in love with you?” He blurted out, in the middle of tossing yet another shirt to the ground in frustration. Logan blinked and straightened his glasses, then walked in to sit on Roman’s bed.

  “Communication, I suppose. What brought this to mind?” 

 Roman shrugged, trying a different shirt and sighing in frustration. The pieces in Logan’s mind clicked together, and he let out a soft “ah.” 

 “This is about your date, isn’t it?”

  Roman sputtered indignantly, which was all the answer Logan needed. “It’ll be fine, Roman. This is only the first date, after all. It’s not as though you need to be worrying about falling in love right now.”

  Roman was silent for a few moments, then spoke in a small voice. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

  “He does, we both know this. He wouldn’t have agreed to go out with you otherwise,” He stood and went over to him, gently resting his chin on his friend’s shoulder. “Even if you decide that you are better off as friends, it’s not the end of the world. You’ve had breakups before, and you’ve made it through to the other side. And while I do not think it’s likely, if Virgil says that he feels nothing for you at all, you will always have me. And Patton, and Janus, and Remus.”

  Roman nodded, though he still looked nervous. “You’re right, as always. Thanks, Lo.”

  Logan smiled wryly and removed his chin, surveying the mess of clothes on the floor. “Any time. Now, let’s find you an outfit.” He searched through his closet and the items on the floor, knowing exactly what he was looking for. Once he had collected the entire outfit, he shoved it at Roman. “Put it on, and I’ll get my makeup out for you.”

  Roman’s spirit seemed to breathe a sigh of relief through the getting-ready process. He actually really liked the clothes that Logan had chosen, a pair of dark blue jeans with a white button-up. He tucked the front of the shirt into his jeans, leaving the rest undone, and nodded in approval. He grabbed his jean jacket off the back of a chair for a finishing touch, and headed out to the living room for Logan to do his thing.

  He and Logan sat in the living room chatting as Logan added makeup to his face. Not much; some contour here, a little blush there, maybe a touch of highlight over there. When he was finished, you could barely tell that he was wearing any, but there was a different look to Roman’s features. Logan had found the perfect balance between sharp and round, drawing attention to his angular jaw and the slope of his nose while still showing off the way his cheeks swelled when he smiled. 

  There was a sharp knock at the door, and Roman jumped. He looked over at Logan, who squeezed his hand reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. It’s just one date.” He reassured him, and Roman took a deep breath. He walked over and opened the door, opening his mouth to deliver some suave line, but it left his mind as soon as he took in the man standing on his doorstep.

   Virgil had chosen to wear a black miniskirt, the hem only coming down to his mid-thigh. He had a thick black belt with small silver chains dangling from it that jingled while he walked, and a dark purple top under a black hoodie. He scuffed the toe of his combat boots against the floor, looking up at Roman and smiling as he tried to process the sight in front of him.

  “You good there, Princey?”   Roman, who was still speechless, settled for just nodding. Logan came up behind him and reached out his hand for him to shake. “Good evening, you must be Virgil. I’m Roman’s roommate, Logan. I like your eyeliner.”

  Virgil smiled again, though this one seemed much less teasing. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me the shovel-talk?”

  “Oh, no. Roman is more than capable of defending himself, I’m not worried.” 

 “Got it. You ready to go, Ro?” He asked, looking at Roman again, who seemed to have regained some of his brain function.

  “Yeah. See ya later, Lo,” He patted his pockets, looking around in confusion. “Where are my-” Logan interrupted by handing him his wallet, phone, and keys. “What would I do without you?”

  “Starve, get locked out of the apartment, and just generally be miserable.” Logan said plainly, though there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

  “You’re damn right. I’ll be back later.” He said, walking out the door to join Virgil. 

 “Stay safe kids.” Logan teased, swinging the door shut in their faces. 

 “He seems like a charmer,” Virgil remarked sarcastically, bumping his shoulder against Roman’s on their way to the elevator down to the ground level of the apartment building. 

 “Oh he is. He and his boyfriend, Patton, are tooth-rottingly sweet. Much like you like your tea, if I remember correctly.” 

  “Hey, not my fault I like to enjoy my drinks instead of having bitter disappointment,” Virgil said, giving him a glare that had no heat behind it. 

 They got into Virgil’s car, still bantering back and forth. Roman almost forgot that he had no idea where they were going, which would have usually freaked him out. They did eventually pull up to a bar, but from the outside it didn’t look like it. It didn’t have any big flashy lights or a line out the door, it was just a short brick building with warm yellow lights that shone through the windows out into the street. 

 They parked and walked toward the bar, Roman huddling maybe a little closer to Virgil’s side than strictly necessary. His anxieties were soothed a bit as they made it through the door with no issues. Virgil pointed him toward a seating area near a small stage that Roman assumed was for live music, though tonight there was no one on the stage. 

  They ordered their drinks, Roman’s a whiskey, and Virgil’s something off the menu that had five different liquors in it and looked entirely too sweet to be palatable. Roman gave him a strange look when the bartender said their charge was on the house. Virgil, however, just smiled knowingly at him.

  The two sat and sipped at their drinks, just talking like they had in the cafe. As the alcohol warmed his stomach, Roman felt himself loosening up. He wasn’t so tense anymore, letting himself laugh louder at Virgil’s jokes, even leaning into his side a bit. 

  Though the glow was shattered when the bartender came over, telling Virgil that they were ready for him. Virgil just nodded and pulled away from Roman, asking him to wait. Though he was confused, Roman did. He stayed in the same seat, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. When Virgil was gone for five minutes and there was no sign of him coming back soon, he started getting anxious again. Then, gradually, the house lights dimmed and the lights came up on the stage.

~~~~~ 

 Roman had no idea he had a thing for musicians. 

 But now, seeing Virgil sitting on that stage, legs crossed as to not let anyone see past his skirt, a guitar in his arms and a microphone positioned at his mouth, Roman thought he had never seen a more attractive person. 

 But then Virgil started strumming, and his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, and music poured out of him like a waterfall, so full of emotion and personality that it stole the air from Roman’s lungs.

  Then he smirked over at him like he knew exactly what he was doing, and Roman had to use every ounce of his self control not to storm the stage and kiss him until he forgot the lyrics of the song. 

 He played a few songs, each one seeming more amazing than the last. Roman allowed himself to drown in his voice, treating each word like its own being, holding on to it for just long enough before dropping it and holding the next one. It was incredible, and Roman almost forgot that he was on a date, not in his room listening to an album on Spotify.

  Then, as his last song for the night, Virgil spoke. “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” He said, grinning directly at Roman, who groaned playfully. It was still incredible, of course, but Roman couldn’t believe that he had chosen the most cliche song ever to close with.

  He let the last notes ring out in the bar, then the lights went out, leaving the audience in darkness. When they came back on, he was gone from the stage. Roman was on his feet in an instant, asking the bartender where backstage was. He was pointed in the right direction, and he had to fight not to run. He came around a corner and caught sight of a short dark-haired guy putting a guitar away. “Virgil!” He called out, as loud as he dared. Virgil lifted his head, looking up in confusion. Roman rushed the rest of the way to him, cupped his face in his hands, and pressed his lips against his.

  His only thought was that Virgil tasted like sweat and sugar.

  Recovering from being caught off guard, Virgil’s eyes fluttered shut and he grabbed Roman’s hips, pulling him closer. Roman’s hands slipped from his cheeks into his hair and Virgil let out a pleased groan.

   When Roman pulled back, Virgil tried to chase his lips, but Roman put a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first.” He said breathlessly.

  Virgil shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m not complaining.” His voice was slightly hoarse from singing, and he was breathing heavily. 

 “You didn’t tell me you could sing!” Roman said accusingly, giving him a half-hearted glare, earning him a hearty laugh.

  “Did you enjoy your surprise?” Virgil asked teasingly. 

 “Oh, very much so.” Roman responded, voice low and smooth, sending a shiver up Virgil’s spine.

   “Then I think it was worth it.” Virgil murmured, then kissed him again.

  Roman felt that he could spend the rest of his life tasting nothing but sweat and sugar, and he’d be perfectly fine with that.

General:

@definitely-a-living-human

@my-friends-art-and-writing

@arodynamic-enby

@ari-the-writer-enby

@me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink

@irritating-lady-knight

@asexualtrashcan

@the17thmeatball

@inku-snas-art

@fandoms-are-my-one-true-love

Prinxiety:

@queen-of-tragedy-and-strife

@humanbeingiguess

[vindicatedvirgil]

lemon boy & i, we're gonna live forever

Summary: Patton’s new neighbor takes some coaxing, but eventually they become closer than anyone could have hoped.

Inspired by the song “Lemon Boy” by Cavetown.

This is a birthday gift for Abby @doublejoywilson! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOCEIT OVERLORD!!! LOVE YA BUNCHES

Word Count: 2058

Ship: Romantic Moceit (Patton x Janus); background married Prinxiety (Roman x Virgil); familial (sibling) Moxiety

Warnings: food mention

---

Patton was sweet, like the heavily-sugared teas that he would drink under one of the lemon trees in his backyard. He made it a point to be kind to each person he met, even if they did not provide equal cordiality. So, when he heard of a new neighbor moving in, he made it a point to go and meet the man.

Patton knocked on the door, balancing the plate with lemon bars in his spare hand, a smile on his face. After a few moments, the door opened slightly, and all Patton could see was half of his new neighbor’s face.

“Hey there, friend! I’m Patton, your next door neighbor, and I just wanted to welcome you in and give you some of my famous homemade lemon bars!” Patton said cheerily, holding the plate out. The man on the other side of the door blinked at him, then hesitantly took the plate.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, setting the plate off to the side. “If that’s all—”

“Oh, alright. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come on over! I’m usually out back tending to my garden or my lemon trees, or inside working. Don’t be a stranger!” Patton made a move to turn around, but hesitated, then looked back. “Didn’t catch your name, friend.”

“Janus,” the voice responded before closing the door. Patton twisted his mouth, thinking, then shrugged and headed back home. 

Inside, Janus stared at the plate of lemon bars, this act of kindness new to him. He let himself smile faintly as he took the plate into the kitchen, picking one up and taking a bite. And he had never tasted anything so wonderful in his life.

-

Janus was startled to hear a knock at his door; he put the box he was carrying down and went to it, opening it slightly as to cover the scarred part of his face, to see Patton standing there, a plate of cookies in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey there, friend! I accidentally made a bunch of extra lemon shortbread cookies today and wondered if you wanted some?” Patton asked, tilting his head to the side as he smiled at Janus, whose mind raced to the lemon bars that he consumed within a day. Janus wondered how accidental the extra cookies were, but he had never tasted such delicious food, so he wasn’t going to complain.

“Sure, Patton… thank you,” he responded, taking the plate. “Um, I’d invite you in but… it’s kind of a mess with all of the boxes…” Patton nodded in understanding. 

“That’s alright, Janus. Hey, how did you like the lemon bars?” he asked, remembering the plate he had delivered just a few days prior. Janus blinked, then his face turned red.

“I… ate them all…” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. “I’ve never been a fan of lemons… but your baking is amazing.” Patton beamed, his positivity bleeding through the crack in the door, seeping to Janus.

“I’m so glad you liked them!” He said happily, nearly bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Please let me know if you ever want to learn how to bake them! Ooh, or you can come by for dinner this weekend and I’ll make you some more! And my grandmother’s lemonade, and a fresh salad with the greens from my garden—” Patton stopped himself, blushing frantically. “Sorry, I get rambly when food is involved.” Janus blinked, the first thought running through his mind being don’t stop, it’s adorable. He cleared his throat instead.

“That’s alright, Patton,” he replied, nodding. “A home cooked meal sounds nice, I’ve been ordering in all week.” Patton cheered quietly.

“Amazing! Saturday at 5, don’t be late!” With that, the cheerful man skipped down the steps and back to his house, and Janus found himself watching the man until he slipped back into his home. 

-

Patton leaned his elbow on the dining table, mind running with possible dishes to make for Janus. A snapping sound came from his left and he blinked to see Virgil, his younger brother, staring at him. “What’s up with you, Pat?” Roman, who had poured the trio some wine, sat down next to his husband. 

“Hmm? Oh… new neighbor is coming for dinner tomorrow, trying to figure out what to cook for him…” Patton responded, a faint smile on his lips. Roman and Virgil shared a knowing look, and the couple smirked at him.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Roman teased, and Patton flushed bright red, shaking his head. “Don’t deny it, padre. Haven’t seen that look on your face since—” Virgil plastered his hand over his husband’s face, giving him a stern look. Panic tore through Patton until he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe, Pat. This isn’t that situation, okay? You’re gonna be fine,” he said reassuringly, and Patton nodded, sighing. As he was about to respond, there was a knock at the door, and Patton blinked. 

“I got it, don’t worry,” Roman said, standing up and heading to the door. When he opened it, he found a scarred man blinking up at him, holding two empty plates. “How can I help you?”

“O-Oh… I’m sorry, I was looking for Patton, I didn’t know he was on a date, I’m sorry—” Janus tried to turn around but was only met with boasting laughter from Roman.

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious,” Roman was nearly bent over from laughing so hard. “My husband would kill me if I was on a date with his big brother.” Janus blanched, then turned red, looking down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—” he started, and Roman just gave him a charming smile. Janus took a steadying breath, then continued. “Um, I just wanted to return these plates to Patton, and to see if there was anything I could bring to dinner tomorrow…” 

“Janus!” Patton appeared behind Roman, Virgil on his tail. Janus smiled faintly at him, and Patton beamed. “Thank you for bringing the plates back, and no, you don’t need to bring anything tomorrow other than yourself!” Janus nodded, and Roman took the plates from him, watching as Janus looked from Patton to Virgil to Roman. “Oh! Janus, this is my brother Virgil and his husband Roman. Guys, this is Janus, my new neighbor!”

“He thought I was on a date with ya, Padre,” Roman teased, and Janus turned bright red again. Virgil crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on babe, you know I’ve only ever had eyes for you.”

“I know,” Virgil said flatly, a smirk tugging at his lips, then met eyes with Janus. “My big brother must really like you, he never puts in half the effort to plan our weekly dinners—” “Oooookay that’s enough outta you, kiddo,” Patton laughed weakly, trying to push Virgil and Roman back into the kitchen. “You two check on the dinner, okay?” He glared at them until they disappeared, then turned back to Janus, who was watching him carefully. “They’re a bit odd, but they’re family.” Janus nodded.

“It’s nice,” he said, and Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t really have any close family or friends,” he explained, and Patton frowned. Janus gestured to his scarred face, “that’s what happens when you look the way I do. No big deal.” 

“It is a big deal, Janus. I’m sorry that the people around you couldn’t look past appearances; I know we barely know anything about each other but you don’t deserve to be alone… no one does,” Patton said wholeheartedly, and Janus smiled faintly back. 

“Thanks, Patton… I’ll see you tomorrow,” and with that, Janus turned around and walked home, Patton watching the whole way.

-

Janus sat on a lounge chair in his backyard the following morning in just some swim trunks; absorbing the sunlight was good for him. As he laid there, he suddenly heard some singing come from next door; he listened a bit closer and realized that it was Patton, probably singing to his plants. Curiously, the scarred man stood up and approached the fence, peering over. Patton was in overalls and a blue collared shirt covered with paint stains, his hair pushed back with a fabric headband, and he was kneeling next to his vegetable garden, picking things and placing them in a basket. As he picked and tended to the plants, he sang about a lemon boy, about weeds, about living forever. When his voice faded out and he stood up to pick lemons from the trees, Janus finally spoke up.

“You have a beautiful voice, Patton,” he called, and Patton stumbled, dropping his basket of produce. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was sunbathing.” 

Patton approached the fence, then stood on a little bench to peer over at Janus. His face turned bright red when he realized that Janus was just wearing shorts. “It’s alright. Um, do you… sunbathe often?”

“At least once a week. It feels good on my skin,” Janus explained, rubbing his scarred arm with his other hand. Patton’s eyes trailed away from Janus’ scarred half, meeting his eyes. “You want to ask what happened, don’t you? Everybody does.”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking,” Patton said honestly. He brushed his dirt-covered hands onto his overalls. “I was thinking that I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.” Janus’ face and neck turned bright red and he stammered.

“I- well… thank you, Patton,” he stumbled over his words, unable to hide his smile. “I should head back inside to finish a little bit of work before tonight… see you later, Patton.” Before Patton could respond, the man had skittered back into his house, leaving Patton with a fluttering heart.

-

“Dinner was delicious, thank you,” Janus broke the silence that had settled over the pair during dinner. Before they ate, they made cordial conversation, dancing around what they both were thinking. Patton had asked what Janus did for a living, and learned that he wrote mystery novels. Likewise, Janus learned that Patton wrote recipes for an online blog.

The two moved to the couch in the living room, glasses of wine in hand. “Your house has a very distinct style, Patton,” Janus commented, and Patton laughed lightly,  nodding.

“My grandmother left me this house, and a lot of this furniture was hers. Vee didn’t want the house, it’s not exactly Ro’s style,” he explained. He watched Janus carefully, then set his wine glass down. “Virgil was right, you know. I don’t normally put in that much effort with meals, but for you, I wanted to make sure everything was perfect… I don’t know what it is, Janus… I just… feel something that I haven’t felt in a very long time.” Janus nodded, looking towards Patton. 

“You remind me of sweet tea,” Janus said plainly, and Patton tilted his head, a smile caught on his lips. “You’re kind, and honey-sweet… but you have to know that I’m a lemon, Patton. I’m bitter and leave a sour taste in people’s mouths.” Patton scooted closer to Janus, a hand resting on the man’s thigh.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Janus, but I love lemons. And any lemon-aid I can provide… even if it’s just someone to sit next to you… it would be the ‘zest’,” Patton smirked, and Janus shook his head, faint laughter bubbling up in his throat. “Other people suck, but not you.” 

“You make one more pun like that and I’m going to have to find a way to shut you up,” Janus teased, and Patton raised an eyebrow, tongue between his teeth. “I can see you trying to think of one.”

“I don’t know, I think I can squeeze one out—”

Janus’ hands flew to cup Patton’s chin, and their lips met desperately, Patton let out a faint gasp and gripped the front of Janus’ shirt. Eventually they pulled back, and Patton let his forehead rest against the other’s. 

“I think you’re very a-peel-ing, Janus,” Patton whispered, and Janus laughed again, letting his fingers move up to tangle in Patton’s curly hair.

“It’s a good thing I like puns, or I would not be sitting here with you listening to them,” he murmured, and Patton smiled. “You sure you like lemons?”

“As long as you like sweet tea.”

---

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[coconut-cluster]

do you have anymore prinxiety moments from the botb au?

okay okay so first of all im sorry because i know i have used the “someone flirts with roman and virgil is >:/” trope a lot but i thought of this scenario the other night and it cracked me up so im going to tell you it now. again i am sorry i am so predictable but if it helps this one has a slightly different plot

okay so, mock trial does a bake sale every year to raise money for transportation and such to competitions, right

Logan and Dee are both in mock trial, but Logan gets really uncomfortable sitting at a booth all day talking and selling things to people, so Patton volunteers to take his place and sell with Dee, which is all fine and dandy except that this year they had a prearranged outing with their parents (their parents are family friends so occasionally they do stuff together) on the second half of the Saturday they volunteered.

None of the other mock trial kids are available that day, so Patton and Dee are just like, okay well we have friends so we’ll just make them do it - so Patton begs Roman and Dee voluntells Virgil to do it, and they agree because they’re good friends and have nothing better to do so why not 

So anyway, Virgil and Roman are stuck at a bake sale together on a Saturday afternoon in the school courtyard (CCHS is like right in the middle of town so there’s quite a bit of foot traffic outside the school, even on weekends), which isn’t a huge deal or anything; at this point, they’re friends, and they’re actually having some fun making up dumb stories about the people passing by (and eating some of the cookies Patton made just for them as a thank you) 

Everything is swell; around 4:30, when Patton and Dee told them they could close up, they start packing up the desserts, right, and Virgil ducks under the table to sort through the little crates Patton left them and figure out how he wanted the leftover desserts organized. While he’s doing that, a group of couple people comes up to the table. 

Roman gives the boy at the front a smile, and from under the table, Virgil recognizes the boy’s voice as soon as he starts talking. He’d be able to tell that snobby sound anywhere.

“Hey there,” it says, and Virgil suppresses the urge to gag to himself. Luke Barclay (dumb name, Virgil thinks to himself, as he so usually does), of all people, had to come today. Gross. 

It takes a few seconds for Virgil to get past his disgust before he remember who Luke is talking to. 

“Hi!” Roman greets brightly, and Virgil can see Luke shift, leaning on the table and presumably looking over the desserts; either that, or he’s looking closer at Roman, and for some reason, even though that sounds funny to him at first, it makes Virgil grit his teeth.  

“I didn’t know people still did bake sales,” Luke says, his voice edging at a laugh; Virgil can just imagine that stupid smile. “I like it. Mock trial, huh?” Roman gives a placating laugh. 

“Not me - my friends are in it.” The tablecloth (and posterboard taped crudely to the front of the table) shifts as he straightens it, and Virgil, for some reason, shifts with it so he stays covered. Some reason. “I’m just filling in for them.”

“That’s sweet,” Luke smiles. “What kind of stuff do you like to do, then?” 

“Theatre, mostly, and cheer,” Roman says (Virgil can hear the excitement in his voice of getting to talk about it), then gives another small laugh. “I can’t really do any of this smartypants stuff.” 

Luke laughs, too, and Virgil suddenly wants to dig a whole into the concrete and bury himself in it. “Well, you’re already cute and funny, so I’d guess smart isn’t a stretch. But I think I’ll have to start going to games more often-” 

And that’s the point that Virgil decides, no, nope, not today. He’s out from under the table in a second, leaning his elbows on the tabletop and giving a tight smile to Luke, whose face drops to a frown when their eyes meet. 

“Hi, hey, do you think you could stop flirting while we’re trying to sell stuff?” Virgil asks with empty civility. 

Luke stares at him, disgust clear in his eyes. The group of kids behind him are a few feet back, twiddling their thumbs, like they wanted to give him space to flirt; Virgil makes a face at them. “Virgil, what a surprise to see you here,” Luke greets flatly. “I didn’t know you could go out in the sun.”

“Hmm, yeah, I didn’t know you set foot in this part of town. I distinctly remember you calling us poor just a few months ago; had a change of heart, I guess?”

Luke stiffens, his gaze flicking to Roman - he’s watching the exchange with a small frown, eyebrows knit - and back to Virgil, and he grits his teeth. “I don’t recall ever willingly talking to you, so I’m not sure when we would have had that conversation-” 

“You know, Luke,” Virgil interrupts as he straightens the remaining goodies on the table, deliberate and pointed, “we’re about to close up, so I think this is a great time to either buy something or get lost, yeah? And choose quickly, I have a band practice to get to.”

“I’d never have guessed you all practice.” Roman’s frown deepens. 

“Yeah, you guys should try it.” Virgil gives a bright wave to the group dawdling behind Luke, an equally bright smile pasted on his face. 

Luke looks ready to keep going, but after a second of huffing and a final quick glance at Roman, like he’s debating what he can get away with in front of him, he just glares at Virgil, turns around, and walks off. Not as climactic as Virgil expected, but he’s out their hair, so he’s not complaining. Jerk. 

He gets back to putting away the desserts, smiling to himself until Roman says, “Why did you do that?” 

Virgil looks up to find him still frowning. “What?”

“That,” Roman nods his head toward Luke and his group’s fading figures down the sidewalk, his face stern as he stares down at Virgil. “He probably would have bought something if you let me handle it.” 

“We don’t need his business, trust me,” Virgil reassures him. “He’s from that stupid private school up in the hills, and he has this god awful band that booked a bunch of our usual gigs last year ‘cause Remus made fun of them one time. He’s an asshole.”

“He was nice to me.” 

Virgil pauses stacking boxes to groan, rolling his eyes. “He likes to spout meaningless crap to schmooze people. I wanna rip my eardrums out every time I have to listen to it.”

Roman’s face flushes pink. “All he said was that I’m cute and funny.” 

“Yeah, he’s annoying. Oh, shit,” Virgil stops again with an epiphany. “Do you think he signed up for the battle?” 

Roman stares at him for a good minute, silent, before he sinks back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest and eyes trained straight ahead. “Dunno,” he mutters.  

Virgil shoots him a sideways glance that he doesn’t return. “His band isn’t great, from what I remember,” he continues anyway, giving an apathetic shrug as he stacks some plastic-wrapped brownies in a box. “I’m not worried, I just really hope we don’t have to deal with them at the battle, you know?”

Roman doesn’t answer. 

And then he doesn’t talk for the rest of the pack-up. 

And then, when Virgil returns from his car after putting away all the boxes and clears his throat to signal that they’re finished, Roman just grabs his jacket and mutters, “See you at practice,” and then he leaves, and that’s it. 

Virgil doesn’t get why the tone shifted so quickly, but he knows Roman is prone to dramatics, so he tells himself he doesn’t care. Roman’s right, anyway; they’ll see each other at practice, and he’s sure it’ll be okay by then. 

--

It is not okay by then.

Roman goes the whole practice without even looking at him, let alone talking to him, and Virgil feels a weird squirming feeling in his chest because of it, something pathetically miserable, something like... guilt, maybe, but he can’t figure it out. He can’t think of anything he’s done wrong, and at the same time, he feels ridiculous for being so desperate about getting Roman’s attention in the first place. If Roman doesn’t want to talk to him, that’s fine. It’s fine. 

Until practice ends without a single word or laugh or look from Roman, and it is very much not fine. 

Roman and Remus leave as usual, and Virgil is left just staring at Dee’s empty driveway while Dee packs up his bass and straightens a few things around the garage. 

“So what’d you do?” Dee says out of nowhere, without even looking up from the beanbag chair he’s pulling off a shelf. 

Virgil snaps to attention. “What?” 

“Roman seemed pissed, so what did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” He says it, but the fact that someone else could tell Roman was mad makes the squirm double down in Virgil’s chest. Dee collapses into the beanbag and raises a single eyebrow at him, unimpressed and disbelieving. Virgil fidgets with the flannel at his waist. “I don’t think I did anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Dee gives a heavy sigh, motioning for Virgil to come closer; Virgil grabs his drum set stool and sets it across from him. “What happened when you totally didn’t do anything wrong?” 

And despite the total lack of faith his friend obviously has, Virgil tells him about the bake sale, from the moment they arrived and joked around with each other to the moment Roman left with a curt farewell. For a while, Dee looks utterly uninterested, but he squints when Virgil gets to the part about Luke, and by the time he’s done, Dee’s pinching the bridge of his nose and forcing even breaths, his eyes squeezed shut.

“And now he hasn’t talked to me since then,” Virgil finishes, tugging so hard on his sweatshirt’s hood string that he nearly pulls it out. 

Dee gives another sigh, much, much heavier than the first one. “Let me get this straight,” he says carefully, and Virgil nods along. “Someone came up and gave Roman a very basic and kind compliment - flirting or not - yes? He called him funny and cute. And you, in turn, immediately told him that nothing that person says is of any value. Did I get that right?”

“I mean, yeah, basically.” 

Dee stares at him, unblinking. Virgil stares back with a frown for a second; he’s all ready to ask what exactly he’s missing - until it hits him like a train, and his face falls. 

“There it is,” Dee deadpans, leaning back in his chair as Virgil’s eyes go wide and he drops his face into his hands. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles into his palms. “I didn’t even think about it like that.”

“Obviously.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” 

“Virgil, I genuinely don’t see another way that could be interpreted.” 

Virgil groans into his hands, fighting the urge to slink to the floor and just lay there forever. Of course Roman didn’t want to talk to him; he’d paid more attention to being annoyed with Luke than thinking about what his complaints meant to Roman. He’d ignore him, too. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Spectacularly so, yes. You somehow managed to expertly insult Roman, who, might I remind you, has literally cried at compliments before, by implying he’s neither cute nor funny, when it could not be more plainly obvious that you in particular think he’s both.” 

“Well, wait-”

“Don’t bother,” Dee waves his protests away. “You looked like a kicked puppy throughout the entire practice. Anyway, excellent job with all that.”

“But what do I do about it?” Virgil cries, dropping his hands to fix Dee with an imploring look. “I don’t want him to think that’s what I meant!”

“You apologize, Virgil. You make it up to him. Get him a chocolate bar or whatever sweet thing he undoubtedly likes. It’s not rocket science.”

“...and that’ll work?”

Dee rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you’re oblivious- yes, Virgil, it will work.” He watches Virgil pulls at his flannel for a second, an eyebrow still raised. Finally, he gives one last sigh, leaning forward and getting Virgil’s attention to give him a reassuring look. “I promise it will work. You hear that? Promise. When have I ever broken a promise?”

Virgil manages a half-smile. “You promised me we’d win the science fair in eighth grade-”

“And we absolutely would have, if Logan and his ridiculously detail-oriented brain hadn’t been there,” Dee says with his nose in the air, but his voice is tinged with humor. “But regardless of deserved wins, I guarantee that an apology will more than suffice with Roman, alright?” Virgil nods, and Dee gives him a smile. “Now get out of my house.” 

--

The next day, Virgil gets to school early, waiting at the corner of the hallway Roman’s locker is in and tapping his foot like his life depends on it. 

He’d panicked on the drive there and stopped by the drugstore a block away from the school - Roman loved Reese’s cups, but they didn’t have any (who doesn’t carry Reese’s cups?), so he got a Snickers instead and hoped to god it wouldn’t ruin the apology - and now he was worrying that the chocolate melted, or maybe he dropped it somewhere on the way in and he’d look even stupider, or Roman just absolutely couldn’t stand Snickers, or a thousand other things that could make this go wrong (like what if getting chocolate was a stupid idea in the first place? Or maybe Roman will just ignore him from the get-go, and the whole thing will have been pointless). 

He also thinks that maybe he’s overthinking this. It doesn’t make him stop overthinking, but it’s probably good that he acknowledges it. Something like that. 

What does get him to stop overthinking, though, is the sight of Roman’s red and white sweater at the end of the hall. 

Virgil takes a deep breath - it doesn’t do much, but at least he’s breathing - and starts down the hallway, going a little slower than Roman to give him time to get to his locker first and put some stuff away, and also so Virgil has time before he has to start talking and facing the fact that he’s a complete idiot. 

Roman doesn’t see him at first, his open locker blocking his view, so he practically jumps when Virgil says tentatively, “Hey.”

He peeks around his locker door, face falling to a frown when he sees who it is - it’s not a mad frown, per se, and Virgil’s glad for that, but it’s definitely upset, and he is very much not glad for that. Roman finishes grabbing his books and closes his locker to face Virgil. “Hi.” 

Virgil takes another deep breath. Here goes. Don’t fuck it up, please. “About yesterday,” he starts, and Roman squints, just a little. Virgil takes it as a good sign and clears his throat to keep going. “I, uh, kinda... I said stuff that came out weird, I guess?” No, wait, bad start - he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a second to try and get his thoughts together, and it absolutely doesn’t work. “I mean, I don’t guess, it definitely came out weird- wrong, it came out wrong- okay, listen, when I said that- when Luke was talking to you and then I interrupted- that part doesn’t matter, wait,” MESSING IT UP SHUT UP. “When Luke called you funny and cute and then I said nothing he says matters, I wasn’t saying you aren’t funny and cute because obviously you are, I just meant that he’s an idiot - but not about you, just, like, in general - and honestly it was really annoying to hear him talking to you like he was, but that’s not your fault- Jesus Christ I’m awful at this,” he groans, fighting the very strong urge to slam his head into the locker a few times. He messed it up. He messed it up very bad and he’s two seconds away from just sighing, turning around, and letting Roman be mad at him forever- 

Until Roman laughs. 

Virgil blinks at him, and he realizes Roman’s been smiling through half of his ramble, his eyes doing that ridiculous thing where he has, like, pure happiness in a look and it kinda freaks Virgil out how pretty it is- but that’s all whatever right now, because Roman is laughing at him. 

“Were you jealous?” Roman grins, his nose scrunched up, and Virgil feels his face go ten degrees hotter in a second. 

“What? No!” he says far too quickly, which doesn’t make sense to him because it’s not like he’s lying or anything. 

...is he?

“I just...felt bad. Because I kind of accidentally said you weren’t cute and funny, and I didn’t mean it that way when I said Luke was stupid,” he says, crossing his arms and avoiding Roman’s eyes. 

Luckily, Roman doesn’t push it, though that grin doesn’t disappear. “So you think I’m funny and cute?” he asks in a ridiculously singsong voice. 

“I mean-” This isn’t how he expected the conversation to go, and he can’t decide if this is worse than the outcomes he’d worried about all morning. At least in those he didn’t look like an embarrassed tomato. “Like, objectively, you- you’re attractive, like, conventionally, and you tell jokes that make me laugh- that make people laugh, in general, so, objectively... yeah?” 

Roman’s smile is smug and stupidly pleased. “Got it,” he nods, and Virgil feels like he’s just saying that to appease him, but he’s just desperate enough to accept it. “Well, consider it water under the bridge, then. I think that was the best apology I’ve ever gotten, by the way.” 

Virgil at least has the composure to scowl at him - for some reason, that reminds him, “Oh, I, uh- I got this for you.” He pulls out the Snickers bar - he didn’t drop it! And it doesn’t feel melted! Small mercies! - and hands it to Roman, who blinks at it, then lights up. “I looked for Reese’s, but they didn’t have any-”

“This is fine,” Roman assures him, already opening the candy bar, and gives Virgil another bright smile. “This is wonderful, actually. Thank you.”

“So...” Virgil tugs at the edge of his hoodie sleeve for a second. “Are we cool?”

Roman looks at him, and there’s something ridiculously happy in his expression, something more than him just being excited about the candy bar, before he nods. “We’re cool.”

Virgil gives a sigh of relief, and... it strikes him right then, abruptly, that he was really worried about hurting Roman’s feelings. And that it really upset him when Roman wasn’t talking to him. And that he’s staring right at Roman right now because his little smile makes Virgil want to smile, too, and he has an inexplicable feeling in his chest from making Roman happy with a fumbled apology and silly candy bar. 

.......shit.