#remus had braces i firmly believe

[ziggstar]

i need more awkward puberty-esque things in marauders fanfiction, like bad skin, and braces, like NORMAL teenagers, because i'm not sure why we imagne that they were perfect, they all definitely had embarassing phases like the rest of us

[hinnyfied]

Dust to Dust

James and Lily's funeral is over, and Remus has an illuminating conversation with Dumbledore.

Read the fic on AO3 here or continue below.

*** *** *** ***

Remus stared down into the graves before him, at the smattering of dirt that had been cast upon the coffins within. His own hand was dusty, the remnants of his contribution lingering mockingly. It seemed nothing short of cruelty that this should be their final encounter, that years of friendship, comradery, and love be brought to a close with a handful of earth and whispered words of farewell that would never reach their ears.

The collection of flowers at the foot of the graves grew as the crowd thinned, but Remus remained, his feet feeling as firmly rooted to the ground as the nearby trees. He had always believed that should the unthinkable happen and one of his best friends were to fall, he’d have the others by his side, that they could carry on together. Yet here he stood, completely and utterly alone, having lost them all in one fell swoop.

Remus would not allow himself to think about how this came to be, or rather who was responsible. When he had first heard the news, he had experienced such shock and disgust that he became physically ill, but he had promised himself that for James and Lily, he would not permit Sirius’s incomprehensible treachery to occupy his mind at their graveside.

A chilly breeze rolled through the graveyard, the petals of the flowers fluttering softly. Remus shivered and pulled his coat tighter. He was just bracing himself to leave the Potters when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Dumbledore by his side, looking grim in a set of black robes.

“I must beg your pardon Remus, that I wasn’t able to speak to you at Peter’s funeral. How are you holding up?”

In truth, he had no idea how he was. In the days following their deaths his emotions had swung from rage to despair to utter numbness and everything in between.

“I’m fine.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed, his gaze boring deeply into Remus, but to his relief, the old headmaster did not press further.

A baby’s cry caught Remus’s ear, and he snapped his head in its direction, his heart skipping a beat as he sought out the source. He saw the Longbottoms at the end of the graveyard, making their way through the gates with the rest of the crowd, a fussy Neville in tow.

He felt a bit foolish as the disappointment settled in; he had seen Neville in Frank’s arms and had completed a thorough search for a little boy with messy black hair more than once during the service, yet Remus couldn’t help but hope that he’d have the chance to hold him and tell him how terribly sorry he was, to comfort him and promise him that he’d always have his Uncle Moony.

“He’s not coming, Remus,” Dumbledore whispered, as though he could read his mind.

“They’re his– they were his parents. He should be here.”

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment.

“It gives me no satisfaction to keep Harry away today, but it is not yet safe to bring him into the open. Surely you know this,” he said kindly.

Remus said nothing. He knew in his heart that Dumbledore was right, that James and Lily would be absolutely furious if Harry were put at risk unnecessarily after they sacrificed themselves for him. It felt bitterly unfair nonetheless.

“How long will he be kept hidden?” he asked quietly, hoping his desperation wasn’t too obvious.

“It will be quite some time, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore sighed.

“Until all the Death Eaters are caught, I suppose,” said Remus bitterly.

“There is that immediate danger, yes, but even their capture will not ease my concerns entirely.”

Remus looked at him quizzically. He could almost see the wheels turning behind the old wizard’s eyes. Dumbledore glanced subtly around the graveyard, checking to see if he and Remus were alone.

“I do not believe that Voldemort has truly gone,” he said somberly.

A pit formed in Remus’s stomach.

“Where he is and how long it may be before he returns, I do not know,” Dumbledore continued. “It could be weeks, months, perhaps many years, but until Voldemort has been defeated permanently, the boy will not be safe.”

Remus did not want to believe it, but Dumbledore was rarely wrong.

“The war– it’s not really over then, is it?” he blurted.

“In the grand scheme of things, I’m afraid it is not.”

“It feels like it is.”

Dumbledore nodded. “The battle has been won, so to speak, and I would not discourage anyone from enjoying the reprieve for however long it remains. I can only hope that when the day comes, we’ll be able to unite in the face of darkness once more and do away with it for good.”

The two wizards stood in contemplative silence. The wind picked up suddenly, gripping them tightly in its cold grasp. Dumbledore clutched his robes to his chest and looked to the sun, which had begun to set.

“Will I ever see him again?” The question tumbled from his lips.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at him, a twinkle in his eye.

“The future holds a great deal of uncertainty, and I make no claim to be a seer, but that you and Harry should meet again is a fact of which I am quite sure indeed.”

The tiniest smile tugged at the corners of Remus’s mouth, if only for a moment.

“I must take my leave,” Dumbledore said after a moment, looking down at his watch. “Do take care of yourself Remus,” he added quietly.

Remus watched the old headmaster as he walked away, his mind swirling with thoughts of the lonely life that lay ahead and a war not yet won. As the black robes flittled out of view, he turned his attention back to the graves, kneeling down next to the flowers.

“I’ll protect him,” he whispered, a lump forming in his throat and hot tears spilling down his cheeks. “I promise.”

[tumbledfreckles]

No Such Thing As An Easy Mission

There was nothing more annoying, James decided, than rescuing someone who did not want to be rescued. 

It should have been an easy mission. Well, easy was a relative term. Straightforward was probably a more accurate description. Get in, find the mark, get them out. Do it as quietly, discreetly, and quickly as possible.  

Simple. 

That the place he was getting in was an extremely secure, exceptionally well guarded safe house for Lord Voldemort. It was said that the man himself resided there often. Presided over meetings of his Death Eaters. Many an Order member had gone in, never to be seen again. 

Dumbledore had acknowledged the precariousness of the mission when he’d asked it. 

“I wouldn’t normally ask something like this,” his eyes didn’t twinkle, his face sombre and his tone gentle. “But we need them.” 

He hadn’t said who, exactly, James would be extracting. In case he was caught, in case the worst happened, it was better that he didn’t know. But he knew where they would be, that they had some combat experience, and that Dumbledore thought them valuable enough to risk James’ life for. 

“You are the only one I trust with this, James,” the use of his first name surprised him. He wasn’t sure his former headmaster had ever used it before. “But it is unfair of me to ask this of you.” 

“You’re not asking,” James replied firmly. “I’m offering.” 

He’d said goodbye to the boys. As they did when any of them went out on a mission. Hell, the way people were disappearing they should probably do it every time one of them left a room. 

“Come back, yeah?” Remus had clasped his shoulder, so tight James had almost winced at his werewolf strength. 

“Be safe,” Peter had squeezed his arm. 

“Don’t fucking die,” Sirius had hugged him, extra to the last. “Or I’m drinking the last bottle of Dad’s whiskey.” 

“You will bloody not,” James had choked a laugh as he thumped his brother on the back. “It’s mine.” 

“Ours, as Dad would say,” Sirius shook his head sadly as James pulled back. “You never were great at sharing, Prongs.” 

How he wished he was sitting at home, drinking that whiskey with his friends now. 

Getting in had gone to plan. He’d taken down most of the security wards, taken out numerous guards in a way that spoke to the ample practise he’d had in recent months. Being proficient in sneaking had been honed at school, something to be proud of. Being proficient at hurting people, even Death Eaters, was something he struggled with on a daily basis. 

James had made his way to the cell block Dumbledore had described. The masked man they’d captured in the last battle had come up trumps under Veritasium. It was exactly as he’d intoned, right down to the solid door on the final cell, behind which sat the person James was here to rescue. 

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get the door open. Several spells, unlocking spells, blasting spells, a few curses, a hex or two. He swore several times, counting the seconds it took, knowing each one would reduce the amount of time he had to escape. Hopefully, the person he was rescuing could move quickly. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“Of all the gin joints, he had to walk into mine.” 

James' jaw dropped as he took in the figure before him. “Evans?” 

“James Potter. Fancy seeing you here,” She stood up, casually, as if they had all the time in the world. Twirled her wand around her fingers, just like she had in school. “I take it you’re the cavalry?” 

“What the fuck -” He stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. “We need to go.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lily shook her head, moving toward him and the door. “Thanks for getting the door open though. They spelled the inside of the room to be impervious to magic. It’s why they left me this.” 

He ignored the wand tip she tapped against his chest, “Come on.” 

“Still not a good listener, huh, Potter?” She stepped even closer to him. He could feel heat radiating from her. “I’m not coming with you.” 

“You don’t have a choice, Evans. You can’t exactly stay here.” 

“Oh, I’m not staying,” she smirked at him.

“Then let’s go,” James shifted uneasily, his ears pricked for any sounds outside the cell. 

“I have a job to do.” 

“No, I have a job to do. We need to go.” He took her wrist, trying to ignore the electric shock that coursed up his arm when he touched her. By the way her eyes flicked down, he was sure she felt it too. 

“I need to finish what I started,” she tugged at his hold, frowning when he didn’t release her. “Come on, Potter. It was cute when we were younger, but surely you’ve learnt by now how to take no for an answer.” 

“I’m not asking you on a date, Evans. I’m trying to rescue you. Now, let’s go,” James couldn’t help the tension in his voice. Any moment now they were going to be discovered. While it was always going to be a stressful mission, it was so much worse now that he knew it was her. 

He needed to get them both out. 

“It seems we’re at an impasse, Potter,” she’d moved forward again, coming shoulder to shoulder with him. He could smell her familiar scent at this distance. It brought a wealth of memories. “You have two choices,” she continued, while he told himself to focus. It wouldn’t do to lose his head over her, like he had when he was young. 

“And what are they, Evans?” He looked at her properly then. He’d been avoiding it. As if he would ever have been able to get out of this without looking at her. 

Lily was more beautiful than he remembered. Either his memory wasn’t as good as he thought, or she’d improved with age, like a fine wine. His expression must have changed as he took her in, for her brow furrowed before she answered. 

“You can go back the way you came. Get yourself to safety. You’ve done your job, you’ve freed me. You can leave.” 

“I’m not going without you,” his voice sounded gravel, even to his own ears. 

She didn’t look surprised. “Option two it is then.” She moved her hand, pulling her wrist from his grasp and placing her fingers in his instead. “You’re coming with me.” 

Before he could protest, she’d started to move, tugging him along behind. James stumbled the first step out of the cell, before his brain caught up and switched back into mission mode. He crept silently behind her as they made their way out of the cell area and up the stairs into the manor itself. 

She knew her way around it, James gave her that. Lily didn’t hesitate as she ducked them down a long hallway and selected the third room on the right. She braced her back against the door, hand on the doorknob, wand ready. He nodded, she opened the door for him to lead through. 

Their preparation was in vain. The room was empty. James lowered his wand as Lily pushed past him to the benches and cauldrons set around the room. 

“What is this?” 

“Snape’s lab,” Lily answered distractedly, lifting books, opening draws, pushing scrolls of parchment around. 

“Snape’s?” James looked around him again, half expecting the vile man to appear at the sound of his name. 

“You remember Snape, don’t you, Potter?” She didn’t even look up, her voice dry. 

“Unfortunately,” he muttered. “So he really is a -” 

“Death Eater,” Lily finished his sentence. “Yeah. Since just after school I think.” 

“I’ve never run into him,” James knew he wouldn’t have missed the greasy git, even behind a mask. 

“He doesn’t really do duels. He’s more of an inventor.” 

“I remember,” James would never forget how he’d suffered at the end of one of Snape’s inventions. Werewolf gashes had nothing on the slicing spell that had seen him nearly bleed out in the middle of a corridor during rounds. 

Lily’s face implied she was also thinking of that night. If not for her quick thinking, James might not be standing here now. “Right. Of course.” 

“So, what is all this? What is he doing for them?” James was eager to move on from that memory. If he lingered too long, he’d recall what had enraged Snape so much that night. As vivid as the pain of Sectumsampra still was, even more clear was the feel of his lips on hers moments before. 

Their first kiss. 

Also their last. 

“Creating potions. For cursing, for destroying. For blowing us all to bits,” Lily opened a notebook, scanned several pages before shrinking it and shoving it in her jacket pocket. “He’s trying to win them this war without needing to cast a single spell.” 

“That bastard.”

“That about covers it.” 

“How do you know all this?” James couldn’t help asking, even as he moved back toward the door to check for signs they’d been followed. The manor was curiously silent. 

“Research. A chance meeting. Some well timed Legilimency.” 

“You saw into his mind?” 

Lily almost grinned at the disgust in his voice, “I washed several times afterwards, don’t worry.” 

“You should get hazard pay.” 

“Oh, believe me, I asked.” 

“Who are you working for?” James’ curiosity wouldn’t settle, despite the circumstances. He hadn’t seen her since school. She’d run a mile after the incident with Snape, blaming herself for him ending up in the Hospital Wing. There hadn’t been enough time left in the year to get them back on track before she’d vanished completely. 

“Same person as you, it would seem.” 

“You’re not at the meetings.” 

“Not enough snacks.” 

“Evans.” 

She sighed, still searching. “I’ve been working on my own. Dumbledore agreed. It was the only way I’d help.” She looked up at where he stared at her. “I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt.” 

“That was not your fault. Lily -” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped the book shut and pocketed it. “All done. Let’s go.” 

“Not a moment too soon,” James could hear noise at the far end of the hall. He pulled his cloak out and waved it invitingly. “I trust you remember this?” 

“Only because it broke my poor Prefect heart when I found out.” 

Despite her sarcasm, Lily moved swiftly to him, ducking under the cloak with a practised ease. And she did know it well. When they’d become friends in seventh year, they’d taken many an enjoyable stroll down to Hogsmeade, and made midnight raids to the kitchen for study supplies. 

Her back pressed against his chest as they shuffled slowly down the hall. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he pulled them back against a wall to avoid a patrolling goon. Her hair tickled his nose as her head rested just under his chin for several breaths before they edged down the stairs. His lips brushed her ear as he bent to whisper. 

“The door is unlocked, but we can’t open it without suspicion.” 

Her hand rested on his at her waist, as her chin tilted up to reply, “So, what’s the plan?” 

“In about thirty seconds, a diversion will happen upstairs. I set it before we left. We go then.” 

Lily nodded. James felt her twirl her wand in her hand, despite the small space. Then she did something he never expected. 

She relaxed back into him. 

Her hands smoothed along his forearms. Her body melted into his until he wasn’t sure where he finished and she began. Her cheek turned to brush against his chest, nose nuzzling into his neck. He never wanted this moment to end.

“Evans,” his whisper was a question, a plea. 

“Shhh,” she murmured back. “This has to get me through the next few years.” 

Before James could ask what she meant, several explosions went off upstairs. Footsteps from all over the manor thumped against the floor, all heading for the sound. A masked Death Eater came through the front door, and charged past them. 

“Go,” James pushed Lily, but she was already moving. 

The cloak slipped as they moved through the open door. James tore it off them once outside, shrinking it and shoving it in his pocket as they ran. They were almost out of the ward zone, almost safe to apparate, when a shout came from behind. James felt a curse hit him square in the back a second later. He fell over the ward line. 

“James,” Lily had gone several feet before she realised he wasn’t beside her. She came back, falling to her knees next to him. 

“Get out of here, Evans,” he growled. “I’ll be right behind you.” 

“Yeah right.” She made to pull him to his feet. 

“Lily, just go. You’ve got the information.” He could feel strength draining out of him by the second. He was dead weight. 

“Quiet, Potter. I’m being a white knight.” Lily pulled his arm over her shoulders, wrapped hers around his waist, and pulled him into a side along apparition. 

His head spun, his stomach lurched, and when they landed in an empty field, his worthless legs gave way, pulling her down on top of him. His eyes stayed closed as he groaned, a sound loud enough that he didn’t hear the words she muttered next. But the relief was instant. 

“Thanks,” he sighed. 

“All part of the service.”

He expected her to get off him, and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. Instead, Lily shifted her weight to her elbows, freeing her hands to gently cup his face. He opened his eyes to see her blinking down at him. 

“Alright, Potter?” she asked. 

He smiled, “Alright.” He brought a hand up, shifting her hair back from her face, mirroring her hold of his head. “But maybe you should stick around, make sure I’m okay.” 

“I only left to keep you safe,” Lily’s thumb brushed across his cheek, his lip. “But it looks like you need me here to make sure that happens.” 

“I’ve always needed you, Evans. Stay. Please.” 

“Well, seeing you asked so nicely.” She smiled as she said the words, but James never saw it. Her lips had pressed down on his, and he was only too happy to oblige with a kiss of his own. 

[anotherloganstan]

I Get It - Intrulogical

Summary: Remus doesn’t get romance, he doesn’t understand it, and he doesn’t fall in love easily unlike his brother. Something, no, someone changes that.

Based off the incorrect quote here.

Warnings: slight sexual innuendos/jokes

Word count: 716

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

Remus never understood it. He watched and observed, mostly his twin brother but the couples passing by, his friends, strangers, his own parents. Remus never understood romance and relationships. Roman definitely did.

As the two of them entered high school it became obvious how much society expected them to grow up all of a sudden. And Roman had an array of men and women flinging themselves at him at any one time. Remus didn’t. Not to say that people didn’t like him or ask him out, he was a rebel, a punk, so unlike his brother and yet they shared good looks, but they knew that Remus didn’t do relationships. Roman himself having a new partner every month in a desperate attempt for his soulmate – Remus didn’t believe in that shit, not that he’d tell his brother and break his heart in another way.

But then Roman starts falling hard for one of Remus’ best friends – straying from his own friendship groups of theatre kids. And, well, Janus fell hard back. And suddenly he was seeing a lot more of his brother around school and a lot more of his friend at home. Not that he hated either one of them, he couldn’t, and he hated to admit that they were right for each other. Janus helped Roman calm down, and Roman helped Janus to smile.

Remus was just… bitter? Jealous? Exhausted? Maybe all of the above. He’d never confess it to anyone. Ever.

Roman has just come off the phone from who Remus assumes was Janus going by the two-hour time period and the giant smile on his twin’s face as well as the not so subtle blush on his cheeks.

Remus made a noise of distaste, uttering, “Everyone's in a relationship all of a sudden, I don't understand what's so special about it, it's gross...”

“It’s not gross!” Roman defended, his hand braced against his chest in that mock-offended way, “you’ve just got to find that special person, Rem, then you’ll understand, it might not be soon but you will, then you’ll understand how Jay makes me feel.”

Remus gags, “I don’t think I want to feel that.”

Roman sputters, blushing even brighter, “not like that!”

Remus’ laughter echoes throughout the house, following Roman to the kitchen.

And they rarely bring it up again. They almost forget about it. They graduate, they go to college, they move out, Roman and Jay get married, Remus cries even though he firmly denies it, and they carry on with life. Remus does think about his own love life, a lot, too much, he hates how cold and empty his little apartment gets, he hates waking up alone and yet he hates waking up with a one-night stand just as much. He doesn’t fall in love; he merely falls in lust. And he questions his romantic orientation.

But then, finally, it happens. He meets him. It’s unlike the ways they portray it in movies and in books, different from the way Roman explained it, different from anything he’s ever felt before. He simply felt drawn to this man, intrigued and attracted in a way different that before. He didn’t want to lead this man to bed and kick him out in the morning, no, he wants to lead this man to his bed and make him breakfast in the morning, listen to his rants, to his problems, hold him close, keep him safe.

Remus becomes sweeter, softer, gentle. He takes him out for dinner and coffee, to the museum, to hilltops on starry nights. And in turn he learns to laugh, to not take himself so seriously, to take care of himself

“...oh, okay. I get it,” he whispers into the dark of their bedroom. Feeling all too awake despite the hour but not wanting to move and disrupt his sleeping boyfriend.

Logan, laying with his head on his chest, eyes closed and breathing slow, looking beautiful and ethereal under the moonlight. And Remus can’t look away. He’s drawn to Logan, like there’s an inexplicable force dragging him closer. He dares not to say it aloud but maybe he’s in love with the smart talking, stoic, secretly a sweetheart of a boyfriend of his.

He leans in and kisses Logan’s forehead, smiling as Logan cuddles closer to him.

[edupunkn00b]

Happily Ever After Chapter 7: All This Happened

[AO3] - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 -

Human AU, Teen Rating, CW: Divorce, past abuse, internalized homophobia

"All this happened, more or less." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)

---

Roman went downstairs for a drink - and maybe a little midnight snack. The light from the windows was dim, with that oddly colored glow that meant the snow hadn't yet melted. Roman walked into the kitchen and turned on the small light above the stove.

"Some of us were enjoying the dark, you know." Remus' voice rumbled from one end of the counter.

"Jesus Christ Superstar, Remus!" Roman had jumped a foot backwards, one hand gripping a drawer pull, the other pressed to his chest. "You scared the hell out of me! You're lucky I wasn't armed!"

"Sorry, Bro, next time I'll wear my glow-in-the-dark disco shoes." Remus muttered and gave half a shimmy as he retreated to the hallway.

"Wait, Re - what are you doing up?" Roman hadn't failed to notice how little Remus-like his brother was acting. "You usually sleep like the dead." Remus turned around and looked at his brother for a moment and shrugged, looking down at this feet. Roman was quietly shaken by his brother's somber demeanor. "Ok, now you're actually scaring me, Bro. We've been talking for three minutes and you haven't made a single inappropriate comment yet." He stepped closer to his twin. "What's going on with you?"

Remus attempted a smile, took a deep breath and opened his mouth, ready with a quip. Instead he sighed, shoulders sagging, lips curled in a scowl of disgust. "I'm just tired."

Roman squinted at his brother for a long moment. "Magic water."

One side of Remus' mouth raised in a smirk. "'Magic water'?," he scoffed. "We're not four anymore, Ro."

Roman shook his head, smiling. "Doesn't matter. Magic water always works. Miss Julie would pour us each a glass of water and we'd sit down at the snack table. Drink the water, talk, and by the time the glass was empty, you'd know what was wrong." Roman pulled two tall glasses from the cabinet, filled them to the brim with cold water, and placed them on the bar counter. "Magic water," he said firmly.

Remus stared at his brother for a moment. "Water can't hurt," he sighed.

They each sat down at the counter and gripped their water glasses. Roman watched Remus out of the corner of his eye, considering. Time to poke the bear, he thought. "So ... Jan and I found a way to build out a ballroom below decks for the anniversary party on Saturday." He braced himself for the barrage of innuendo in five-four-three-two-

"That's sounds great, Ro." Roman nearly choked on his water.

"What, that's it? A ballroom! You've got nothing to say about that?" Roman reached out to feel his brother's forehead, "Are you ill?"

Remus swatted his hand away and drank his water. "I'm fine."

"Ooooh, I know what this is," Roman cooed.

"No, I really don't think you do."

"No, no, no I do, though ..." Roman grinned in a perfect impression of his twin, waggling his eyebrows and shimmying his shoulders. "My dear brother, the virile Mister Fahrenheit, spiritual muse to the the great Dan Savage himself ... you're in a dry spell."

Remus opened his mouth to protest but tilted his head in thought. It's true it had been a while. But does his own brother think he's just that basic?

"I can't believe you're actually that basic." Roman grinned, shaking his head.

"Stop that." Remus muttered. "You do things like that around Janus and he'll be convinced we have telepathy again." Roman grinned and shrugged.

"So ... do I get to play Tinder matchmaker?" Roman's voice raised a whole octave as he rubbed his hands together. Remus didn't protest. "Hmmm. let's see ... Oooo ... what about that guy from your work? You went out a couple times when you first moved back. Nikolai, right?"

Remus shrugged half-heartedly. "He was okay ... a nice guy."

"Nice?," Roman scoffed, "Nice? That fella was So. Flippin'. Cute!"

"Aren't you married?" Remus retorted, a bit of fire returning to his eyes.

"Married, not dead." Roman took a sip of his water.

Remus rolled his eyes and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sure, Nikolai's a hottie. We had ... fun." Remus crossed his arms across his chest. "He's not ... I don't know, he's just not ... " ... He's not Logan... an unwanted voice whispered inside his head. Remus shook his head and got up to refill his water glass.

Roman stared at Remus' back and narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never seen you like this."

Remus turned around and scoffed, "What are you talking about, I've always been a horny bitch. It's sort of my brand." Remus waved a hand and flipped his hair back. Roman could still see the defensiveness in his twin's eyes and the tightness around his mouth.

Roman sighed and tilted his head at his brother, "Who exactly are you trying to fool here?"

"Not everything is an epic melodrama, brother dear," Remus grinned with a dark smile that stopped before it reached his eyes.

"No," Roman said softly, shaking his head. "This is something different. You're ...," Roman placed his hands over his heart, a growing smile on his face, "Aww ... you're pining!" Remus frowned and slammed his glass down on the counter, turning toward the hallway and back to his room. Roman leapt from his chair to stop his brother from storming off. Poke the bear and he might bite your head off, he reminded himself. "Wait, Re, wait, I'm sorry." Roman grabbed Remus' arm with one hand and gently turned his brother's face to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Please, come sit down and talk to me."

Remus sighed with a scowl, but Roman could feel the muscles in his arm relax a bit. Remus nodded and walked back to the stools where they'd been sitting.

Roman sat quietly, watching Remus. Remus bit his lip, worrying it with his teeth. Finally, Roman spoke again. "So ... do you wanna tell me about him?"

Remus just looked at Roman, still biting at his own lips.

Roman tilted his head and scratched at his jaw. Neither twin was accustomed to these reversed roles. When they were young, it had always been Roman who was head-over-heels in love with a new guy every six months. It had always been Remus who would gently advise, scheme, console, and sometimes, plan revenge. Roman tried again, "Do I know him?"

Remus looked down at his hands and after several breaths, nodded once.

Roman frowned slightly, considering their mutual friend list. "Re, I don't get it. Who could you possibly be so broken up about? You've got my good looks and your ...," Roman raised an eyebrow and stared pointedly at his brother, "vigor. Practically every man I know - and more than half the women - would take you up on an offer without a second's hesitation. The last time I saw anyone resist your suggestions for longer than a week was - " Roman's eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open. "Oh ... Ohhh," more a breath than a word. "Still?"

Remus licked his lips, still staring at his hands, his voice a brief whisper. "Still."

Roman slowly leaned back into his chair, mouth falling open slightly. He stared at his brother, narrowing his his eyes. This ... this explained a lot. This was also a side of Remus he'd never seen before. "I thought ... I just thought you had the hots for The Hottie." Remus raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at at his brother's wedding ring. "Again, married, not dead. I have eyes." Roman looked thoughtful. "So all that ... flirting has been more than just ... flirting for you."

Remus turned to look at nothing across the room, flipping his hair and fiddling with his sleeves. He chewed at the edge of his upper lip before nodding, finally muttering, "Don't sound so surprised, dear brother. Even Freddie Mercury had a heart to break."

The two sat in silence for a several minutes. "Bro ... you gotta talk to him." Roman sighed at last, reaching for his brother's hand. "You know ... " Roman twisted his mouth before letting out another little sigh. "I used to get the sense from him that maybe he ... that maybe this isn't as one-sided as you think."

"It's not that simple." Remus said softly, shaking his head. He paused, running a hand over his mouth, tugging at his mustache, shifting in his seat. "Logan is - ," Remus sighed again, dragging his hands through his hair. "He's not ... He's ..."

"A closet case?" Roman quipped.

Wincing, Remus opened his mouth to protest Roman's choice of words but gave up with another sigh. "There's gotta be a better way to phrase that, Ro." Roman sort of shrugged.

"Does he know how you feel about him?" Roman asked. "I mean, really know? Have you told him how much you care-"

"I love him," Remus whispered fiercely. Roman sucked in a breath of surprise. Remus had surprised himself with the admission, as well.

Roman locked eyes with his brother, grasping his hands. "Have you told him that you love him?"

Remus thought about the day of the bonfire and how his heart nearly burst out of his chest when Logan greeted him at the door. He thought about how he'd very nearly told Logan the real reason why he'd suddenly turned up on his doorstep. About how he'd planned out how to say it during the entire bike ride over the bridge. And about how he'd chickened out at the very last second.

"No."

"You gotta tell him, Re. Listen, Logan's a good man. ... And there might be more to his feelings for you than either of you realize." Remus looked up, meeting Roman's eyes, seeking to gauge how much was mere encouragement and how much was truth. "But even if ..., " Roman pressed his lips together for a moment, not wanting to put words to what came after the "if". "He's not just going to cut you out of his life. Romantic or not, you mean far too much to him to do that."

Remus sighed and nodded briefly. "I'll think about it."

"I expect you to do more than just think about it." Roman said mock-sternly. "But not tonight," he said, getting to his feet and encouraging Remus to do the same. "Even Princes like us need our beauty sleep. Go get some rest, Re." Roman wrapped one arm around his brother and let out a surprised huff when Remus suddenly pulled him in for a full hug.

"Thanks, Ro," Remus whispered, then turned and returned to bed.

[kieraswriting]

Coffin Chapter Twenty-One

Masterpost

They were sitting around the table, armed with paintbrushes. Virgil had not a single clue where Roman had gotten them or the paint from, and every time he asked Roman was needlessly cryptic.

Roman and Patton had painted a base coat on all the butter knives first, before they allowed Virgil into the room, and now they were all painting designs together.

“So…” Roman said slowly. “Would now be an awful time to talk about the thing?”

Instantly, their previous conversation, with Roman’s promise to bring Patton into it, resurfaced in Virgil’s mind.

“What thing?” Patton asked.

Roman looked at Virgil, who ducked his head, pretending to be engrossed in his painting. “Virgil was trying to say that he wasn’t worth us worrying over him, because he’s just a vampire.”

Patton let out a small gasp, and Virgil ducked his head lower, not able to look up at his face. “Why is this a problem?” He muttered. “You both know it’s true.”

“We love you, Virgil!” Patton exclaimed. “Vampire or not, that isn’t going to change. We love you, and we think you’re worth every bit of it!”

Virgil smiled, but didn’t raise his head. “Thanks, Patton.”

Patton turned back to his painting, satisfied. But Roman wasn’t.

“No, I’m not just leaving it there, cause you’d still jump in front of a bullet for us.”

“Of course I would,” Virgil said firmly, looking up at Roman. “I happen to like you guys too.”

“But it’s not just that,” Roman pushed, ignoring the little sound of Patton starting to say something. “You’d also starve yourself if you thought you’d taken too much blood from us, wouldn’t you? And you wouldn’t ask, you’d pretend you were fine.”

Virgil frowned. “I’m not chancing hurting one of you.”

“You aren’t hungry now, are you?” Patton asked, his face full of softness and willingness to help.

Virgil hesitated a long second. He wasn’t really all that hungry. Shouldn’t be hungry; He’d been eating so much. He’d certainly last at least another week before he had to eat. “No, I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying,” Roman said immediately. “You’re lying to our faces.”

Virgil ducked his head again.

Patton put a hand on his arm. “I know you’re trying to be nice, and to be thinking of us first, but… Virgil, I don’t want you to lie to me.”

And that hurt. That really, really hurt.

“I won’t lie to you either. If I don’t think I can give you blood I’ll tell you so, ok? We’re not trying to trick you into hurting us.”

Roman spoke again, his voice much gentler. “It’s like you think any time you interact with us you’re going to hurt us.”

“I will. ” Virgil said, his voice coming out strained. “I will and I won’t mean to and I’m not going to let it happen!”

“No, you won’t .” Roman insisted. “Virgil, you’ve put so much care into everything you’ve done, I can’t believe you’d ever hurt us.”

Patton’s hand moved from Virgil’s arm up to the top of his head. Virgil closed his eyes, but a tear dropped onto the table anyway.

“Then why do you keep pushing me to stop being careful?”

“Virgil, I don’t want you to stay trapped in this fear. You can eat now, from anyone, and you wouldn’t have to be scared of hurting them, since you learned how to do it right. I want you to be able to do that with other things too. If you go around terrified of yourself because you’re a vampire, and you don’t do anything about it, you’ll always be terrified.” Roman said.

“What do you want me to do about it!?” Virgil yelled. “I don’t know how to do anything, and I don’t have anyone to teach me, and every time I try something new someone gets hurt!”

Patton moved his whole chair to come closer to Virgil, stroking his hand through his hair gently. “It’s alright. Whatever we do we’ll figure it out together.”

Virgil felt simultaneously loved, and under intense pressure, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond.

•^*^••

It was quite a while later when Patton’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Heya, Pat! How’s the babiest vampire doing?”

“Remus?”

“Aww, you remembered my name! But let me talk to him.”

“Um, ok.”

Patton handed the phone to Virgil.

“Hello?”

Patton could hear Remus’s voice vaguely chattering on, but couldn’t discern what he was saying. Virgil was quiet, not saying anything at all in answer. But he was getting pale.

“Virgil? What’s he saying?”

Virgil didn’t answer Patton, or react at all to him, just kept staring at nothing and listening to Remus talk. His face was getting wound tighter and tighter, until it suddenly stopped.

“Thank you. It’s fine.” And then Virgil hung up.

“What happened?” Patton asked.

Virgil just shook his head and handed the phone back. “I-I need some time alone please.”

•^*^••

Roman came back inside with an armful of wood. They didn’t really need a fire, but fires were calming, and getting the wood had been calming for him. And they needed some calm.

To his surprise, Virgil was sitting alone on the couch, staring into the empty wood stove.

Roman set the wood down.

“If I’d…” Virgil said softly, not looking at him. “If I knew how to make a thrall, or to move fast like Dee, or how to make humans calm, or something…… would it have been enough to stop what happened?”

Virgil turned his eyes on Roman, and Roman could see the absolute brokenness on his face. Roman went quickly and tucked him against his chest. Virgil’s shoulders shook silently, the crying muffled in a way that reminded Roman of the coffins, and not in a good way.

One hand cupped the back of Virgil’s head, and the other rubbed along his back. Roman rocked back and forth slowly. He wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed like anything he could say might just make it worse.

It was a long time before Virgil pulled away, rubbing at his face. “I-I ca-an’t let it—let it happen a-again.”

“Virgil, it wasn’t your fault. Not at all.”

“I-I couldn’t— couldn’t stop it!”

“I know, but that wasn’t your fault. None of us could’ve stopped it. All of us together only barely managed to rescue you two. It’s not your fault. Not at all.”

“But was there something I could’ve done?” Virgil asked, looking up into Roman’s eyes and breaking his heart.

“No. You did the very best you could.”

“I-if I— if I learned the vampire things, I could’ve done something.”

Roman reached out to Virgil again. “Virgil, I do want you to learn, but I want you to be able to do differently next time. I’ll never, ever say that there’s something else you should’ve done to stop what happened.”

He stroked Virgil’s hair softly. “What’s brought all this on?”

“R-Remus told me how to— how to make a thrall. It-it’s not very hard to start. I-if— even if I didn’t practice much, just a little, I could’ve stopped Patton’s dad.”

Roman shook his head. “No, Liam Hart knows enough about vampires, he wouldn’t have let you catch him in a thrall. It’s his fault. He’s the one who hurt you, and who hurt Patton. You didn’t do that.”

Virgil was silent, but Roman knew he hadn’t convinced him.

“Let’s work on this together, ok? You’re hungry, and you want to be able to do a thrall so you can help next time, right? I’ll let you practice on me.”

Virgil just curled in on himself.

“Virgil, you’re the only one that can make this decision. If you don’t want to try a thrall I won’t try to make you, but at least eat.”

Virgil nodded.

Roman slid his shirt to the side and braced for Virgil to bite down. To his surprise, there was barely a pinch of pain, and warmth flooded through his body, making him very calm and sleepy. It lasted for several minutes, and then the warmth heightened to heat, almost too much heat, and Roman’s eyes slipped closed, as his mind fell into an abyss.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 3

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor. 

Pairings: Logince

Word Count: 1844

Chapter Warnings: Minor Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Knives, Panic Attack, Unsympathetic!Remus

“I don’t think so, you little fraud. You’ll address me as ‘your grace', if you know what's good for you. Just because you’re out here doesn’t mean you’re my equal, pretty boy.” Remus smiled menacingly. Before Logan could even brace himself, Remus jabbed him in the stomach and Logan’s body folded in on itself. He would have collapsed to the ground, if Remus hadn't caught him, pushing him back against the wall.

Logan struggled to catch his breath, desperately trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. “I’m the p-prince’s p-personal advisor. If you h-hurt me, you'll be p-punished.”

“Do you promise?” Remus sneered at him, leaning close to Logan’s ear. Logan squirmed uncomfortably as Remus spoke in his ear. “Do you really think that’s a threat? You mean nothing to him. You’re just a pretty face to him.”

Logan struggled in Remus' grip but Remus barely seemed to notice, holding him firmly against the wall. Remus leaned in closer. Logan’s fought to pull away as he felt Remus' breath on his neck.  “Amazing, he can even tell behind that face full of ugly bruises.”

Logan went limp in Remus' hands, defeated.

Remus leaned back and smiled. Remus slipped his hand up to guide Logan’s chin, guiding his face up to look at him. Logan’s skin crawled as Remus touched him, but he couldn’t find the will to pull away. “Pretty boy, you’re pathetic but you’re not a fool. You know I’m telling you the truth. You’re no more than a pretty face for the prince to entertain himself with. He’ll bore of you eventually. You’re discardable to him.” He laughed cruelly, stepping back. Logan's freedom only lasted a moment before Remus snapped his fingers. In a moment, Remus' minions had him pinned, arms outstretched, against the wall.

Remus turned and faced Logan, a demented smiled flashing across his face. He moved suddenly, jabbing Logan again in the stomach again. Logan's legs collapsed underneath him. He groaned, hanging limply in the grip of his assailants. Remus slid closer and Logan desperately leaned his head back away from him. Unfortunately, Logan’s discomfort only seem to encourage him. Remus leaned in closer, grabbing a handful of Logan’s hair and pulling his head up to look at Remus. Logan gritted his teeth and squirmed as he felt Remus' close in on him. Every cell in his body ached to get away as he felt Remus' breath on his face. “Did you already forget your place, my little pest? I thought you knew your place.”

Logan held his breath until Remus stepped back away from him. He stood in front of Logan, smiling sadistically. A glint of metal flashed in Remus' hand and Logan suddenly felt a new wave of panic rise in his chest. He struggled against the men’s weight, but they easily held him still. Remus playfully spun a dagger around his fingers, eyeing Logan dangerously. “Let's see if the prince still likes you after I carve up that pretty face of yours.”

“Please…no.” He begged. Logan closed his eyes, turning his head away.

“WHAT IS GOING ON OVER THERE?” Roman's voice filled the corridor, echoing loudly around him. Logan watched Remus startle. He and his men immediately scattered. Logan's vision narrowed but he heard footsteps moving towards them. +No longer being held up on the wall, Logan doubled over in pain, falling to the ground.

The next thing Logan knew, Roman stood over him, reaching down to him. Logan struggled to catch his breath, wheezing with great difficulty.

“Take it easy, Logan. You’re safe.” Roman said, gently pulling him to his feet.

Logan stumbled slightly and his vision blurred. He vaguely felt Roman wrap his arm around his waist to steady him. He lost track of Roman as his breathing became rapid and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked. Logan barely heard him but he could feel the prince gently brushing debris off his clothes.

“Um…uh... I—” He stuttered, struggling to form sentences. His head was spinning wildly. His head suddenly pounded painfully, and the edges of his vision were fading.

“Sorry. Stupid Question. Come sit down.” Logan felt the prince drag him over to a nearby bench. He could feel Roman's hand around his waist as he pulled Logan down onto the bench with him. A movement in his fading periphery caused Logan to flinch away, sending a new wave of panic coursing through his body. He felt Roman pull back apologetically. Logan felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

“S-s-sorry.” Logan managed to stutter as he leaned back against the wall, trying to stop his hyperventilation.

“There’s no need to apologize, Logan. Take whatever time you need to calm down. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe with me.”

A few minutes passed and Logan’s breathing slowly began to resemble a normal pattern again. Suddenly, gravity seemed to weigh down in him . Exhaustion settled in as the adrenaline left his body.

“Thank you.” He whispered to Roman, tiredly.

“Of course.” Roman paused, considering his words. “Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

Logan nodded. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands for a moment. Gathering what nerve he had left, he told Roman of how the men had jumped him in the corridor. He gripped his hands together tightly to keep them from shaking as he spoke. As he neared the end of his story, his voice started to fail him. His voice cracked as he told Roman how they'd pulled a knife and threatened to cut his face.

“They…” Logan paused, collecting the last of his nerves. “My assailant implied that the only reason you appointed me to this position was because you wanted me…physically.” The end of Logan's sentence was so quiet that Roman could barely make out the words.

“Logan, no. That's not true." Roman said, sadly.

Logan was silent.

"Listen, I'm going to be very transparent with you. If that’s what I wanted, I could simply have made you an escort. I didn't have to appoint you to one of the highest positions in the court. I have no need to manipulate you like that. I chose you as an advisor for a reason. You are cunning, resourceful and you are clearly incredibly intelligent. I honestly believe you will be an invaluable asset to the throne given some time.” His tone was calm and even, speaking matter-of-factly. “I would never use someone like that, Logan.”

“Okay.” Logan didn't know if he could believe what Roman was saying but it was easier for him to think that he was valued for his intelligence rather than his looks.

“I have another tough question for you, if you’re feeling well enough to answer.”

“I’m okay, Roman.” Logan’s voice was steadier now. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, trying to stop the pounding in his head. “What do you need to know?”

“If you’re sure, Logan.” He paused, gauging Logan’s reaction.

Logan nodded, closing his eyes.

“Did you recognize your attackers?”

Logan bit his lip and turned away. “No, the corridor was to dimly lit for me to identify them.”

Logan looked down at the ground as Roman stared at him. He didn't dare meet the prince’s gaze. Logan knew he wasn't a convincing liar.

To his surprise, Roman seemed to accept his answer. “Very well. If you remember anything, please tell me. That behavior is unacceptable, and I will not tolerate it. You deserve penance for the pain you endured.” Roman slowly moved closer to Logan, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “I'm so sorry, Logan. I won’t let this happen again.”

Logan was silent but eventually, he leaned into the prince’s shoulder. The effect of the adrenaline had fully left him now. He sank exhausted into Roman's arms.

Roman was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“To what specifically are you referring?”

“This job, this life…” Roman shrugged. “You were forced into this choice rather suddenly.”

Logan sighed and pulled himself up out of the prince’s arms. He turned, looking into Roman’s eyes. “May I speak freely?”

“Undoubtedly.” Roman said resolutely. Roman kept his face neutral but internally, he tensed with anticipation of Logan's response. He'd met Logan less than a fortnight ago. Really, They'd only his first real conversation with him roughly a day ago, and yet, the idea of Logan leaving filled him with dread.

“My feelings on the matter are inconsequential. There’s no going back to my old life. This… occurrence has demonstrated to me that going back would surely be a death sentence.” Logan's eye briefly flicked over to Roman. “Despite what just occurred, I'm safer here than anywhere else.”

Roman was silent, looking sadly at his new friend. “You don't have to stay in this position out of fear. If that's truly the only thing keeping you here, I will help you find a safe way out.”

Logan shrugged, uncomfortable with Roman's concern. He changed his tone, hoping to alleviate the pity Roman obviously felt for him. “I am terrified but… I still wish to stay. I admit it is an exciting opportunity to work for you. Before this, my impact on the world at large was basically negligible. Now, I have the potential to influence real change in the kingdom.”

Roman relaxed a bit. “I’m glad that you have found some sense of direction in all the chaos, but I want this to be more for you than just serving a purpose.”

Logan was silent.

“We’ll talk about it later.” He paused. "Listen, I don't want you wandering around on your own anymore. For tonight, you should remain with me. Tomorrow, I will assign one of my guards to escort you during the day so you can do as you please. Honestly, in any case, it's best for you to have a guide, since you’re unfamiliar with the castle.”

“I hardly think that I could get lost.”

Roman noticed that Logan looked uncomfortable. “Listen, I understand you undoubtedly don't want a stranger hovering over your shoulder all day, but I have a particular person in mind. I think you'll get on quite well with him. If anyone could understand your situation, it would be him.”

Logan looked down at the ground, still uncertain. “I’m not thrilled with the idea, but I agree that it is necessary. I’d rather avoid another situation like today.”

“Good.” Roman perked up, trying to sound upbeat. “I have time before my next meeting. How would you like a quick tour of the tower? I think we can manage to hit most of the main points before I need to be anywhere.”

“That suggestion seems quite agreeable.” Logan smiled. His fear had subsided significantly, and his heart rate was beginning to feel normal again. It was strange. The prince had a strangely calming effect on him. His future was still uncertain but, sitting here with Roman, Logan felt a spark of hope inside him.

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname

[pattonsperfectfamily-asks]

Chapter 23- Another one Bites the Dust

Masterpost

TW: Kidnapping (don’t you love when there’s more!), cuts, burning personal items, cursing, electric collar, broken bone, drugging

“Happy birthday!” Patton cheers sadistically, throwing a small handful of confetti up into the air.

From behind a pair of dark sunglasses, Remy glared.

“Aw, cat got your tongue, Rems?” Patton teases lightly, pulling the duct-tape off of Remy’s mouth.

“Don’t call me that.” Remy bites out. “And fuck you.”

Patton frowns, pressing his palm down on the open cut on Remy’s thigh, making him wince, then cry out. “There is going to be no swearing tolerated in this house mister. Besides, don’t you want to see your birthday gift? You have to be good if you want to see!”

“I don’t want anything of yours.” Remy scolds, leaning away from Patton. “I’d rather cut off my arms.”

“Noted.” Patton says cheerfully, taking off Remy’s sunglasses with one quick swipe.

“Give those back!” Remy demands, straining forward against the ropes. “You had no right taking those, they were-”

“A gift from your younger brother Damien.” Patton says simply, raising an eyebrow at Remy.

“What no, he’s my cousin you idiot! Now give them back!” Remy yells.

“When you behave. For the meantime…” Patton moves behind Remy and rustles around. “You can wear this instead.”

Patton sets something against Remy’s neck and fastens it tightly, partly cutting off his breath.

“What the fuck?” Remy thrashes around. “I don’t need a dog collar, I’m not a dog!”

Patton presses a button, and a loud shock of electricity courses through Remy’s body. “It’s not a dog collar silly, it’s a shock collar.”

Remy looks up at him in shock, his mouth slightly agape, before croaking out. “You’re fucking sick.”

Another shock races through him, and Remy’s entire body shakes.

“Wh-Where’s my hat?” He shakily manages to say, only just noticing the absence of the familiar weight on his head.

“I burned it, Remy. Enough of your silly childish pretend. We’re Christians.”

Remy’s mouth dropped open. “Babes, have you taken  a history class?”

“Of course I did!” Patton smiles. “Why?”

“I can’t believe you…” Remy mumbles, staring down at the floor.

“See? Much better behaved already!” Patton beams. “Now Remy love, are you done with your tantrum?”

“How could you believe I’m your kid? Or Damien? I’m twenty for fuck’s sake, you’re thirty-two! If I was your biological son, you would have had to have me at twelve!”

“God finds a way.” Patton says firmly, beginning to untie Remy’s binds. “She should be waking up soon.”

Remy glances worriedly over at the smaller person slumped over in the corner, still fast asleep. The only sign they weren’t dead being the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“That’s…” Remy squints, trying to see the person through the darkness of the basement they were in. “That’s Kai…That kid’s older sibling who looks after him…Let me guess, they’re your kid too?”

“Of course!” Patton chirps. “All five of you are!”

“Five…Who’s the last?”

“Don’t act dumb kiddo, you know who your siblings are!” Patton’s grip tightens on Remy’s arm as he begins to pull him up the stairs.

Remy steels himself for whatever was ahead, bracing as Patton opened the door and lead him into…A relatively nice kitchen?

Remy curses his minor in interior design, why did he have to like this psycho’s kitchen?

Patton bursts into a horribly off-key happy birthday, and some familiar faces walked into the kitchen to investigate.

Roman Sanders, the famous author, leading his twin brother Remus behind him. While his eyes widened at seeing Remy and Remy quietly heard him whisper, “Not again”, Remus simply stared blankly ahead.

Logan Crofters, a teacher at Damien’s old school was soon to follow. “Patton-bear?”

Remy scowled, disgusted. So the police were right in suspecting he was an accomplice.

“Dami!” Patton calls. “Come here please! Virgil!”

“Dad, it’s no one’s-” Damien stops short in the doorway when he sees Remy. Remy could here the sarcasm practically dripping from his mouth when he’d called Patton ‘dad’.

“There’s Thomas!” Patton coos, gently taking him from Virgil, who seemed to be struggling under the weight. “Your brother and sibling are back from their trips! Isn’t that exciting!”

“Sibling?” Virgil looks up, and Remy looks at the kid nervously, before nodding a confirmation towards Damien.

“Virge, why don’t you and Remy and I go to our room?” Damien suggests lightly, grabbing Virgil’s hand.

“Actually, Virgil, I’ll need to see you in about…Half and hour or so. Okay buddy?”

Virgil nods, completely throwing his trust at Patton.

Remy walks over to Damien slowly, and follows the two upstairs.

Damien and Virgil sit down on one of the beds in what Remy supposed was their room, and Damien and Remy stare at each other for what felt like an hour.

“I…I can’t believe you’re here.” Damien shakily runs his un-casted hand through his curls.

“Did he do that to you.” Remy stares at the baby blue cast, one finger subconsciously pulling at the shock collar while Virgil stared between the two with confusion.

“What’s going on?” Virgil asks.

“It’s okay Virgil.” Damien pauses, and uncertainly pulls Virgil closer to him, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s shoulder. “It’s just been a bit since Remy had been home yeah? We’ve all missed him. Isn’t it time for your nap?”

Virgil nods tiredly and closes his eyes, leaning against Damien’s side. Damien scoops Virgil up and carries him over to the other bed, placing him down and pulling the covers up to his chin.

“What’d Patton do to him?” Remy asks, sitting down on Damien’s bed. “No kid falls asleep that fast.”

“Patton gives him this medicine that makes him drowsy, because he likes to hold him and watch him sleep.” Damien shudders with disgust. “I don’t know what exactly happened to Virgil. He’s been like that since we first got taken again. It must’ve been something bad…Sometimes he talks in his sleep…”

“That’s so fucking creepy.” Remy huffs. “How are we supposed to get out of here? You were always the schemer.”

“I have no idea.” Damien admits, fiddling with his sweater sleeves. “We’ve tried so much…We always fail.”

“So what, you gave up?” Damien remains silent, and Remy’s face softens. “You missed Imani Tanner’s party, by the way.”

“Don’t remind me.” Damien groans. “And going to college, and taking my driver’s lesson, and working at the bakery, and going to Maisy's bat mitzvah…”

He trails off, tears falling down his face. “I’ve missed so much because of Patton…We didn’t even celebrate my birthday this time around because we tried to escape. He…He broke my arm on my fucking birthday!”

The only thing Remy could do was hug him.

Words: 1,100

[cake-in-a-tin]

this is for @silversickles‘ wolfstar minifest, and the day 2 prompt - detention. sorry this got a bit long, haha. hope you like it! Remus couldn't believe he’d gotten a detention. Like come on. He hadn't been doing that much wrong. Well, maybe he had but that wasn't the point. The point was that Severus Snape was for it next time Remu saw him, because boy oh boy was he going to pay. And on top of that, Sirius was gonna be in detention as well. Could it get any worse? 

Any worse than what, some people might have been wondering if they had been transported to Remus’ thoughts at that moment. Any worse than being stuck in a room with your crush, who also happens to be your best friend, for an hour and a half, that's what. Any worse than having been avoiding said crush because when you were around him you couldn't actually form coherent sentences. 

As it turned out, it could get worse. “Right in here boys, you will be sorting through the files of bad behaviour, something that has to be done at least once every fifteen years.” Filch sneered. “One day, maybe someone will be looking through files about you. Think about how much work you’ve given them, eh.”

A tiny storage cupboard. Of course. Of fucking course. Remus sighed and braced himself for the awkwardness that was sure to come. He was bad enough while he was around people he was just friends with, barely able to hold a conversation without becoming too self conscious, so how was he meant to deal with keeping up a conversation with Sirius fucking Black. Especially in close proximity. 

“This is bloody ridiculous.” Sirius was complaining, while loosening his tie in a way that infuriated Remus. Why should he be allowed to do that. Why should Sirius be allowed to unbutton the first three buttons of his shirt. It was bloody unfair, because if remus ever dared try something like that he'd get called a wanker, but of course all the girls were fawning over Sirius. Made the prospects of him liking Remus back even slimmer. Who in their right minds would like him, a bloke, when there were dozens of girls willing to be with them. Nobody was the answer to that question. Absolutely nobody.

Sighing again (a lot of sighing was going to take place this evening, Remus could tell) he pulled open a drawer and started to flick through the many reports of misbehaviour from the past years at Hogwarts. Remus was honestly relieved that Siirus wasn't trying to make small talk, he couldn't deal with that at the moment.

Around fifteen minutes later the two boys were startled by the door to the storage room banging shut and the distinct sound of a key turning in a lock came from outside. 

“Hey!” Remus yelled, and peered out the small window at the top of the door, where he could just see Snape's greasy head disappearing around the corner.

“Snape, that fucking asshole.” he growled under his breath. “I’m gonna get him for this jesus christ.”

After a quick try of alohomora, which didn't work, Remus remembered that all rooms with confidential things inside were only unlocked by a specific enchanted key. A key that Snape seemed to have. He swore under his breath.

Sirius was being unusually quiet, and Remus looked round at him. He was shocked to see him curled up against the cabinets, taking quick, uneven breaths.

“Sirius? Are you alright?” Remus could make out Sirius quickly shaking his head in the dim light, and knelt down next to him. Unsure of quite what to do, he rested his hand on the other boy's shoulder. 

“You need to take deep breaths, okay? Slowly, with me...” Remus started taking slow, deep breaths, trying to keep calm himself, and act as though there was nothing wrong, or at least, as though he wasn't too worried, so Sirius wasn't worried about him. After a couple of minutes of deep breathing, Sirius seemed to manage to slow his breaths down, but he was still shaking slightly. Remus, who still had his hand placed firmly on the other boy’s shoulder, gave him what he hoped was a soothing rub on said shoulder. Sirius, to his surprise, leaned into his side, so he quickly moved his other arm up, to hug him, and try and stop the trembling. 

“I’m so sorry about that, Remus,” Sirius murmured.

“Dont you dare fucking apologise Pads, I just wanna make sure youre okay.” Remus moved his head so he was looking right in Sirius’ shining eyes, which were red from crying. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I think so. I mean…shit. It's never been quite as bad before.”Sirius was very quiet, almost mumbling.

“You mean, this has happened before? Siri, you know you can talk to me about anything.�� Sirius let out a watery chuckle.

“Your dont wanna listen to this Re, trust me.”

“I do. And i'm not gonna judge you. I just wanna know what's up. It hurts so bad knowing that you're in pain and you aren't telling me. I don't think you quite grasp how much you mean to me Pads. Seriously - do not make the joke - you are the most important person in my life right now, and i can't bear to see you struggling like that. So please just talk to me.” Remus took a deep breath. Had he really just said that stuff out loud to Sirius’ face? If he laughed- oh god, Remus didn't think he would be able to handle that, he’d probably just die of embarrassment on the floor.

“It's just - this reminds me of my mother's punishments.” Sirius was speaking. Quietly, yes, but he was confiding in Remus. “She’s been especially bad this summer. I’ve been trying to take most of the blame, because i can't bear to see Reggie hurt, but the easiest way for her to get to me is just locking me in the wardrobe upstairs. I spent hours in there Re. Sometimes a day or more.” He took a deep shuddering breath, and Remus just pulled him tighter to his side, silently fuming at Walburga Black. “I felt like I couldn't breathe in there. It was pitch black, and of course I couldn't use my wand to make light. I couldn't eat either. 

“Then today when snape locked us in (fuck him by the way), it just felt like it was her doing it all over again. Oh jesus bloody christ you dont wanna hear my fucking sob stories, im sorry Re. I just needed to get this off my chest.”

Sirius visibly relaxed against Remus after he'd said all this, who rested his cheek on the shorter boy’s dark hair. 

“What did I say before? Dont fucking apologise. You don't deserve any of that stuff. I’m going to kill your mother next time i see her, you're gonna have to keep a firm grip on me.” Sirius laughed at this.

The two boys sat in comfortable silence, taking deep breaths together, still in sync, like two halves of one person, connected in some way. The dark surrounded them, but unlike before, it wasn't tearing at them, or confining them. It was just there, co existing with them.

“Hey Re?”

“Mmhm?”

“You mean a lot to me as well.” Remus’ heart skipped a couple of beats. Sure Sirius probably meant this as in friendship terms, but still…

“Sorry?”

“You said earlier that I mean a lot to you, and i wanted to tell you that you mean a lot to me too.” If this was one of the muggle books Renys had been reading recently, this would be the point where he and Sirius confessed their undying love for each other and made out until the chapter ended. But this wasn't one of those books, this was real life. Sirius had just had some sort of anxiety attack, and they were locked in a storage cupboard for Gods’ sake. Plus, Remus was perfectly content just sitting in the dark, head resting on Sirius’ until someone came and found them.

[justtoarguewithyou]

9/23: An Apology

My contribution to the @swottypotter comfort minifest. a little funny standalone. :)

Sirius has apologized to Remus many times over the course of their Hogwarts career.

He apologized after he accidentally set fire to his robes in Potions during their first year. He apologized after he broke Remus’s trunk, trying to toboggan down the stairs leading to the common room in second year. In third year, Sirius found himself apologizing for many things: once for spilling Remus’s tea onto his recently finished History of Magic essay, and then dripping that essay onto his Astronomy diagrams; accidentally overwatering the mandrake they’d been assigned to propagate; and landing him in detention after flooding the Owlery with chocolate pudding. But really, that had been James’s fault…

Once Remus became a prefect, Sirius found himself apologizing for all manners of mischief, usually after the fact. What Remus didn’t know, Remus couldn’t deduct house points, Sirius reasoned.

Never in his life though, would he have imagined apologizing to Remus for being caught kissing Marlene McKinnon after curfew.

Because, of course, Remus had the damned Marauders Map while on prefect duty. Sirius sighed and looked sheepish as he trailed behind Remus as they walked back to the common room. Marlene looked like she would burst into another fit of giggles at any moment.

Remus had already been suspicious of Sirius when he had spent the entire week whispering with Marlene after classes, secreted away in various passages pretending to be tapestries, storage closets pretending to be classrooms, and actual empty classrooms. Their problem was the same: they both wanted to kiss someone, and make a good impression. Neither had—kissed anyone, that is.

That night, when Marlene started talking about tongues, Sirius lost feeling in his knees and had to lean against a desk. His parents’ kisses were perfunctory things, mere pecks. No tongues involved!

“Tongues?” Sirius asked, slightly horrified and bewildered; not by tongues exactly, but what did you do with them?

“There has to be a correct way of doing it,” Marlene whispered, “Or no one would want to. Would it be all, you know, wet? Slimy? What do you do with your tongue? Just…wiggle it around? What about their teeth? Or your teeth? Can you bite someone? Not hard. Not like, you know, an angry toddler. But gently. Can I bite you?”

Marlene tended to babble. But all of a sudden, tongues and biting sounded like a good idea. Otherwise, Sirius might find himself caught flat-footed and utterly unprepared.

Sirius was under no illusion—he very much wanted to bite Remus, and he knew Marlene was after Dorcas’s mouth, with all its teeth. This was for research purposes only.

“Yes. I think we’d better,” Sirius said, putting his hands on her waist, if only to brace himself.

“All right,” Marlene said, her face very determined and Gryffindor-like.

Sirius leaned down, and Marlene craned her neck. At first, their kisses were soft, and tentative, and even a little shy. They had kept their eyes open. Maybe that’s part of the problem, Sirius thought.

Then, Sirius laughed, and said, “Come on, old girl,” which made Marlene smile and relax. “Let’s close our eyes this time.”

“Closed, okay,” Marlene said, and closed her eyes, and pushed her slightly open mouth firmly against the corner of Sirius’s mouth. He corrected her aim, and opened his mouth against hers, and tentatively slid his tongue inside. Marlene’s breath caught for a moment, and then did the same.

Their hands slid up each other’s torso, tentatively. Almost reverently.

It’s strange, exploring someone else’s teeth and tongue, Sirius thought. But not terrible.

Sirius broke the kiss before it became too…spitty? Wet? Sirius wasn’t sure how to describe it.

Marlene took the opportunity to bite Sirius’ lower lip gently, which he decided he liked. She smiled; she had liked it, too. They kissed again, this time a little more self-assured, their hands seeking out…well, something! Sirius chuckled, and held Marlene tight so she wouldn’t squirm, and kissed her neck and jaw. Marlene giggled as Sirius’ breath hit her ear, and he nipped her earlobe.

Perhaps it was the giggle, more than anything, that shocked Remus. Marlene never giggled. Yet here she was: giggling and kissing Sirius.

Remus stood in the doorway, and cleared his throat as he folded the map. He deducted a point apiece, and escorted them back to the common room.

“After you, Marlene,” Sirius said, ever a gentleman, as they went through the portrait hole, which infuriated Remus even more.

“Good night, lads,” Marlene said, shooting Sirius an apologetic look, as she ran up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory.

“So…” Remus said quietly, his eyes cold and bright and piercing.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Sirius said in a low voice, blushing. “I mean. We were kissing. But not for the reason you think.”

“I think most people kiss for the same reason, Sirius,” Remus said in that ever-put-upon tone that Sirius loved and hated.

“Not this time,” Sirius said briskly, folding his arms over his chest.

Remus just sighed, and tugged at his sweater underneath his robes. Remus always wore his robes while on prefect duty.

“Remus,” Sirius said, looking irritated, and feeling ridiculous. “Believe it or not, Marlene and I were practicing kissing together so we could kiss other people.”

Remus tutted and muttered something under his breath, looking away.

“Remus,” Sirius said, moving in closer to Remus, and putting his crooked forefinger under his chin. Sirius looked into Remus’ upturned eyes. “You know I’m not interested in Marlene.”

Remus blushed. “So, are you going to show me what you learned?”

Sirius smirked. “No, I think I better practice with Marlene a few more times.”

“Sirius!” Remus hissed, feigning indignance.

Sirius chuckled. “Close your eyes.”

Remus did, and Sirius bent his head down to kiss Remus’s mouth, gently, longingly. No tongue. Not just yet. Sirius held him close, and kissed the hinge of Remus’s jaw, and then he nipped his earlobe.

Remus giggled.

[imreallystressed]

nothing is okay /j (pt. 3)

word count: ~2,200 pairings: it’s literally just platonic (obviously) creativitwins, some angst some comfort warnings: angst angst angst, with the comfort being a slightly-more-cathartic-than-usual-bandaid. roman and remus both have what amount to identity crises. buildings falling apart? mention of puking. general creepy language (both in the remus way and like horror-esque). swearing! notes: oh boy. i’d say i’m sorry but i know exactly what i’m doing. my favorite part is literally just “whimsy-twinsy”, which should surprise no one!! also apologies for procrastinating this for so long!!! first! - prev! - next! AO3 LINK

Roman was fairly sure he was going to pass out. He probably could’ve communicated this to Remus, who was definitely talking to him, but he couldn’t actually hear anything over the blood pounding in his head. 

He suddenly wished fervently that he hadn’t closed the door behind him. Or agreed to this. Or gotten out of bed at all.

“Roman, for fuck’s sake, are you even conscious?” Remus shouted, loudly enough to snap Roman out of his trance.

“Uh- yeah, yeah! What’s up?” Roman said. Remus raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. “I didn’t believe that one either.”

“What the fuck did you do? Honestly, if this was on purpose, I’m impressed, but judging by the fact that you just went catatonic as a dead rat I’m going to have to assume this was a mistake.”

“Can we just go?” Roman snapped, yanking his hand from Remus and forcing himself to face the landscape before him. His beautiful rolling hills, filled with secrets from his subconscious and little reminders of Thomas’ life were gone, replaced with a forest that ached of too many thunderstorms and loneliness. The trees were hunched over the path like they were ready to reach out and grab whichever unlucky traveler dared head through the woods.

Roman steadied himself, which basically meant firmly shoving his racing heart to the back of his mind and starting down the path. Remus followed, uncharacteristically silent.

The further they got in the suffocating atmosphere, the more off-balance Roman felt. The forest really did feel like it was pulling at them, vines unfurling in his face and weeds curling around his boots. Every ounce of the environment screamed unstable, it felt like some kind of apocalypse had once flattened it.

Roman wished Remus would just say something, anything, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood, walking a few steps behind Roman and keeping his head down, glowering through his bangs.

He was fully aware his breathing was far too erratic for a stroll in the woods, and immediately felt a pang of guilt as he wondered if it was affecting Thomas. That train of thought lead him directly to Virgil, and then he had the fleeting thought that maybe it was Virgil’s panic affecting him.

He looked up and saw some kind of eyeless creature watching them through the branches, and there went that thought.

Roman danced through old daydreams in his head, trying to settle on something to think of other than the possibly perilous danger he was in, but after fifteen minutes of failing every idea he thought of, he gave up.

This was conveniently when they came to a crossroads and he was forced to pause. Remus stood beside him, the maybe-six-inches between them like a gaping chasm.

“Do you remember the way?” Roman asked quietly.

“I haven’t been since... yeah,” Remus trailed off, peering around the corner. “You’d know better.”

“You think I’ve been since then?”

Remus looked up at him with a hint of shock in his eyes, and Roman’s heart ached. “You haven’t?”

“What, you think I enjoy literally and empathetically lo-jacking my friends every day?” Roman asked. He’d intended for it to come out jokingly, but the tremble in his voice dashed that dream instantly. Remus gave him an incredulous look.

“You could know everyone’s deepest secrets.”

“I don’t want to know everyone’s deepest secrets!” Roman said, equal parts upset and offended that Remus would think he’d spy on them like that.

Remus turned away, looking down the path to their right, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, then I guess we just have to try each one, right?”

“What if the path doesn’t even lead to the fountain?” Roman blurted, before he could stop himself. “What if this is all some wild goose chase?”

“Geese are pretty fun!”

Roman smacked Remus gently on the shoulder. “I mean it.”

“I know. I’m trying not to think about it.”

“You of all people should know that that doesn’t work,” Roman said, trying for levity and falling somewhere between ‘miserable’ and ‘actually offensive’.

Remus frowned at him. “You sound like Logan.”

Roman blinked. “Oh my god, I do. What’s happening to me? Is this the mom instinct?”

Remus began cackling, and Roman started giggling a little deliriously.

“And stop with the what ifs. That’s Virgil’s thing. The fact that you’re even saying that means we’re almost certainly on the right path. Now c’mon, we’re racing. Last one there has to suck a horse dick!”

“No-”

Roman did actually beat Remus there, who seemed far too comfortable with his fate, and both turned to look at the scene before them.

Roman’s heart dropped a little further.

“That’s - well. At least that’s it, right?” Remus said, his voice pointedly cheery. Roman nodded woodenly, staring at the entrance. He could already feel his hands start to shake.

“That’s it.”

“You did a good job sealing it.”

“I guess.”

“Real fucking helpful now,” Remus said, and Roman snorted. Careless of the wild plants, many covered in menacing thorns, Remus stalked forward to the entrance and heaved one of the rocks to the side, creating an opening big enough for them to get through.

Remus didn’t hesitate a second to dive through, and his awed “woah” echoed back to Roman.

He picked his way across the plant life, and crawled through the hole, significantly less elegantly than he meant to, and stood beside his twin.

The inside of the spring was covered in plant life, and the air hung humid enough to make breathing just a touch more difficult than it needed to be. Remus was looking around like he was thrilled, but Roman felt a clawing sense of dread pooling in his chest.

Some kind of lizard scuttled across a nearby rock, and he shuddered.

“Okay, creepy water time?” Roman said, interrupting their reverie. Remus grinned brightly in his direction and turned to the pool in the center of the cave.

“Be my guest!”

“This is my side of the Imagination.”

“Okay, die then.”

Roman took a step forward, and instantly regretted it.

If he had had an orchestra playing a score for his life, now would have been the time for the violin sting.

The entire cave rumbled to life, vibrating around them. Pebbles began to cascade off the walls and ceiling, throwing clouds of dust as they rained a twisted hail upon the brothers.

Cracks started to web across the ceiling, larger plates of rock collapsing onto the ground, crushing plants and moss and ripping vines as they fell.

“Uh, Rem, I didn’t think you meant that literally-”

“See the thing is that I didn’t, I’m not doing this, which is surprising because I’m me - move!”

Remus dove, slamming Roman to the ground as a massive boulder careened into the spot where he was standing.

And just like that, the earthquake stopped.

Remus shoved himself off of Roman, but Roman caught his shoulder.

“You saved me?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah. The only person- er, rock- who gets to knock out my brother is me.”

Roman fairly beamed in his direction, and Remus shook his head.

“Less sentiment, more sentient! Water!” he griped, gesturing wildly in the direction of the pool.

“Right,” Roman said, and Remus found himself missing the bright smile.

Roman walked heavily over to the water, resigned, and plunged his right hand into the just-a-little-too-blue water, squinting against it and trying to brace for whatever he was about to see.

Turns out that was just water, because nothing happened.

Remus sat beside him, glancing between him and the water expectantly.

“Uh, no offense, but that doesn’t look like Virgil.”

“It’s not working.”

“I can tell. Are you doing something different, or...?”

“I never really knew what I was doing. Oh my god, this was just a waste of time. I was worried about not finding it but we found it and it’s not even going to work because I’m just a fucking failure-”

“Roman,” Remus tried, a little taken aback.

“It doesn’t even matter if I could make it work, even if I can’t, because no matter where he is he won’t even listen to me because no one ever does, and they’re right, they shouldn’t, because everything I say is useless or wrong or-”

“Roman!” Remus yelled, grabbing his brother’s shoulders and yanking his hand out of the water. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I told you! I fucking told you everything, the one correct thing I’m ever going to say-”

“You’re wrong,” Remus interrupted, shaking Roman just a little bit. Roman froze, his glassy eyes staring back at Remus. “You’re wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, Roman, you’re wrong,” Remus said, practically clinging at this point. “You’re the good twin. You’re not useless, you’re not wrong. I mean it, Ro.”

Roman blinked at him. “What do you mean by good twin?”

Remus jerked away suddenly, clasping his hands in his lap. “I mean- well- all that stuff you said. It’s - that stuff doesn’t apply to you. Because you’re the good twin.”

“You’re saying it applies to you.”

Remus stared into the water.

“Remus.”

“Roman.”

“It’s not a big deal. I get it, hell, I’m proud of it. I’m evil.”

“But you’re not,” Roman insisted, trying to make Remus look at him.

“But I am, Roman! That’s my whole thing! People shouldn’t listen to me because it’s my job to not be listened to!” Remus retorted.

“That doesn’t mean you’re evil!”

“Well that doesn’t work, does it? Two twins, good creativity, bad creativity. White and black. Good and evil, Roman.”

“But-”

“We split for a goddamn reason. Now would you just make the fucking water work?”

Remus finally turned, and wished he hadn’t. Roman was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest. His voice hadn’t shown it, but there were tears streaming down his face.

“Roman-”

“Fine.”

Roman plunged both hands into the water, and in the ripples Remus could almost see it, so close to their goal - but there was nothing there. It was just water.

Roman pulled his hands from the spring, set his head on the rim, and sobbed.

“We’ll- it’s fine. We’ll find Virgil the old fashioned way.”

“If he doesn’t want us to find him, we won’t,” Roman said miserably, and Remus took a moment to be extremely offended that he was right.

Remus sighed. “Look at us. Two idiots who don’t even know how to do their own jobs.”

Roman’s head shot up, and he whirled to face Remus.

“Say that again,” he said, and his voice bordered on manic but he was starting to smile, so Remus repeated himself.

“Two idiots who don’t even know how to do their own jobs?”

“That’s it, oh my god, Rem, you’re a genius, why don’t I listen to you more often-”

“Slow down, whimsy-twinsy! What’s this genius idea I apparently came up with?”

“It’s just like Janus said-”

“Wait, what?”

“-we’re nuanced now, but we weren’t back then. So the spring is powered by quote-unquote ‘good’ creativity, but since we’re not black and white anymore, we need both of us to power it.”

“You lost me at nuanced.”

“Rem. Come on!” Roman begged, holding out his hand.

“You’re nuanced, I’m not, it’s not gonna work.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and can’t we at least try?”

Remus was about three seconds from either standing up and running or straight up puking at the obvious emotional display happening, but Roman looked genuinely pleading and well, Remus wasn’t going to examine his motivations any further than that.

“Fine,” he said, taking Roman’s hand and pretending he didn’t blanch at the answering smile he got.

Roman tugged their hands into the spring.

“Okay, now do I imagine plum fairies and sweet little birds?”

“No, dumbass, you think of Virgil.”

“Oh. Right.”

Remus wrinkled his nose and tried his best to think of positive memories of Virgil, which worked up until a certain age, but Remus had a very good memory, so it wasn’t a problem staying before then.

Achingly slowly, colour began to spread from their hands, and the pool reflected an image of Virgil, pacing back and forth somewhere Remus didn’t recognize.

“Uh, where is that?” Remus asked, glancing at Roman.

“I... don’t know.”

“Can we like, pan around?”

“I don’t know if it works like that,” Roman said, but it apparently wasn’t necessary, because Virgil chose that moment to walk in the opposite direction.

Their view shifted, and Remus felt his heart sink.

“He’s in the otherscape.”

“What?”

“The dark side, basically. Like your mindscape but... y’know. Ours. Er, mine.”

“Huh?” Roman said, puzzled. “Why would Virgil go there?”

“I’m more interested in the how. You light sides can’t rise up into it, and the door disappeared after Virgil left.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll explain more on the way back. We’ve gotta get the others, because I am not breaking into my own house without everyone there.”

“You’d break into your own house any day. You just like breaking into places.”

“Yeah, well. Usually I do it for more fun reasons.”

Roman sighed, squeezing Remus’ hand, and they both took off running.

Behind them, the pool began to drain.

( taglist [which i have now apparently?? tysm :7!!]: @glitchybina )

[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

Next

Previous

AO3

...

“Virg? You ok?” Patton asks softly, the black still flickering at his edges, and he sighs, shoving his hand through his hair.

 “yeah. It just… it comes and goes so fast with them. One moment they’re fine, and the next they’re plummeting. I can’t brace myself for it.” Virgil replies, taking a deep breath in, and out, his form becoming more solid with each one.

 Wraiths fed off negativity. Negative feelings, emotions, words, it gave them power. They could twist the dark to their will, bend shadows into monsters, could influence people’s thoughts and actions, and turn into shadowy, ghost like beings, hence the name ‘wraith’.  

 Virgil didn’t like feeding off of people’s misery, he didn’t thrive on it like others of his kind, didn’t relish all the myths and legends borne from his race. He rarely used his abilities, only if he or one of the others were in danger, though he tended to turn intangible when stressed or worried, going from his solid, humanoid form to a shadowy mass of smoke.

 “They’ve been through so much. It’s only natural.” Janus replies softly, staring up at the ceiling. “They’re starting to trust us, though.”

 “They’re starting to trust you and Patton. Remus doesn’t like me as far as he can throw me, and he flat out despises Logan.”

 “No he doesn’t.” Janus interrupts, sitting up properly in the chair, eyes serious. “He doesn’t hate Logan, or you, for that matter. He’s afraid of you.” Virgil frowns, looking away.

 “And that’s better?”

 “Yes.” Both Janus and Patton say at the same time.

“it is. Because you can show them, every day, you can show them, that there’s no reason to fear you, and slowly they’ll start to trust.” Patton answers firmly.

 “hate is harder to erase. It stains everything, it leaves no room for accidents or mistakes. Everything you do is malicious. Fear… can be unlearned so much easier. It allows for errors, it allows for apologies, it allows for growth.” Janus finishes, sighing and stretching as he stands, wincing slightly at the ache in his shoulder. It’s an old wound, long healed, but it still likes to act up every once in a while, usually when he’s stressed or worried, both of which he is now.

 He sees too much of himself in the brothers, that’s his problem. He was young, when he was taken, had to be, else he would have known how to fight back properly, else his fangs would have been fully developed and with a single scratch he could have killed them all, but he was old enough to still have memories of his nest mates.

 To remember warmth and comfort and a soft, lulling voice singing haunting melodies through the night. To remember the laughter of his siblings, of his cousins, of all the other children of the den, to know there had been squabbles and disagreements and play fighting and always, at the end of the night, they all curled together in a pile, sprawled across and under and over each other. They were so attuned to physical touch, needed it, needed the warmth it provided, both physical and mental, losing that had been its own kind of torture.  

 At least they have each other. He can’t even remember their names, let alone faces. All he has of his mother is that distant, soft crooning. All he has of his family is the faint feel of warmth. He wonders often if it would be better if he had nothing at all. He swallows hard, realizing Patton had asked him a question, and Virgil was looking at him with concern. He swallows past the lump in his throat, shoving back the emotions that come with these thoughts, because if he lets himself think a moment longer, they will overtake the tall, sturdy wall he has built in his mind to protect himself from the ache of almost memories.

 “Janus… please.” Patton says, and he knows what he’s asking without saying it. Patton is asking him to stay, asking him not to run, asking him to talk about it, asking him for his full story, something he’s never really given, the curt summary of his history to Remus is all he’s ever told the others, but if he gives in to Patton, he won’t be able to hold it back. He won’t be able to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was. He won’t be able to stop.

 “I can’t… pat, I trust you with my life, but I… I can’t go back there. I can’t do it all again. That’s… that’s what saying it all would be, it would be doing all of it all over again, and I can’t…” He inhales shakily, nearly jumping out of his skin when Virgil takes his hand, turning him so they’re face to face.

 “breath, Jan. In and out.” Virgil coaches softly, catching him at the edge of the abyss and slowly walking him back until the past fades away and he’s back in the present.

 “I’m going to bed now.” He says, a bit flat, a bit distant, and without a second glance, he turns and walks away, closing and locking his door behind him, before he collapses on his bed and stares numbly at the ceiling, determined not to feel a thing, until he manages to fall asleep.

…

 He can’t sleep. He doesn’t know why, he’s exhausted, he has been for nearly forever, but for some reason he can’t let it go tonight. That’s why he’s pacing the room, appreciating the soft glow of the ship, appreciating the lack of total darkness.

 The door is open, and he keeps glancing down the hallway, as if expecting something to come attack, some monster to appear, some shadow demon to charge, though really, that’s basically Virgil. But the thought of being trapped, in this enclosed space, of the dark creeping in, is too much to bear.

 He shivers again, because Virgil had apologized, about what he’d done, and meant it, and he understood, why Virgil had plunged him into that nightmare. He was protecting his family, and he understands that all too well, far too well to hold it against someone, but the residual fear still clings to him, adds another nightmare to his already long roster, and maybe he’s not sleeping because then he’ll have to experience all of it again.

 He shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, growling under his breath, because there’s too much energy, it feels like his legs are sparking with it, and this movement of pacing is barely holding it at bay.

 Or maybe it’s the conversation from earlier, what Roman said, earlier, because despite all his reassurances, he knows Roman still blames himself for their getting taken in the first place. Which is stupid, incredibly stupid, but all his words will never dissuade Roman of that idea.

…

It wasn’t like they could have predicted it. They were camping, with their parents, an activity they did almost every weekend in the summer. Most times, they stayed close to home, just local county campgrounds with some hiking trails and jungle gyms, grilling out and sitting at a campfire telling stories until the moon was high in the sky. Those were the best, tired and sleepy, but still refusing to go to bed as the fire crackled, sending embers dancing through the air, while Dad read to them, Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, any fantasy book they could get their hands on.

 Usually once or twice a summer, they packed up for a longer trip, one of the cool state campgrounds up north, with real forests and towering trees and lakes, and an air of mystery that the small wooded parks just didn’t have. They always had sing a longs in the car, Disney and theater music, and twizzlers, road trip twizzlers had somehow become a tradition. Him and Roman bickered and fought on the three, four hour ride, and their parents laughingly broke it up, until they both eventually passed out, waking up when they arrived.

 This had been one of those trips. Deep, actual forest, sleeping in tents, the smell of pine and earth and crisp air all day, it was his favorite thing in the world! It was the end of their second day there, which they’d spent hiking around the lake, trying to imitate bird calls, and he had been howling, trying to attract wolves all day, much to Roman’s dismay.

 It was dark, when Roman shook him awake. They’d gone to bed early, tired out from their activities, so he wasn’t surprised to look at the battery powered clock in their tent to see it was only one am.

 “Rem. Rem, did you see it?” Roman asked, shaking him again, and he lightly shoved Roman off of him, rubbing at his eyes.

 “did I see what, Ro?” He asked tiredly. Roman’s eyes were huge as saucers, and he was practically vibrating with excitement.

 “the fairy.” He whispered conspiratorially, grinning, the gap in his bottom teeth visible where he’d recently lost a tooth. They’d both gotten in trouble for that one, but Roman had said it was wiggling, so of course Remus had volunteered to pull it out!

 “what? Ro, you were just dreaming, go back to sleep.” He replied, rolling his eyes. Roman was ten, his imagination wilder than Remus’s at times, and he sometimes had trouble telling what was real and what wasn’t. He was a proud adult, at thirteen, and didn’t believe in things like fairies anymore, though he always humored Roman. He hated upsetting his little brother more than anything, and he could tell he had now, as Roman’s lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes. He usually wasn’t this emotional, but he guessed the little guy was still a bit sleep deprived and grumpy.

 “There is! I saw its light!” He bit his lip skeptically. The best thing to do was play along.

 “Easy, Ro. I believe you did see something, just, are you sure it was a fairy, and not just someone else’s flashlight or distant fire, or something? You know fairies are very rare.” He added, so Roman wouldn’t be offended. Roman scrunched his eyes, thinking hard for a moment.

 “No. it wasn’t either of those. I know what that looks like, Ree, this was blue!” He sighed, alright, no getting out of this, then.

 “Ok. We can go check it out, quickly, alright? Put on your shoes, and we’ll look around. If we don’t see anything, will you go back to bed?” Roman nodded enthusiastically, already with one shoe half on. He grumbled and threw on a sweater, before quietly unzipping the tent door and stepping out into the night air.

 It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The ground was already slightly wet from dew, and it was very dark. He was careful to keep his flashlight pointed at the ground, away from the parent’s tent a few feet away, shushing Roman as he came out, zipping the tent closed.

 “ok, Ro. Where did you see it?” He whispered, his voice sounding huge in the relative silence of the night. The trees swayed above in a soft breeze, and he shivered.

 “over there!” Roman whispered back, pointing towards the edge of the site. Carefully, he walked towards it, aware of the crunch of old leaves beneath his feet as he shone his light around the edge of camp. He didn’t see anything. He didn’t hear anything, either, which was odd.

 That’s why it felt so loud and eerie. There were no crickets chirping, no night birds calling, no ambient sound from animals foraging through the underbrush. It was completely, unnaturally silent.

 He swallowed hard, taking a step back, suddenly regretting all of his wolf howling from earlier. What if he really had attracted a large predator? That would explain the lack of noise, and the eerie, prickling feeling of unseen eyes on him. There could be a wolf, waiting to pounce, or a cougar up in a tree, he’d heard stories of them attacking people, they were nearly invisible in the woods, or-

 “There!” He saw a flash of light, bright and deep and blue, come from deeper in the woods, and before he could say a word, Roman was sprinting past him, chasing after the ‘fairy light’.  He cursed, and took off after his brother, unwilling to leave him alone to get lost in the woods and attacked by a bear or whatever lurked around here.

 “Roman! Wait up!” He yelled, panting, speeding up as he heard Roman let out a yell, cut short. “RO!” He screamed again, but something sharp pierced his neck and he staggered, head spinning, vision blurring as he lost balance and fell to the ground. He reached up and weakly pulled something that looked almost like a dart from his neck, shaking with effort as he crawled forwards, just managing to get to Roman before he blacked out completely.

 When they woke up, they had been in the cell. That pitch black, empty, desolate cell. The only good thing was that they were together. But they were terrified and confused and alone, and Remus had to stay strong, he had to hold in his tears, he had to act brave, for Roman.

 Over the years, they’d picked up the ‘Common’ as it was called, the language the different guards and scientists and Him spoke with, learned it on their own, though they’d never learned to read it. It hadn’t taken too long, for them to realize what was happening, that they’d been abducted, like in one of the scary movies they weren’t supposed to watch, but that wasn’t the worst part.

 The worst part was the stupid, aching, hope, that had lingered, strong and fierce for the first few days, the first few weeks, even, that they’d be let go. That’s what happened, in books and movies, the people were taken by aliens, and probed or whatever, and then put back on earth with no memory of what had happened. That hope had died a slow and agonizing death, over the months that turned to years, that turned to a decade of repeated, endless, horrors.

 ...

 He shakes his head again, trying to clear it, trying to force back those memories, because they hurt, anything from before just hurts, and he’s never had time to think of it, before. He was always waiting for the next procedure or trap or experiment, always planning his and Roman’s survival, he’d never been allowed time to grieve or think or remember.

 He tries to take a deep breath, and almost succeeds, swiping at his eyes. He feels wide awake, almost electrified, his every atom buzzing for movement, and he curls his hands into fists just so they stop shaking. He glances at Roman, who is still fast asleep, curled in bed, and sighs. Water, maybe some water will help. He’s been assured by Patton that the ship is open to him, day or night, that he’s free to eat or drink whatever he wants, that everyone shares responsibilities and chores and food on the ship, and he won’t get in trouble for using something. That doesn’t make it any easier, to cross the threshold of his room, his nerves on fire as he tiptoes past every door, holding his breath, jumping at every shadow until he makes into the common area. Again, the openness of it both soothes him and frightens him. There’s so many places to run, if he needs to, but so many places for enemies to come from, and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a noise from the kitchen area, breath halting as he sees glowing silver eyes staring back at him, almost as startled as he is.

[sebthesnipe]

Muck and Mayhem

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 35

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

TW: blood and cursing.

Patton trudged through the deep mud, keeping close to the sloping bank as they drew closer to the fortress. The river there had dried  up long ago, but with the recent flashes of rain that had passed through this area, the banks were caked in sludge from the ash and topsoil. 

‘I still don’t see why we had to go around,’ Virgil shot at the feline currently cradled in Patton’s, his own whiskers twitching as he peered over the dragon’s shoulder. 

‘I told you,’ Logan projected back with a glare. ‘It would be easier to hide if we followed the river bank.’

‘And get buried under six feet of mud!’ Virgil counted. 

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ the cat sent back, ‘The mud is no more than two foot deep.’

‘Whatever!’ Virgil mentally scoffed, ‘It could still kill us!’

‘Patton is the strongest out of the three of us,’ Logan pointed out, ‘Hence, why he is carrying us. It will be fine.’

The raccoon gave a dismissive growl before crawling back into Patton’s backpack. ‘You just wanted to see your boyfriend be all muscley.’

“I don’t know what you two are arguing about,” Patton mumbled, “but could you please stop? We have other things to worry about.”

‘Yeah, Logan,’ Virgil shot towards the feline once more, earning a feral growl from the beast. 

“Logan!” Patton chided, in a harsh whisper. “That is enough!”

Logan’s ears flattened against his head as he glanced away, his exasperation obvious through their bond. The three fell silent as Patton continued his slow progress along the banks. 

It wasn’t long before the fortress loomed above them, the usual moss covered walls charred black where flames had danced along them.

Logan wiggled from his partner’s grasp, climbing up his shoulder and half into his hair to try and get a better view. 

He could see the front entrance, though just barely. The small stone bridge was a bit unkempt, but remained standing, despite the fires. The large wooden doors were latched shut, but unmanned. 

‘Something is not right,’ Logan projected towards the raccoon in Patton’s pack. 

‘What do you mean?’ Virgil pressed back, his striped muzzle appearing from inside. 

‘The door is unguarded,’

‘What?!’ Virgil scappered out of the bag, climbing onto the opposite shoulder and stretching on his hindlegs to see. 

“Virgil!” Patton grumbled, the raccoon paws pushing the dragon’s pink curls into his eyes, blinding him for a moment. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” 

‘I’m going to go check it out,’ Virgil informed his animal companion, already leaping onto the side of the bank. 

‘Virgil! Wait!’ Logan rushed, but the procyon was already too far gone. 

“Should I go after him?” Patton asked, tilting his head to glance up at the cat, feeling his concern.

Logan hesitated before giving a shake of his head. Going after the raccoon now would only make it more likely that they’d be spotted. 

………………………………………………………

“This way!” Remus grumbled, trying to pull his brother in the direction his mace was pointing. 

“Not a chance!” Roman spat in return, pulling in the opposite direction weakly. “The baku said this way!”

“Yeah, well the baku has barely come out of their cell!” Remus argued. “I’ve lived here for the last ten-”

An animalistic roar pierced the arm, cutting off Roman’s disheveled twin and sending terror through the man. 

“Assbutter!” Remus cursed, pulling on Roman hard enough to force him in the direction Remus had been pointing. “He knows you’re gone now! We don’t have time to argue!” 

“Who?” Roman pressed, gasping as he tried to keep up with Remus’ pace. “Noname?”

“I can’t believe I’m helping you,” Remus huffed as they hobbled on. “I shouldn’t be helping you…”

“Remus,” Roman breathed, voice pained. “I can’t help if-” he flinched as they rounded the corner, his leg protesting. He was starting to get a bit light headed. He had lost a lot of blood. “-if you don’t tell me what's going on,” he managed to finish, movements beginning to slow even further. 

He could smell the night air. They were getting closer. Remus had been right.

“Like you could help anyways,” Remus scoffed, “Look at yourself! You look like a pissmuffin in-” he cut himself off as he caught sight of another pair of guards. He slid his arm from around Roman’s waist, hoping the man could support himself. He didn’t have time to coddle him at the moment. 

The two soldiers hurried forwards, swords drawn. Remus didn’t hesitate as one of the blades were swung at him. He brought his mace up, swatting the steel away from him before turning to elbow the guard in the face. Another spin and he was bringing the heavy end of his weapon down on the man’s head, sending him crumbling to the floor and dissolving into dust.

“Thank all that is unholy I didn’t upgrade security when I was asked,” Remus mumbled, with an amused smile before turning at the sound of a pained grunt. 

Roman pressed against the wall , shield braced with both hands as the guard pressed harder against it with his own. Their swords had somehow been discarded, leaving the two men grappling shield to shield. 

It was obvious Roman would lose this particular test of strength. The prince was already out of breath, sweating and beaten. A new gash was apparent on his forehead, sending blood pouring into his eyes, the gash on his shoulder worsening from his effort as well. 

“Don’t just stand there!” Roman cried, glancing at his twin. “Help me!” 

Remus seemed to snap out of his stupor, rushing to his brother’s aid. “Right!” he mumbled, hurrying forward, his hands moving to pull the soldier off the prince. There was a brief struggle before Remus managed to bring a knee up into the soldier’s groin, earning him just enough respite to finish him off with his mace. 

“Huh…” The smaller twin breathed as he moved to stand. “Looks like homuncli had balls just like we do,” he thought out loud, turning towards his brother. “Who kne- Roman!”

Roman collapsed, sliding down the wall with a trail of red following him along the cracked cobbles. Remus was by his side in an instant, trying to steady the other man as he pulled him into a seated position. 

“Come on, Ro, we don’t have time for this!” Remus pleaded, giving the prince’s cheek a few firm pats to try and bring him to. “We have to g-”

The walls around them shook, dust falling from the ceiling. Remus glanced up, his fear spiking. He shook the other man.

“Come on!” he demanded, “He’s getting closer! I can’t stop him when he’s like this!”

Roman gave no response, head lulling to one side. 

“I told you, your plan was horrible!” Remus spat, pulling back a hand. “But did you listen to me?! No! You never do! You always think you’re so smart! You always think you’re better than everyone!” He brought his hand down, slapping the prince firmly, a red outline apparent on Roman’s cheek. “Roman! Come on!” 

He slapped him again. 

Roman’s body shifted, head falling against his brother’s shoulder.

………………………………………………………………………………..

Virgil scurried across the small clearing, hiding behind the charred remains of a small stump. He peered around it, gaze searching for an opening. 

Logan had been right. There had been no guards at the entrance or on the tower. Something was definitely wrong. Had they discovered Roman was missing? He certainly hoped not. It was too soon. 

The raccoon darted across another small clearing, finally catching sight of a mass of ivy still clinging to one of stone walls before hunkering below a small mound of decaying brush.

If the eerie roar that had sounded only minutes ago was anything to go by, then Virgil’s hopes were about to be severely dashed. 

Not that anything would change. 

Either Virgil died trying to save Roman or he would die without him.  

Virgil inched forwards, gaze darting to and fro to make sure there was no one in sight before making his way to the ivy.

He hoisted himself up, climbing the vines with ease, only pausing as he crest the top of the wall to take stock of his surroundings. 

The small alcove that overlooked the fields was just as empty as the entrance way below. He didn’t like this at-

The wall quaked beneath him, sending the raccoon stumbling a bit as he jumped down off the ledge and onto the floor beneath it. Whatever the source of those quakes was, it was big. 

“Roman!”

The cry had Virgil tensing, ears perked, breath hitching. Roman? Roman was nearby?

He listened, trying to catch the muffled sound of voices once more.

“Come on!” Virgil heard Remus demand, “He’s getting closer! I can’t stop him when he’s like this!”

Virgil bolted in the direction the sound was coming from. He paused only briefly to shift back into his human form, yanking open the door to the small vestibule. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and shoved open another. 

The sight of Roman’s form slumped against his twin, beaten, bruised, and bloodied had him coming up short. 

He wasn’t dead… 

He couldn’t be dead...

…………………………………………………………………….

“He crawled up the ivy on the Northeast side,” Logan mumbled from where he sat on the sloping bank, his human form engrossed in another vision as Patton finished scrapping the mud off himself. 

“Is he alright?” the dragon asked, glancing up. “Has he run into trouble?”

“Not yet,” Logan reassured. “It appears that the guards are preoccupied elsewhere. Something must be hap-” Logan fell silent, his anxiety spiking enough to have Patton jumping. 

“What?!” the dragon demanded, “What is it?!” 

“It’s Roman!” Logan breathed, pulling himself out of his meditative state. 

“What about him?!” Patton demanded as the other man met his gaze. He saw the answer immediately in the witch’s eyes.

“We need to go,” Logan replied simply, ignoring the question as he took hold of his partner’s hand and dragged him up the bank. 

They were far too easy to spot out there in the open, but they had no other choice. Not anymore. Logan’s self-loathing doubled as they ran. He should have been able to master that invisibility charm! They could have gotten there faster! Why did he always have to take the safest route?!

………………………………………………………………..

“Get away from him!” Virgil growled at his friend’s twin. “What did you do?!”

“Badgerboy!” Remus breathed in surprise and relief. “Calm your tits and help me with him, quick before Noname shows up!” the man urged, trying to pull Roman up. 

Virgil hesitated, another quake making him sway a bit before he gave in, moving to the opposite side and pulling Roman’s arm around his shoulders. 

“He’s not…” Virgil asked, pleading as he glanced towards the twin.

“Dead?” Remus finished for him. “No. Not yet, but he will be soon if-”

Another roar shook the foundation, sending the ceiling before them crumbling down.

“Other way! Other way!” Virgil cried, scrambling back as a large stone slab landed just in front of them, trying to turn them in the opposite direction. 

Remus attempted to comply, but only managing to pull Roman in a different direction sending the three of them sprawling to the floor. 

“Great!” Virgil huffed, taking a moment to cover his mouth as he choked up more of the red liquid he was fairly certain needed to stay inside him. “Our exit is blocked, now what?!”

“Shh!” Remus growled, inching forwards. 

“Don’t shush m-”

“Shut your fannyflaps!” the twin growled with a wave of his hand. “Listen!” 

Silence fell between them as Virgil strained his ears. Slowly the sound of heavy footfalls and clanking armor drifted towards him. 

“They’re coming,” Remus huffed as he straightened, gaze panicked as he tried to figure out a solution.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Virgil urged, trying to pick up Roman once more.

“No! There’s no time!” Remus pointed out. “Even if you could escape, fatass over here,” he nodded towards his brother, “would just slow you down.”

“We can’t just let them capture us!” the witch protested.

Remus hesitated for only a brief moment before the words sank in. “That is exactly what we can do!” he breathed excitedly. 

“What?!” Virgil scoffed. “Are you insane?!” 

“Yes, but that’s beside the point,” Remus rushed, moving to Roman’s side once more. “Listen, Noname won’t kill Roman, he’s too important. If anything he will get him help. He’ll make sure Roman is safe and survives.”

“Yeah, and what about me?” Virgil scoffed. “And even if Roman survives, he’ll just be tortured again!”

“No, no!” Remus growled, “Ugh! I don’t have time to explain! Just… Just turn into your bad little badger self  and get in!” he instructed, pulling at the collar of his shirt so that there was enough room for Virgil to crawl in.

“Ew! No!” Virgil shivered, pausing as one of the soldiers called out. 

“Get in Badgerboy or we’re all dead!” Remus demanded, earning another look of pained disgust before Virgil finally complied. 

The witch shifted back into a procyon, still hesitant to climb into the other man’s shirt. He could smell the guy from six feet away why would-

Remus scooped the beast up without warning, stuffing a clawing and hissing raccoon into his shirt just as a small group of men rounded the corner.

“I found him!” Remus called out to the soldiers as they approached. “Get him up and take him to Noname!” he ordered, moving to stand to the side as the men filed in to obey.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[alcoholicseraphim]

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Eleven- Year I- Finite Impassivity

It was supposed to be a good day. Sirius would go home with James for the summer, this time with no obligation to return to his biological family. He would have to wake up early, which was annoying, but it was well worth getting back into the real world. James's mum would hug both of her sons, and James's dad would shake his hand and grin through his mustache. He would feel loved and this whole debacle of a year could be put behind him.

Remus was the one to shake him awake, which was expected. Sirius swatted his hand away and buried his face further into his comforter.

"Sirius, I'd absolutely love to play this game but now is not the time." The urgency and pure fear in Remus's voice coaxed Sirius into sitting up, a feat rarely accomplished except through several minutes of semi-playful violence.

"What time is it?" Sirius asked, a part of him still clinging to sleep.

The werewolf turned away to wake up Peter and James. "Almost five. C'mon, up." He pulled frantically at Peter's arm, to no avail. Peter was harder to wake up than even Sirius if he hadn't gotten a full eight hours of sleep, which he most assuredly had not. Everyone in Gryffindor House had spent the last night having a grand farewell party. Almost everyone, rather.

It took a moment for Remus's reply to register in his brain. "What do you mean almost five?" Sirius yelped. "The castle had bloody well better be on fire or something. Almost five. What the fuck." He flopped back, the draw of his warm bed irresistible.

"Don't you dare go back to sleep," Remus snapped. And then, in an only marginally softer tone, "You're not far off. You-Know-Who's army is here."

Sirius sat up again. "You're taking the piss, right? Right?" There were wards, weren't there? Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place on earth, safer than Gringott's, even!

Remus shook his head, finally pulling Peter out of his bed and onto the floor. Peter woke up with a start, and probably a sore tailbone as well. Ignoring Peter's indignant squawks, Remus moved to James' bed and shoved him out of his bed as well, learning from his previous mistake.

"Now that everyone's awake," Remus said, "we need to get everyone out of here. There are Death Eaters on our front lawn and we need to get everyone to the train as soon as possible." He did have a point. Sirius would hold off his interrogation until everyone else was safely on the Express.

"How do you even know this?" James asked, indicating the window. Sirius looked where he pointed and realized that the window faced the back of the castle. "Your senses aren't that strong."

Face flushing, Remus mumbled, "I got a Patronus. It doesn't matter; what matters is getting everyone out of here."

James and Peter hauled themselves off the floor, using the posts on their beds to steady themselves. James headed toward the door as quickly as he could while hungover. Remus and Sirius started to follow, but Peter hesitated.

"C'mon, Wormtail," James called. "You wanna live or what?"

"It's just... this isn't a prank, right? Who told you?" Peter's eyes were narrowed, and Sirius realized in that moment that he'd been the butt of too many of their jokes to trust them implicitly. Peter wouldn't move until he had proof.

Remus knew this too, and stepped forward to whisper in his ear. Sirius strained his ears, but couldn't hear anything. Odd, that Remus wouldn't want him or James to know. Whatever he said convinced Peter, though, and that was the most important thing.

James had gone on ahead, apparently, as the three boys discovered when a shrieking alarm pierced their eardrums. After a few moments of severe discomfort, the alarm stopped abruptly, punctuated by a heavy thud. As a unit, the boys rushed down the staircase to find James crumpled on the ground, sleeping peacefully. Sirius looked up and saw a sandy-haired seventh year girl, Bridget Gaffney, lowering her wand and glaring irritably at James's prone figure.

"What was that for?" Sirius asked eloquently, his expression slack and his eyes wide.

"It's four in the bloody morning," the Irish girl grumbled.

"Five, actually," Remus chipped in.

"Whatever. Either way, it's too fuckin' early to be woken up. Wanted to get in one last prank before summer, didja? Fine. Put your friend back to bed."

Remus coughed. "Er, yeah, about that. It wasn't a prank. There are Death Eaters on Hogwarts grounds and we need to get everyone to the Express." It sounded lame in the apologetic tone he was using, and none of the assembled students looked convinced.

"Go look, if you don't believe us," Sirius snapped, trying to make up for his friend's meekness. "I don't care if you think it's a bloody prank; we still need to get the younger ones out of here. This isn't the time to be bickering, believe me. Just get everyone up."

Gaffney opened her mouth as if to protest, but another seventh year cut across her. "At worst, we get to the train a few hours early. S'no big deal." That seemed to convince the others, and they disappeared back up the stairs to help the younger ones.

"Could've gone worse," said Peter, eyeing James. "Does anyone know the counter?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances and shook their heads in unison. Remus swiped a hand over his mouth and said, "It looks like we'll have to levitate him. He's all packed. Peter, would you please retrieve our bags? We'll need two wands to get James all the way to the train."

Peter saluted Remus with a grin less than usually wide. "Aye-aye."

"When you're ready," said Sirius, pointing his wand at James. "Mobilicorpus." Remus followed suit, lessening the strain on Sirius's magic significantly.

As the Gryffindor Common Room was, unfortunately, in a tower, it took nearly half an hour to get to the ground floor. Filch and Professor Sprout were waiting to get the children through to safety. Professor Sprout was visibly fretting, even going so far as to chew on her already stubby nails. Filch was the opposite, terse and snappy. He did seem to be nervous in his own way, though.

The remainder of the journey took place in the invisibly-drawn carriages, allowing both Remus and Sirius to relax for a few short minutes. The Hogwarts Express was a welcome sight. The platform was flooded with students frantically boarding the train, getting settled in record time. There were children of all Houses, not just Gryffindor, Sirius noticed with no little relief.

Sirius helped Remus get James into the compartment that Peter had already claimed before turning tail and heading right back out onto the platform. Remus stuck his head out the window and hollered for Sirius's attention.

"I'm not leaving," Sirius announced firmly, wishing this conversation didn't have to happen. He could only hope that his conviction would triumph over Remus's logic.

"What do you mean you're not leaving?" Remus yelped, sticking his head further out the window, balancing his torso precariously on the ledge. "Sirius, you've never been in a real duel before, you don't know what you're doing-"

"Hogwarts is my home. I'm seventeen, old enough to fight. And really, you can't stop me, ye of little faith. Tell Prongs I said I'll see him, all right? And Peter?" Sirius smirked at his friend, brandishing his wand.

Remus looked like he wanted to argue, but the train was beginning to leave and he had no choice but to bring his head back into the compartment proper. "Good luck, Padfoot. I'd better see you when this is all over, okay?"

"Okay," Sirius agreed readily. As much as he wanted to watch the Express until it disappeared, if he wanted to get a head start on the fighting then he'd better head back. The carriages were waiting, and he saw that he wasn't the only student determined to stay and defend their home. Not that there were many, but enough.

How many Death Eaters were attacking, anyway? He had no perspective of even the total number of soldiers in You-Know-Who's army, but surely he wouldn't have brought all of them to attack a school populated primarily by children.

He didn't have to wait long before the carriages deposited those returning practically on the castle's doorstep. A part of him did wonder if this was all a prank. If it was all a joke, it was in terrible taste.

Those thoughts were expelled from his mind at the first sight of the sky. The Dark Mark hung overhead, lit up by the brilliant colors of sunrise. The contrast made it worse.

Death Eaters really were invading, even though he hadn't seen any yet. Sirius followed his classmates inside.

"Where are they?" a Hufflepuff seventh year whispered.

The familiar, acrid stench of smoke greeted Sirius's enhanced sense of smell. He wrinkled his nose, turning on the spot to try to find out where it was coming from. "Upstairs, then," he suggested, already climbing the stairs.

Or, at least he would have, had the stairs not been completely ruined by an explosive spell. Whether intentional or not, Sirius didn't know. Someone had the bright idea to repair the stairs, but none of them trusted it to hold their weight.

There were other ways. Going upstairs wasn't necessary, they discovered. There was plenty of chaos just a corridor away.

Sirius sprinted straight into the crowd, dodging deflected curses and retaliating with his own. His face split into a grin. Merlin, he'd never felt so alive!

One Death Eater, a man as far as Sirius could tell, whirled to face him, sending a Petrificus Totalus at him with a marksman's accuracy. He was out of his depth, he finally realized, falling backwards. The Death Eater stalked toward him even before he hit the ground, wand raised and the Killing Curse doubtless on the edge of his tongue.

Several things happened at once. The nameless Death Eater was struck by one of his comrade's deflected spells, and he began screaming as his skin turned a bright red. Sirius braced himself to hit the stone floor, possibly even blacking out. A small body slid under him, breaking his fall, and then dragged him behind a nearby tapestry. He wanted to turn his head to look at his savior, but the Petrificus Totalus prevented any movement besides breathing.

"Boiled alive," a familiar voice remarked. "They'll be dead by now, or at least wishing they were." Hermione Granger forced his legs to bend so he could sit propped up against a wall. "I know you're angry with me, but now isn't the time. We must be quiet and wait for the spell to wear off so we can get out of here. Honestly, what were you thinking? You could have died. If it weren't for happenstance's intervention you would be."

Sirius could do nothing but stare at her. Rage and hurt and confusion swirled inside of him, feeling as though his insides were expanding and confined by his skin. There must be some sort of release, or he would explode.

He couldn't stand to even look at her, but his eyes would not move. In the darkness behind the tapestry her features twisted into something stony, cruel, sinister. A sneer, or a smirk, or a snarl. Something wilder and more loathsome than even Bellatrix. She was only setting him up for a trap so that she could kill him, he just knew it. That would explain why no one had come after them immediately; she was on the Death Eaters' side. Hell, she'd probably let them in! Who else would be that bitter? Hogwarts wasn't her home, and clearly she harbored no affection for any of its residents.

That whore.

She wouldn't even look at him.

Hatred rose inside him, spraying a red mist before his eyes. His abhorrence for her exceeded that of his mother, Snivellus, his cousin, everyone. At least they were forthcoming about their evil. This girl was dishonestly Dark, hiding behind an innocent face and secretly grovelling before anyone with any power at all.

His fingertips began to tingle, a sure sign that the spell was wearing off. He waited in silence for a minute more, unwilling to call Granger's attention to his rapidly approaching freedom of movement. The tingle spread through his body and finally fizzled out on his scalp. There.

Sirius lunged forward and closed his hands around her throat, smashing her head into the stone wall behind her. He ignored her yelp of surprise and the scrabbling of her fingernails against his wrists, focusing instead with glee on her bugged-out eyes and the changing hue of her skin. It took only several seconds for her eyes to shut and her resistance to cease. She wasn't dead yet, though, just unconscious. He would have to stay there for another few minutes before she would die.

Was that what he was? A murderer? Sure, she was poison in the air he breathed, but he didn't have to kill her. That was how the rest of his family solved their problems, not him. He wasn't like them. He wasn't.

He let go, hands trembling.

It took a much shorter time than Sirius had anticipated for her to regain consciousness. Her breaths came loud and fast and frantic. He looked on in disgust, picking up his wand and pointing it at her slumped form. "You're going to get us both out of here," he commanded.

"How-" her voice came out a raspy whisper, and she had to stop to cough. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Not my problem," he said, twitching his wand to remind her that he was the one with the control here. "You're chummy with the freaks out there, right? They'll let you through."

"What?" Granger rubbed her throat, wincing.

Sirius rolled his eyes, even knowing she couldn't see it in the dark. "Don't lie to me, Granger. I know what you are."

Just a beat too slow, she said, "Just because I prefer the company of Slytherins doesn't mean I run with Death Eaters, you prat!"

Like he was going to believe that. Right. "Not. My. Problem," he hissed again, leaning forward and jabbing his wand into the groove between her collarbones. "Move."

"Cast a notice-me-not," she shot back.

He'd never tried it, if he were honest, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "No. Let's go."

She had to use the wall to help her climb back to her feet, and all the while Sirius watched in wary disgust. Taking a shuddering breath, Granger pushed the tapestry aside and marched straight out. "Now we run," she suggested over her shoulder, not following her own advice.

"I'm right behind you," he said. Those words would have been comforting in any other context, but in this one he intended it to be a threat. "Go."

Granger walked, probably as fast as she was able to at that moment. They both hugged the wall. It took no time at all for spells from all directions to be aimed straight at them.

In hindsight, she was a Muggleborn. The Death Eaters probably didn't care a whit about her. "We can run now," he said, grabbing her by the forearm and dragging them both forward.

"Go to the- seventh floor," she gasped, barely able to move fast enough to avoid losing her footing. It seemed as good of a suggestion as any.

They'd gotten to the fifth floor before being accosted. Sirius glanced over at Granger, noting the eyes wide and wild with terror. Maybe she had been telling the truth about not being mates with the Death Eaters. Maybe. It could also be a ruse, since she was so good at those. He faced the pair in front of them. He didn't have to see their faces to know who they were: his beloved cousins, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Hey, Bella," he said, projecting every ounce of bravado he was capable of. "Hey, Rudolph. How's your overlord doing? Heading for Dumbledore? You know he doesn't have a chance against the Headmaster, right?"

Instead of getting riled up like he'd thought, they stayed silent, raising their wands in a synchronized motion. "Avada Kedavra," they chanted in unison.

The spells didn't hit. Sirius wouldn't have been quite fast enough to dodge, but Granger shoved him aside with what he could only assume was all her strength. Both curses went around her slight frame, singing holes in her robes but otherwise leaving her unharmed. She drew her wand and stood there casually, face blank. "Hermione Granger, nice to meet you," she announced, smiling politely.

Sirius was well aware of what she was trying to do, but he would be damned before he ran away from a fight. She fairly swam in her robes, and in the light he could make out the gauntness of her features, the bruises that he'd left on her neck. Leaving her to a certain death would be just as bad as killing her himself.

Or so he told himself. He still hesitated.

The couple appeared to forget about him entirely once Granger introduced herself, giving him enough time to slip around the corner unnoticed.

Bellatrix cackled, an eerie sound when he couldn't see her mouth moving behind the mask. "The Dark Lord wants you alive, and here you are. Stupid Mudblood. Don't you know that nobility is for the weak?" She flicked her wand, and this time her aim was true. Granger didn't even try to avoid it, and didn't struggle as the thick robes bound her limbs together.

"Maybe," Granger said, calmly looking down at her predicament. "What, you're not going to 'play with your food' first? Maybe you've not reached your full potential."

Again Bellatrix and her husband appeared to communicate without words. "Crucio!" Bella shrieked it, whereas Rodolphus merely drawled.

Granger couldn't stay impassive through the Cruciatus. No one could. And so she let out one long scream, which cut off into whisper.

Sirius aimed and whispered, "Stupefy!" Rodolphus went down, crumpling to the ground. Bellatrix turned in one fluid motion, hair flying.

"Blood traitor," she spat. "I thought you'd have the good sense to run off and hide. Do you have a deathwish like your little Mudblood pet here? Incarcerous!"

He barely dodged it, even with all the practice he'd gotten avoiding his mother's spells. And from duels in the corridors, those too. "Is that all you've got?" he taunted, shooting a Stupefy at her that she effortlessly deflected.

Bella, never one to make the same mistake twice, grabbed Granger by her hair and hauled her to feet, holding her limp body like a shield. Granger did struggle this time, thrashing back and forth and putting up what might have been an admirable fight had she not all the strength of a sleepy child. "You idiot!" Granger whisper-yelled. "Run!"

At that point Sirius felt he could safely assume that Granger and Bellatrix were not on the same side, but something ugly reared its head and without stopping to think he cast another Stupefy, this one aimed straight at Granger. It struck and she slumped in Bellatrix's grasp. Bellatrix didn't seem to care that her human shield had been hit, just grinning even wider.

"See, little blood traitor? You're no better than the rest of us. Avada Kedavra!"

That little stutter, that moment in which his body froze up, would be his undoing. The bottle-green spell hit him square in the chest.

*|II8II|*

Hermione took a moment longer to wake up than Rodolphus did.

Her vision swam, she could hardly hear, and everything ached. She felt like she could vomit up her insides. Scratch that, it didn't ache. That was like saying a bullet wound "ached". She hurt everywhere.

Even worse, she wasn't even remotely safe. In fact, Bellatrix's wand was pointed directly at her face. "Get up!" She barked, a maniacal gleam in her hooded eyes. Hermione considered herself fairly well acquainted with the woman's moods, and that could only spell victory.

Sirius. Oh, Merlin, Sirius. It took effort to turn her head, but there he was- a pile of corpse and clothes several feet away. She'd risked the bloody future for him, and he'd gotten himself killed anyway? Oh, Gods.

Her stomach heaved, tears streaming down her cheeks. She could hardly breathe, hardly think, and in that moment she might have accepted death gladly. Though her grief didn't fade, her suicidal urges did as soon as she felt the tug of Bellatrix's hand in her hair. It was Bellatrix. Always Bellatrix. Always Sirius, barreling headfirst into situations even though she had it on pretty good authority that he'd hated her up until his last breath.

The Lestranges were talking, but Hermione couldn't focus. Her limbs flailed against her bonds, even though they all knew it was useless. She was useless. Why couldn't he have just run?

It wasn't even noon, and her world had already disintegrated into dust.

She was barely aware of being dragged away. She barely registered the appearance of half a dozen men and women in black robes and white skull masks. What she did register, though, was the searing heat of an Incendio to the side of her throat.

It was Bellatrix, probably. Or... who was the most sadistic of them? Her thoughts were scattered. Maybe Lucius. No, not him. Greyback? Dolohov? Shite. It didn't matter.

"Am I to see-" she had to stop to hack her lungs out, still feeling as though her windpipe had split in half. "-your Lord now?" She had to pull herself together. There would be time to grieve later, but now she had to protect her mind and her life. She had to.

There was no response. Not a very talkative bunch? Good, she didn't feel like using her voice at all if possible. It hurt to even breathe, much less force a sound out of her abused vocal cords.

The adrenaline in her body faded bit by bit as they all seemed to be standing, doing nothing. Just waiting. It made her uneasy, but her body decided that there was no immediate danger. Exhaustion crept in and muddled her thoughts again.

She could say one thing for the Death Eaters- they let her fall asleep.

Not that they could have stopped her, really. The moment her eyes shut her body disappeared.

[thesniffler]

Ehy, for the ships for kisses thing: I ship you with Remus. He would love to read beside you, sitting on the couch and just squeezing your hand every once in a while. He would also like to steal your glasses and he wear them sometimes, and he would always be there to remember you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you the way you are. About me: I'm a female, heterosexual, I'm a Gryffindor, I like going to Hogsmeade and I'm most attracted by James. Also, could it be a first kiss? Thx 💙

SHIPS FOR KISSES - CLOSED

Thank you so much for the ship! The comment about stealing my glasses made me giggle so much XD

I don’t know if I got your characterisation down but I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were sat in the Three Broomsticks, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew trapping you firmly at the table while Sirius Black sat across from you, his hands folded formally atop the table, staring down his nose at you in an almost comedic attempt to look like an adult.

You side-eyed the fidgeting brunette to your left, then the blonde to your right before looking back to Sirius, one brow raised.

“Boys. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Sirius smiled at you, shoulders relaxing back as he took you in. You were used to his gaze as his fellow beater on the Quidditch pitch you were used to working together. Off the pitch, however, you two didn’t run in the same circles despite being in the same house and have a few common points of contact.

One being the reason, you figured, was the cause of why you were being trapped.

“A little bird let slip some very interesting information about you, my dear, sweet Y/N.” You tried not to snort at his phrasing but barely kept it in, the sound instead translating to an amused smirk across your face.

“And pray tell, dear, sweet Sirius. What did this bird of yours happen to tweet?” Sirius’s grin grew wider and just a tad more wicked as he realized you did not know the gravity of the situation you were in.

“Why, that you, oh lovely beater of my soul, have been eyeing, quite exclusively, I might add, our star chaser. One, James Potter, I believe to be his name.” The amusement ran from your face as though you had just come in contact with a dementor. You braced yourself to stand but two hands were placed on your shoulders and kept you down. Your cheeks tinted red.

“Now, I’m not sure where you’ve heard that bit of nonsense but - “ Sirius unfolded his hands abruptly and held one up, leveling you with a look that stated quite clearly he was not going to put up with any kind of fib that might come from your mouth. Your words died in your throat.

“Now, I’m not here to say anything, just to clear some things up before James mucks the whole thing all to Azkaban like we know he will.” You sat silently, willing your heart to stop its ridiculous pounding.

“He likes you. Writes your initials on his potions scrolls, hums silly love tunes and replaces the lyrics with your name, the whole nine yards I promise. He can also be a complete prat, very entitled and I warn you, if you don’t put him in his place he will become even more insufferable than he already is and I’ll have to get Remus to kill him.”

“Oi, why do I have to do it?”

Sirius looked as his friend as did you.

“Because mate, you’d actually be able to get away with it.” Remus pulled a contemplative expression before shrugging.

“I suppose you’ve got a point.” Sirius shook his head and refocused his eyes on you.

“As I was saying. You’ve got to step up. He won’t and I can not take one more rendition of “Y/N in the Sky With Diamonds. I’ll go completely bonkers.” You swallowed and relaxed back into the chair.

“You’re sure that he fancies me?” Sirius nodded once. You turned to look at Remus and then Peter who did the same.

You then nodded. If anyone were to have looked at the four of you, they might have found you looked curiously like a group of muggle bobble heads.

“Alright. I suppose that I could make the first move. If he’s not going to.” You nodded once more before trying to rise again. This time the boys let you. Before you turned to leave though the door of the Three Broomsticks was swinging open and a messy-haired boy was shuffling his way inside, dusting the snow from his shoulders as he scanned the mostly filled room for his friends.

Sirius noted his arrival with a half smirk.

“Looks like you’ve got your chance coming up now.”

James appeared at the table rather suddenly and upon noting that you too were there as well, his ear promptly colored red and the tips and his hello became aborted halfway past his lips. All sense of collected cool going out the window.

You summoned your Gryffindor courage and rolled your eyes before leaning across the table to loop your fingers around the back of his neck and huffing a soft “boys” before pressing your mouth against his. He was still for all of second before he realized what was actually happening and got with the picture. One hand moving to cradle your cheek delicately.

You titled into the kiss just a bit, the chill from the outside still clinging to James’ lips as you caught his mouth with yours and sucked just the smallest amount before pulling away.

You heard Sirius wolf whistle faintly as you unconsciously licked your lips and cheekily readjusted James’ glasses.

You stepped away from the table, the raven haired boy still tongue-tied over what had just happened. Turning to look over your shoulder at the four you addressed him.

“Pick me up at six in the common rooms tomorrow Potter. Don’t be late.”

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 5

Chapter: 5/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Paranoid tendencies, depictions of extreme anxiety Excerpt: Three days of this had Virgil feeling like a walking conspiracy theory. He was absolutely convinced that Janus was going to come striding in, armored in the fury of the scorned, and neatly burn away his friends' self-esteem until nothing remained but a smoldering ruin of the love Virgil had only just grown accustomed to. And he would have nothing but the pain of his own empathy, and Janus would have Remus.

Virgil grew increasingly jumpy as the days passed and danger failed to manifest. He had taken to sleeping in the living room in his clothes in case Janus tried to corner someone. He wrung the details of the encounter out of Roman, who was unusually reticent about the whole ordeal. This did absolutely nothing to calm Virgil's nerves. He kept himself glued to the others whenever they came downstairs, never letting them get more than a few paces away from him.

The sleep deprivation wasn't helping matters either; even without the anxiety-induced insomnia wreaking havoc on his fragile sleep schedule, the couch was just the wrong size for sleeping on and he woke up multiple times during the nights to readjust. Fearing that exhaustion would make him complacent, he supplemented this lack of sleep with copious amounts of caffeine.

Three days of this had him feeling like a walking conspiracy theory. He was absolutely convinced that Janus was going to come striding in, armored in the fury of the scorned, and neatly burn away his friends' self-esteem until nothing remained but a smoldering ruin of the love Virgil had only just grown accustomed to. And he would have nothing but the pain of his own empathy, and Janus would have Remus.

It was early in the morning on what would have been the fourth day of Virgil's self-imposed lookout duty when he finally reached his breaking point. He threw off his blankets and crept to the basement door.

He stood in front of it for a long time just staring at the patterns in the wood. His breath echoed in his head, so loud he was half-convinced it would wake the whole house. He had no plan. He just needed to know.

Virgil opened the door.

He stepped over the threshold and immediately froze on the landing at the sight before him. Shame burned hot in his face. There was nothing sinister to behold, just the innocent sight of Janus and Remus asleep on the couch in their clothes, two GameCube controllers tangled on the floor in front of them. Virgil almost smiled at the memory of long nights spent in front of the TV, spirited wrestling matches and arguments about what counted as cheating.

He gave a wistful sigh and leaned against the banister, fully aware of just how creepy he was being. He wanted nothing more than to cast aside this stupid grudge and curl up under Remus' arm, his head only inches away from Janus' where it rested on Remus' chest.

Virgil knew it was foolish to linger, more foolish still to descend a few steps, and a few more, and a few more until he was sitting on the bottom step. He didn't have a goal in mind; he just wanted to stay in the moment. He could pretend he had just woken up and gently extricated himself from the cuddle pile. He could pretend they had all stayed up late playing Mario Kart and were about to all have coffee together. He could, for one moment of sublime nostalgia, pretend that things were back to normal.

Even if that meant pretending that Roman, Logan, and Patton didn't love him yet.

Virgil couldn't deny that there had been a sense of solidarity in rejection, a connection forged in mutual scorn. And for one fleeting moment, Virgil understood why Janus and Remus had felt so betrayed by him. Even Janus, who dealt almost exclusively in gray areas, was unable or unwilling to see past the false dichotomy of 'dark' and 'light' that had dictated and defined their lives for so very long.

Virgil braced his elbow against his knee and let his chin rest in his palm. He knew he should leave. He intended to leave. Soon.

And then, like shattering glass, the spell broke on its own: Remus opened his eyes.

For one heart-stopping moment, he and Virgil just stared at each other.

Then Virgil shot to his feet. "I was just leaving," he whispered.

Remus held eye contact. He couldn't get up without disturbing Janus, who was still asleep on his shoulder. "What were you doing?" Remus whispered back, too sleepy to be anything but confused.

Despite himself, Virgil's eyes flickered to Janus. He shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

He really should have known better. Remus pursued chaos with the same reckless determination of a labrador chasing a tennis ball; he was going to sink his teeth into this opportunity no matter who or what he knocked over on the way.

Remus' eyes lit up. Keeping his gaze locked onto Virgil's horrified face, he lifted his elbow and nudged Janus in the ribs. Hard.

In the basement, 'Janus is not a morning person,' was not merely a statement of fact, it was a threat. Janus jerked upright, looking for all the world like a cobra with his capelet hung up on the couch cushions behind his head. He narrowed his eyes at Virgil, and the expression of sleepy irritability was so familiar that Virgil would have laughed if he wasn't too busy panicking.

"Look who dropped in for a visit," Remus prompted, looking every part the triumphant tattletale as he smirked at Virgil.

Janus arranged his capelet over his shoulders and addressed Virgil without looking at him. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, actually." Virgil set his jaw, pointedly ignoring the ghosts of familiarity that still flitted in the periphery of his mind.

"I thought you were leaving," Remus said.

"Yeah, well…" Virgil tried and failed to think of something punchy to say. "I just remembered I'm mad at you."

Janus scoffed. "Right. You're mad at us."

"I am!" Virgil nearly stamped his foot, but managed to hold back. "Look, let's…" He sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Let's not do this. Just-- Please don't hurt the others again, okay? I know it's me you're mad at, so please don't drag them into it. And I'll do you the favor of never coming back here." He took one last look around the room and turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Virgil froze with his back turned. He had expected some sort of protest from Remus, but that had been Janus' voice. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Janus slide back into the cool persona he wore around like armor. But for one split second, his face had been so open and Virgil had seen the truth beneath the layers. It was a look of despair so honest and pure that Virgil's chest ached to behold it, and he understood in an instant something he had always known: Janus was afraid.

The coals burning in Virgil's chest went out, with barely a whiff of smoke to indicate that they had ever been there at all. "What, Janus?"

"Um." And with that final hesitation, Janus had control again. "Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. You can't leave so soon."

"Watch me," Virgil said, less as a threat and more as a way to prompt Janus to get to the point.

"We should talk," Janus said, examining his gloved fingertips as though he wasn't still half-asleep and panicking. "Why don't you stay for coffee and we can get this straightened out?"

Virgil was quiet for a long moment as he thought it over. He wanted to believe that Janus had a sincere apology prepared, but he knew that would never be the case. Maybe if one of them was on their deathbed, but never before. But more than that, he missed his friends. He so badly wanted an excuse to forgive them, and if there was even a chance that Janus would admit, even obliquely, to any sort of wrongdoing, then Virgil wanted to take it.

"Oh, just say yes," Remus snapped. "We all know you want to."

"Upstairs," Virgil said.

Janus and Remus both made faces of disgust. "Aw, Virgil, are you too good for the dungeon now?" Remus asked. "We even put away all the ticklers, sex knobs, and lacy hoohas just for you."

"Ew." Virgil wrinkled his nose. "Upstairs. Take it or leave it."

"That's hardly fair," Janus started, but Virgil cut him off.

"Take it or leave it," he repeated firmly.

"Fine by me," Remus said, standing up and rocking forward onto his toes.

Janus made a show of sighing and rolling his eyes, so Virgil knew just how demanding he was being. "Oh, very well. Upstairs it is."

Remus didn't drink coffee. Virgil offered him one anyway, which Remus declined.

He just sat back and watched and tugged at his hair while Janus spooned mound after mound of crisp white sugar into his mug and Virgil poured his customary eight fluid ounces of milk into his own mug.

Coffee rituals completed, Virgil and Janus sat down and stared at each other.

"You owe Roman an apology," Virgil said, scowling.

Janus, still a little disoriented and moving slower than he would have liked, played dumb. "Whatever do you mean?"

Remus growled at the mention of Roman, but did not interrupt. Instead, he bounced his legs under the table. He knew that Janus and Virgil were both hurting, though their little dance was agonizing to watch. But that was how they worked, so Remus sat and tried his hardest not to give voice to the hundreds of thoughts racing through his brain.

"I'm not in the mood for games," Virgil said, staring at his coffee. "He told me what you said."

"I'd be perfectly happy to apologize to Roman," Janus said, pausing for dramatic effect, "just as soon as he apologizes to me. And Remus, for that matter."

Remus stuck his tongue out the mention of his name, but kept his thoughts to himself. He just wanted Virgil back, and didn't particularly care what path Janus took as long as they reached their destination.

"Come to think of it," Janus continued, more at ease now that he had a plan of attack, "has he apologized to you ?"

"He doesn't need to," Virgil said, still not looking at Janus. "None of them do. They didn't know how badly they were hurting us."

"You didn't tell them."

"I don't need to!"

"Mm." Janus sat back, fixing Virgil with a critical gaze. "So you expect an apology from me , but not from your new friends? Why the double standard, Virgil? What makes me so different from them?"

"Because!" Virgil clenched his hands into fists under the table. "Because I know they're sorry for how they treated me. They don't have to say it, because they show me every day. And you-- I truly don't think you're even capable of admitting when you've made a mistake."

"Oh, shit," Remus muttered.

Janus was silent, his mind working feverishly to identify the combination of words that would hurt Virgil as deeply as Virgil's words had hurt Janus.

"And I know it's hard for you," Virgil continued, the anger draining out of his voice, "but you could say something. Say it backwards, for all I care."

Janus washed away the venom on his tongue with a mouthful of lukewarm coffee.

"I don't know what you'd have me say." A pause. "Because I did everything right and I don't regret anything I said or did. I certainly don't miss you."

Virgil was quiet for a long moment as he processed that. "My turn, I guess," he said finally. "I… should have communicated better with you guys. And I should have been more respectful of your feelings. I was just so tired of being angry all the time, and I… I guess I was hoping that you guys would follow my lead."

"Do I have to apologize for anything?" Remus asked, kicking his boots up onto the table. "Let's see…" Guilt and remorse weren't typically in his wheelhouse, though he was certainly capable of feeling them. He simply didn't have time for regret, always charging forward to the next possibility. "Oh, I'm sorry I put slugs in your bed!"

Virgil looked at him sideways. "You… didn't… put slugs in my bed," he said slowly. Then again, he hadn't actually seen his bed in several days. "Did you?"

Janus shook his head.

"Oh, that's right!" Remus waved a hand and smiled at Virgil. "I only thought about it."

"Please," Virgil said, "please explain to me the creative merit of putting slugs in my bed."

"He never said it was a creative endeavor," Janus said.

"No, that was a revenge plot," Remus said. "I would never use slugs for self-expression. There's nothing shocking about slugs." He paused, scrunching up his mouth in thought. "Unless you put one up your ass or something." Virgil choked on his coffee, spitting out a mouthful across the table at Janus, who was mostly successful in his attempts to dodge it. Unruffled, Remus continued, "And there are much more shocking things to put up your butt!"

"Slugs, Re," Virgil reminded him between coughs.

"I think," Janus said, imagining a roll of paper towels to hand to Virgil, "there are lots of ways to express oneself via slug." He gave Remus a keen look. "You just have to be creative enough to come up with something."

"Of course you'd say that." Virgil mopped up the spilled coffee, balled up the paper towel, and aimed it at Janus' head.

Remus nodded his agreement, snatching the paper towel ball out of the air as it passed.

Janus let himself be teased. "Oh, please do me the favor of elaborating on that," he said, bowing his head to Virgil in a show of false deference.

"You're pro-slugs," Remus said, just for the sake of throwing a wrench in things.

"He's pro-anti," Virgil corrected.

"A contrarian," Remus agreed.

Janus rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "You're right. I never agree with anyone."

"What do we do now?" Remus asked Virgil in a faux-whisper.

Virgil responded by lunging over the table and knocking Janus' hat off.

"You know how much I love it when you do that," Janus grumbled, bending to pick it up. "You never go after each other like this," he said once he'd resurfaced.

Remus just shrugged at him. "Sorry, Danger Noodle, but Virgil doesn't wear a hat."

"Yes, that's what I meant." Janus sat back and crossed his arms, putting on a show of irritation.

Under the table, Virgil gently kicked his shin. Janus flashed him a closed-mouth smile.

***

4:45 was a disgusting hour to be awake, truly barbaric. Roman rolled out of bed before he could change his mind on the matter and stood up, yawning and running both hands through his hair to try to get it to sit right. Ordinarily, he would never emerge from his room looking anything less than his princely best, but today he had (dare he say it?) bigger things to worry about.

Bigger things such as Virgil's newfound guard dog tendencies. Roman couldn't believe that Logan and Patton hadn't brought it up already, or even seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. Roman was the only one who seemed to chafe under Virgil's constant supervision, flinch at the way he haunted the corners of the room whenever anyone ventured downstairs.

And, since apparently no one else was going to do it, Roman took it upon himself to wake his comrades from their slumber and gather them in his room so they could work out a strategy for helping Virgil out of his weird, paranoid phase.

It was not lost on Roman that Virgil's vigil had only started up after Roman's encounter with Janus. He had kept that information to himself, ashamed in a way he couldn't really define and didn't like to think about. He really didn't think Patton and Logan needed to know.

Neither one of them was particularly happy to be summoned at such an early hour, and neither one had their glasses. They both squinted at Roman, who bounced on his toes and looked around the room to make sure everything was perfect.

Roman's bedroom, much like everyone else's, was inherently linked to his function. His room represented ultimate creative freedom, meaning he could change it at will to facilitate whatever creative undertaking he so desired. Since today's was a confrontation, he had first imagined a massive meeting room at the top of some towering skyscraper. But he had second-guessed himself, and in the moments before summoning his friends, had cycled through a tree house, a laboratory, and a stage, before finally turning it into an exact facsimile of the living room. Thinking this might be disorienting, he changed all the decor to red and gold, and finally summoned his friends before he could change his mind again.

"Y'okay, Roman?" Patton mumbled, falling back onto the couch without a second glance and rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles.

Logan, who was much more annoyed at this disturbance, didn't wait for an answer. "Confusional arousal, also known as 'sleep drunkenness' is a condition that results from being woken suddenly--"

"I know, I know!" Roman waved his hands. "Look, I'll just come right out and say it: I'm worried about Anxiety."

"May I inquire why?" Logan asked stiffly. "Or are you going to interrupt again?"

Roman made a face at him. "Have you seriously not noticed that he's always downstairs?"

"Is he?" Patton asked. "I noticed he's been waking up earlier, but…" He paused and shrugged at Roman. "I mean, you sometimes wake up that early."

"That's what I'm telling you!" Roman said. "He's always down there! Even at weird times!"

"How long have you been observing this phenomenon?" Logan asked.

"Do-doo-be-do-doo," Patton sang.

"Phenomenon," Logan said, closing his eyes. "Not 'Mahna Mahna'."

"Do-doo-be-do-doo," Patton sang again, shimmying his shoulders a little.

Logan opened his eyes and turned to Roman. "How long have you been observing this behavior?"

"I don't know, like three days?" Roman said. "What, do you not believe me?"

"Aw, I'm sure Logan believes you," Patton said, trying to mediate despite the fact that he had no idea what Logan was getting at.

"I do believe you that Anxiety has been in the living room every time you have gone downstairs," Logan said. "What I am trying to determine is if this is a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence!" Roman snapped. "You don't have to keep undermining me, Logan! If you don't believe me, just say so instead of trying to make me look stupid and… and inadequate."

"Whoa, kiddo!" Patton put up his hands. "Nobody thinks you're inadequate." He paused and waited for Logan to agree. Logan just looked at him, confused, so Patton continued, "Right, Logan?"

"That depends. Are we discussing Roman's creative works or his adherence to the scientific method-- Patton, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Forget it," Roman rolled his eyes. "I might as well just come right out and tell you: Deceit dropped by for a visit a couple nights ago--"

"When?" Logan interrupted.

Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "And he tried to get me to say that Anxiety was bad for, well, for me. For all of us, I think is what he was getting at. Probably so we'd kick Anxiety out and send him straight back to Deceit's creepy clutches. Anyway, I told him to get lost and went right upstairs to tell Anxiety what had happened, and he's been camped out in the living room ever since."

"If I'm doing the math correctly," Logan said, looking at Roman sideways, "that was also the night that Thomas dreamt about a Dionysian org--"

Patton squeaked, but it was Roman who got words out faster, "I think we all remember! Let's not bring it back up."

"My point being, you were distracted or otherwise incapacitated for the rest of the night."

"This isn't about me!" Roman said, "As much as it pains me to admit it. This is about saving Anxiety from…" He hesitated. "Well, from whatever it is he's freaking out about. I say we go down there, sit him down, and work this out once and for all."

"Yay!" Patton said, caught up in the moment.

"Logan, are you in?"

"Would it even matter if I said no?"

"That's the spirit!" Roman strode to the door and pulled it open, sparing a thought to imagine Logan and Patton out of their pajamas and into their normal clothes. "Come, my brethren! To battle!"

"Um, battle?" Patton said, trailing after Roman with much less vigor than Roman would have liked. "How about to breakfast?"

"Can we have French toast?" Roman asked, looking between Patton and Logan while Logan shut the door.

Logan shrugged helplessly. "Sure."

"Very well." Roman beckoned Patton and Logan to follow him and marched down the hall toward the stairs. "Come, my brethren! To breakfast!"

He was quiet on the stairs in case Virgil was asleep; part of him hoped Virgil was asleep so that Logan would see and possibly admit that Roman had been correct in his statement that Virgil was always downstairs.

But to their mutual confusion, voices emanated from the kitchen. Roman paused just short of the doorway, frowning at the sound of his brother's voice.

"You still have to tell us what you think the creative applications of slugs are!" Remus said, oblivious to the audience just out of sight.

"You know he doesn't have any," Virgil said, laughing.

Roman's frown deepened and he glanced behind him to meet the equally confused faces of Logan and Patton.

"You haven't given me any time to think," Janus said. "And I did specify that a creative person could come up with something."

This was the catalyst that got Roman in motion, compelled by the understanding that something was deeply wrong. Forgetting his original goal entirely, he stepped into the kitchen to find Virgil smiling at the two sides Roman had thought he hated most.

Patton and Logan followed Roman into the kitchen. Patton froze, just as baffled as Roman, but Logan only inclined his head on his way to the coffee maker. "Good morning, Anxiety, Deceit." He turned to Remus and frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know how I should address you."

"Call me by your name, Elio," Remus said, widening his eyes.

"Neither one of us is name--"

"Oh, forget it." Remus waved a hand. "Call me Remus, call me Dukey, call me Madonna for all I care."

"Good morning, Remus."

"Logan!" Roman said, his eyes still locked on Virgil. "Don't-- Don't--" He shook his head. "Anxiety, what's going on? Why aren't you scared of them?"

"Why would he be scared of us?" Remus demanded.

Janus watched, his eyes traveling from one face to the next until he found what he was looking for. He didn't have a clue what was going on, and it was obvious that Logan didn't either. Roman and Remus were trying to work it out, which left Patton, who barely factored into the equation, and Virgil. Virgil, who was shifting in his chair looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. Aha.

"Because you're evil!" Roman said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And…" Patton said hesitantly, "You hurt him."

"He doesn't like you!" Roman agreed. "He was glad to be rid of you!"

Virgil grit his teeth but could only watch helplessly as Janus and Remus exchanged a look of mutual understanding and stared expectantly at him.

"Is that what he told you?" Janus purred, ignoring the violent beating of his heart against his ribs. "Were we cruel to you, Anxiety?" He gave Remus an expectant look.

Remus held eye contact. He knew what Janus wanted him to do; a part of him even wanted to do it. As much as Remus was about morbid possibilities, he was also about ugly truths. He had no interest in defying his function, in censoring himself. But the sight of Virgil in his periphery, pale and shaking in his chair like the sole survivor of a head-on car crash, made Remus pause. And, holding eye contact with Janus, he lifted his hand and placed it over his own mouth.

Janus accepted this with a roll of his eyes. If Remus didn't want to put Virgil out of his misery, then Janus certainly wasn't going to be the one to do it. "Well, Anxiety? Answer the question." He curled his mouth into a vicious, humorless smile. "And do be honest, won't you?"

Virgil couldn't breathe. He swallowed convulsively, trying to get himself under control. The tightrope stretched out before him, growing narrower by the second. He kept his weight centered a second longer and stared, pleading, at Janus. "Don't."

"Leave him alone, you fiend!" Roman said, lunging forward and slamming his hand down on the table.

"Hey!" Virgil shot to his feet, chest-to-chest with Roman. The look of confusion in Roman's eyes turned to betrayal at the sight of Virgil facing off against him with his back to the Dark Sides. "Listen," Virgil said in a quavering voice, sinking back down into his chair, "let's just… Everybody calm down; I can explain."

"Take your time," Janus said, irritably. He motioned for Remus to put away his morningstar, which had jumped into his hand the moment Roman had hit the table.

"What is there to explain?" Roman demanded. "Are they holding you hostage, or what?"

The tightrope quivered beneath Virgil's feet. He took a deep breath and jumped. "I lied, okay? I was scared that you guys wouldn't want me anymore if you knew that we…"

Remus peeled his hand away from his mouth. "That we're tighter than Logan's ass!"

"Were friends," Virgil said.

Roman sat down next to Virgil, heart stuttering in his chest. Patton and Logan sat as well, but Roman barely noticed the movement. "You mean you were friends the whole time?"

"No!" Virgil said hurriedly. "Which reminds me." He turned and gave Janus a stern look. "I think Deceit has something he wants to say to you."

"I think Deceit can speak for himself, thank you," Janus said.

"If you're talking about that little late-night rendezvous, you can just forget it," Roman said, puffing out his chest. He didn't need everyone to know just how badly he'd been hurt, and insisting on an apology would do just that.

Janus turned to Virgil, triumphant. "See? There's nothing to apologize for."

"Wait a second," Patton said. "I'm confused." He turned to Virgil. "Why did you let us think that Deceit and the Duke were mean to you?"

"They were a little bit," Virgil said. Janus scoffed and Virgil kicked him under the table but continued explaining, "They didn't like that I was spending so much time with you and…  Well, I was scared that you wouldn't want me, and we were on bad terms when I moved up here, so I thought it would be easier if I just… kept my mouth shut."

"You were fighting?" Patton asked. "Did we cause that?" He was horrified at the thought. He didn't like Deceit and he didn't like the Duke, but the idea of actually hurting them or Virgil made his chest ache.

"You," Janus pointed at him, "have caused more pain than you even know."

"How?" Roman demanded. "We don't even talk to you."

"You shut us down every chance you get!" Remus said, baring his teeth. "How would you like it if your pens never wrote, hm? What would you do with all those thoughts in your head?"

"You're not making any sense, Dastardly Whip-stache, although I'd expect nothing else from the likes of you."

Janus raised an eyebrow at Virgil, looking at him pointedly. Virgil sighed. "Okay, okay. I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to make you feel bad, but… When you try to stop Thomas from listening to us, it's… destructive."

"Destructive how?" Logan asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Try 'psychological torture,'" Janus muttered.

"Oh, please," Roman said, rolling his eyes. "We don't torture you. Like I said, we never even see you!"

Janus sat up straight. "How would you like it, Roman, if every time you tried to write one of your little stories, your pen tore straight through the paper? Or you turned around and the whole thing was shredded?" Not wanting Patton and Logan to feel as though they were absolved of any guilt, Janus looked at them in turn. "How would you feel if you were never able to properly perform your function? If something stopped you every time? If Thomas never heard your voice no matter how loud you tried to scream?"

"That sounds like it would be psychological torture," Logan said drily, unmoved. He only assisted in silencing Janus and Remus when their influence prevented Thomas from healthy functioning, which was rare.

"Do we--" Patton choked out. "Did we-- Virgil?" he beseeched. "Did we do that to you?"

Virgil nodded, knowing full well that there was no sparing Patton's feelings now. "That's part of the reason why we fought," Virgil said. "I forgave you and they--"

"Don't," Remus said.

"I was hoping that you guys accepting me meant we could all learn how to coexist without hurting each other," Virgil said, blushing. "Like, not to sound all bleeding-heart about it."

"So what, when did you guys all magically make up?" Roman demanded, resentment coloring his tone. Virgil's explanation soothed the sting a bit, but jealousy and bitterness still swirled dangerously in his mind.

"Uh, like, ten minutes ago?" Virgil said. "I was trying to get Deceit to apologize to you."

"For what, exactly?" Logan asked, looking at Roman. "You only mentioned that he tried to turn you against Anxiety."

"It's nothing to worry about," Roman said hurriedly.

"I think we need to apologize," Patton said. Everyone looked at him and he shrank back a little before finding his confidence again. "We hurt Virgil and his friends! That was wrong of us."

Janus eyed him, his gaze calculating. "The best apology is changed behavior."

"Oh, well, um." Patton looked down at the table.

"That's what I thought."

"You did it for me," Virgil pleaded. "You thought I was bad for Thomas, but now you know that I can be important too. What's different about them?"

"You can't seriously be expecting us to put up with that ," Roman said, gesturing at Remus, who was making lewd gestures at him across the table.

"C'mon, a month ago you would have said the exact same thing about me," Virgil said.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, but this is too far."

"Aw, and you haven't even heard about my idea for desert ungulate erotica," Remus said, sticking out his lower lip. "I call it the Camel Sutra."

"See?"

"I'm just asking you to take a chance on them like you took a chance on me," Virgil said. "Look, I'm even vouching for them! Nobody vouched for me and you took me in."

"For the record," Logan said, "I have no opposition to this. We are all parts of Thomas and we all have important contributions to make."

"I meeeaaan…" Patton said slowly. Again, everyone turned to look at him. "Anxiety is kind of right."

"Virgil," Virgil blurted before he could change his mind. "My name is Virgil. If we--" He took a deep, shaky breath. "If we're gonna do this, I want you to know my name."

"Do what?" Roman asked, still reeling from Patton's words. "Uh, I mean, thank you, Virgil for being honest with us, but-- Him?" He pointed at Remus.

Remus flipped him off. "You're being a real dick right now, you know? What'd I ever do to you?"

"To Thomas, you mean? You scare him!"

"And who told him we were scary?" Remus demanded, reaching out to sling one arm over Janus' shoulder. They were a little too far apart for the motion to be comfortable. Remus dug his fingers into Janus' shoulder to keep from losing his grip. "You did! You and Daddy Long Dong over there."

"Roman," Patton was perfectly miserable, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders, "I think he's right."

"But they are scary!" Roman insisted. "I don't care if An-- If Virgil turned out to be a good guy--"

"Gee, thanks," Virgil muttered.

"--Deceit and my brother are not good for Thomas."

"And who are you to decide that?" Janus asked, sticking his chin out. "For Thomas' sake let's at least be honest with each other, Roman. You don't care one way or the other whether Remus and I are good for Thomas. You're only thinking about yourself. And I'm so sorry to tell you, but you're outnumbered. So what does that say about you? Virgil is practically on his knees begging you to give us a chance, and here you are denying him because you can't see past your own inherent prejudices."

"Yes, thank you, Deceit. I'll be sure to take that advice to heart," Roman snapped. He turned helplessly to Patton. "Well, Padre, you've always been our guide for right and wrong. I'll defer to you on this even if… Even if I don't like the answer. I trust you."

"Don't put it on him!" Virgil said. "I'm the one-- Don't-- It's not fair to put it all on him."

Patton smiled at Virgil, then at Roman. "It's okay. I think we should give them a chance. At least let them, you know, express themselves."

"Yeah," Roman sighed. "I was afraid you would say that."

"If we can work with Virgil, I don't see any reason we can't work with these two," Patton said. "Even if it does make me feel kinda…"

"Squirmy?" Remus suggested, wriggling in place to emphasize his point.

Patton screwed up his face in disgust before catching himself. "Uh-- Yeah. 'Squirmy' is a good word for it." He trailed off and cleared his throat and for one split second, a chill silence dominated the air.

Then Logan stood. "Was that the heartwarming conclusion?" he asked.

"I don't think there's gonna be a heartwarming conclusion, Lo," Virgil said to him.

"Ah. Well in that case, may I suggest French toast?"

Janus rose, smoothly shrugging Remus' hand off his shoulder. "Well," he started, "I'm sure--"

Virgil cut him off with a guttural noise like he was trying to deter a naughty cat from swiping a glass off a countertop. "Mm!"

Janus turned to him, brow furrowed in faux-concern. "Are you trying to get my attention or are you choking on something?"

"I need to talk to you for a sec," Virgil said, then turned to Remus. "Both of you." He turned to leave and motioned for them to follow him, giving both Patton and Roman lights taps on the shoulder on his way out.

He led them to the basement stairs and paused on the landing. "Listen, I know--" He broke off with a frustrated sigh, not wanting to offend his friends. "I want this to end well, and I know what you guys are like." Janus raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt. Virgil made an apologetic face at him and continued, "Don't push them, okay? Remus, no scare tactics. Janus, you know what the boundaries are. Don't try to find them. Just be cool, and I'll make sure they're cool back."

"I'll behave if Romano-Hermano does," Remus said, bouncing on his toes. "Ugh, fine, and I promise I won't write about his phobias unless I have a reeeaally good idea."

Janus sniffed and swept his hair back. "And I'll be sure to push as hard as I can. You're right, Virgil, it's in my best interest to antagonize Saint Patton and his little sidekick right out of the gate. Thank you for the warning."

Virgil refused to be intimidated, knowing full well that Janus was only pushing back so hard because Virgil had seen right through him. "So," he said expectantly, "French toast?"

"Sure." Janus was already in motion, leaning into Virgil so he could reach the doorknob. "This is going to be fun."

--

"This would be good with cinnamon," Patton said, his voice bright with false cheer, as he hacked at his French toast with needless ferocity.

"Mm-hm," Virgil said, desperate to ease some of the tension that made the maple syrup go sour in his mouth.

"The recipe called for powdered sugar only," Logan said.

Virgil kicked Janus under the table in a desperate bid to get him to break the icy silence he'd been maintaining.

Janus sneered back at him, having no other way to communicate that making small talk about breakfast toppings was beneath him.

It was Remus who extended the first hand. "What about cayenne?" His eyes flickered from one face to the next, nervous and probing, and Virgil's silent 'thank you' went unacknowledged.

Logan twitched in irritation. "The recipe--"

"Oh, forget the recipe, Discount Alton Brown."

"You can't call him that!" Roman said, forgetting himself.

Virgil took a breath to intervene but stopped himself, not wanting Roman to feel ganged up on.

"You called me an 'off-brand nerd processor' earlier this week," Logan said.

"Well, yeah, but…" Roman tapped his fingertips against the table, agitated, "Endearingly funny-mean nicknames are my thing."

"Now they're our thing," Remus said with a wicked grin, although he was sure not to sharpen his teeth this time. "Aww, how sweet. We have something in common."

"I think," Patton interjected, "spicy French toast sounds, eh…" Here, he faltered. "Interesting?"

Virgil looked down at his massacred pile of French toast so no one would see the hesitant smile on his face.

Breakfast ended with no major fights. Virgil managed to coalesce all the tact and charm he was capable of and use it to corral Logan, Roman, and Patton into his bedroom.

He imagined some purple beanbag chairs for all of them and sat down heavily in one, twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. "I'm really sorry I lied to you guys. I understand if you're mad at me or don't want to hear it, but I just-- I was so scared that you would kick me out if I told you the truth. And it's not that I think you would-- Like, I know we're friends, it's just that I'm me."

"Virgil," Roman said, because Patton didn't look like he was going to interrupt. "It's okay. And, well, I'm big enough to admit that I may have been a little overzealous in my attempts to protect you. Although I'm really not sure how you manage to get along with my brother."

"Practice makes perfect," Virgil said, flashing what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Roman grumbled.

"Anyway," Virgil said, looking at the floor. "I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, but I get it if not."

"Of course we forgive you!" Patton said. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel like you had to lie to us. You can always be honest with us."

Virgil nodded. "That's all I wanted to say. I don't know where to go from here."

"Your options are limited," Logan said. "However, I suggest that we all go down to the living room and try to encourage Remus and Deceit to do the same. Provided," he paused for a moment, and his gaze flickered to Roman, "everyone feels they can be cordial."

They all nodded in agreement and trundled back down the stairs in a single-file line with Logan at the head.

Remus began to hum a funeral march as they descended. He had made himself comfortable on the couch, his head propped up against one of the armrests and his feet in Janus' lap.

"You're still here?" Virgil asked, surprised. "Sorry, I didn't mean-- I just would think you'd be off writing."

Remus waved a hand. "John Dee-ceit Rockefeller over here is helping me workshop some things."

Janus considered solidarity for a split second before deciding to act natural. "Am I? That's news to me."

Virgil hurried over and sat down on the floor with his back to the couch, eager to mitigate whatever could easily become a complete disaster. Patton sat down beside him in a show of support, leaving Roman and Logan to eye each other over the remaining armchair.

"You don't have to be shy," Remus said, pleased that he was being allowed to dominate the conversation. He thought for a second, picturing the living room sans coffee table and with a bigger couch. Then he yawned.

This triggered a chain reaction. Virgil and Janus, who had been looking at him, also yawned, followed shortly by Patton, then Roman, then Logan.

"Maybe we should go back to bed," Virgil suggested, checking his phone. It was only a little past 7:00.

"I'm staying right here," Remus insisted. "I even made the couch bigger and everything." Knowing what was about to happen, he pulled his feet off Janus' lap.

Sure enough, Janus stood. "Do come get me if you need anything," he said, already in the process of sinking out.

"Translation," Virgil said, "'Disturb me under penalty of death.'"

"I'm going to make coffee," Roman muttered, wary of the potential nightmares that might result from sleeping too close to Remus. "Anyone else want one?"

"No, thank you," said Logan. "I have work to do."

"Robot," Roman muttered as Logan sank out. "Anyone else? Virgil?"

Virgil was too sleepy to consider the potential disaster of leaving Remus, Patton, and Roman alone together. He could barely feel the caffeine in his system. "M'going to bed," he muttered, running one hand down his face. "Possibly for several thousand years."

"No slugs," Remus murmured.

"I'll go with you," Patton said.

Roman darted to the kitchen before they could sink out properly, realizing a moment too late what was going to happen.

He took his time in the kitchen, realizing with a sinking dread that he had accidentally boxed himself in. As much as he wanted to hide in the kitchen or sink out and have his coffee in his room, he knew full well he couldn't allow himself to do that.

Avoiding the living room because Remus was there was a kind of cowardice that Roman simply could not allow in himself. So he made his coffee, exacting a kind of petty joy in the shrill hum of the milk frother. Then he strode right into the living room and sat down next to Remus, who was making no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that he was staring.

The tense silence pressed down on both of them, aching against their ribs. Remus' fingers itched for his morningstar, a thousand fragmented revenge fantasies playing out in front of his open eyes in stunning technicolor. He could never see them through to the end, though. No matter how hard he tried to pin one down, his attention invariably wandered to the climax of another.

Oblivious to this, Roman sat and tried not to squirm. He hated awkward silences, and his desire to fill them verged on compulsion. The trouble was, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. The English language only had so many social niceties built in, and none of them covered reconnecting with one's disowned evil twin.

Remus' fervent, feverish gaze sent a nasty itch down Roman's spine, and it took a great deal of effort not to shudder. It irked Roman, not knowing which of Remus' idiosyncrasies were his own, and which were calculated to be as annoying as possible.

As much as Roman wanted to believe that he couldn't fathom how this distorted shadow of himself could ever be considered useful, the truth was that he could . Roman believed, deep down in the darkest part of himself, that he was half a function. He had vowed a thousand times over that he would work as hard as he needed to in order to make up the difference. He could be good, and if he was good enough then maybe Remus would just disappear.

"Does Deceit ever talk about me?" Roman asked, well aware that Remus had no context for the inquiry.

Remus rolled his eyes. He had half been hoping that Roman would attack him so he had an excuse to fight back. He supposed he should have known better that Roman's first concern would be his reputation. "Oh, yes, all the time. He's in love with you."

"That's not what I meant!" Roman said, blushing. "Does he ever talk about us ?"

"You and me?" Remus asked, genuinely surprised. "No. Why?"

Roman ignored the question. "Has he ever brought me up?"

"I don't know what kind of conversations you think we have down there," Remus said, confused, "but we mostly just have sensual, passionate group sex-- Wait, no, I promised Virgil I wouldn't antagonize you. Um." Roman raised an eyebrow and sat back to watch Remus flounder. "Well, no. It's never come up."

"So you don't think you're half a function?" Roman asked, striving to keep his tone light. He failed, but knew better than to let that show on his face.

"Is that what he said to you?" Remus asked, half-impressed and half-offended. "You really must have pissed him off!"

"Is that pride?" Roman asked, cocking his head. "You're impressed with me for that ?"

Remus ignored this in favor of addressing Roman's earlier point. He didn't lie often, but the topic at hadn't was something he couldn't even be honest with himself about. "No. I don't think I'm half a function. I could be perfectly capable of being Thomas' sole Creativity if I ever got the chance."

"We," said Roman, determined not to cede any ground. "Same. And I certainly wouldn't want any assistance from the likes of you."

They glared at each other, teetering on the edge of a real argument.

Of the two of them, it was Remus who harbored the deeper anger, scars of resentment burned jagged and destructive in his psyche. He clenched his fist around nothing, his promise to Virgil keeping his morningstar out of his grip.

Of the two of them, it was Remus who had the most to lose if this truce went badly.

Half-hating himself for it, he relaxed his hand and said, "Dragons have four limbs."

Roman's brow furrowed in confusion; he searched his brother's face before he remembered the childhood argument and grinned. "No, that would make it a wyvern. Dragons have six limbs."

"That's unrealistic."

"They're fantasy creatures! It doesn't have to be realistic!"

"Wyverns are dumb, anyway," Remus teased, sticking out his tongue.

To their mutual surprise, the bickering escalated, not into a fight, but into a deep and detailed debate over fantasy worldbuilding.

When Virgil woke up and came downstairs, it was to the sight of the living room covered in papers and two Creativities asleep on opposite ends of the couch.