#virgil fic

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

Remus: Virgil is so cute, he squeaks like a squeaky toy when you hug him!

Virgil: that's the sound of the air being forced out of my lungs as your arms crush my ribs, Remus

[logan-the-artist]

some drawings i’ve made for @littlerat2 ‘s awesome fic!!!!

[libraryofloveletters]

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating, the boys love to tease virg, past players make an appearance, takes place at robbo's wedding (I just made up random dates, forgive me if it's not accurate lmao), begging for a favour, wedding softness, some teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a few awkward moments, julia and thiago are their biggest fans, some nsfw humour, virg doesn't know how to use an iron, some childishness at the end, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 7.9k

Author's Note: okay, I've come back to bring you all a new virg fic, since you've been living in my inbox, asking for it. hopefully you like it as much as I do.

---

"And this one's for you," Andy says, passing the light green envelope over to Virgil, catching his friend on his way out. "You've got a plus one, make sure you bring that girlfriend of yours you're always talking about."

Virgil nods, a smile on his face as he takes the invite from Andy. The panic fills his head, slowly moving down to his chest as he walks out of the training centre.

Andy's wedding was coming up in a few weeks. The boys have known about it for months, and as much as Andy insisted to Rachel that they don't need actual invites, she still sent them with her husband to be.

The defender finds himself driving home, thinking about how on earth he was going to find someone to join him at this wedding.

See, the thing was, the boys thought he was seeing something. That wasn't a total lie, as he was seeing someone but it ended as quickly as it started. He wasn't sure how to tell his friends that it was over and it spiralled, coming up with random details to tell them every time they asked about this non-existent girlfriend.

He didn't think Andy would go as far as giving him a plus one.

Virgil pulls into the driveway, opening the envelope as he reads the invite.

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

Wedding Ceremony: July 3rd, 2022 at 3pm - Evening Reception to follow.

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

The rest of the details were on the back of the card, the invite was white with green accents to match the envelope. Must be their theme, he thinks, making a mental note to see if he has anything green to match.

He gets out of the car, putting the envelope in his pocket when he sees his neighbour, y/n, pulling into her driveway. He waves to her, the woman smiles at him as she pops her trunk open, a million bags waiting to be taken into the house.

"Need some help?" He offers, crossing the lawn to her driveway.

You smile, nodding. "Sure. Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil starts taking the bags out of the trunk, carrying them over to the front door as you unlock it. "I'm surprised you're home so early." He says.

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"No," he shakes his head, cheeks red. "I meant.. I usually see you come in late."

"Closed the clinic early today, we've got a staff party tomorrow, hence.." You gestured to the bags. Virgil nods, helping her carry them into her kitchen.

The two of you were on friendly terms, Virgil often helped you out around the house if you were busy. Despite being a footballer, he tended to take care of the yard work and you stopped by to make sure were in order at his place if he was away for a match or pre season training.

"How about a cup of tea?" You offered and he smiled, "you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, make yourself at home. It's the least I could do to thank you for your help."

"It wasn't much help, I only carried the bags to the kitchen." He chuckles, sitting on a stool by the counter.

You shrugged, "still. It would have taken me like, 12 trips to get all of them, you used your big footballer muscles and did it in one."

Virgil smiles, watching as you filled the kettle with water and took two mugs out of the cupboard across from him; one with little flowers along the rim of it and the other a red mug Liverpool logo on the front.

"Surprised you have that," he says, you drop the teabags into the mug. "What? This?" You nodded to the red mug. "It'd just be wrong not to support the local team." You two laughed, you referred to Liverpool as if it was a rec league team.

You two are there in silence, you leaned on the counter as you stood across from the footballer. The man looked around while you looked at him, counting to yourself quietly. Once Virgil hears your whispers, he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

"What are you counting?"

"Your wrinkles," you say nonchalantly, pointing to his forehead as you count each one. Virgil rolls his eyes playfully, swatting your hand away. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, you usually can't see the wrinkles on that big forehead on yours. So unless you've aged drastically since I've last seen you, I'd say you're worried about something."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. L/n?"

"Yup," you nodded, smiling at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. "100%, now tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well," he sighs as he starts. "I was invited to a wedding today."

"And? Is it for an ex or some cousin you hate?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually Andy, you know, Robbo?"

You nodded, shutting the stove off when the kettle begans whistling. "He finally put a ring on Rachel? Good for them, tell them congratulations for me."

Virgil smiles, "I will."

"Wait, so if it's for Andy, what's the problem? I thought you two were good friends."

Virgil makes a face, wondering if he should really tell you what's bothering him. "We are, I uh.. I need a date for a wedding."

You laughed, "that's what's worrying you? C'mon Virgil, you're a footballer. You're handsome, you're young..ish- regardless, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get a date."

He rolls his eyes at your comment, "yeah well, easier said than done. Especially since I've - never mind."

"Oh no," you turn to face him after pouring the water into the mugs. "You're not going to leave me hanging like that! What, since you've..?

"Since I've been telling the guys I have a girlfriend. That's why Andy gave me a plus one, I really thought he wouldn't do that."

Your brows furrowed, you were beyond confused now. "Okay, you've officially lost me. You're nervous to ask her to be your date? Or - oh my god! Is she a married woman, Virgil?!"

"No!" He laughed, shaking his head at your outrageous suggestion. "I'd never date a married woman, in fact, I'm not dating anyone."

You were getting the milk from the fridge when what he said finally processed. You turn to face the man, "so wait, let me see if I got this right. You've been telling them you're seeing someone but you're not actually seeing anyone?" You say, looking for some clarification. Virgil nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Why would you lie to them?"

"I really didn't mean too! It wasn't a lie in the beginning. I was seeing this girl, she was cool but we didn't want the same things so it just sort of.. ended? They kept asking and I don't know why I didn't want to tell them the truth but I wasn't sure what to say so I played along and now, well, you know where I've ended up."

You sigh, unsure what to tell him. You didn't even think there was advice to help someone who's gotten themselves into such a position.

"That's a messed up thing you're in, dude." You added the milk to his mug, handing him the one with the flowers. Virgil nods, stirring the spoon in the mug.

"Do you have sugar?"

"Mhm hm," you turned, reaching up into the cupboard to get the sugar from the middle shelf.

Virgil watched, admiring you; not only on a surface level but deeper than that. He likes spending time with you, even if it was something as simple as a chat across the lawn. You were beautiful and kind, funny and smart, your humour was witty and you were charming. You could talk yourself out of a crime if need be - you were exactly who he was looking for.

Seems his lies have sent him in your direction; imagine if he hadn't helped you take your bags in today.

You turned to him with the sugar, you could feel him staring at you but he was sitting there, elbow on the counter with his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he smiled at you.

"What?"

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" He asks and you laugh, taking the top off the sugar jar.

"You're not serious."

"I am, what are you doing in 3 weeks?"

"Probably work, but I can't be your date, virgil."

He pouts, much like a child when they're told no. "Why not?"

"How would that work?"

"It's fine, I'll handle everything y/n. You just need to pack your bags and get the time off work. Hotels, flights, everything we need there, I'll take care of."

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

"Portugal," he says, doesn't miss the slight raise of your eyebrows.

"I've always said I'd go back to Portugal, even if it's just for a short time."

"See," Virgil says, "it's like my lying led us here, this can be a good thing for both of us. I'll have a girlfriend for the weekend and you get to visit Portugal again."

You can't help but laugh at his justification. "Please," he says, "I'm begging you now. I'll own you big time." His hands clasped together under his chin as he looked at you with big, brown, puppy eyes.

"Like season passes to your box at Anfield big time?" You asked, a raised eyebrow. Virgil laughs, nodding. "Exactly like that."

"You've got a deal then." You tell him, he smiles. "Perfect, I can't thank you enough."

"Mhm hm, now drink your tea before it gets cold."

--

The week of the wedding arrives faster than expected, you had been in prep mode all week; getting your hair and nails done, trying to pack whatever you think you'd need for a wedding.

A celebrity's wedding isn't different from a normal one, is it? Is that what a footballer is? A celebrity ? Can you call it a celebrity wedding- Your thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's Virgil, a big smile on his face despite it being 8am. "Why are you so happy?" You asked upon opening the door.

"Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine. Are you ready to go?" He makes a face, chuckling. He starts carrying your luggage out of the house as you make one last walk through, assuming you had everything and things were in place for the few days you'd be away.

"Yup, all set." You notice he was putting your suitcase into his car. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be faster than an Uber."

"We've got," you glanced at your phone, "4 hours before our flight."

"I know, it's fine." He waves you off, shutting the trunk before opening the passenger side door for you. You lock up and walk over the lawn to his driveway, getting into the car.

It was a short drive to the airport, the music played quietly and Virgil hummed as he drove. He glances over to see you typing away on your phone. "Who are you texting so early?"

"Playing the possessive boyfriend already, Virgil?" A raised eyebrow as you looked at the man. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. "I'm kidding," you rested a hand on his knee. He looks down and you move your hand. "I was just replying to some work stuff, I've never left them for so long."

"It's only 3 days, they'll be fine. Plus, don't they know you're on vacation?"

"Not really," you set the phone on your lap, "I told them I had some family stuff, couldn't exactly explain that Virgil Van Dijk was asking me- no, begging me, to be his fake wedding date."

"Technically," he points a finger at you, "it's a real wedding date, you're just my fake girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Virgil."

He laughs, pulling into the parking lot. The two of you head into the airport and after checking in, the woman sends the two of you down a hallway that seemed like a dead end.

You didn't travel often but you knew this seemed.. sketchy to say the least.

"Where are we going?" You asked Virgil, the man opens the door for you and leads you right onto the tarmac. There's a plane a few feet away and you turn to look at him, dot connecting in your head. "Private?" You asked him another question.

He nods, "figured I'd spoil my girlfriend," he jokes, smiling at you as you two walked over to the plane.

You sat across from Virgil, checking your phone for the millionth time since you've left home. "You know, they won't be able to reach you when we're in the air, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I know," you switched it off and set it down before the plane took off.

The two of you were eating breakfast, a rather large spread for being in the air and considering the flight was barely 3 hours.

"So," you set the fork down on the plate, "get me the details, who's gonna be at the wedding?"

Virgil takes a sip of his coffee, "well, Andy and Rachel obviously."

"Obviously," you chuckled.

"Thiago, Jordan, Millie, Adam and their wives, Ox and his girlfriend, us and then Trent."

"What, Trent doesn't get a plus one?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Plus he's in the states, he said he's coming but we have to see."

You nod, the two of you chat a bit more. Virgil updates you on a few matches, how they think they're going to do, what it's like being captain. You tell him how the clinic is doing, how you're liking it so far compared to when you used to work at the hospital. Just small details that might come up in a conversation with his teammates.

Once you landed, Virgil collected your luggage and you were off to the hotel. It was a short walk to the venue from the hotel, the two of you put your stuff away and decided to go for a walk, grabbing a coffee before heading back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner was in a few hours, giving you two more than enough time to get ready. "We need to get our story straight," he says to you when you come in from the balcony.

"What story ?"

"Our outfits," he says with total seriousness, "what are you wearing tonight?"

You shook your head with a small smile on your face, taking the two dresses out of the wardrobe to show him; a light blue dress with a halter top, the small white flowers going from the waist to the bottom hem and the other was a burnt orange that was backless.

"I figured the blue was a bit more family friendly, classy enough without being too dressy," you hold it up to yourself to show him. He nods, "yeah, good. It's pretty."

You hung it back in the wardrobe before turning to him. "What are you going to wear?"

"We need to match." He was already searching through his suitcase for the shirt to match your dress. "Do we really need to?" You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

He nods, pulling out the baby blue shirt. "This is close enough, no?"

"Yeah, but why does it look like you've had it rolled up in the bottom of a box for like.. 4 years?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the state of it. Virgil shakes the shirt, trying to rid it of the permanent wrinkles. "Do you not have an iron, Virgil?"

"I do, but uh, I forgot to iron it."

You shook your head, getting up to search for the iron you knew you saw. You find it in the drawer in the wardrobe, handing it to him. Virgil spreads the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron in before fiddling with the settings. He looks between the iron, the shirt and you, a bit clueless before attempting to iron the shirt.

He works on the sleeve, making it worse than it was before, you watch as he helplessly works at the shirt. You figured maybe you were making him nervous in some weird way so you excused yourself to the bathroom to unpack your makeup and hair stuff.

When you came back, 7 minutes later, he was still working on the same sleeve. Your lips pressed together, arms folded over your chest as you watched.

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

"You're terrible at that. Do you not know how to iron?"

He sighs, "it's been years since I've had to do it, I usually just get my stuff dry cleaned."

You smiled as you walked over, taking the iron from him and putting him out of his misery. "If I leave you to iron this, you might take the whole 3 hours to finish it. Why don't you go shower or whatever you need to do, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go. Before you ruin the shirt," you shook your head, switching the setting from wool to cotton. You wondered how he ended up on wool to begin with. "Thank you," he smiles, walking into the bathroom.

While he showers, you finish up on his shirt and hang it on a hanger in the wardrobe. You also looked for his pants, ironing the 3 pairs of dress pants he had brought as you didn't know which one he'd be wearing.

Virgil returns to the room post shower, white towel wrapped around him that sat right below his hips, and you had just shut the wardrobe after hanging up his pants. You turn to find him behind you, your eyes fixed on the man; the water dripping down his chest, down to his stomach and it stops at the towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're staring, y/n." He says, you can hear the smirk on his face before your eyes meet his face.

It's not like you've never seen him shirtless before, he used the pool in his yard quite often, not to mention the glimpse of him you catch in the media or what the Liverpool account posts.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before speaking. "I uh, I ironed your pants as well, I wasn't sure which ones you were gonna wear so I ironed all of them."

He smiles, "thanks."

You nod, excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower. You shut the door, back pressed to it for a moment before going about your routine. You weren't sure how long you were in there but you had showered, done your hair and you were mid way through your makeup when there was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Virgil calls from the other side of the door. "I need to fix my hair." He says and you open the door for him, concealer all over your face, hair pinned up with the robe wrapped around you.

He smiles when he sees you; you look so.. well, beautiful but there was something else, a domesticity of sorts. The two of you getting ready in the same bathroom, there's some intimate in the way you were seeing each other right now. Moving in silence as you both did your own thing beside one another.

You break the silence, "how did we meet?"

"We're neighbours..?" His eyes meet yours in the mirror, confusion all over his face.

"I mean if they ask, your teammates. What did you tell them?"

"Oh," he says, wrapping the hair tie around his hair. "I told them we met through mutual friends, my friend, Kevin. His wife knows you and we were all at the same party and we hit it off from there."

You hum, finishing up on your makeup. You were searching for your lipstick, "and how long have we been together?" You find the one you were looking for.

"Almost a year. If my math is right, it should be like.. 10 months?"

The lipstick in your hand, you look at Virgil with a shocked look on your face. "You've been lying to them for almost a year? How the hell did you manage that?"

His lips pressed together then he shrugs, which makes you laugh. "Okay," you nod, "almost a year it is." You turn back to the mirror, applying your lipstick.

Virgil watches as you do it, your hands steady while you go over your lips, pressing them together to make the colour even. "What do we think?" You asked, turning to him when you notice he's watching.

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, walking out of the bathroom to change into your dress.

The two of you head down to the venue a few minutes later, all dressed and ready to meet his teammates at the rehearsal dinner.

Before you walked in, Virgil grabbed your hand which caught you off guard. Your fingers interlocked with his and it took you a moment to realize why he did that; the two of you were a couple, of course.

It was already full in there, most of their family had already arrived and a few friends were scattered through the venue. You see a few of his teammates but Virgil leads you to the front, tapping Andy on the shoulder.

"Virg!" Andy smiles, pulling Virgil into a hug. "You made it," he steps back and sees you next to the man, his grin only widening. "You must be the famous girlfriend we hear about all the time."

"That would be me," you smiled, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, this is Rachel, bride to be." He introduces you to his fiancee. You smiled at her, the two of you exchanging niceties.

"It's nice of you to make it, Andy was saying how he was certain Virgil wouldn't be bringing you." Rachel says, her arm interlocked with Andy's.

"Well to be fair, Virg seemed a bit nervous to ask me to come but I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't think I've said it but congratulations."

Virgil's heart skips a beat, it wasn't out of ordinary that someone called him Virg, but you've never had. You always called him Virgil, so to hear the nickname come out of your mouth, make him rather.. soft.

"It's my fault," Andy starts, "we did tell Virg to bring you around before but he always said you were busy with work. So I think it's fair of me to think you were fake."

You laughed, "I can assure you I'm alive and real, feel free to pinch me to confirm." Andy laughed at your comment, smiling at his teammate in approval of you. Virgil returns the smile.

"Anyways, make yourselves comfortable, we're going to start the rehearsal soon." Rachel tells the two of you, leading Andy off to greet someone else.

Virgil's hand rests on your lower back, the two of you sitting towards the middle of the chairs, watching as they went through the rehearsal. It was mostly family, his teammates were only there so they could all mingle and catch up as they had been on break for a few weeks at this point.

At some point after they were done the run through, Virgil suggested drinks and you followed him to the bar, his hand once again on your lower back.

"Virg!" You hear someone call for him, the two of you turning at the same time to see who was coming his way. Both Jordan and Millie were making their way over to the two of you.

"Hey," Virgil smiles at his teammates. "Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. This is Jordan and James."

You smiled at the men, "it's nice to meet you both."

"We thought you weren't coming," Millie says and Jordan follows up with a, "it's nice to meet you, we thought you weren't real."

"That seems to be the general consensus tonight," you laughed.

Ox makes his way over to the bar, seeing his teammate with a woman he's never seen before. "You must be Virgil's girlfriend, I'm Ox." He introduces himself.

"I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"I can't believe you're actually here."

You turn to Virgil, making a face at him. "Why do all your teammates think I'm not real?"

"He wouldn't show us pictures," Millie says, shrugging. "I guess that's true," you nudged Virgil, "between Virg's practices and games, and then with my work, we barely get time to see each other and when we do, we're not on our phones."

Jordan makes a face, looking between you and Virgil and you instantly know what he's thinking. "No!" You laughed, shaking your head. "That's so not what I meant."

"What is it that you do, y/n?" Ox pipes up.

"I'm a doctor, an OB actually."

"Oh wow," Ox smiles at his teammate. "She's good, you've got good taste, big man. I see why she hasn't been around."

You smile, your phone buzzing in your hand. You excuse yourself, walking away to take the phone call. You can hear the boys talking behind you, you glance over your shoulder and smile at Virgil, the man's heart skipping a beat. Despite you not being his actual girlfriend, it did feel good to get the approval from his teammates.

Virgil hadn't even realized how long he had been chatting with his teammates, he went in search of you and found you just outside, chatting with Julia, the two of you talking about their kids.

"There you are," Virgil says, walking down the steps towards you. You smile at him, "I see you've met Julia." He gives the woman a quick hug before standing beside you.

"Yeah," you smiled at her, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"What for?" His brows furrowed, looking at you. He's wondering what he could have possibly done.

"You've been hiding me from her, Julia and I are best friends now."

The blonde smiles at you, "yes we are. We've already made plans to get lunch when we get back to Liverpool. I can't believe you've never brought her around before, Virgil." She tells him, her voice similar to the one she uses when she scolded her children, and or Thiago, when they misbehave.

"Oh well, I'm sure y/n's told you about her hectic schedule. Blame her, not me. I do hope you two have fun at this lunch." He laughs, his arm over your shoulder.

The rest of the night was quiet, everyone caught up with each other with their summer plans and you met the rest of the players and their partners over the course of the night. Eventually you two decide to call it a night, heading back to the hotel.

You were by the door, taking your heels off when you saw Virgil stop in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him, walking over. You seem to realize what he's thinking; there's only one bed.

Not like they've taken a bed out of the room while you were gone but you two had been too tired and too busy getting ready for the dinner that neither of you seemed to register that there was in fact, only one bed in the room.

It didn't occur to Virgil when booking the room that you'd need a separate bed, you weren't really a couple after all.

"I'll take the couch," you tell him, not wanting him to feel bad for his slight mess up.

He shook his head, turning to you. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

You glance at the couch next to the window, it was spacious - that's if you were under 5 foot. There's no way he'd sleep comfortably if he did manage to fit on it.

"You know what, we're both adults. We'll sleep together." You tell him, his eyes widening at your words. "Not what I meant," you smack his arm. "We can both fit on the bed comfortably, no need for either of us to suffer on the couch."

"You're sure?" He asks and you nod, "of course, but hands to yourself mister." You pointed a finger to him, making him laugh.

Virgil raises his hands, "I swear I'll be on my best behaviour," he says, watching you walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you from your sleep. You shut your eyes, trying to get a few more minutes but you can hear the shower running and then shuts off followed by the bathroom door opening. The smell of Virgil's body wash fills the room and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiles at you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You yawn, stretching as you try to wake yourself up. "What time is it?"

"10:27," he looks at the clock, "how about some breakfast?"

"Yes please," you get out of bed, fixing the comforter as you walk to the bathroom. "Lots of coffee please," you smiled at him, shutting the door.

Virgil orders room service while you shower, you return to the room just as it arrives. The two of you sit on the couch, eating breakfast in comfortable silence. Virgil grabs his phone, "Andy sent over some pictures from last night," he shows you a few photos that the groom to be had sent.

"Those are cute, send them to me."

Your phone buzzes on the bed and you look over at the clock, "shit, I've got to do my hair." You set the cup down on the table and walk towards the bathroom. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good." he tells you, "do your thing."

You walk in and walk back out, leaning on the door frame. "What are you wearing today?"

He smiles, "don't worry, I ironed it and put it in the closet."

"Properly?" You asked, walking over to confirm.

"Yes," he shook his head, watching as you took the shirt out to confirm that he did in fact iron it properly. "Wow, good job. Big upgrade from yesterday."

"Watched a YouTube video," he says, making you laugh.

You leave Virgil in the room, off to shower and then to start on your makeup and hair as you weren't 100% sure what look you wanted to do. Virgil left you alone, letting you get ready in peace. He could hear the music playing, your humming accompanying the melody.

He thought to himself that it was something he could get used to, that his house would feel so quiet and empty without you humming.

The line between real and fake seemed to be getting blurred more and more as the time went by.

"Virg?" You called for the man, he got up from his spot on the couch. He had been ready for some time, you still had an hour before you needed to leave. "Yeah?"

"Can you zip me up?"

You stepped out of the bathroom, hair pulled over your shoulder with your dress on. He smiles, nodding as he walks over to you; the sage green dress hugged your body in the right places, it was as if the dress was made for you and only you.

Virgil's hand rests on your waist, the other holds the zipper and gives it a soft tug, pulling it up to the top. The hand holding the zipper now turns into fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, coming to rest on the other side of your hip. "There you go."

Turning around to face him, Virgil's hands remained on your hips. "Thank you," you look up. He nods, "you look.. wow."

You can't help but laugh, straightening his shirt. "You look pretty wow yourself."

Virgil lets go of you when you take a step back, walking to the vanity to put your jewelry on. It takes the two of you half an hour to gather the last minute things you needed, assuring you were ready before heading out for the ceremony.

It's a short walk to the venue, everyone was being ushered into the church to take their seats while the bridal party was lining up to walk in when you two arrived.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was out and the church was full with their families and friends; they couldn't ask for a better start to their wedding day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Andy and Rachel exchanging vows and promises, everyone was beyond happy for them.

Most of the guests were now outside, the doors to the church open as everyone was heading out.

You stood next to Virgil by the stairs, letting him block the sun from your face as you checked your phone. You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. "You're actually here, you're real?" The Scouse accent thick, Trent.

"I am real," you looked up, smiling at the man who looks like he's seen better days. "You must be Trent."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Excuse me." He says, covering a yawn with his hand.

Before you two could speak, Andy was calling the two players over for a group photo. You stop Virgil, standing on your tiptoes to reach his collar, his hand on your hip you keep you steady as you fix it before sending him on his way; a small act of intimacy that you'd only find between a couple.

You had been checking your emails, something you knew Virgil would complain about if he caught you doing it yet again. You were so caught up that you hadn't noticed him calling your name. When you do, you look up, making a hand motion as to ask him what he wants. He waved you over, pointing to the spot in front of him. Your brows furrowed, still unsure what he wanted as the dots didn't seem to connect. Virgil realized as much, pointing towards the photographer and then back to the spot in front of him.

Only then did it click what he meant.

You head over, joining the other girlfriends and wives in the photo. Andy and Rachel were front and centre, the rest of you around them.

"Alright everyone, squeeze in a bit more please!" The photographer shouts, showing you all with his hands to move closer to each other.

Virgil moves you from beside him to in front of him, his arm over your shoulder and your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers interlocking with his.

The photographer gives everyone a moment to situate themselves, "perfect, alright everyone look here! Smile!"

A few moments later, you were all allowed to move. Andy and Rachel were off to take some more photos, there was only about 30 minutes before the reception which wasn't too far from the church.

Everyone makes their way over, waiting for the official entrance from Andy and Rachel as Mr and Mrs Robertson for the first time.

You were sat next to Virgil, Jordan and his wife, Rebecca, to the right of Virgil and Thiago and Julia to your left.

Andy and Rachel were having their first dance, the whole venue was quiet as you all watched the two of them, wrapped up in love and giggling as they whispered to each other mid dance.

You wiped the outer corner of your eye, blinking a few times in an attempt to save your makeup. Virgil turns slightly when he hears a small sniffle. He sees your watery eyes, smiling to himself and leans in to whisper to you; "are you crying?"

"Shut up," you whispered back, turning him back around with a small nudge. "Weddings make me emotional."

The evening was quiet, dinner consisted of everyone chatting, Andy and Rachel made the rounds to say hello to everyone who they didn't get a chance to talk to at the church. Eventually they reopened the bar and the dance floor, everyone started making their way around, mingling, drinking and dancing.

You were replying to a message when Virgil came over, two shot glasses in hand. He passes one to you, "to Andy and Rachel," he says, tapping his glass to you. The two of you down the shots, tequila, based on the after taste.

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

"It's a wedding, you have to dance!" He takes your phone from you, putting it into his pocket and grabbing your hand. "Virg," you groaned, the man ignores your pleas and takes you to the dance floor, spinning you around.

Before you know it, the two of you are giggling and dancing, his arms over your shoulders as he hugs you from behind, swaying to the music.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you tell him and the man lets you go while nodding before shimmying his way over to Trent, who looks like he was about to fall asleep in his chair. You laughed, leaving Virgil to bother Trent as you walked to the bar.

You had barely made it to the bar when someone shouted for you. "Y/n!" You see Thiago off to the side, "can you take a picture for us?"

"Sure," you take the phone from him, he and Julia standing together, arms wrapped around each other as they smiled, then Thiago kissed her.

Sometimes you wonder what it'd be like if you had a stable and loving relationship like theirs.

"I thought you got lost!" Virgil says, walking towards you. You shook your head, handing the phone back over to Thiago. The Spaniard then turns, passing the phone to Virgil. "Okay now you come in, let him take the picture."

"Are you sure?" You asked, Thiago was already pulling you into the photo.

He nods, you and Julia on either side of him, the 3 of you smiling as Virgil takes the photo, the camera flashing. Thiago steps out, letting you and Julia have some together, his wife telling him something about they have enough pictures of them together. You laughed, the two of you smiling for the camera.

"Do you want one together?" Thiago looks at Virgil, who then looks at you and you shrug, waving him over. Virgil hands his phone to Thiago while Julia replaces him by her husband's side.

Virgil's arm over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the two of you smiling while Virgil pulls you into his side. "Alright Virg, give your lady a kiss." Thiago says, smiling.

Your 'boyfriend's' cheeks are red, a flush he can blame on the Portuguese heat or the liquor but you know the real reason. "Come on man, what are you waiting for?!" Thiago says, laughing at Virgil's shyness.

"Leave them alone," Julia tells her husband, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"It's fine," you whisper to Virgil, turning to him a bit. He looks at you, whispering back, "you sure?" You stood close, the air between you two charged with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

"Mhm hm," your hand rests on his chest while he leans down, you tip toe a bit, meeting him half way when he kisses you.

But as your hand found its way to Virgil's cheek and your lips met against each other's, something shifted. What was meant to be a quick moment blossomed into something real, something raw. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, a shared realization dawned upon them.

The kiss may have been staged, but the feelings it stirred within were undeniably genuine.

As you glanced at each other, a silent understanding passed between you and Virgil. This fake relationship may have begun as a charade, but perhaps, just perhaps, it held the promise of something more.

Thiago grinned, "perfect. The picture of love," he says, handing the phone back to Virgil. You smiled, your own cheeks now flushed and red. You reached over, your thumb brushed over his lips to wipe away the lipstick left behind. Virgil's arm wraps around your shoulder, the two of you chatting as you join Thiago and Julia for a round of shots.

The night wrapped up just after midnight, everyone waiting at the front to wish Andy and Rachel well, seeing them off as they left before everyone else headed to wherever home was after that.

Virgil's jacket over your shoulders while you walked back to the hotel. Despite the humidity earlier in the day, there was now a slight chill in the air.

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, opening the door for you. "I did," you walk in, waiting for the elevator to your room. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Thank you for coming, you really saved my ass."

It hits you in the moment that this was in fact, fake. You were doing him a favour, you weren't a couple, you never will be. Just a good friend helping him out in a tough situation.

When you returned to the room, Virgil announced that he's gonna go take a shower while you got ready for bed. The two of you moved in silence, you sat at the vanity taking your makeup off while the sound of the water running filled the room. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't real yet again.

All the feelings felt over the weekend were just for show. Certainly Virgil didn't feel the same way you did.

The steam filled the bathroom, Virgil lets the water run as he stands there. The kiss was real, the moments you shared were real, his feelings for you were real.

How the hell was he used to bring it up without it being awkward?

The shower shut off just as you were about to get into bed. Your phone bus is on the nightstand, and you reach over to grab it. There's a notification from Instagram.

juliavigas tagged you in a post. - 2mins ago.

You opened it, checking to see what she posted. There's a few photos from the wedding. Some of her and Thiago, the venue, one of you and her, as well as the one with you, her and Thiago. She also included the one in front of the church, Virgil's arm wrapped around you as you all smiled.

Virgil finds his way to the bed, sitting next to you. "What's so interesting?"

"Julia posted some pictures," you show your phone, letting him scroll through the pictures. "I guess everyone will think we're together now." He looks at the one in front of the church before handing the phone back to you.

"Wasn't that the whole point?" You ask, setting your phone on the nightstand.

"I guess so," he shrugs, the two of you sitting there in silence, the tv playing quietly in the background. There's a million thoughts going through his head at this very moment.

As he looked over at you, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Virgil couldn't help but admire your beauty, the way your eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored a flickering flame. It was in shared moments like these that he felt a pull, a force pulling him closer, urging him to take that leap of faith. But as the silence went on, Virgil felt the weight of his hesitation, suffocating him with its embrace.

How could he confess his feelings when the fear of rejection spun around in his mind, an unwelcome shadow over his every thought?

He glances at you once more, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange, Virgil felt a sense of longing wash over him, a wave of emotion threatening to consume him whole.

Still, the words remained unspoken, trapped behind the barricade of his uncertainty.

He had to take the leap of faith, he wouldn't know if he didn't try.

"What are we?" He blurts out, breaking the silence.

You turn, looking at him with a confused expression. "What are.. what do you mean?"

"Well.. we.. we kissed, so like, are we.. what are we?"

"We're not in high school, Virg. A kiss is a kiss, no?"

His smile fades, your heart breaking the moment you see that. He nods, turning his attention back to the tv. "Yeah, no. Of course."

"I'm kidding," your hand rests over his on the bed, "if you're asking me if I like.. if I like you, then I'll only answer if you put it into a note, like high school." You raised your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, okay." He nods. The topic was dropped, the tension lifting slightly.

--

The next morning, you and Virgil leave bright and early, heading to the airport for your flight back to England. The plane had barely taken off and you were still not fully awake, nursing your coffee as Virgil's fingers drummed on his knee.

"Dude," you groaned, "I have a headache, it sounds like you're playing a gong right now."

He stops tapping on his leg, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a weird expression. "Can you play a gong? Is that what it is?"

"I don't know, you know what I mean." You tell him, leaning your head back, eyes shut. You barely got all but 3 minutes of silence before Virgil speaks up again. "Do you have a pen?"

You open your eyes, reaching over to dig through your purse next to you before fishing out a pen and handing it to him. You watch him as he uncaps it, scribbling something down on the napkin in front of him, sliding it over the table to you with the pen.

'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' The two little boxes labeled yes and no under his question.

You smile, shaking your head at his childishness and the fact that he took what you said seriously. You picked up the pen, checking a box and sliding it over to him.

The yes was checked, Virgil glances at you with a cheeky smile before picking up the pen, flipping over the napkin and writing something else before sliding it back to you.

'Will you be my girlfriend?' the same yes and no boxes drawn under the question.

Your answer was yes but you wouldn't give into him so quickly. You picked up the pen, chin in the palm of your head thinking as if it was the hardest question of your life. You can see Virgil shifting nervously in his seat, and it's as if you can hear him overthinking his decision to ask you.

To put him out of his misery, you check a box and slide it back over to him.

There's a sigh of relief when he sees you've checked yes. You toss the pen at him playfully, shaking your head. "You're so cheesy."

"You said to ask it in a note!" He says, folding the napkin and putting it into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" You laughed, the man shook his head and unbuckled, leaving over the table. His hands cupping your face, smiling at you before he kisses you.

Your hand interlocked with his, stretched over the table when he sat back down. "How about when we get back, I take you on an actual date?"

Your thumb brushes over his hand. "Not sick of me yet?"

"Could never get sick of you, y/n."

--

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels @muglermami @leclerces @yuoluver @themandaloriansdiaries

[constellama]

Thinking about the sides as a found family. Thinking about how they’re inextricably connected because Thomas is their world and they do everything for his benefit and thinking about how much they love him and always want the best for him. Thinking about how they’re always growing closer to each other because of it. Thinking about how in the end they’re all six parts of a whole, six planets orbiting the same star.

Sometimes a found family is a guy, himself, himself, himself, himself, himself, and himself

[sandersontheside]

AU concept: Remus King is a best-selling but reclusive horror novelist. His twin brother Roman is a struggling actor. When Remus' publisher pressures him to make public appearances to promote his newest book, despite his insistence that he wants to stay out of the public eye, they hatch a scheme. Roman will pose as his brother for all book signings, public speaking appearances, and various other events, and will be paid Remus' fee for those appearances, plus a little extra. Roman doesn't particularly want to pretend to be his brother, but he hasn't had a real acting job in months and a man's gotta eat. Besides, he's known Remus their entire lives, he could play the part in his sleep. What could possibly go wrong? 

(Spoiler alert: a lot.)

Virgil Rayne is Remus King's biggest fan, who comes to a signing, over the moon to finally meet the man behind his favorite stories. Only to have a panic attack in line and be forced to leave before he can meet his hero. Or so he thinks. Because while hiding in the bathroom trying to calm down, who should walk in but the author himself, who proceeds to be surprisingly good at talking Virgil down. Once Virgil calms down, it feels kind of awkward to ask for an autograph, but thankfully Remus offers before he can ask. 

Remus even scribbles his number in the book next to his very poetic message to Virgil.

It takes Virgil a few days to get over his anxiety and text, but he ultimately does because how could he pass up the opportunity to be friends with his favorite author?? So they start texting. A lot. And who knew Remus loved Disney movies? Or did theatre in high school? Or sings Taylor Swift in the shower? Or makes silly puns that Virgil can't help but laugh at? Or has a soft, dreamy, romantic side? Remus King is nothing like Virgil imagined he would be, but it doesn’t matter because before he knows it, Virgil has fallen hard. And sometimes it kinda seems like the feeling is mutual? Remus is certainly flirty, but it's hard to tell if that actually means anything.

And, oh God, Roman is so, so, so fucked. Because Virgil has pretty purple hair and dark mysterious eyes and a cute laugh, and short circuited his brain so much when they first met that he didn’t even think before writing his number down. Roman is now totally head over heels for Virgil Rayne.

Virgil, who thinks he’s his brother.  

(Remus is laughing his ass off at this whole sorry situation)

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

Hc that even though Virgil is red/green colour blind (specifically like a dog) and even though he can’t see purple, it’s his favourite colour.

He had just recently broken things off with Janus. It was messy, and loud, and he would rather die than have anything to do with Janus ever again in his life.

He went to the only person he could think to help him with it. The romance extraordinaire, creative prince himself, Roman. He went to him for a distraction.

“Uh, what’s your favourite colour?” Roman asked after Virgil’s sobs had died down for a bit.

Virgil looked up from the tear soaked satin pillow he’d been wailing into, Roman just a blurry grey mess in front of him.

“I don’t— fuck. I don’t *know*!” He almost screamed, shoving his face back in the pillow.

Roman’s hand rubbed his shoulder, and he muttered to him softly in his efforts to comfort him. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Do you want to pick one now? Hm… which colours *can* you see again?”

“Uh… blue, grey, and—“ Virgil’s voice came out muffled until he choked on tears again. “Fucking yellow.”

“Ah.”

“What’s the farthest away from *yellow* that I can get?”

Roman didn’t even hesitate before he answered. “Purple. It’s on the other end of the colour wheel.”

“*That*. Purple’s my favourite. Anything that isn’t close to *him*.”

Roman nodded, barely stifling a laugh. “Purple’s a good colour. The colour of royalty!”

Virgil’s tears stopped for a moment. “Are you purple?”

“No— No, I wear red and white.”

Virgil pulled his head back up, a broken grin on his teary and mascara stained face. “You’re a prince and you don’t wear purple?!”

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Summary:

Virgil accidentally gets absorbed by his best friend's brother's polycule.

In his defense, they keep feeding him every time they see him, and Patton's cooking is really good.

Chapter 1: Halloween Party

Wordcount: 1.9K

~

There are a lot of people Virgil doesn't know at this party. Remus is here, somewhere, and Virgil needs to find him again before the party ends, because Remus was his ride and he doesn't want to get left here. Janus is here too though, and Virgil doesn't think Janus would let Remus leave without him, and he's sure Remus wouldn't desert Janus, so he's trying not to worry too much about the fact that he doesn't currently know where Remus is.

But that's it for people Virgil knows, and Remus didn't even bother to introduce him to anyone before fucking off to who knows where, and Virgil’s certainly not going to walk up to a random stranger and introduce himself, so he's currently appreciating the snack table. If he's eating or deliberating on what to eat next, he can't be expected to talk to anybody, right?

“’Scuse me, itsy bitsy,” someone says from behind him, and Virgil turns to see a vaguely familiar man in a dazzling prince costume holding a fresh plate of deviled eggs.

Virgil moves so that the prince dude can set the plate down on a clear spot on the table, and frowns. “I'm taller than you, Princey.”

Prince dude shrugs, plucks one of the eggs up, and takes a large bite. “Lucky you, or we'd've had to ask you to vacate the premises,” he says. “No little spiders allowed, real or fake.”

Which, yeah, now that he's mentioned it, Virgil had noted an extreme lack of spider-themed decorations, which is unusual for Halloween. Usually there'd at least be spiderweb cupcakes, but the cupcakes at this party are mostly cute ghosts.

There's probably a good reason for that, Virgil realizes with a sinking feeling. “Should I change?”

“You got another costume handy, or were you planning on spinning a spider-silk cocoon and metamorphosing into a butterfly?”

Virgil grimaces. “No,” he admits.

Prince Dude considers him. “It's not very realistic,” he says, which is true. Virgil hadn't been going for realism, he'd been going for passable costume I can make on short notice. He's wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, and he'd cut some pool noodles in half and wrapped them in more black cloth and stuck them to his back for the other four legs. It had been a pain to get them to stay in place properly, actually, and he'd ended up sewing their wrappings to the back of his hoodie in order to keep them where he wanted them. He'd been pretty proud of it, given that Remus had dropped “we're going to a costume party at my brother's house” on him like an hour beforehand, but now he's wishing he'd come up with any other idea. He could have put a sheet over his head and been a ghost, or something. Granted, that would have required him to have a sheet that was both white and that he was willing to cut holes in, which he didn't, but still.

Prince Dude continues to quietly scrutinize Virgil, and he wants to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, the guy shrugs and says, “Might be best to ask the scaredy-cat himself. Wait here, I'll be back.” And he saunters off before Virgil can answer.

For lack of anything better to do, Virgil picks up a deviled egg and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It's really tasty, actually, and now he's wishing he'd taken smaller bites rather than horking it down in one.

Virgil had thought that Princey was just being mean with the “scaredy-cat” thing, but the guy he's talking to now actually is dressed as a calico cat. Prince Dude points back at Virgil, and Mister Calico Cat glances in his direction, then turns back to Princey. Virgil can't hear what they're saying, but he supposes Prince Dude must've asked Calico if Virgil’s costume was too creepy crawly scary.

They talk for way longer than Virgil had expected, and he can't tell if Calico's response was more like “No, he's fine,” or more along the lines of “Yes, that's terrifying, please have him removed immediately from my sight and also my home.”

He occupies himself with another deviled egg. If he's going to get kicked out, he might as well enjoy some more of this tasty food first.

Oh, fuck. Remus.

Remus isn't going to want to leave early just to take Virgil home, and Virgil still doesn't know where he even is! Fuck!

Well, Remus could have warned him not to be a spider, so if Virgil gets kicked out of the party it'll be at least partly Remus's fault. Virgil doesn't know anybody here, but Remus knows at least half these people, and if Calico’s spider aversion is enough that there are no spider-themed decorations in the house on Halloween, that sounds like the kind of thing Remus would know about.

Granted, Remus revels in being gross and annoying, but still! He's not a total dick. He should have told Virgil.

Fucker.

Calico vanishes into the other room, and Prince Dude comes back over to Virgil. He doesn't look like he's about to kick Virgil to the curb, at least. Virgil braces himself anyway.

“Good news!” Princey says with a grin. “Li’l Mister Muffet says you don't look like a creepy crawly death dealer and he doesn't have the urge to remove you with arson!”

Virgil blinks. “...gooood?” he says slowly. He hadn't even considered kill it with fire being a potential response to his costume. That would have been worse than just getting kicked out of the party, actually.

“Honestly you're much more Doc Ock in silhouette, Spider-Man,” Princey continues. “That helps a lot.”

Virgil glances back at where Prince Dude and Calico had been chatting. “So he didn't leave the room because he can't stand the sight of me?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, he wanted to make another plate of horse devours,” Princey says, reaching past Virgil to grab a cupcake off the table. This one has a little frosting bat.

“A plate of what?” Virgil says, because surely he didn't hear that right.

“Little snacks,” Prince Dude clarifies instead of repeating himself. “Our fridge is crammed with delicious bits and bobs. It's been so hard to resist the temptation to eat them before the party.” He bites appreciatively into his cupcake, then adds with his mouth full, “You'd think he wouldn't notice what with how much he made, but nooo, sneak one chocolate covered cherry before party time and it's a lengthy scolding for you!” Princey sighs dramatically, then cheerfully devours the rest of his cupcake.

“...hors d'oeuvres?” Virgil says hesitantly.

“Yeah, a couple ordervs of deviled eggs, cheese and crackers, and those scrumptious little pinwheel things,” Princey says. Virgil’s not sure if Princey actually doesn't know how hors d'oeuvres is pronounced, or if he's messing with him, but then Princey gives him a mischievous grin that one, confirms that yes, Princey does know what he's doing, and two, is so familiar that it freezes Virgil in place as the pieces click together in his brain.

The lack of a mustache makes Prince Dude's face look different, and so does the way he did his makeup, and he carries himself differently, but it's undeniable all the same: Virgil knows that grin.

This is Remus's twin brother.

Now that he's connected the dots (you haven't connected shit) the family resemblance is clear even to Virgil’s honestly rather faceblind eyes.

This is Remus's brother, and it's his house they're partying at.

… Virgil doesn't remember the guy's name.

Fuck, he should've made sure he at least knew who the party hosts were, especially the one related to his mischief goblin of a best friend.

Well he can't exactly ask now, can he?

“Also like, five types of cupcakes,” Princey continues, oblivious to Virgil’s inner turmoil. “Seriously, have you tried the cupcakes? Chef Boiardelightful made multiple separate batches of different flavors, from scratch. And they're all delicious!”

Virgil smirks. “And did you try to snitch them before the party too?”

Princey gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you accuse me of such a thing!?” he protests with exactly as much dramatic emotion as Virgil would expect from Remus's twin. “For your information, I did not! I merely sampled a portion of the batter left on the spatula after the cupcakes had gone into the oven. Also some of the frosting.”

“He means that he licked the bowls clean,” says a new voice, and Virgil does not jump out of his skin, thank you very much. And even if he did jolt a little, it's nothing to the startled squawk Princey emits.

Calico's back, holding a platter of little finger sandwiches on toothpicks. He offers them up to Virgil, who takes one. “Thanks.”

“No worries, kiddo!” Calico says cheerfully, and puts the rest of the platter down on the snack table. Princey plucks up two sandwiches by their toothpicks, and gets a stern look in response. “Make sure to leave some for the guests,” Calico scolds.

“My delightful and beloved Patissier,” Princey says, cupping Calico's face gently with his free hand. “I assure you that each of our guests could have a heaping plateful of food and we would still have leftovers until next Tuesday. No-one will be going home hungry.”

It really is an impressive spread. Everything Virgil’s tried has been really good. Remus really could have played up the ‘free food’ angle more when trying to convince Virgil to come. If he'd known the food would be this good, then overriding his usual party-related reservations—it's gonna be loud, there will be a lot of people, I don't know anybody, etc—would have been a lot easier. Then again, Virgil probably wouldn't have believed him. He'd mostly been expecting pizza and cheap beer, honestly, not– not homemade delicacies.

The tiny sandwich Calico gave him is lightly toasted, with some kind of sliced-meat-and-cream-cheese filling, and a little green leafy garnish on top. It definitely looks much fancier than most things Virgil eats, and he can understand why Calico doesn't want Princey to eat them all. That probably took a decent amount of effort. He almost feels bad eating it himself, except that Calico had offered it to him specifically, and it would probably be more rude at this point to not eat it.

“Are you sure my costume is okay?” Virgil asks, interrupting the minor squabble Princey and Calico had fallen into.

“Oh, yes, you're fine,” Calico assures him. “Trust me, if you were pinging my brain as an actual spider I wouldn't be in the room right now, let alone standing next to you.”

“Really, cause most cats I know would eat a spider soon as look at it,” Virgil quips, and is rewarded with Calico laughing.

“That wouldn't be very good host-ly of me, now would it?” he says. “I would never eat a guest!”

“Not unless they're a reptile with scallions,” Princey teases, and Calico flushes.

“Hey!” he protests, swatting Princey's shoulder with one hand and trying to cover his extremely red face with the other. Virgil wonders what the reference was, exactly, but doesn't think it's his place to ask. It seems rather personal, from how hard Calico is blushing.

…maybe he'll ask Remus later if he knows what the story there is.

~~~~

Chapter 2: The Morning After

[libiemoon]

Virgil gets a job as a night watch at a local cemetery that pays $80/hour. The catch? It’s haunted, but Virgil is determined to make that $80/hour even if it means he gets 5 new ghostly friends.

[fluentmoviequoter]

bang, baby

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!metahuman!reader (characterization up to you!)

Summary: After you move to Dakota City from Gotham, you find yourself dealing with metahumans and vigilantes yet again. Dick Grayson comes to check on you after an explosion and gets a surprising glimpse into your mind.

Warnings: fluff, very brief angst, spoilers/references to Static Shock, the entire Batfamily, people trash talking Gotham

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Hawkins,” you say over the phone. “I look forward to working with you and the people of Dakota.”

“I’m excited to see what you’ll bring to the center,” Robert Hawkins, the man in charge of Freeman Community Center, replies. “Dakota will certainly be a change from Gotham, but I trust you’ll adjust nicely.”

“Is that your polite way of saying that I won’t have to deal with Joker and Scarecrow anymore?” you joke.

Mr. Hawkins laughs but doesn’t deny it. It is no secret that Gotham has its downsides, but it’s been your home, it’s where you met your best friend, the people who have become your family. Dakota offers new opportunities and a viable way to help people in need, rather than sitting behind a computer while vigilantes do the heavy lifting.

“I’ll see you Monday morning, Mr. Hawkins.”

“See you Monday. Travel safe.”

The call disconnects, and you sit back and sigh. Your apartment has been packed up, and most of your belongings shipped to the small bungalow you rented on the outskirts of Dakota. The community center provides exactly what you want, a hands-on role in helping the next generation. Yet, as you look at the picture of Dick Grayson on your lock screen, you know that you’re leaving things behind, too.

“I miss you,” you whisper as your screen goes dark.

You’ve been friends with Dick Grayson for as long as you can remember; you stayed close after he moved to Blüdhaven to escape Batman’s shadow and a destiny he didn’t want. He’s supported you every step of the way, completely in favor of you doing something good for the children of Dakota. But there’s a nagging feeling that leaving him so far behind will be impossible.

Your first day in Dakota passes in a blur of unpacking and desperately avoiding thinking about Dick until you’re settled. As you collapse onto your new couch, only twelve hours before your first day at the community center, you close your eyes and try to relax. Mr. Hawkins asked you to come in before the center opens to tour the facility and get acquainted with everything.

“It’s a great facility, Mr. Hawkins,” you say as he leads you back to your office.

“Please call me Robert, Bob, anything except Mr. Hawkins,” he responds. “Here’s your door. We’ll get your name up here soon.”

“No rush; putting names on doors is the least of your worries.”

“My son Virgil is stopping by on his way to school and I think he’ll agree with me that having another full-time employee is deserving of her name on the door.”

You smile and look around the bare office. There’s a desk, a bookcase, and a file cabinet against plain tan walls. The room is begging for not only an occupant, but a personality and a welcoming feel for the people who rely on the center.

“Feel free to put your own touches, whatever you want to do with the space.”

“Thank you, Mr.- Robert.”

“Better,” he applauds.

“Pops!” someone yells.

“That would be my son,” Robert sighs. “In here, Virg!”

“Pops, I’m asking Frieda-“ Virgil stops when he sees you and greets, “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” you say, offering your hand. “Your dad’s told me some great things about you.”

“You moved here from Gotham?” he asks.

“I did. It’s sunnier here.”

“Safer, too.”

“Thanks in no small part to your dad, I’m sure.”

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Robert begins.

“Do you know Batman?” Virgil asks, ignoring his dad.

“Can you keep a secret?” you whisper. Virgil nods quickly, and you say, “I’ve met all the bats and birds.”

“No way!”

“Precisely,” you say with a wink. “Between me and you?”

“For sure. Welcome to Dakota!”

“Virgil,” Robert calls. “Be good today.”

“Every day, pops! I’m good every day!”

As Virgil turns and exits the center, you shake your head. He reminds you of some of the previously mentioned bats when they were his age.

“He’s a good kid,” Robert muses. “But since his mom passed, I feel like I’ve had to remind him of that more often.”

“It’s hard,” you agree. “Losing a parent like that can make it too easy to lose sight of who you are. Virgil’s lucky to have you. All the kids here are.”

“You have to say that,” Robert jokes. “You’re from Gotham.”

The Freeman Community Center is relatively quiet on your first day, giving you time to remember where everything is, put some personal touches on your office, and figure out how to use the computer. It isn’t Wayne tech, but the outdated operating system isn’t easier to use. The phone on your desk rings later in the afternoon, and your brows pinch as you pick it up.

“Freeman Community Center on Dakota’s Ferris Row,” you begin, reading the printout of frequent questions and information Mr. Hawkins left you. “How can I-“

“We keep secrets, right?”

You turn away from the open door and whisper, “Virgil?”

“Yes or no?” he presses, his voice high and urgent.

“Virgil, that depends entirely on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I just- I need help, and my pops won’t understand.”

“What happened?”

“He always says I’m smart and asks me not to prove him wrong… what if someone else makes me?”

“Who?”

“Forget it,” Virgil decides.

“No, listen to me. I’ve been exactly where you are. It’s a tight spot but it’s not an impossible one.”

“I told my dad it was a football injury; if he finds out I even got near a gang… I can’t hurt him, so I have to do this alone.”

“Be careful, Virgil.” You hesitate before you add, “If you need anything…”

“Thanks, Gotham.”

You huff a laugh and reply, “No problem, Dakota.”

As you end the call, you notice a handwritten note from Mr. Hawkins at the bottom of the paper. It mentions gangs, the letter F, and someone named Wade.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Virgil?” you mumble.

Your bungalow is within walking distance of the center and the docks. The house is nice, safe, but is quiet enough that your Gotham-bred mind is uncomfortable. Your city never sleeps, coming to life after the streetlights come on, but Dakota is on a schedule that makes it impossible for you to ignore the silence. Flipping through channels, you try to find something to distract you, and when a news crew discussing Gotham pops up, you frown. It’s 600 miles to Gotham; there shouldn’t be a signal to broadcast Gotham City news.

“-Joker toxin dosing just last night,” the news anchor continues. “Aren’t you glad you aren’t in Gotham, Deb?”

“I sure am, Mike. Back in hometown news, Dakota residents have noticed an increase in traffic on-“

You turn the television off and check your phone. Jason texted you about the Joker toxin incident last night; several factory workers had been hospitalized, but the toxin was contained, and no one you know was affected. It was a relief, but your deep worry of not knowing when something else happens remains.

Your finger hovers over Dick’s contact. It’s been several days since you spoke to him, but if anything can make you homesick, it would be him. The sudden sound of helicopters flying over your house keeps you from texting him. You walk to the large window in your living room and see police choppers hovering with their spotlights pointed at the dock.

“Freeze!” someone demands over a speaker. “You are in a restricted area. Drop all weapons and step into the open.”

Gunshots echo as you turn the television back on to watch the helicopter footage. The boys at the docks look to be about Virgil’s age. A gang, you realize.

“No,” you whisper, rushing toward the front door.

As you near the road that leads you directly to the docks, an officer fires a nonlethal round from one of the helicopters. The noise is louder than it should be, pushing you backward as you cover your ears. It gets worse, however, when you notice the purple mist that covers the docks immediately after.

“Virgil,” you call, launching into a run.

Whoever is present needs help, but if Virgil is there, you must ensure he’s okay. As you near the fence on the east side of the docks, you slow. Virgil is climbing out of the secured part of the docks while police officers in gas masks are gathering the rest of the teenagers inside.

“What happened?” you ask.

Virgil looks at you before he falls off the fence and lands with an audible thud. You check his pulse and shake your head. He’s alive, breathing, and seems fine other than being unconscious. Carefully, you pull him up and thank Bruce for letting you train with vigilantes so often.

“I’ll get you home but I’m making you promise never to do this again,” you mumble.

You refuse to open your eyes the following morning despite your ringing phone. Blindly, you feel around your bed and nightstand until you find it.

“Hello?” you ask against your pillow.

“You are not gonna believe this, Gotham! Meet me at the auto junkyard. Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah,” you answer. It isn’t until after Virgil hangs up that you ask, “Why?”

When you reach the junkyard, you notice a blond boy with a green sweater wandering aimlessly. There’s a picture of him on Mr. Hawkins’ desk, and you think back to your tour as you try to remember his name.

“Richie?” you try.

He spins quickly and takes a step back. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Virgil’s. He told me to meet him here,” you answer.

“Yeah, me too.” Richie sighs and murmurs, “I’m worrying about his butt and he’s rushing me off the phone and…”

“Whoa,” you whisper as Richie yells.

Before you, Virgil stands atop a stack of junk cars as several rise and move to other piles. He moves his hands, and you watch his face as this new power courses through him.

“Tell me that’s not cool!” Virgil exclaims.

“How the heck did you-“ Richie begins.

“There was an explosion last night. There was this gas. It changed me, Richie. Check it out!”

You watch Virgil as pink sparks fly from his hands to wrap around the hood of the car. It flies up, and Virgil balances on top as it circles the junkyard.

“No more asking my pops to borrow his car, dude!”

“V-man, you could be a superhero!” Richie yells excitedly.

“I could, couldn’t I!”

“Virgil!” you warn just before he crashes.

You walk to his side as Richie pulls him up and begins brainstorming ideas for protective gear. Looking into his eyes, you try to determine what other effects the gas may have had on him or anyone else.

“What?” Virgil asks. You tilt your head, and Virgil murmurs, “Oh.”

“What?” Richie repeats. “What oh?”

“I don’t like that look, Gotham.”

“And I don’t like seeing people react to airborne mutagens,” you reply. “Does your dad know?”

“No! And he doesn’t need to. Right?”

“I won’t tell him, but…”

“You’ll help me? You know other heroes.”

Richie looks between you and Virgil, and you sigh before you agree, “Yeah, I’ll help. But if I notice one thing that seems off, I’m getting you real help.”

“Deal, Gotham,” Virgil says, extending his hand.

“I’m not shaking your hand, Static.”

Richie and Virgil gasp together, and you roll your eyes at the realization that you just named another vigilante hero.

“Good morning,” Dick greets with a smile, and Haley tucked under his arm. “Beautiful day isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason replies, blocking the door.

Dick sighs. “Why can’t you ever play along?”

“What do you want?”

“Fine, fine. Can you watch Haley for a few days?”

Jason looks at Haley, whose tail wags at his attention. “Where are you going?”

“Dakota. There was an explosion last night.”

“Yeah, the weird purple gas, I saw. She would’ve called if something happened.”

“She hasn’t called at all,” Dick admits softly. “I’m just worried.”

“I texted her after Joker dosed the warehouse workers. She was fine then.” Jason opens the door and takes Haley. He adds, “But I get it. Be careful.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“I can start repayment with a hug,” Dick offers, spreading his arms.

He blinks as the door slams in his face. His phone buzzes with an update on the citizens of Dakota, and he runs to his bike so fast he nearly trips over it.

“Bruce Wayne. Leave a message.”

“Bruce, something happened. I’m going to the hospital now to look into it. Dakota might be a new breeding ground for metahumans. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

You save the voicemail as you enter the hospital. The emergency room is an open area to your left, and it is at maximum capacity.

“It’s getting worse,” a nurse says. “They keep mutating.”

You discreetly look through the first door and gasp. An explosion down the hall draws the attention of doctors, nurses, and patients, but you walk the other way. You have to find Virgil and fill in Bruce, in that order. On your way out, you snatch a newspaper from the stand by the door.

In your office at the center, you read the front page several times. The story isn’t surprising, but you know it is nowhere near finished.

“Bang baby,” you read from the newspaper. “Dakota’s better than Gotham, huh?”

You look up when Mr. Hawkins knocks on your door. “Join my family for dinner? It’s the least I can offer after the unsavory welcome you’ve gotten.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Your family deserves your time.”

“We eat at six. The address is in my contact. See you then!” Robert calls over his shoulder.

You drop your head and nod to no one. “See you then,” you reply weakly.

“Everywhere you look there’s another Bang Baby setting fires, wrecking buildings, scaring everybody, and no one’s doing anything about it,” Mr. Hawkins says at dinner.

“Well, what about that kid they were talking about on the news?” Sharon asks. “What’s his name? Static. He’s doing something, isn’t he?”

“Didn’t you hear what happened today? He got beat. Bad. Besides, he’s probably a Bang Baby, too.”

“If he is, he’s one of the few good ones.”

“Huh. For now.”

“What’s that mean?” Virgil demands.

“Nobody knows anything about these metahumans. What if Static keeps changing? What if he turns into some kind of monster? Nobody knows. Not even Static himself.”

“He’s willing to fight, though,” you point out. When all three Hawkins turn their attention to you, you clear your throat and explain, “He’s not mutating yet, like the rest of them, so it seems likely he never will. Plus, if he’s willing to fight the other Bang Babies, win, lose, or tie, I think he’d fight against any change he didn’t agree with.”

“That’s- I hadn’t considered it that way,” Mr. Hawkins admits. “I suppose you have a point. Fighters have something to fight for. Right, Virgil?”

Virgil smiles at you as he agrees, “Right.”

After dinner, Virgil walks you out and stops on the sidewalk. “You really think I won’t mutate?”

“Virg, the ones who are already mutating were probably closer to the explosion, exposed to more gas, there’s no way to know for sure. If you do, and I think it’s a big if, I’d anticipate it would be a slower, more manageable change. Something you can handle, no problem.”

“And you’ll help?”

You smile, but someone behind you answers, “That’s what she does best.”

Virgil looks over your shoulder, but you spin, your eyes widening as you run toward him.

“Dick!” you greet happily, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he catches you.

“I saw the explosion and was worried something happened to you. I should have known you were helping a young hero.”

“Hero?” Virgil repeats.

Dick looks at you as you move to his side, and you smile before you turn to Virgil. “I’ve been considered a sidekick for a very long time. Invisible but always there. Something you should remember, Virg.”

“I will. Nice to meet you…”

“Dick Grayson,” Dick introduces himself. “I take it you’re Virgil Hawkins.”

“Shake his hand,” you encourage.

“Why did you say it like that?” Dick demands, pulling his hand behind his back.

“Just do it.”

Dick reaches his hand out carefully, and Virgil shakes it without releasing any static electricity. You nod and wave to Virgil as he returns to his house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you tell Dick. “I thought I’d want to come back if I talked to you.”

“What happened?”

You glance back at Virgil’s house and decide, “It’s not my story to tell. What I do know is that there are a lot of metahumans in Dakota, and most of them are not good.”

“Did you tell Bruce?”

“I left a message. They- I just don’t know what to do.”

“What you came here to do. Help the people who need it most.”

“The center is for the poor, homeless, doomed narrative people, Dick, not metahumans.”

Dick lays his hands on your shoulders and smiles. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“How long are you staying?”

Dick smiles and helps you onto his bike before he answers, “As long as I need to. I’ll do whatever I can, but I’ll also keep Bruce off your back. He’ll want to know everything, but your focus needs to be here.”

“Thank you.”

“Static,” Dick says. “That’s why you wanted me to shake his hand.”

“He’s gotten much better. But don’t tell him I told you anything.”

“You’ve been protecting my secret identity for over a decade, your secret’s safe with me.”

While Dick stays at your house and tells Bruce everything he’s found out about the explosion and metahumans, you accompany Mr. Hawkins to a meeting at city hall. Despite your best efforts to convince him otherwise, he approaches the podium to ask what the city’s leaders are doing about the Bang Babies.

“Mr. Hawkins, the topic of today’s meeting is budget appropriations,” a woman on the board replies. “There will be a general meeting next month and-“

“This can’t wait a month!” Robert exclaims, hitting his fists against the podium top. “You’re our leader, we put our faith and trust in you when we elected you, but you seem to be forgetting that you serve us, we don’t serve you!”

As the crowd cheers, you lean toward Virgil.

“I’d hate to be on the other side of that,” you whisper. “But you know he’s not attacking you right? He’s just looking out for the greater good.”

“Sounds like your pops took some public speaking classes,” Richie muses.

“Nah,” Virgil replies, “he just gets lots of practice talking to me that way.”

“We all know the police have what’s left of the tanks the gas was in, so why haven’t they been able to trace the owner?” Robert asks.

“Someone’s working on that,” you tell Virgil.

“Batman?” he asks, wide-eyed at the idea.

“Maybe.” You look down at your phone and notice a message from Bruce. “Does the name Alva mean anything to you?” you ask Virgil.

He and Richie turn to each other, then smile at you. “It certainly does. Care to help us out with this one?”

“Better that than send you out alone.”

“Don’t lose him,” Richie instructs from your passenger seat.

“Rich, this isn’t my first time tailing a bad guy, just calm down,” you reply. “Virgil’s listening in on Alva and he’ll let us know about any changes.”

“Guys, Alva is sending someone else to wipe hard drives of mutagen formulas and shipping records,” Virgil says through Richie’s walkie-talkie. “He wants everything saved somewhere else so he can start over.”

“Where’s the lab?” you ask Richie.

“Take the next right,” he instructs. Virgil flies over you, and he amends, “Or just follow him.”

You pull the walkie-talkie from Richie and radio, “Be careful, Virg. We’re right behind you.”

“10-4,” he replies.

When you park behind Alva’s lab, Richie reaches for the door handle, but you stop him.

“We wait here,” you instruct. “If Virg needs help, I’ll go in.”

Several minutes later, after Richie has grown increasingly nervous and antsy, a window on the second floor shatters as Virgil flies out on a metal utility cart. You back out slowly and drive around the back of the building to meet Virgil. He did it alone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have questions or concerns about how and what he did.

“This is everything?” you ask as you hold up the disc.

“Yep. Once the doctors see it, I’ll know if I can stop worrying,” he answers.

“Worrying?” Dick repeats.

“Virgil thinks he’s going to keep mutating like some of the other Bang Babies.”

“Don’t you think that would have happened by now?”

You gesture toward Dick to communicate, see? It’s the logical explanation, and you hope Virgil will see that now.

I missed you, you think as you look at Dick. His eyes are on you as Virgil and Richie theorize what data Alva saved. Dick stands and drops his eyes to your lips.

“Do that again,” he instructs.

“Do what again?” you ask.

“Just…” Dick trails off and places his hand on your shoulder as he leans toward you.

I knew talking to you would make me homesick.

“How close did you get to that mutagen gas?” Dick inquires.

“I don’t know,” you answer, shrugging. “To the fence, so ten yards from the purple cloud, maybe?”

“You were that close to the gas zone, and you didn’t tell me?” Dick asks as he steps back. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” you inquire as Virgil begins arguing against you leaving. “Dick, I can’t leave!”

“You just talked to me without opening your mouth!” he exclaims, tossing his jacket to you. “Something happened to you, and I’m not going to sit around and wait to find out if it gets worse.”

“He didn’t care if I got worse,” Virgil murmurs to Richie.

He’s protective, you think as you glance toward him.

“Whoa! Get your voice out of my head.”

“I’m not trying to do it,” you defend. “What can you hear?”

“Your thoughts, I think,” Dick answers. “I highly doubt you wanted me to hear it.”

“One day,” you tell him, convinced by the idea that you could accidentally share something with someone you trust less. “You have one day to run the tests and then I’m coming back. I can’t leave now, Dick.”

“Fine. We’ll be back. If you need anything, call her.” He passes a card to Virgil and reluctantly adds, “Or him.”

“This is- there’s a-“ Virgil stutters.

“That’s a bat!” Richie exclaims. “Is this Batman’s number?”

“Yes, and if you call him for anything short of an emergency, he will be very mad.”

“Oh, of course,” Virgil agrees. “Good luck.”

“Hey,” you call, looking back. “Whatever answers I get help you, too. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and it’ll work out.”

“You got it, Gotham.”

“Stay you, Static.”

As you follow Dick to his motorcycle, you try to keep your thoughts calm and meaningful. He turns toward you and offers you a helmet, but he lays his hand against your cheek before you can put the helmet on.

“Relax,” he says. “I won’t listen.”

“I don’t want to say – think - something I shouldn’t,” you mumble.

“It’s me. Think whatever you want.”

“Promise not to get scared away if I let a secret slip?”

Dick smiles as he says, “I promise. You’re stuck with me… like static.”

“I don’t see any physical effects of the gas,” Bruce declares. “But you’re clearly telepathic.”

“Great,” you grumble. “Known for my ability to keep secrets and one little explosion opens my brain up to everyone.”

“Quite the opposite,” Bruce corrects. “It seems to me that only people you trust have been able to hear your thoughts, and it’s only active thoughts at this point. With practice, I see no reason you couldn’t gain control and be able to both send and receive message telepathically.”

“How do I practice that?”

“Intentional telepathy. Send thoughts to people rather than speaking, try to get in the head of someone you trust.”

You nod and purse your lips. Dick wants to know what you’re thinking, and, of course, it’s not clear this time.

“You want me to stay, don’t you?” you ask.

“Pure-hearted metahumans are hard to come by. There are more than enough villains and crooks in Gotham who would stop picking fights once a telepath was involved,” Bruce points out. “I’d love to have you with us.”

“I… I want to go back to Dakota. Virgil needs my help and all of those metahumans are just as lost and scared as I am. The difference is that they’re dangerous in their fear. But I know that Gotham needs all the help it can get, too.”

You look to Dick, but he shakes his head and says, “I’m not telling you want to do. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

“I’m going back to Dakota,” you declare. “Thank you, Bruce.”

“Of course. You know where to find me if you need anything else or want to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham’s criminals.”

Yet you didn’t answer your phone, you think pointedly.

Bruce shakes his head as the thought enters his mind, and you smile at how easy it is. As you follow Dick out of the Batcave, you know that the road ahead of you won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

“I’ll call this time,” you promise as Dick prepares to return to Blüdhaven. “Thanks for everything, Dick.”

“Any time. Thanks for the glimpse into your mind,” Dick replies, then winks.

“It was never for Gotham. The homesick feeling.”

“What was it for?”

“I think you know, Boy Wonder.”

Dick shakes his head as he slides his helmet over his hair. “I’ll call if you don’t,” he threatens.

“Understood, Nightwing, sir.”

Dick waves as he pulls away from your house. That homesick feeling settles below your concern for Virgil and yourself, and you push it down further as you get ready for work. The community center needs you first.

“Good morning, Robert,” you greet as you enter.

“Good morning. How was your trip to Gotham? I wish you’d taken up my offer to stay longer,” he replies.

“It was good. I refuse to leave you any longer than necessary, especially since I’ve only been here a week.”

“Community, family, it’s what we do here.”

You smile and accept a hot drink from Robert before you walk to your office. Several meetings with female students are on your calendar this afternoon, and you’ve set aside two hours to plan a basketball game fundraiser. The busy day should keep your mind off of Dick, and as long as you keep your thoughts in your own head, it should be a nice return to work.

“Gotham!” Richie yells.

You look up from the paper in your hand and frown. Richie slides to a stop, out of breath, as he points toward the docks.

“Bang Babies, like, all of them,” he pants. “Virg can’t hold ‘em.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s saying. Virgil is alone against a multitude of metahumans with no backup. At least until you arrive. You usher Richie into your car and speed to the entrance of the docks.

“Wait!” Richie yells. “This is for you.”

He hands you a metal case, and you open it quickly. There’s a gray spandex suit covered with black embroidery that you think is meant to be EEG results.

“Brain waves?” you ask, looking at Richie.

 “I know you don’t have a name yet, but Virg and I were messing around and… it should fit.”

You smile and thank Richie before you run into a nearby outbuilding and pull it on. It fits well, though you’re not surprised that Virgil and Richie managed it. As you move through the buildings and shipments surrounding the docks, you count over twenty Bang Babies and see Virgil struggling to hold off at least ten more.

You close your eyes and think about the people you love. Telepathically, you call out – or try to call out – Batman, we need backup in Dakota. The docks. Send everyone you can spare. I love you all.

After adding the last part about loving them, just in case, you jump into the fight. Hotstreak is closest to Virgil, and you invade his mind with thoughts of icebergs and cold water splashing on him. He flinches back as if the water extinguished his flames, and you turn your attention to the next person.

“Is that Batman?” one of the Bang Babies yells.

You don’t turn, focusing on Boom, a metahuman who can generate sonic waves. Once he’s disoriented, Static moves in and pushes him into a shipping container where his power can be contained.

“You called in backup?” Virgil asks.

“I didn’t think they’d come,” you defend.

“Way to have faith in us!” Red Hood yells as he dodges a punch.

Robin tuts behind him, wielding a katana. “You are family, or so they keep telling me.”

“Ebon!” Richie yells from the other side of the fence. “Don’t let him get away, Static!”

“I’ve got Ebon!” you announce. “Static, Replay!”

Johnny Morrow waves at Robin and then splits into several clones of himself.

“I’ve had so much coffee that I was already seeing two of you,” Red Robin taunts. “Come at me, one kid wonder.”

“Are you chasing shadows?” Nightwing asks as he falls into step with you, running toward the lone streetlight over the docks.

“Ebon can slip into the shadows, he can teleport, but if I can see him, I can stop him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mostly,” you answer after several steps. “Bruce brought the whole family, I see.”

“You sent the message to all of us,” Dick says. “We all boom tubed here.”

“Oh. I’ve got this, go help the others. We’re outnumbered.”

“Be careful!”

Dick turns and pulls his Escrima sticks from their position on his back and taps them together as he moves toward Leech.

“Try to fight without power!” Leech bellows.

“Sorry… no superpowers for you to turn off,” Dick taunts with a smile.

You tune out the sound of the fight behind you as you search for Ebon. Just ahead of you, you can sense someone thinking.

Ebon, you call telepathically. Talon made you sound so scary. I wasn’t expecting you to run from a fight.

He doesn’t reply or move, but you can sense his discomfort with having another voice in his mind.

Since I’m here and you’re a bad host, maybe I should look around for myself.

You navigate to one of his memories, watching in your mind as he fought a Bang Baby. He won, so you dig for another. When you reach a fight from the day after the explosion, Ebon slings his head to the side.

That won’t work, I’m in your mind, not on your head, you explain. Unless you’re ready to come out and face me like a man. Or do you think it’ll go as well as the last time you fought a girl? Her memories are much different than yours.

Ebon launches out of the shadows, and you fill his mind with an image of falling. He crashes to the ground, and Virgil binds him with looping static.

“Try teleporting with the entire dock stuck to your back,” Virgil says.

“How many more?” you ask.

“None. Your, uh, friends are very efficient.”

“Did you hear that?” Red Robin asks. “He called us your friends.”

“If your need for aid has been met, I’d like to return home to Titus,” Robin adds.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply. “Thank you all, for everything. I meant what I said.”

“We know,” Red Hood assures. “See you at family dinner? We know boom tubes work here now, so no excuse!”

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

“Nice work,” Batman applauds. “You, too, Static. Hold on to that card you have.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” Virgil replies.

The boom tube opens behind them, and they step in one after the next. When it closes, you turn and high-five Virgil. He smiles at something over your shoulder before he runs toward Richie to relive every glorious moment. Dick walks toward you, visible now that Virgil isn’t between you.

“I thought you left,” you say, tilting your head to the side.

Dick looks down at your new suit and exhales dramatically. “Bang, baby.”

You laugh and push your hands against his chest, but instead of shoving him backward, you grip his suit and pull him toward you. His lips meet yours, and fireworks explode overhead. You know that they’re real, Virgil’s doing, but you don’t care about that or anything else as Dick wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you.

You’ve dreamed of this moment for years, thought of it daily since Dick left Gotham, and it’s everything you dreamed it would be. Breathless, you pull back and smile at Dick as he removes his domino mask. You only have a moment before you must leave, make room for the police to take the most dangerous of the Bang Babies in. But, in that moment you have left, you look at Dick and think…

Bang, baby, indeed.

He pulls you close and leads you away from the docks. You both ignore the sirens approaching behind you as you get in your car and drive in the dark to your house.

“It’s a nice suit,” Dick mentions after you change out of it.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You know I always will. I’ve been homesick without you, too.”

You lean in to kiss Dick again, and just before your lips meet, you think, I love you, Dick Grayson.

[lenle-g]

Inspired by this WIP by @melmac78:

John was near the stern, looking out to sea. He had enjoyed looking at all the planes on board as well as the ships sailing by - business and pleasure, but this too was a sight to see. Especially as he had grown just a smidge annoyed of hearing Scott talk about the T-34 Mentor to the Scouts, so he had a bit of peace to enjoy it. John was amazed at how the light and clear blue sky would reflect off the Gulf of Mexico, turning the normally brownish waters the same beautiful color. Out in the distance, some offshore oil rigs still dotted the distance. While biofuels and renewable sources were finally being produced with an even lower waste footprint, there still was the need for some oil products. He was feeling a bit tired and warm from the sun as he leaned over the side to look at what appeared to be a pod of dolphins swimming by... or were they those blue men-of-war that Gordon said don't touch? There were others sounds, but they seemed distant and blurred. John watched the pod seem to double and triple in size, confusing him. Then his head started feeling light. "Oh no." He thought vaguely, as a few moments later as he hit the rail at his waist. The pilot gave a faint yelp as he tilted over, the vertigo getting worse as he saw thick netting and a more angry water churning by the hull. His vision started to swim as he kept moving forward. He tried to grab the rail, but caught air instead... A pair of rough hands grab his baldric and pulled back. John stumbled from the course correction and fell back, still feeling as though the world was going down a drain... The same hands cradled him under the arms now as he was then set on the ground. The person was propping him up against their legs and chest. There were running sounds on the deck toward them, but they sounded about the same as the waves - ocean or his ears John wasn’t sure. The person holding him had a hand on his jaw, trying to get him to look at them. He could see someone, even though the image was slightly blurry as grey edges flickered in his blind spots. John just couldn't speak. There were more muddled sounds nearby, vocalizing a sound similar to a distant flock of seagulls. That was until louder bass timber - a voice John reminded himself - shooed them away. The same voice then tried again to get John to speak. He tried this time, but all that came out was a soft moan. John then felt the other person's hand run through his hair, who also assured him he was all right. Between the hand and then a light kiss on the top of his head, John realized he was indeed conscious and being held by a brother. Otherwise, he'd be stretched out on the deck - and admittedly the kiss would be a little odd. Then the same gentle hand was at his throat, checking his pulse. "John - can you hear me now?" said Virgil as he leaned into John's view, gently lifting his chin again to check the redhead's eye reaction.

[delimeful]

how easy you are to need (redux) (7)

warnings: misunderstandings, feeling trapped, unhealthy thoughts about an assumed situation, death and injury mention, discussion of debts, unreliable narrator, virgil horribly misinterpreting yet another normal conversation, literally embarrassing levels of thick-headedness

-

Letting his guard down around the humans was far, far easier than it should have been.

He still eased his defenses down slowly, bit by bit, of course, he wasn’t a complete fool. An understanding between him and Patton didn’t necessarily mean that the others felt the same.

They were humans, not shifters, after all, and while he could see the shape of a pack in their closeness, that didn’t mean he could assume the same principles would apply. They all took on equal responsibilities in maintaining and protecting their home, and none of the three had shown any particular indication that they were a designated envoy, meant to speak for the entire pack.

Frankly, with it only being the three of them, a lack of envoy wouldn’t have been too surprising even if they had been shifters. Some smaller packs forewent assigned roles, rotating them as needed, or were close-knit enough that they essentially acted as one whole, any individual able to speak for the pack.

The humans loved to bicker, though, and it would have been like a slap in the face to trust in Patton’s promise and then have them argue about it right in front of him. Instead, Virgil tested the firmness of the new ground he’d been offered with slow, tentative steps, like a deer crossing over a frozen lake. Better to take his time and test the ice than plunge right through.

Irritatingly, the humans made it far too easy for him to forget how precarious his standing was.

Even the simplest of interactions seemed to please them. When he’d responded to Patton’s friendly greeting for the first time, the morning after their midnight conversation, the human’s expression had lit up like a lightning bug at dusk. When he’d finally answered one of Logan’s questions during a meal, the scholar had blinked a few times in quiet surprise before smiling in a way that made his entire face look softer. When he’d pursed his lips and snapped out a sharp retort to something annoying Roman had said, the hunter hadn’t hesitated to needle him right back with friendly delight, the same as he did with the other two.

They were keeping him trapped here, because they were human and they knew better than to let a monster roam free in the woods around their home, but they didn’t want a starved prisoner or a ticket to easy riches. They wanted to offer him comfort and belonging in the time that he had left.

He’d saved them, and they were repaying it in the only way they could afford to.

It was pathetic, how relieved he felt. How genuinely grateful he was for the simple fact that he wasn’t being forced to relive the unending torment of his first imprisonment. How such basic offerings of food and warmth and companionship made it possible to ignore or even briefly forget about the executioner’s axe hoisted over his head.

He’d been on his own for a long time. Returning to that solitude would be its own kind of death, a slow and painful relearning of what it meant to be alone. He knew this, but tried not to dwell on it. He’d survived it once before, and he would again. Better to endure the loneliness than lose the safety of isolation.

So, he forced himself to keep focusing on methods of escape, on the ways this slowly-growing camaraderie would offer lapses in security, on the new freedoms he could take advantage of, and didn’t think about what he would do afterwards.

With this goal in mind, he immediately decided to test his luck by poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He’d regained some mobility after another week of healing, though he kept his walking pace to a slow shuffle out of caution, and the humans still tended to hover like agitated honeybees whenever he was on his feet for too long. The cabin was small enough that he had mapped out most of it within a day or two, and now he approached the only room he hadn’t yet entered or peered into.

When he pushed the door of Logan’s workspace open, the human’s head snapped up immediately, wearing the beginnings of a frown. Once he saw that it was Virgil who stood in the doorway, though, the displeased turn of his lips faded away, replaced by eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Hello,” he said, voice polite despite the interruption. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Of the three of them, Logan had been the most respectful in his formality, and so Virgil impulsively tested the bounds of that patience by not answering right away, instead letting his gaze drift over the room and its contents.

There were far more plants scattered about than he’d expected, though perhaps he should have expected as much from the dedication Logan tended his garden with. Pots of different shapes and sizes were settled on every inch of the window ledges, and planters hung from shelves and hooks on the ceiling alike. There was an entire corner of the room dedicated to racks of drying herbs and flowers, both wild and homegrown, which lent the room a pleasant dusty floral smell that almost covered up the sting of ink and chemicals.

There was a table against one wall, the shelves around it packed full with bottles of miscellaneous ingredients, all of them labeled in neat handwriting. The table itself was covered in neatly-organized supplies, with protective sigils carefully carved into the outer edge of the wood, keeping any experimentation contained. It stank less than he’d thought it would, for human magecraft, but then he hadn’t yet seen Logan doing any of the typical dissection and harvesting of supernatural creatures, either.

After the full moon, it would have the bitter tang of magic made through unwilling sacrifice, the distant preserved rot of bottled blood. Virgil would recognize the stench of post-harvest ingredients anywhere. Not that he’d be there to smell it, at that point. He forcibly pulled his attention away.

The last section of the room was less orderly than the rest, primarily due to the heaps of books that were stacked and shoved wherever there was space. Logan’s desk was the only semi-clear spot, and even that had a few precarious book towers sitting atop or alongside it. It was also covered in stacks of parchment, with lines and lines of writing or intricate diagrams sketched on the paper.

Logan sat behind it, still awaiting a response, those keen eyes watching him right back.

There was no sign of the lodestone for the ward around the cabin at first glance. He had known better than to think it would be that easy, though.

He hadn’t known that he would actually get this far, assuming that they wouldn’t want their magic prisoner sticking his nose in the most likely place to find a way out of their wards. Even Roman and Patton didn’t tend to disturb Logan too often when he was working in this space, so he’d assumed he’d only get a few moments to glance around at best.

“You haven’t been to the leyline crossing,” he said, because the silence had begun to grow awkward and he’d panicked and they really hadn’t, even though it was well past the usual time of the month they went.

Logan’s stare sharpened, which was probably a bad sign, but he only stood up to clear the books off of a second chair, and gestured for him to sit.

This had been a bad idea. Virgil slunk forward with extreme reluctance and sat.

“We haven’t,” Logan answered affirmatively as he returned to his seat, adjusting his spectacles. “It didn’t seem wise to venture into the woods, seeing as that is where the bear headed, last we saw it.”

That was… a really good reason, actually. Virgil shuddered at even the idea of them running into that creature again in the dead of night, without him to help.

“I take it that you’ve been familiar with us for a while, then, since you know of our routine offerings?” Logan continued, sounding more curious than angry.

Virgil froze up, regardless. He should have known better than to hope he could make it through a conversation without giving anything away. He hadn’t even managed to make it through the first sentence.

“I am not upset,” Logan offered, glancing down at the open book before him in a gesture that seemed designed to give Virgil a moment to breathe. “On the contrary, I am… rather relieved, to have my suspicions confirmed.”

“Relieved?” Virgil echoed dubiously, his voice a low croak. It tended to go raspy and hoarse if he wasn’t focusing on speaking, probably the result of not using his human vocal cords to speak to anyone in literal years.

“Indeed,” Logan answered. “I will admit, my initial impression of you was made hastily. We had never seen you before, and yet you didn’t hesitate to defend us, and you earned a significant injury in the process. It was worrying to unexpectedly incur such a debt.”

Virgil managed to shove aside his embarrassment in favor of confusion. It was strange to mention a debt, especially one owed to a shifter. Humans didn’t consider shifters worth trading with in any fashion, in his experience, and even other supernatural beings knew that wolves weren’t fond of holding debts or grudges. Really, the way Logan spoke about it sounded more like…

“You see, I was aware that it is rather rare for a shifter to reveal themself to humans for any length of time, as I’m sure you know, and I was also aware that the fair folk are often deft hands at taking on wild shapes of their own, particularly when interacting with humans, so…” Logan trailed off, looking a bit flustered at the admission.

“You thought I was fae,” Virgil completed the thought, feeling a bit taken aback at the idea. He certainly would have done a fair bit more against that bear if he’d had the sort of natural power that faeries so often courted.

Of course, things also would have turned out a lot worse for the humans if he’d been a fae, more likely than not. Humans who had fallen under the attention of one of the fair folk frequently met an unfortunate end because of it. Whether the faery in question was maliciously fixated or lovingly obsessed, the human would be lucky to come out irrevocably changed. They’d be lucky to come out alive at all.

“It was a working hypothesis,” Logan said primly, turning a page in his book despite the fact that he almost definitely hadn’t been reading while they spoke. “It was disproven easily enough, and so my precautions weren’t needed in the first place, but seeing as my haste has gotten me and those around me in trouble before, I thought it best to perform them anyhow.”

Precautions? Patton had said that Virgil saved his life, if not all of theirs. To the fae, a life debt like that could only be paid off one way, whether they’d been tricked into it or not.

Oh. He had wondered why Logan had been so uncharacteristically careless before, carrying an agitated and injured shifter back with its teeth only a handspan from his neck. If Virgil had been fae, if he’d chosen differently and torn out Logan’s throat, that would have been the end of any debt between him and the others. A life paid for a life owed.

“Did you run that plan by the others, first?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Logan waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to pretend at regret. “They traveled out here on my behalf, in the first place. To let them suffer for my mistakes would be a poor repayment.”

From what he knew of them, Virgil thought Patton and Roman would disagree. Loudly.

“…Right,” said Virgil, in his most dubious tone. “On your behalf?”

“I’m cursed,” Logan explained shortly. “I don’t have the constitution required to perform magework without damaging my health. It was intended to make me choose between my health and my passion, but I was willing to give up neither, and found a third option: proximity to powerful natural magic, which would prevent spellwork from being as taxing.”

“Huh.” It was a clever solution. Logan might have been the one to propose their solution to Virgil, too. Offering a shifter a peaceful last few weeks certainly wasn’t an option he would have expected from any normal humans.

Right. He’d almost forgotten that his plan had been to push against the boundaries of his cage, to force them to acknowledge that he was stuck here, to remind himself that no amount of kind company was worth the pain of how this month would inevitably end.

“Well, you don’t owe me anything,” he said, a little too sharply. “And in that case, there’s no point in me staying.”

Logan sat up straight, posture stiffening as he frowned. “You’re still far from healed. I understand why you don’t wish to shift, but surely, leaving is a bad idea for the same reason?”

There it was. In the end, that was the biggest flaw in the arrangement the humans had come up with. If Virgil attacked them or tried to leave, they’d be forced to kill him immediately. He would lose, but so would they; killing him in his human form would make his corpse far, far less valuable.

“You’re only making things more difficult on yourself,” Virgil told him, crossing his arms as tightly as he could without jarring his wound. “I’m not fae. There’s no worth in being hospitable to me.”

It certainly wasn’t going to convince him to stop trying to escape. He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t that pathetic. Honestly, it’d probably be easier for everyone if they just cut their losses and killed him now.

Logan closed his book, folded his hands over it, and met Virgil’s eyes squarely. “We offered you our hospitality because we wanted to. It is freely given, no matter the ease or difficulty involved.”

Virgil couldn’t help the way his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. That implied that they would keep on offering him this kindness even if he did get caught attempting to escape.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t ever been truly punished for that first desperate sprint to the wards, had he? None of the things he’d believed to be threats or punishments had ever panned out the way he’d assumed. Ultimately, they hadn’t so much as directly scolded him about the escape attempt, as though the act was hardly surprising. He hadn’t been drugged, and he still wasn’t guarded.

He couldn’t be certain unless he got caught again, but… the signs were all there. They were confident enough in their cage to indulge him even when he was caught gnawing at the bars. They were underestimating him.

“Don’t blame me if you regret it later,” he said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the disbelieving half smile creeping onto his lips.

Logan returned his smile with an encouraging one of his own, apparently unfazed by Virgil’s renewed determination. “I very much doubt I will.”

He snorted and left the human to his work, not cowed at all by the arrogance. Logan could doubt all he liked. Virgil had beaten much worse odds before.

[terrestrialnoob]

Robert Hawkins sat at the kitchen table, cutting out a news story for the slowly growing binder beside him. The headline read "Local Heroes Static and Gear Team Up with Two New Friends to Defeat Concrete Menace". Just as he got the cutout safely into a sleeve, he heard the front door open.

"Anybody home?" Virgil's voice called.

"In the kitchen."

Soon enough, Virgil was there with two people following behind him that Robert didn't recognize, but could guess the identities of. One was a little shorter than Virgil, a white boy with black hair and blue eyes who looked dead on his feet and desperate to cover that fact. He had the jumpy nervousness of a kid scared of any and all adults. The other was a little taller than Virgil, tan skin, black hair, and sharp green eyes. He looked at everything around him with disinterest, but Robert felt the boy was astounded by how mundane the home was.

"Sharon home?" His son asked.

"She's out with friends." He answered honestly.

"Cool," Virgil said, and then to the horror of the white kid, "This is Danny and Damian, they're some superhero friends of mine."

"You're dad knows?" Danny asked, his hand moving as if to grab Virgil and pull him away - a protective gesture, not meant to offend.

"Not everyone has villain parents, Fenton." Damian said, then stepped forward and almost too respectfully addressed Robert with a small bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hawkins."

"Ye- yeah." Danny feebly agreed.

"Don't worry, my pops is cool with heroes and all that." Virgil reassured then explained, "They're going to hang out here for a little while, Richie kinda wrecked the station when his tinkering got out of hand."

"I told him not to plug the ecto-battery directly into anything he didn't want coming to life." Danny commented.

"So, we're just going to hang out while he fixes that, then we'll get back to work."

Robert nodded and smiled, "Don't push yourselves too hard, take all the rest you need. That goes for Richie too."

Virgil beamed at him, "Thanks Pops! we'll be upstairs."

"Let me know if you need anything," Robert called as his son and his new friends left. He pulled out his phone and looked up what kind of heroes he just let in his home and try to find those parents he was going to have words with should they ever meet.

[radioactive-dazey]

Switched roles au (sort of)

This is art for my fic called Switched! Roman and Virgil switch roles and have to figure out how to do the other's job.

Roman is absolutely not having a good time with this. He feels awkward and sick almost all the time. But Virgil is enjoying himself quite a bit. He's so pretty :) he made his outfit himself and is quite proud of his cloak.

They're starting to enjoy the other's company ;)

This took me about 6 hour to draw (and at least an hour was dedicated to figuring out how to do the stars). Krita is NOT my preferred program to use but hey, it is free.

Pspspspsps Prinxiety enjoyers come get yall's juice.

[edutainer2022]

A happy retrieval of ALL of my fanfic notes after the recent smashed phone debacle prompted to tinker a bit with a WIP long, long in the works. The focus is on the backstage of the TV-21 fiasco - in the present and in the past. Especially, the ripple effects of it on Scott, John and Virgil.

All the thanks to @janetm74!

DO-OVERS

"It isn't what it looks like!"

It really wasn't. He wished John's eyes didn't turn to hard crystal from where the brother was standing in the bathroom doorway. Scott knew the turquoise lazer scanners already did the math and counted the pills, scattered on the tiles. But it WASN'T what it looked like. Scott spilled them.

Well, technically he threw them on the floor like they were burning coals, but the intent counted, right?

His hands were shaking. Everything was wrong. TV-21 was lost. Again. No amount of upbeat platitudes Scott said to calm down  and cheer up Allie could make it better. He let Dad down. Again. He didn't save what mattered to Dad most. Again. He just wanted to stop shaking. Or maybe to just stop. Maybe John, pale in the doorway, didn't need to know that.

He hadn't touched the prescription bottle in his bathroom cabinet for years. Since a smirking mustached general on a GDF committee, assembled to evaluate his claim for IR to go operational again, wondered out loud how they would know his judgement in the danger zone would not be impaired, if the GDF discharged him for being too traumatized to see straight in the first place. His therapist wouldn't be happy about that, but he stopped taking her calls around the same time too.

Today he just needed to calm down. He needed to be strong for Allie, who didn't remember Dad's first Thunderbird, and for Gordie, who did. For Virgil and John, who remembered Dad's dark, stormy grief and withdrawal from them. For Grandma, who needed him to see her son's dreams through.

One little pill, maybe two. But his hands were shaking, as the TV-21 exploding conflated with a different one behind his eyelids - so much combustion energy to take Dad away. So one pill became a palmfull. He was just staring at his hand for a while. Okay, it WAS tempting. John DEFINITELY didn't need to know about that. It would just stop. All of it. The pain, the failure, the fear, the losses. Gone. Like Mom was gone. Like Dad was gone. Nothing he said or did could make it right.

But then he saw his brothers, ashen from grief and days of crying, all clad in black suits. Again. Alone and lost without him. Again.

So he threw the pills forcefully away, as if burned. They clattered like pebbles on the tiles and skipped everywhere. That's when John came in because John too knew his tells. And now John didn't believe him, clutching his shoulders and shaking, yelling that he drank water, yelling into his comm for Virgil and a bloodtest kit. Even if it wasn't what it looked like. Not really.

***

Virgil was doing what he did best - fixing. Maybe also hiding. He couldn't fix TV-21 and Dad's shattered dream. He couldn't fix Scott's heartbreak and poorly hidden assumed failure now any more than he could fix it all those years ago. But he COULD help fix Four and with it - the mood of the despondent little Squid. One brother sorted out was exponentially better than zero brothers. Then his comm blared red.

The code was "Two-one", and 2-1 meant TV-21, and TV-21 was bad news. Bad, bad news. John's grim, tense face in the holo confirmed as much and Virgil felt the island shift and spin beneath his feet, as he legged it to Scott's rooms.

***

[Once the Tinies were settled for the night, Scott stayed down in the living room to try and catch Dad on his way out of the office. He'd been locked in there for the past several hours with the young engineer, who designed TV-21. Shaken by nearly loosing Dad to the crash, they only ever glimpsed a flash of fuming fury when Dad and "Brains" returned from the failed test flight. So Scott lingered on the couch way past the bedtime in hopes to talk to Dad some more. A mistake, as it turned out.

The teen's attempt at a smile and a simple, if heartfelt, reassurance was shot down sternly when Dad finally emerged for a glass of water and a stifled curse, only to disappear again back into the study, lit by gossamer holo-light of schematics and figures in the conference call.

"Nothing you say or do can make this right, Scott! Go to bed!"

Virgil and John watched in horror, from behind the rails of the upper floor how Scott swayed, as if slapped, when the door slamed behind Dad again. The lanky figure then doubled over, bracing himself on a chair. Scott tried and failed to gasp through a wrecking sob, clamping a hand over his mouth to suppress the sound.

The brothers were frozen in shock, hesitant what to do as Scott looked about ready to keel over. He was probably hyperventilating, air weezing with effort through constricted pain.

Virgil stepped tentatively towards the stairs, John clutching his sleeve nervously. But Scott steadied himself for a moment only to bolt through the kitchen and out of the back door into the pitch darkness.

The brothers didn't wait any longer, practically tumbling down the stairs and on to the back porch, but Scott, the high school track star, was long gone.

They would be in so much trouble if Dad caught them downstairs, awake, on a school night, but Dad obviously was... otherwise occupied.

John, pale and wide-eyed, on the verge of tears himself, kept dragging Virgil's sleeve to run after Scott. Only which way? The farm bordered on the meadow. It was already dark. Scott could be anywhere.

Where Scott went - Virgil followed. That was the way of things. It included Rescue Scouts and multiple other pursuits. So the boy tried his best to push through the stinging of his own eyes and think like big brother, the Falcon Scout, would. They needed flashlights. The night was chilly, gusts of wind rattling the loose tiles on the old barn. Scott ran out in his sleep tee-shirt. So they would need to pick up his jacket too, on the way out.

But first, they needed to placate and possibly bribe Gordie into keeping Allie from crying if he woke up. And they needed to figure out a search grid for big brother. Letting Dad in on the commotion wasn't an option.]

TBC

[prodigal-explorer]

sanders sides controversial opinions poll!

hi, guys! i've been in the sanders sides fandom for a few years now, and i've been really curious about where the majority of fans stand in terms of the most hot topics in the fandom right now. i made a nice little google form, and i'd love it if you guys filled it out with your opinions, anonymously, of course! there are no wrong answers, it's just opinions, and i want to know the real information, so don't worry about getting flamed or hated on because that's not going to happen!

also please reblog or send to your fander friends! i want this to reach as many interested people as possible!!

[sandersontheside]

a little snippet from the prinxiety and logicality coffee shop AU I’m working on. Poor Logan. imagine expecting peppy adorable Patton and getting grumpy, impatient Virgil.