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emoprincey · 2 years ago

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Becoming Brothers chapter 2 - School and Scheming

Chapter 1 | This is chapter 2!

Fic summary: Everyone knew Roman and Remus were twins – at least, that was what they told anyone who’d listen. In fact, the only people who knew they weren’t related at all were Roman and Remus themselves, and of course their single dads, Logan and Virgil. But when the boys realise their dads are falling for each other, they might have a chance to become real brothers, if only the grown-ups would stop being so oblivious. It looks like some matchmaking is in order…

Relationships: Platonic/familial Creativitwins, romantic analogical.

Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight

Word count: 4019

Taglist for this fic: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard @star-crossed-shipper @theblackcatscratchpost

Author’s note: Hello again! It’s been exactly a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic, which wasn’t planned at all. This is kind of a beast of a chapter so it took a while, but I’m really happy with how it turned out XD

“Dad, you can let go. I’ll be fine!” Remus insisted, trying to pull away from Virgil, who’d pulled him into a hug just as they got out of the car in the high school car park.

Virgil sighed, and gave him one last squeeze before he pulled away. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you will, really. Have fun, okay? High school is big, and it might seem scary, but I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Remus said, craning his neck to look around. He’d been here on the open day last year, but the school looked so different when it was full of people milling about. Most of them were bigger than him, and he could see groups of boys jostling each other, and gaggles of girls with identical haircuts and far more makeup than the rules on the website said was allowed. And now he was going to be one of them. In a black blazer and tie identical to everyone else, he was a high school kid now. And that wasn’t scary. At all.

The knot in his chest relaxed a little when he saw a familiar blue car pull into a nearby spot in the busy car park.

“Roman!” Remus called, waving when he saw Roman get out of one of the doors in the back.

“Remus!” Roman called back, dashing over to him with his backpack still hanging off one shoulder. He looked smart in his new blazer, and Logan must have done his hair this morning because his light brown locks were styled into a neat quiff. He probably looked smarter than Remus did with an untucked shirt – because even though Virgil had told him to tuck it in this morning he’d found that uncomfortable – and hair that got messed up the second the wind touched it.

“We’re in high school now!” Roman exclaimed, as if Remus didn’t already know that. “I can’t wait to start! I’m going to be in all the school plays, and I’m going to do guitar lessons – because they have those here – and maybe trumpet as well, and piano, and-”

“And before you do any of that, you need to go to assembly,” Logan cut in, with a fond smile. “You don’t want to be late on your first day, do you?”

He bent down to adjust Roman’s tie as he spoke, though Remus thought it already looked perfectly neat.

“Remember, you’re, getting the number fifteen bus home. The number will be on the front,” Virgil reminded the two of them, “and you’re both going to Logan’s house.”

“I know,” Remus said. “You’ve only told me fifty times today.”

“Just want to make sure you know,” Virgil chuckled, wrapping one arm around Remus’ shoulder in a little side hug, which Remus didn’t mind so much because it was just starting to sink in that he was going to be in a new place without his dad all day.

“You both have your water bottles, don’t you?” Logan asked, and the boys nodded. “Remember to actually drink from them, it’s a big day and you’ll need to stay hydrated.”

“I feel like we’re in class already,” Remus whispered to Roman, who giggled.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but Virgil elbowed him playfully and he seemed to relax.

“You’ll never win against them,” Virgil said, with a small laugh.

“They are quite the double act,” Logan admitted. “Anyway, you two really should get to assembly now, I’ll see you both when I finish work.”

He patted Roman on the shoulder, kind of stiff and formal like he always was, but Roman surged forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“See you later, Dad,” Roman mumbled into the front of Logan’s shirt.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll see you later, Roman.” Logan’s eyes glistened a little, and he wrapped his arms around Roman as well.

Virgil pulled Remus close again, and Remus didn’t try to pull away this time.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Virgil said quietly.

“I know,” Remus said thickly, because he did. No matter what his teachers had said at parent’s evening in primary school, or how long it took Remus to do his homework, or how many times he said the wrong thing in the wrong situation, Virgil always made sure to tell Remus how proud he was of him, and how well he was doing by just being himself.

“Have a good day, kid,” Virgil said, and he ruffled Remus’ hair one final time, then tutted at how he’d messed it up and tried to smooth it down again.

For a moment, Remus considered asking Virgil not to make him go. Maybe if he begged enough, he’d be able to stay home instead of going to a school full of loud kids who would probably make fun of him, and teachers who would say he didn’t try hard enough. But he knew Virgil had work. He’d stick it out, just for one day. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he was expecting.

So instead, he gave his dad the bravest smile he could, and nodded before he walked off with Roman.

“Remus, tuck your shirt in!” Virgil called after him.

Remus sighed – he’d been so close to getting away with it – but he did as he was told before he and Roman joined the busy crowd of people entering the building. The crowd was a lot bigger than Remus was used to. Even Roman looked a little apprehensive, and Roman always said he wasn’t scared of anything. Remus squeezed Roman’s hand as they walked through the doors, and Roman squeezed back.

The assembly hall wasn’t hard to find – it was just inside the main doors, and Remus had sat in there for a talk on the open day, so he remembered the way. It was already packed when they got there, and the first few rows of benches in front of the stage were already filled. Remus didn’t mind, though – he didn’t like sitting near the front anyway, because the teachers would always see him fidgeting and tell him off. He immediately made for the cool tiered seating at the back, but a teacher blocked his path and ushered him and Roman towards the fourth row back of benches.

“So, what are we going to do?” Remus asked Roman once they sat down. The hall was slowly filling with buzzing chatter as more students entered behind them.

“About our dads?”

Remus nodded.

“Well, we need to figure out how to set them up,” Roman said. “We can draw up a plan in the treehouse after school.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something else, but a teacher shushed him as a woman walked onto the stage. He recognised her as the headmistress from the pictures all over the website and the speech she’d given at the open day. She was definitely breaking the make-up rules, with bright red lipstick that matched her polka-dot blouse, but the rules never seemed to apply to teachers.

Remus tried to whisper to Roman throughout the assembly, but he kept getting looks from the teachers stood at the side of the hall. After a while, even Roman started to look annoyed with him, because the teachers probably thought he was being disruptive too, so Remus was quiet after that.

At the end of assembly, the headmistress called each student’s name, and directed them to a form tutor. Remus and Roman were both in 7C, and were pointed over to a smiley man called Dr Picani. Remus hadn’t thought that doctors could be teachers too, but Virgil had worked two jobs in the past, so he supposed it made sense.

Dr Picani made a show of counting the students’ heads before he led them down the corridor. The assembly hall was attached to what Remus vaguely remembered as the humanities building, and their form room was on the second floor. The walls were covered in brightly coloured displays, and graphics with cartoon characters – a few of which Remus recognised. He didn’t really understand what much of the writing in the displays meant, but there were a few diagrams of brains, which Remus thought were pretty cool. There was even a model brain on Dr Picani’s desk, cut open to show sections inside highlighted with different colours.

“This is a psychology classroom,” Dr Picani explained, when one of the students asked. “None of you will be able to take psychology until GSCE, but I do teach some history classes as well, so some of you might still have me as a teacher!”

Remus grabbed a seat at the front of the classroom right next to Roman – mostly so he could get a better look at the model brain, but also because Dr Picani actually seemed alright.

Dr Picani handed out the timetables, and Remus was relieved to see that his history teacher was listed as Dr E Picani.

“Hey, we have mostly the same classes,” Roman said, leaning over to compare his timetable to Remus’.

“You will do for this term at least,” Dr Picani told him, sitting down at his desk. “You’ll be in your form groups for all your classes, then after Christmas you might get split up into sets.”

Remus privately hoped that wouldn’t happen, but before he could voice that thought his attention was once again captured by the model brain. “If you’re a doctor, do you cut open people’s brains?” he asked.

He heard Roman make a grossed out noise beside him, but Dr Picani just chuckled.

“No, I’m not a surgeon. I have my Doctorate in psychology; I’m more interested in what people are thinking than how their brains physically work,” he said.

“I’d like to be a brain doctor when I grow up,” Remus declared.

-----

Since form time had taken place during first period, their first actual lesson of the day was English. The school seemed difficult to navigate, but fortunately their English class was on the same floor as their form room.

Remus knew the teacher would be strict as soon as he saw her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, grey streaks in uniform lines as if even they had been placed there purposely. She surveyed the class from behind glasses that balanced halfway down her nose, her stony expression not shifting at all until a boy pulled out a chair from one of the desks.

“Ah-ah!” She called, her voice icy. “I don’t know how things worked at your primary schools, but in my classroom, we have a seating plan.”

And that was when Remus knew for certain that this class would be his worst nightmare.

The teacher picked up a sheet of paper from her desk, and began assigning students to their seats. The tables were set out in neat rows, with only room for two people at each desk. Remus hoped he’d get a seat next to Roman, but the teacher was clearly assigning the seating in alphabetical order, and their surnames were nowhere near each other in the register. It also meant that Remus’ name was one of the first ones to be called.

“Remus Blake; Remy Chen.” The teacher pointed to the desk right in front of hers.

That was just Remus’ luck. He had a sneaking suspicion that this teacher wouldn’t turn out to be as nice as Dr Picani.

“Miss, can’t I sit next to Roman?” Remus piped up hopefully. “We’re twins.”

The teacher pursed her lips, giving Remus a disapproving look. “That’s Ms Driscoll, to you. And surely if you’re twins, you’ll see enough of each other at home. It’ll be good for you to socialise with other people.”

“But we don’t live together!” Remus objected.

“I see,” Ms Driscoll pushed her glasses up her nose. “Mr Blake, are you and Mr Sanders over here really twins?”

Remus shrank back a little under her gaze. Nobody had ever called him Mr Blake – that title was for his dad. “Not yet...” he mumbled. “But we will be soon!”

Ms Driscoll laughed shortly, but she didn’t really sound amused. “Mr Blake, take your seat. You can stay behind at break for lying.”

Remus huffed as he sat down. Of course he’d gotten in trouble on his first day, and he’d really tried to behave himself.

The boy Ms Driscoll had reprimanded at the start of class – who must be Remy – sat down next to him.

“Is he really going to be your brother?” Remy whispered, leaning over to Remus with a curious expression.

“Yeah! We’re going to make our dads get married,” Remus answered proudly.

“That’s so cool!” Remy said, opening his backpack to take out a pencil case patterned with sunglasses. “I have a baby sister, but she mostly sleeps and cries. It would be cool to have a twin.”

“It will be,” Remus assured him.

“Mr Blake, Mr Chen,” Ms Driscoll snapped. “Did I give you permission to talk?”

Remus sucked in a breath. That was one of the questions teachers asked that he’d get into more trouble for answering out loud, so he shook his head.

Ms Driscoll nodded firmly. “Be quiet, both of you. Or you’ll be staying behind at lunch as well.”

Once Ms Driscoll had turned away from them again, Remy rolled his eyes towards Remus, and Remus suppressed a smirk at that.

The lesson dragged on, with Ms Driscoll scolding Remus every time he fidgeted. Roman ended up on the other side of the classroom, near the back, and when Remus turned around to meet his eyes Ms Driscoll tapped on his desk as if she was trying to draw his attention back to his worksheet.

His detention was just as boring as the lesson, perhaps even more so because he couldn’t listen to his classmates working, and all of Ms Driscoll’s attention was on him because he was the only one in the room.

-----

Remus hoped he’d be able to scheme with Roman later in the day, but the class after break was a double lesson of biology, which ended up being just as interesting as Remus hoped, and he it was all he wanted to talk about at lunch. And after lunch they had another assembly.

By the time they got on the bus after school, Remus was exhausted. He’d taken the bus before with Virgil, but he’d never used a bus pass. The driver showed him where to scan it, and he managed to get a seat near the back with Roman.

The whole way back, he watched for their stop, even though he knew it was about twenty minutes away.

Roman’s house had a neatly mowed lawn and a dark blue garage door. They walked down the empty driveway to the front door, and Roman got out his key. He’d been proud when he told Remus that he’d gotten his own key to the house, because Logan wouldn’t be back until half past four and Roman would need to let himself and Remus in. That meant they’d be alone for an hour, but it was better than Remus going back to his flat by himself and waiting for Virgil to get home. Virgil usually finished work at seven, but he’d switched around his shifts so he could take Remus to school this morning, and he wouldn’t be done until after eight.

When Roman opened the door, the two of them dumped their bags by the sofa and headed out to the treehouse in the back garden. This treehouse had been their favourite hangout spot since they were kids. It almost felt like they had their own house, away from the grown-ups, where they could make their own rules. It even had proper windows and a door with a latch, which opened onto the small fenced balcony that the sturdy wooden ladder led to.

“Race you!” Remus called as soon as he entered the back garden, already taking off across the lawn.

“No fair, you had a head-start!” Roman whined as he chased after him, though they both knew that Remus was the fastest out of the two of them anyway.

Remus stuck his tongue out, then he climbed the ladder and hauled himself onto the balcony, with Roman just behind him.

The walls inside the treehouse were covered in drawings that the two of them had done over the years, from indecipherable crayon scribbles to more recent pencil drawings of castles and dragons. The chalkboard was still filled with plans for one of their stories – which they’d been struggling with, because Roman wanted the main character, a prince, to go on a daring quest and save his kingdom, while Remus thought it should be taken over by dragons.

As soon as they were inside, Roman made straight for the toybox, shaped and decorated to look like a treasure chest. “We can’t write about this on the chalkboard, Dad would definitely see it,” he said as he pulled out a stack of notebooks. After a moment of consideration, he selected a thick book with a pretty marbled rainbow cover, which the two of them had been saving to write something special in.

Remus pulled his green chair out from the small table in the middle of the room, and reached for the box of pens in the middle.

“You do the writing, I’m no good at it,” he said, shoving a few gel pens in Roman’s direction.

Roman pulled a face at that, but he took the glittery pens anyway and uncapped a red one, securing the lid neatly on the back end of the pen. “Now, we need a plan to make them realise they like each other. I think we should get them to go on a date.”

Remus wrinkled his forehead. “Wait, don’t people need to realise they like each other before they go on a date?”

“Not if we’re clever about it,” Roman said, with a conspiratorial smile. “Trust me, I saw this on Disney Channel. We just need to get them to go somewhere that people go on dates, leave them alone, and boom! They’re on a date!”

“Huh,” Remus said, watching as Roman scribbled something down in the notebook.

“Now, we just need date ideas,” Roman said.

“Ooh, how’s about a haunted house?” Remus suggested immediately. “Dad likes haunted houses, and it’s Halloween soon.”

“Not for a date.” Roman wrinkled his nose. “Dates have to be somewhere romantic... like a restaurant, or a ball!”

“Where are we going to find a ball around here?” Remus asked.

Roman chewed on the end of the pen for a second. “Maybe we’ll leave that one for later,” he said, making a note of it in the book.

They spent a while jotting down more ideas in the notebook, until they heard the sound of the back door opening.

“Boys? Are you out here?” Logan called from the garden.

Roman shot up from his seat and raced out of the treehouse, Remus following quickly behind him.

“Dad!” Roman grinned, launching himself at Logan and wrapping his arms around his waist in a hug.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, but our English teacher is horrible,” Roman complained. “She wouldn’t let us sit together, and she’s given us homework already, even though we’ve only had one lesson!”

“Have you done the homework?” Logan asked.

Roman paused. “No...”

Logan sighed. “Go into the dining room and work on it while I make dinner. You too, Remus,” he said, then he led them into the house.

“I can’t believe you told him, now we have to do homework!” Remus grumbled, but he was glad Roman hadn’t let slip about his detention. There was no way Logan would keep that a secret from Virgil, and Remus really didn’t want Virgil to have to worry about him getting in trouble on his first day of school.

-----

Roman was done with the homework in no time, since it was mostly things they’d learnt in year six, but Remus struggled with some of it. He hadn’t quite gotten the material when they’d covered it last year.

“How are you boys getting on?” Logan asked after about half an hour, coming out of the kitchen wearing a plain blue apron, with a tea towel slung over his shoulder that he seemed to have forgotten about.

“Done!” Roman announced proudly.

Remus hummed. “I’m stuck on question five.”

Logan came over to take a look at his worksheet, and Remus angled it towards him.

“I don’t get the difference between a simile and a metaphor. They’re both saying a thing is something it isn’t, aren’t they?” Remus asked.

Logan considered that for a moment, then he sat down next to Remus. “I suppose they are, but try to think of it this way...”

By the time Logan had explained that and a few other questions Remus couldn’t get the hang of, the lasagne was ready, but Remus felt like he understood a lot better.

Roman and Remus put their schoolwork away, and set the table while Logan got the lasagne out of the oven. Remus noticed that when he dished it up he left one portion to the side.

-----

By the time Virgil arrived, it was almost nine o’clock. Remus tackled him with a hug as soon as he got through the door.

“Hey, kid,” Virgil said tiredly, and he squeezed Remus tightly. “Thanks so much for looking after him,” he said to Logan.

As Remus pulled away, he saw Logan smile. “Don’t worry about it. He was no bother at all, I even got him to do his homework,” he said, sounding mildly pleased with himself.

Virgil pulled a face. “What kind of teacher gives you homework on the first day of school?”

“That’s what I said!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil ruffled his hair.

“Anyway, sorry to dash off so soon, but I need to get Remus home before bedtime, and get some tea,” Virgil said.

“Ah, I thought you might be hungry, so I left a portion of lasagne for you,” Logan said.

“What?” Virgil blinked, looking at Logan with something between surprise and awe. “Lo, you didn’t have to do that.”

Logan shrugged. “It was no trouble. The recipe serves four anyway, I’ll go and warm it up for you,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Virgil continued watching the doorway Logan had gone through, a distant look and a small smile on his face, until Remus tugged on his hand.

“Dad, I need to tell you about my day,” he said. Well, he’d tell Virgil almost everything. He didn’t want the detention brigning up.

They relocated to the sofa, so Remus and Roman could tell Virgil all about the big school. After a few minutes, Logan came through with a plate of lasagne which he passed to Virgil to balance on his knee. Virgil gave him a big grin, and he kept smiling when he looked down at his lasagne and Logan went to sit down himself.

Remus knew Logan didn’t usually let anyone eat meals in the living room, but maybe he’d seen how tired Virgil was and decided to make an exception.

“This is really good,” Virgil said through a mouthful of lasagne. “Thanks so much, Lo.”

Logan smiled, but he raised an eyebrow. “Virgil, table manners.”

“I’m not sat at a table. Checkmate,” Virgil smirked, but he didn’t talk with food in his mouth for the rest of the evening.

When it was finally time for them to leave, Remus gave Roman a big hug.

“See you tomorrow,” he said.

Virgil and Logan were standing a bit awkwardly by the door when Virgil cleared his throat.

“Thanks again. Um, you know, for dinner,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“I told you, it was no trouble,” Logan said. He patted Virgil’s arm and nodded.

Virgil nodded back, and put an arm around Remus. “Right then kid, let’s go.”

For the whole drive back to their flat, Remus thought about how nice it would be to never have to leave Roman for the evening.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #analogical #ts remus #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #sanders sides fanfiction

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cg29fics · 2 years ago

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GONE

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone - If you would like to be tagged in these updates then please let me know and I’ll add you to the list: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Countdown to the final chapter - 5 - left to go.

Previous. Chapter 49, Visitor.

Chapter 50. Goodbyes.

Previously.

“… Someone out there could lose a family member… I don’t need rescuing anymore but others still do… The world needs International Rescue!”

… …

Everyone contemplated what Virgil had said. They all knew that he was right, if a disaster did occur and someone were to die because International Rescue had not been available, then each one of them would feel personally responsible. After another five minutes of silence, Scott spoke. “I hate to admit it but Virgil’s right. I just hate the thought of returning to duty without you, especially when you are needing our emotional support.”

Virgil reached out and held Scott’s hand, gripping it tightly. “I know I’ve been struggling and yes, I know it’s going to take me a long time to process everything. I also know it’s going to be several months before I can even contemplate returning to work… But, the world won’t stop turning while I recuperate. Disasters will happen, people will get hurt, and they will need our unique services to help them… Look, I’m not suggesting that all of you go home, if you’re that worried about me one of you could stay here.”

“Okay, so we’re all in agreement that International Rescue does need to continue?” Jeff questioned.

“Yes,” everyone replied.

“Okay, then my suggestion is that mother, you and all the boys return home tomorrow, while I will stay here with Virgil. Does everyone agree?”

Even though they were all still reluctant to leave, everyone nodded their agreement, knowing that what had been said was really for the best.

… …

The following afternoon:

Penelope entered the ward room and smiled at Jeff who was quietly reading a magazine, while Virgil dosed in the big chair which the nurses had propped him up in. “How is he?”

Jeff placed his magazine down and returned Penny’s warm smile. “He’s okay, they gave him some pain medication about an hour ago.”

“How did the scans go?”

“Good, they will be starting him on some light physio on his shoulder in a day or two. They also did some scans on his ribs and everything’s healing as it should.”

“That’s good, any chance he’ll be able to come home soon?”

“Not while he’s still getting his pain meds through the IV. As soon as that does change, I plan to speak to Gerry and see what can be arranged.” Jeff glanced towards the doorway. “Where’s everyone else, still packing?”

“They were just finishing,” Penny explained, “I have no idea how your sons have amassed so much stuff over such a short space of time and how they’ve managed to lose half of it.”

Jeff frowned. “They’ve not destroyed the hotel suite looking for everything, have they?”

“Don’t worry, your mother and Parker were making sure they cleared up their mess.”

Jeff grinned. “I can imagine my mother and Parker are quite a team.”

“Oh, they certainly are!” Penny laughed.

“You should wake him up before you go,” Jeff suggested, noticing Penny was now watching Virgil sleeping.

“Are you sure?” Penny questioned. “He seems to be sleeping quite soundly.”

“Yes!” Jeff replied, standing up. “Look, I’m going to head to the canteen for a coffee. Wake him, I know he will be disappointed if he doesn’t get to say goodbye.”

Penny smiled and nodded. Once Jeff had left she quietly made her way over to Virgil, sat herself down and gently took his hand in hers. “Virgil.”

Virgil slowly opened his eyes, a natural smile falling across his face. “Hey.”

“Sorry to wake you, I just wanted to make sure that I managed to say goodbye.”

“That’s okay, when are you and Parker leaving?” Virgil questioned.

“As soon as Parker finishes helping your grandmother keep your brothers in line.”

Virgil smirked. “Are they causing trouble?”

“Something like that.”

Virgil squeezed her hand. “Do you really have to go so soon?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Penny replied, “I have a few business functions that I simply cannot put off any longer.”

“That’s a shame, I really would have enjoyed your company,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

“And in what way would you have enjoyed my company?” Penelope asked, her eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure we could have figured something out!”

“You’re incapacitated!”

“That wouldn’t stop me,” he responded, beckoning her to come closer and then kissing her softly on her lips.

“Well, I will hold you to that when you come and visit.”

“Will I see you before then?”

“Yes, I will definitely be on the island for your homecoming.”

Virgil released a despondent sigh. “Whenever that may be.”

“I’m sure that you will be strong enough to return soon.”

“I hope so!”

“And as I said, I will be there,” Penelope raised her eyebrow, “I’m sure if you keep that in mind it will help you to feel better.”

“Oh, it certainly does!” Virgil grinned, pulling her in for another kiss.

“Busted!” A voice laughed from the doorway.

Virgil and Penelope looked up, both sighing when they saw Scott, Alan, John and Gordon grinning back at them, with the shocked expressions of Jeff, Ruth and Parker standing closely behind.

“How long have you been standing there?” Virgil questioned.

“Oh, long enough!” Gordon giggled.

“Err… M’Lady, we need to be making a move,” Parker informed her, stepping in front of the boys.

“Of course, Parker,” Penny replied, before turning her attention back to Virgil, “I’ll see you soon.”

Virgil nodded and not caring what the others thought, pulled her in for another kiss. “Yes, soon!”

Penelope smiled, then standing up she turned towards the doorway. “Boys.”

“Bye Penny,” they all chorused, giving her a quick hug.

“Ruth, Jeff,” she added, “it’s always a pleasure.”

“Of course, Penny,” Ruth and Jeff both responded, returning the handshake and hug she offered.

Parker coughed to gain Penelope’s attention. “Are you ready M’Lady.”

“Yes, of course Parker,” Penny answered, making her way outside.

“Bye Parker,” Virgil called.

“Yes, bye Master Virgil... Feel better soon!” Parker responded, shooting him a very concerned look before leaving the room.

“So, Virgil, how are you feeling?” Scott questioned, sitting himself in the chair that Penny had vacated.

“I’m okay, pain’s not too bad.”

“That’s good, anything interesting to tell us?” Scott asked, smirking at him.

“Nope!” Virgil retorted with a giant grin.

“Oh, come on bro,” Gordon and Alan both chirped bouncing over to Virgil. “It’s you and Penny!”

“Yes, come on Virg, you can’t hold out on us!” John added.

“Now come on boys, leave your brother alone,” Ruth warned them, “I’m sure he will give us the details when he’s good and ready!”

“Thank you, grandma.”

“That’s okay sweetie,” She replied, ruffling his hair, “whatever the situation, I’m just pleased to see you happy.”

“I don’t think Parker feels the same,” Gordon laughed, “he’s very protective of Penelope and judging from his reaction I would say you have to watch yourself there.”

“Gordon, stop teasing your brother!” Ruth scolded, when she noticed a look of worry spread across Virgil’s face.

“But grandma it’s so much fun!” Gordon whined.

“Then tease one of your other brothers!” She suggested.

“Hey!” The others protested.

“Grandma, you’re not meant to have a favourite!” Alan complained.

“I don’t, I love you all equally,” Ruth stated, “It’s just Virgil’s been through enough and shouldn’t have to deal with you lot mocking him!”

“Exactly!” Virgil replied, with a big grin, while his brothers all playfully scowled at him.

Ruth laughed at them all, then noticing Jeff had not joined them she turned and glanced at her son who was still standing in the doorway looking shocked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am,” Jeff answered, shaking the look of surprise away, “oh, and don’t worry,” he whispered in Virgil’s ear, “Parker will come around!”

“Thanks dad,” Virgil replied, before focusing on his brothers and grandma. “So, how long before you’re all due to fly out?”

“I want to get us back before nightfall,” Scott answered, “we’ll probably head to the airfield in an hour.”

“Why are you trying to get rid of us already?” Gordon questioned, feigning his disappointment in a very over the top way.

Virgil released a hearty laugh. “Gordon, you’re so dramatic! You really missed your calling as a movie star.”

Gordon grinned, coughed to clear his throat, and then held himself in a theatrical pose. “Oh Romeo, Romeo…”

“That’s the girls part!” Alan squawked with amusement.

“Yes, I knew that!” Gordon stated, turning a royal red from his brothers, fathers and grandmothers’ laughter. “Err… So Virg, we all got you presents,” he added, trying desperately to change everybody’s focus onto something else.

“Presents?” Virgil said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I got you this,” Alan chirped, pulling a box out of a bag that his grandma had passed him.

Virgil eagerly opened the box and smiled when he found a small furry bear inside. “Aww, this is cute!”

“It’s because you always give the best bear hugs ever,” Alan explained, “also, press his tummy.”

Virgil pressed the bears tummy and chuckled when the bear growled. “Thank you, Alan, I love him. Now, come here and give me a cuddle.”

Alan happily skipped over and carefully hugged his brother.

Once Virgil had released Alan, Ruth stepped forwards. “Here you go sweetie, I got you this.”

Virgil took the small bag from her and pulled out the gift. “A jar of coffee?”

Ruth nodded. “It’s the one we use on the island, I’ve talked the nurses and caterers here to give you this instead of the drivel they serve.”

Virgil thanked her and gave her a quick hug before focussing on John who was now stepping forwards.

“My gift comes with an apology.” John explained, passing Virgil a box. “You see, when you were missing I accidently broke your favourite cup. I’m really sorry, I found a replacement and I really hope you like it.”

Virgil opened the box revealing a shimmering green mug. “Cool! Thanks bro, I love it.”

“Are you sure?” John asked nervously.

“Yes of course,” Virgil confirmed, “this one seems to be sparkling... Plus, you’ve given it to me, so that makes it one hundred times better!”

Scott grinned at Virgil when he had finished hugging John. “Here’s mine. Hopefully, it will help with the boredom when you’ve only got our old man for company.”

“Hey!” Jeff protested, with a slight smirk at Scott’s jibe.

“Art pad and pencils!” Virgil beamed, when he’d opened the bag.

“Oh, I also added some more of your favourite tracks on to this for you.” Scott explained, pulling out a small music player and headphones from an inner pocket.

“Thank you!”

“No problem!” Scott said, excepting the cuddle from his brother.

“Me next,” Gordon sang.

Virgil looked at him quizzically when he was passed a suspicious looking box. “Is this safe to open?”

“Of course!” Gordon stated innocently.

“Don’t look at us,” John said, “he’s refused to tell any of us what he was getting you.”

Virgil frowned and slowly opened the box, jumping when a jack in the box popped out. “Jeez, Gordon!”

Gordon chuckled at Virgil’s surprise, “Now pull out the small drawer at the bottom.”

“Do I really want too?” Virgil asked.

Gordon nodded. “Seriously, your real gift is inside.”

Virgil carefully opened the drawer. “My chain?”

“When Alan gave you your chain back you hadn’t noticed that the clasp was damaged and the chain itself was scuffed. So, I got it fixed for you.”

Virgil grabbed his brother’s hand and pulled him into the biggest squeeze he could manage. “Wow, Gordon. This was really sweet of you, thank you so much!”

“You’re worth it Virg,” Gordon said, breathing in the hug, “now, let me go before Scott starts blubbering.”

“I’m not crying!” Scott exclaimed, quickly wiping away his tears.

Taking a small box out of his pocket, Jeff stepped forwards. “Even though I’m staying with you, I’ve also got you a little something.”

Virgil opened the box and grinned when he saw what was inside. “A new watch.”

Jeff picked up the watch and fastened it to Virgil’s left wrist. “It’s to replace your old one as it was broken.”

“How did you get it here?” Virgil enquired.

“I brought it with me when we left the island to come here, I wanted you to have a new one as soon as possible.”

Virgil embraced his father. “Thanks dad.”

Jeff returned the hug and then pulled away looking in his son’s eyes. “I want you to remember that even though you’re going to be out of action for a long time, you’re are still an important part of International Rescue!”

Virgil nodded. “I will!”

“Good,” Jeff replied, ruffling Virgil’s hair before checking his own watch, “I think it’s time you lot made a move.”

“I guess you are right dad,” Scott sighed when he also saw what time it was.

After another 15 minutes of warm hugs followed by goodbyes, everyone finally left for Tracy one, leaving just Virgil and his father in the ward room.

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Virgil sighed.

“Don’t worry, as soon as we get the all clear, we will get you home!”

“Yep, definitely!” Virgil nodded, a look of determination creeping on his face. “Oh, and dad…”

“Yes son?”

“Don’t call me kiddo!”

#thunderbirds fanfiction #cg29fics #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds original series #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds fandom #tagficgone #virgil tracy

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floralandfauna · 2 months ago

Text

"Rat Punks and Realizations"

When Dimitri opened his eyes, he expected—well, anything but this.

He was standing in what looked like a carnival from someone’s fever dream. The sky overhead was a swirling mess of purples and greens, like a storm was always about to break but never quite did. The rides around them creaked, frozen in time, and the smell of popcorn mixed with something faintly metallic, like rust and rain.

Beside him, Mischa stood stiffly, arms crossed, eyes darting around. The others — the rest of the choir — gathered in a loose circle, glancing at each other with the same wide-eyed confusion.

"What the hell is this?" Mischa muttered, shooting Dimitri a worried look.

"I don't know," Dimitri whispered back, heart thudding.

A sudden crackle of static made them all jump.

From the shadows of an old rollercoaster, a figure emerged, strutting like he owned the place — and he kind of did, in a weird way.

It was a rat.

An anthropomorphic rat, tall, muscular, with a spiked leather jacket, ripped jeans, a bass guitar slung over his shoulder, and eyes that glinted mischievously under a mop of purple-dyed fur. His ears were pierced, and a chain hung from his belt like he was about to walk into a punk rock show and absolutely destroy the stage.

"Yo," the rat said, voice a smooth, low rumble with a hint of a snarl. "Name's Virgil. Welcome to the in-between."

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

Then Noel whispered, "Is anyone else seeing this, or did I hit my head way harder than I thought?"

Ocean squinted at Virgil, hands on her hips. "Is this some kind of joke? Who put a rat in charge?"

Virgil smirked. "Hey, sweetheart, you wanna go ahead and take charge of Limbo? Be my guest. See how long you last." He flicked his tail with an attitude that screamed I’ve seen some things.

Everyone stared, trying to process what was happening — but Dimitri, standing slightly apart, was staring for a very different reason.

Mischa noticed first.

Dimitri’s wide eyes weren’t just shocked — they were interested.

Like, too interested.

"Bro," Ricky muttered, nudging Mischa. "Tell me I’m not seeing this right now."

Mischa blinked, following Ricky’s gaze to Dimitri, who was still kind of frozen in place, eyes locked on Virgil like a deer in headlights—or maybe like a guy looking at a very confusing poster in Hot Topic.

"Uh..." Mischa started, but his stomach twisted in a way he didn’t like.

Constance was the first to crack.

"Are you... are you checking out the rat?" she asked, her voice somewhere between shocked and trying not to laugh.

Dimitri jolted, cheeks immediately flushing bright red. "W-What? No! I— I was just—"

"You so were!" Ocean cut in, suddenly looking gleeful to have something to focus on that wasn't their shared mortal peril. "Oh my God, Dimitri. Seriously? The rat?"

Virgil, for his part, just raised an eyebrow and grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. "Hey, I’m flattered, angel boy. Most people don’t appreciate a guy who can shred bass and chew through drywall."

Ricky burst out laughing. "Dude, you’ve got weird taste!"

Dimitri looked like he wanted to sink straight into the carnival floor. "I wasn’t— I mean, he’s just— it’s the vibe, okay?"

"The vibe?" Noel echoed, smirking. "What vibe? You mean the 'could kill you and then write a song about it' vibe? Honestly, respect."

Dimitri buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God."

Meanwhile, Mischa stood off to the side, arms crossed tighter, jaw clenched. He wasn’t laughing. Not really.

Of course Dimitri would be into some edgy, ripped punk rat instead of... well, him.

"Well," Virgil said, giving a wink that made Dimitri practically combust on the spot, "since we’ve established that, welcome to Limbo. You’re dead, but not all the way dead. Yet."

Everyone sobered at that.

"Wait— dead?" Ocean asked, voice suddenly sharp.

Virgil shrugged. "Rollercoaster accident. Nasty one. You guys are on the shortlist for who gets a second chance. I’m your guide."

Silence again.

But while everyone else was still reeling from that bombshell, Ricky grinned and elbowed Dimitri. "Well, at least if we’re dead, you’ve already found your afterlife crush."

Dimitri groaned into his hands. "I hate all of you."

"You love us," Constance sing-songed.

Mischa didn’t say anything. He just stared at Dimitri, heart sinking, a tight smile on his lips.

Because of course — even here, even now — he couldn’t say what he felt. And Dimitri would never notice him, not when there were leather-jacket-wearing, bass-shredding rats around to steal his attention.

Still, Mischa stayed close to Dimitri as Virgil started explaining the rules of this weird afterlife game, standing just a little too close.

Maybe Dimitri would never know how he felt.

But Mischa wasn’t going to let him face Limbo alone.

Not when he loved him too much to let go.

"Limbo, Flirting, and the Green-Eyed Monster"

The group had settled in—if you could ever settle into Limbo—gathered in a loose circle around Virgil, who sat on the edge of an old broken fountain like he was king of the ruins.

His tail swished lazily behind him as he tuned the battered bass guitar resting on his thigh, claws clicking on the strings in a way that made Dimitri’s stomach do weird flips he definitely didn't want to examine too closely.

“So,” Virgil drawled, plucking out a heavy, smooth line that somehow made the air around them hum, “one of you gets to go back to the land of the living. One shot. You gotta convince me why you deserve it.”

Ocean immediately raised her hand, ever the perfectionist. "Obviously, I should be the one to—"

Virgil held up a clawed hand to stop her, smirking. “Slow down, Princess. We’ve got time to get to that part. Gotta make this interesting.”

His eyes flicked over the group, and then settled, with obvious amusement, on Dimitri — who visibly tensed under the weight of that sharp, amused gaze.

“You, though,” Virgil said, pointing a claw directly at Dimitri, “you look like you’ve got a story.”

Dimitri blinked, caught like a deer in headlights. “W-What?”

“Shy type, huh?” Virgil grinned, fangs glinting slightly. "Cute."

Dimitri’s face burst into a shade of red so bright it could have rivaled a neon sign. "I— I’m not—"

Virgil slid off the fountain in one smooth motion, walking over to him, tail swaying behind like a lazy metronome.

“Relax,” he said, voice a low purr as he stopped way too close — close enough Dimitri had to tilt his head back to look him in the eyes.

Virgil reached out casually, two fingers gloved in fingerless leather, and gently flicked a strand of Dimitri’s hair out of his face. "Don’t go getting all tense on me now, angel boy."

Dimitri practically short-circuited. "I— uh— I’m fine—"

The rest of the group was eating it up.

Noel looked like he was seconds away from losing it, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Well, someone’s popular in the afterlife."

Ricky grinned. "Damn, dude, didn’t know you had a thing for rats with attitude."

Ocean just groaned. "Seriously? Can we focus?"

Constance, ever the sweetheart, whispered to Mischa, "Poor Dimitri, he looks so flustered."

But Mischa wasn’t smiling.

He stood a little behind everyone else, arms crossed so tightly it almost hurt, jaw clenched so hard he thought he might crack a tooth.

Because of course Dimitri would get all red and shy over Virgil, and of course Virgil had to notice and lean into it.

Mischa hated how his stomach twisted seeing Virgil so close, hated how Dimitri was too stunned to move away.

Still, he forced a smirk on his face — because if he didn’t laugh along, someone might notice.

“Careful, Virgil,” Mischa said, forcing his voice to sound light, teasing. "You’re gonna break him if you keep that up."

Virgil shot Mischa a sly grin over his shoulder, not missing a beat. "What, jealous?"

The way he said it — sharp and knowing — made Mischa’s stomach drop.

"No," Mischa shot back way too quickly. "Please, I’m just here for the show."

But the flicker of something in his eyes said otherwise, and Virgil definitely caught it.

Still smirking, Virgil leaned a little closer to Dimitri, voice dropping lower. "Don’t worry, angel, I’m just messing with you."

And then, softer, almost like a secret: "Unless you want me to keep going."

Dimitri made a noise that could only be described as a strangled squeak, face now a dangerous shade of crimson.

"Anyway," Ocean cut in loudly, clearly annoyed. "Could we please move on from flirting with rodents and get to the part where one of us gets to live?"

"Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart," Virgil teased, throwing her a wink. "You’ll get your turn."

As Virgil sauntered back to the fountain like he hadn’t just completely wrecked Dimitri’s ability to speak, the group started talking amongst themselves, arguing about who should get a chance at life.

But Mischa didn’t join in.

He just watched Dimitri, who was now sitting down, hands over his face, trying to cool his burning cheeks.

And something ached deep in Mischa’s chest.

Because yeah, sure, everyone teased Dimitri for being flustered. But no one seemed to realize how much it was killing Mischa to see Dimitri fall apart like that for someone else.

Someone who wasn’t him.

Someone who could flirt so easily and touch him and make him blush without even trying.

And Mischa?

Mischa didn’t even know how to tell Dimitri how he felt without choking on the words.

As everyone kept talking and laughing, Mischa shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket, eyes fixed on the ground, jaw tight.

Because if there was only one person getting out of this place alive...

He wasn’t sure if he’d fight for himself.

But for Dimitri?

For Dimitri, he’d fight like hell.

Even if Dimitri never loved him back.

"Jealousy, Jokes, and Things Left Unsaid"

They’d been sitting around that broken-down fountain for what felt like forever. Virgil was still perched on the edge, casually plucking at his bass like they weren’t all hovering somewhere between life and death. Every now and then, he'd shoot little glances at Dimitri—smirks that made Dimitri’s face flush all over again.

Mischa kept watching from the corner of his eye, arms crossed so tight he was pretty sure his fingernails would leave marks in his sleeves. His stomach was twisted up in knots, and his chest felt heavy, like someone was sitting on it.

It wasn't just Virgil.

It was Dimitri.

Dimitri sat there all quiet and pink-cheeked, glancing at Virgil when he thought no one was watching. Dimitri letting Virgil lean in too close, like maybe a part of him didn’t mind. Like maybe a part of him wanted that.

"Okay, seriously," Noel finally said, breaking the weird tension, "are we all just going to pretend that this isn’t happening?"

Constance tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Noel arched an eyebrow, leaning back on his hands. "I mean Romeo and Juliet over here. Or should I say, Rat and Choir Boy."

Dimitri's head shot up. "What?"

Ricky snorted. "Man, it’s kinda obvious. You’ve been staring at Virgil like he’s a walking Hot Topic ad. Which, like... he kinda is."

Virgil smirked, unbothered. "I’m flattered, really."

Ocean rolled her eyes, arms crossed. "Can we please focus on the fact that one of us has to go back to life and stop turning this into a soap opera?"

But Noel wasn’t done. His sharp eyes turned to Mischa, who was doing a terrible job pretending not to care.

"And someone looks like he's about to explode," Noel added, a sly grin curling his lips.

Mischa shot him a sharp glare. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Noel shrugged. "Nothing. Just... maybe if you're gonna look at Dimitri like that, you should be honest about it."

Dimitri blinked, confused. "Look at me like what?"

Noel didn’t answer, but the way he raised his eyebrows said everything.

"Okay, that’s enough," Mischa snapped, standing up too fast, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His jaw was clenched so tight it hurt.

"Yo, chill," Ricky muttered, watching him carefully.

"I'm fine," Mischa said, voice sharp enough to cut. But his eyes flicked to Dimitri for just a second too long, and everyone caught it.

Virgil chuckled under his breath, low and amused, tail flicking behind him. "Aw, look at that. Didn't realize there was a little competition."

Mischa's glare turned deadly. "There’s no competition. I don’t care."

"You sure about that?" Virgil said, still smirking. "You look like you're about to bite my head off, sweetheart."

Dimitri looked lost, glancing between Virgil and Mischa like he couldn't figure out what was happening. "Wait, what do you mean competition? Mischa?"

Mischa stiffened. "Forget it."

But Constance, ever gentle, reached over and touched Dimitri's arm softly. "Dimitri… I think maybe Mischa’s been trying to tell you something. For a while."

Silence.

Dimitri’s eyes widened, like the puzzle pieces were finally sliding into place — but the edges still weren’t quite lining up.

"I—what?" Dimitri stammered, turning toward Mischa, who looked everywhere but at him.

Ricky groaned, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "Dude. He’s been in love with you since, like, forever."

Virgil plucked a sharp note from his bass and grinned. "Yikes. Drama."

Mischa’s face burned. "It’s not— It’s fine. Don’t listen to them."

But Dimitri kept staring at him, eyes wide, searching. "Mischa... is that true?"

For a moment, Mischa didn’t answer. The words burned in his throat, like if he said them out loud it would make everything worse.

But finally, he let out a breath, soft and shaky. "Yeah. Okay? Yeah, it’s true."

The whole group went quiet.

"I didn’t... I never realized," Dimitri said, voice small, like he was scared of breaking something fragile.

"Yeah, well." Mischa shrugged like it didn’t matter, even though it so obviously did. "Guess I’m just not punk enough for you."

Virgil gave a low whistle. "Ouch." But there was something in his eyes now — like maybe he’d pushed too far.

Dimitri stood up slowly, stepping closer to Mischa. "Mischa, it’s not like that. I mean— I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Everything’s been so messed up since the accident and—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I thought you were just being a good friend."

Mischa swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. "Yeah. Well, maybe I was. Maybe that’s all I ever was."

"Hey," Dimitri said softly, reaching out to touch Mischa’s arm, stopping him from pulling away. "Don’t say that."

Mischa blinked at him, heart pounding.

"Maybe I’ve been... kinda stupid," Dimitri added, cheeks pink but voice steadier now. "Maybe I didn’t see what was right in front of me."

Ricky grinned, nudging Noel. "Told you."

Virgil watched them, a little quieter now, his usual smirk fading to something more thoughtful as he leaned on his bass.

Ocean rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. "About time."

Constance beamed, squeezing Ricky’s arm.

Dimitri gave Mischa a small, almost shy smile. "So... maybe we figure this out? Together?"

Mischa looked at him for a long moment, something softening in his eyes. He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah," he said finally, giving a tiny smile back. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The group relaxed, tension fading a little as they turned back to Virgil, who watched the scene with his head tilted, tail flicking.

"Alright, lovebirds," Virgil said with a smirk, though softer than before. "We’ve still got a death game to play. So let’s see who makes it outta here."

But now, with Dimitri’s hand still on his arm, Mischa felt just a little less lost.

Even in Limbo, maybe he wasn’t so alone.

"Who Gets to Live?"

The weird air between them finally eased as Dimitri gave Mischa a soft smile—one Mischa hadn’t seen in a long time, like a private little moment that made the ache in his chest loosen just a little.

But then Virgil stood, cracking his knuckles, claws glinting in the dim light.

"Alright," he said, swinging his bass onto his back with one smooth motion. "Now that we've had our little rom-com moment, time to get serious."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"You've got to convince me why you deserve to go back," Virgil said, smirking but with a sharpness to his voice that made it clear this wasn’t a joke anymore. "One shot. One life. One of you."

Silence.

Dimitri swallowed hard, glancing around at the others. He felt Mischa shift beside him, and it made his chest ache worse.

Virgil’s gaze drifted over them, then, weirdly, settled on Mischa for just a moment longer than anyone else.

"You wanna start, punk boy?" Virgil asked, head tilting, eyes sharp.

Mischa blinked. "Me?"

Virgil smirked. "Yeah. You’ve been glaring at me like I stole your lunch money. Let’s hear it."

The others glanced at Mischa, curious.

Mischa shoved his hands deep in his hoodie, eyes dropping to the ground.

"I dunno," he muttered, shrugging. "What’s the point?"

"To live," Virgil said simply, but his voice was low now, serious. "Isn’t that what you want?"

Mischa gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well. I don't think anyone's waiting for me back there."

Dimitri flinched at that, glancing sideways at him, guilt creeping into his chest.

Virgil stared at Mischa for a long moment, then said, quieter, "You sure about that?"

Mischa's jaw clenched, but he didn't answer.

"Okay, next," Virgil said, turning to Constance with a little more gentleness. "What about you, sweetheart?"

Constance shifted nervously but smiled a little. "I think... if I got to go back, I'd want to help people. Make them feel like they belong. Like they matter. I think that's what I was meant to do."

Virgil nodded thoughtfully.

"Good answer," he said softly.

He moved to Ricky next, who shrugged, giving a lopsided grin. "I mean, I just wanna play music. Be in a band. Make something cool, you know?"

Virgil gave him a small smirk. "Dream big, Rockstar."

Ocean looked like she had about twenty speeches prepared but was clearly trying to figure out which one sounded the best. "I think I should get to go back because I have plans. Things I’m supposed to do. I can’t do them if I’m—" She gestured around. "—stuck here."

Virgil raised a brow but nodded. "Fair enough, Barbie."

Noel, when it was his turn, smirked in that way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I don’t know. Maybe I'd like to live long enough to figure out if there's something more for me. If I can be more than... whatever I was."

Virgil actually looked surprised for a second, then gave him a quiet, approving nod.

Then his gaze turned to Dimitri.

"And you, angel boy?"

Dimitri felt everyone’s eyes on him, but there was one gaze he felt the strongest — Mischa’s.

"I..." Dimitri hesitated, wringing his hands together. "I don’t know if I deserve to go back."

Mischa's head snapped toward him. "What?!"

Dimitri shook his head. "Everyone keeps acting like I’m some kind of miracle just for existing. But I didn’t do anything. I just—" His throat tightened. "Mischa... Mischa saved me."

Silence.

"Maybe he should be the one to go back," Dimitri said softly, glancing at Mischa, eyes shining. "Not me."

Mischa’s heart felt like it might break in half.

"Don’t say that," Mischa said, voice rough. "You deserve to live, Dima."

"And you don’t?" Dimitri shot back, eyes wet.

Virgil was watching all of this with a strange expression, tail flicking behind him.

"Y’know," Virgil said suddenly, standing and stretching, "sometimes, the one who fights the hardest to protect someone else? They’re the ones who don’t think they deserve anything back."

His gaze cut to Mischa as he said it.

"And sometimes," Virgil added, glancing at Dimitri now, "the one who was saved? They don’t realize what they mean to the person who saved them."

Dimitri flushed, swallowing.

Virgil walked over to Mischa, voice dropping so only he could hear.

"Maybe it’s time to stop hiding behind that act, kid," Virgil said quietly. "You want him to live? Then tell him how you feel before it’s too late."

Mischa stared up at him, wide-eyed, lips pressed tight.

Virgil gave him a sharp grin, but there was something kind in it, too. "Trust me, holding it in doesn’t do anyone any favors."

He turned back to the others before Mischa could say anything else, smirk back in place. "Alright, lovebirds and weirdos, you’ve all said your piece. Now the real fun begins."

But Mischa wasn’t listening anymore.

Because Dimitri was looking at him like he saw him for the first time.

And for the first time, Mischa thought maybe... maybe there was a chance Dimitri would understand what he’d been holding onto all this time.

"Songs We Never Sang"

The group had gone quiet again, sitting in a loose circle as Virgil lazily twirled his bass, waiting for someone to step up next.

“You know,” Virgil finally said, breaking the silence, "sometimes the best way to figure out who deserves another shot is to hear what’s in their heart."

"Like... sing about it?" Constance asked softly.

Virgil grinned. "Bingo."

Mischa’s stomach twisted. Great. Just great.

Virgil’s gaze slid directly to him. "Mischa? You wanna go?"

Mischa blinked, panicked. "Me?"

"Yeah." Virgil’s grin widened. "You look like you got a lot to say."

Dimitri was watching him too now, eyes soft and curious. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," Dimitri said gently, voice like a balm.

But Mischa knew if he didn’t say something now, he’d explode.

He stood slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes darting anywhere but Dimitri.

"...Fine," he muttered.

The others watched quietly as he stepped into the center, kicking at the ground awkwardly.

"I, uh... I guess if I was gonna sing anything, it’d be something real," Mischa mumbled, glancing sideways at Dimitri for half a second. "Something I never said when I should’ve."

Dimitri tilted his head, brows knitting.

Virgil plucked out a soft, steady rhythm on his bass, a simple melody that filled the heavy silence.

Mischa took a breath.

And then he began to sing.

🎶 "Little Brother (But Not Really)" 🎶 (A soft, vulnerable rap, almost whispered at first, like he's scared to say it out loud.)

"Yo, Dima, you never knew, All the things I couldn’t say to you, Thought if I kept it cool, if I played the game, You wouldn’t see how I burned in shame. You were the light, I was the fight, The boy from nowhere, never got it right, But when you smiled? Damn, you made me whole, Didn’t know you were holding my soul."

(His voice gets stronger, a little cracked around the edges, full of raw emotion.)

"I used to call you brother but that wasn’t true, Wasn’t brotherly the way I looked at you. Thought maybe one day you'd look back and see, That all I ever wanted was for you to choose me."

The room was silent.

Dimitri sat frozen, wide-eyed, lips parted.

Even Virgil's usual smirk had faded, watching Mischa with something close to respect.

Noel leaned in, whispering, "Holy shit."

Ocean stared, eyes wide, for once speechless.

Constance’s hand went to her chest, teary-eyed already.

Mischa stood there, chest heaving a little like the words had been dragged out of him, but he wasn’t done yet.

He looked right at Dimitri now, and for once, didn’t look away.

🎶 "For You (I'd Stay)" 🎶 (A softer, melodic section, almost like a lullaby, voice breaking in places.)

"If I could be the one to stay, I'd take your pain, I'd find a way. If all I get’s this one last chance, I'd use it just to see you dance. And if they said, 'Pick only one,' I'd say your name, 'cause you're the sun. You kept me warm, you kept me here, Even when I hid my fear."

His voice cracked on the last word.

He cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes quickly with the sleeve of his hoodie, muttering, "Whatever. Guess that’s my song."

But no one was speaking.

Especially not Dimitri.

Because Dimitri’s whole world was spinning.

Suddenly, all the things he hadn’t let himself see — all the glances, the way Mischa always sat too close, the way Mischa's voice always softened when he said his name, the way Mischa had thrown himself in front of him during the accident — they all came crashing down on him.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest.

"Mischa..." Dimitri breathed, like it was the first time he'd really seen him.

Mischa looked away, shrugging like it didn’t matter. But his hands were shaking.

Before anyone else could speak, Dimitri stood up suddenly, almost tripping over his own feet as he rushed to Mischa.

"You— You didn’t mean that, did you?" Dimitri stammered, looking like he wanted to believe but was too scared to hope. "You don’t— You don’t love me like that... right?"

Mischa’s breath hitched.

"I do," he said, voice barely a whisper. "I always have."

Dimitri’s heart twisted so tight it hurt.

"Why didn’t you ever tell me?" Dimitri whispered.

Mischa laughed, broken and soft. "Cause you’re... you, Dima. And I’m just... me."

Dimitri blinked fast, throat tight. "But I—" He stopped, struggling for words.

Virgil watched from a distance, arms crossed, something like understanding in his eyes.

"You don’t have to say anything," Mischa said quickly, like he couldn’t bear to hear Dimitri reject him. "I just... I wanted you to know."

But Dimitri shook his head. "No, Mischa— I— I don’t know what to say because I think I—"

He hesitated, heart racing, a flush creeping over his cheeks.

"I think I might feel the same," Dimitri whispered, barely audible.

Mischa’s eyes snapped to his, wide and hopeful and scared.

"You do?" Mischa breathed, like he couldn’t believe it.

Dimitri gave a tiny nod, stepping closer, close enough Mischa could feel the warmth of him. "I just didn’t realize it until I thought I might lose you forever."

"Well," Mischa said, voice thick with emotion, "guess it took dying to figure this crap out, huh?"

Dimitri let out a soft laugh, tears in his eyes. "Guess so."

There was a long pause, both of them staring at each other like they were seeing the other for the first time.

Then Virgil’s voice cut through softly, but not unkind.

"Looks like some of you are figuring out what you really want, huh?"

Noel smirked. "About time."

Ricky gave a little fist pump in the air. "Let’s goooo!"

Ocean, pretending not to care, wiped her eyes when no one was looking.

Constance beamed, whispering, "They’re perfect."

Dimitri reached out, grabbing Mischa’s hand — and for once, Mischa didn’t pull away.

Instead, he held on tighter.

And maybe, just maybe, if one of them made it back, they'd finally get to have that life they were too scared to reach for before.

"What I Never Said"

The moment between Dimitri and Mischa still hung heavy in the air, like a delicate thread neither of them wanted to break. But eventually, Virgil clapped his hands together, the sound sharp enough to make everyone flinch.

"Alright, lovebirds," he said with a sly grin but an understanding glint in his eyes. "We got more ground to cover."

Reluctantly, Mischa let go of Dimitri’s hand, though their fingers brushed for a moment longer than necessary, like neither wanted to lose that contact.

Virgil's eyes swept over the group. "You’ve all had your turn, except for one," he added, gaze landing on Dimitri.

Dimitri’s heart stuttered.

He looked around at everyone else — Constance sitting with her hands neatly folded in her lap, eyes still a little glassy from her song; Ocean biting her lip, arms crossed like she could hold herself together that way; Noel picking at his nails, but looking more vulnerable than usual; Ricky resting his chin on his hands, eyes thoughtful as though still half-lost in whatever dream he'd sung about.

They had all sung already. They had all shown who they were and what they wanted.

And now it was just him.

Dimitri felt frozen, throat tight.

"You don’t have to rush it, angel boy," Virgil said, voice oddly soft. "But you do have to say something. The others did. You owe it to them. And to yourself."

Dimitri swallowed, glancing at Mischa again. Mischa was watching him, eyes wide and soft, like he knew how hard this was — but there was something else there too, like hope. Like waiting.

Dimitri’s chest ached.

He stood up slowly, brushing his hands over his jeans even though there was nothing to wipe away.

"I—" he started, then faltered. He looked down, then back up, taking a shaky breath.

"I don’t know what to say," he admitted, voice small. "Everyone else… you all know what you want. You know what you're fighting for."

He looked over at Constance, who gave him a gentle, encouraging smile. At Noel, who rolled his eyes but nodded. At Ocean, who looked at him like she wanted him to say something good. At Ricky, who offered a quiet thumbs-up.

And finally, at Mischa.

Mischa’s eyes met his, soft and searching.

"I didn’t think I deserved to live," Dimitri whispered. "Not after the accident. Not when everyone else—" His voice broke, and he pressed his lips together, willing himself not to cry.

"I thought… Maybe if I stayed quiet, if I disappeared a little, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But then Mischa—"

He cut off, looking away, throat too tight to speak.

Virgil was quiet now, watching with those sharp, knowing eyes.

"You got something to say, angel?" Virgil asked softly.

Dimitri closed his eyes for a moment.

And when he opened them, he knew.

He took a step forward.

"I think I’m tired of pretending I don’t care," Dimitri said quietly. "I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be — the perfect kid, the one who made it out. I didn’t want to be the one."

He looked right at Mischa.

"I wanted us to get out."

Mischa’s breath caught, and Dimitri could see the way his hands clenched at his sides, like he was holding back everything he wanted to say.

"So if I’m going to sing," Dimitri whispered, "it’s going to be for you."

Mischa’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t say anything.

Virgil’s tail twitched. "Alright, angel boy. Let’s hear it."

Dimitri let out a breath, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Then, quietly, almost like a prayer, he began to sing.

🎶 "If I Had Known (I'd Have Chosen You)" 🎶 (Soft piano begins to play, as if coming from nowhere. His voice is soft, almost trembling at first.)

"If I had known it would end that night, I’d have held you close, held on tight. If I had seen what you were to me, Maybe now, we’d both be free."

(He looks down, voice thick with emotion, but keeps going.)

"You were always there, just out of view, And I was too scared to say I loved you. Now I’m standing here, broken and torn, Wishing I'd loved you before I was reborn."

(His gaze lifts to Mischa, tears in his eyes.)

"If I could go back, I’d take your hand, Walk through fire, across this land. I’d scream your name, I wouldn’t hide, I’d be right there, by your side."

When he finished, the room was silent — no snark, no teasing, just quiet, heavy with emotion.

Dimitri was shaking, wiping at his face, but for once, he didn’t care if anyone saw him cry.

Virgil whistled low. "Damn, angel boy. Didn’t think you had that in you."

Dimitri let out a watery laugh, glancing at Mischa through tear-filled eyes.

Mischa stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

In two steps, he was in front of Dimitri, grabbing his face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together.

"You idiot," Mischa whispered, but his voice was soft and full of something close to wonder. "I’ve been in love with you for years, and you waited until we were dead to say something?"

Dimitri laughed, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I didn’t know. I didn’t realize it until I almost lost you."

"You did lose me," Mischa whispered, voice breaking. "But I’m here. And so are you."

Dimitri leaned into him, closing his eyes. "I don’t want to go back without you."

"Me neither," Mischa whispered back.

Virgil stood, slinging his bass over his shoulder. "Looks like we’ve got some decisions to make," he said, though his voice was quieter now. "But maybe y’all figured out what really matters."

He grinned, sharp teeth glinting. "Maybe it was never about who deserved to live. Maybe it’s about who learned how to."

Dimitri and Mischa stayed close, holding onto each other like they were afraid to let go.

And for the first time since the accident, Dimitri didn’t feel alone.

"Choosing to Live, Choosing to Love"

The room — or whatever this strange liminal space was — felt heavier now, like the air had thickened around them. But for Dimitri, Mischa’s arms around him were the only real thing.

The others watched quietly, a mix of softness and sadness in their eyes.

Ocean, for all her sharp edges, smiled just a little, her arms no longer crossed so tightly.

Noel was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief that he definitely pulled from nowhere.

Constance was quietly leaning into Ricky, who had his arm around her shoulders, nodding with quiet approval.

Even Virgil looked thoughtful, his usual smirk faded to something softer. His tail twitched lazily, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.

Finally, he sighed, slinging his bass across his back and stepping forward.

"Alright, sweethearts. We’ve had our confessions, our breakdowns, our musical therapy." He paused, eyeing Dimitri and Mischa still tangled up in each other. "Some of you had a little extra therapy."

Dimitri blushed but didn’t move away, not this time.

"But now comes the real kicker," Virgil said, pacing slowly in a circle around them. "Who gets to go back?"

The words hit like a slap, sharp and cold.

Dimitri stiffened, fingers clutching Mischa’s sleeve.

"But—" Dimitri started, voice tight, "I thought—"

"You thought if you figured out your feelings, this would solve itself?" Virgil asked, head tilted. "Cute. But that’s not how this works."

He spun around, facing them all.

"Only one of you gets a second chance," he said, voice low but firm. "One person. One life."

The group fell silent, the weight of it pressing down on them.

"But—" Constance began, her voice shaking, "how do we choose that?"

"You don’t," Virgil said, smirking. "You show me. You show me why you should get to live."

Noel let out a bitter laugh. "What, another song? What if we’ve sung all we’ve got?"

Virgil just shrugged. "Then you better figure out what’s left."

Dimitri's heart was racing. His fingers were still tangled in Mischa's sleeve, like if he let go, he'd lose him all over again.

"I can't go back without you," Dimitri whispered, turning to Mischa, panic creeping into his voice. "I can't."

Mischa’s hand came up, cupping his face so gently it nearly undid him.

"Hey," Mischa said softly, "you can. You’re stronger than you think, Dima."

"But I don’t want to be strong if it means being without you."

Mischa’s eyes shimmered. "You think I don’t want to be with you? I do. More than anything."

"Then why are you acting like you're okay with me leaving you behind?" Dimitri’s voice cracked.

Mischa gave him a soft, sad smile. "Because if one of us has a shot at living... it should be you."

Dimitri shook his head, tears spilling freely now. "No. No, Mischa, please."

Mischa leaned their foreheads together again, speaking so only Dimitri could hear.

"You’ve got dreams. You’ve got that soft heart that the world needs. And I can’t— I can’t give you what you deserve. Not here. But maybe if you go back, you’ll find someone who—"

"I want you," Dimitri interrupted fiercely, grabbing Mischa’s face between his hands now. "You. Not anyone else."

Mischa closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

"I wish," he whispered.

"You don't have to wish." Dimitri kissed his cheek, lingering there. "Just choose me. Stay."

Virgil, standing nearby, raised a brow but said nothing.

Then Ricky stepped forward, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Look," Ricky said, scratching the back of his neck. "I know I sang about wanting to live again, and yeah... I meant it. But watching you two?" He smiled softly. "Maybe you need that shot more than any of us."

Constance nodded, tears in her eyes. "Yeah. I think... I think Dimitri should go back."

Noel sighed dramatically but gave a slight smirk. "If we have to pick someone... fine. Angel boy it is."

Even Ocean, though she didn’t say anything, gave a nod, eyes shining.

Dimitri looked around, stunned.

"You’d all... let me go back?" he asked, voice breaking.

"Someone has to," Constance said gently. "And it should be you."

Dimitri turned back to Mischa, panic and longing tangled in his chest. "But I don’t want to leave you."

"I know," Mischa whispered.

Virgil stepped closer, voice softer now, but serious.

"Listen, angel boy," he said. "Life’s not perfect. You don’t always get to keep the people you love."

Dimitri shook his head, tears falling freely. "But I just found him."

"I know," Virgil said quietly. "But think of what he'd want for you."

Dimitri turned to Mischa, searching his face for something — a way out, a miracle.

"Come back with me," Dimitri whispered.

Mischa smiled, but it was sad. "If I could, I would. But I need you to live for both of us, okay? Tell them about us. About me."

Dimitri clung to him, shaking his head, but Mischa just held him tighter.

"I love you, Dima," Mischa whispered in his ear. "I’ve always loved you."

Dimitri sobbed, whispering back, "I love you too. Always."

Virgil gave them a moment before speaking again, softer than before.

"So," he said gently. "Are you ready, angel?"

Dimitri looked up, eyes full of tears but filled with something else now too — determination.

He stood slowly, Mischa still holding his hand.

"If I have to leave," Dimitri said quietly, "I’ll go. But I’m taking Mischa’s love with me."

Virgil nodded, something warm and almost proud in his eyes. "Good answer."

As the others gathered close, ready to say goodbye, a soft glow began to build around Dimitri.

The choice had been made.

And as he looked back at Mischa — who smiled through his tears — Dimitri whispered to himself:

"I’ll live. For both of us."

"Living Without You"

The first thing Dimitri felt was cold air.

Not the dreamlike, too-still air of the in-between, but real, sharp, biting winter wind. The sound of machines beeping, the low murmur of voices, and a harsh fluorescent light seeping through his eyelids.

When he opened his eyes, everything was too bright. Too real.

He was back.

But Mischa wasn’t.

The hospital room was sterile and white, a single chair shoved in the corner. His parents weren’t there. No surprise.

A nurse rushed in when she saw he was awake, calling for doctors. Voices buzzed around him, but Dimitri just turned his head toward the window, eyes hollow.

Watching from the Other Side

In that strange liminal space, the other choir kids stood together, watching through a hazy mirror of light as Dimitri lay in that bed.

"He's awake," Constance whispered, both relieved and crushed.

Ocean wiped her eyes quickly, pretending she wasn’t crying.

"He looks... empty," Ricky murmured.

"Of course he does," Noel said bitterly. "We left him alone in that miserable world."

Virgil leaned back against a wall, arms crossed, watching too, though his usual smirk was gone.

And Mischa — Mischa was standing at the front of them all, pressed as close to that shimmering veil as he could get, like if he just wanted it hard enough, he could break through and go to Dimitri.

His hand was flat against the barrier, trembling. "Dima..." he whispered.

Back in the Real World

The town gathered around Dimitri like he was some kind of miracle, some holy relic.

People he'd never spoken to touched his hands, stroked his hair without permission.

"We're so glad you're back," they’d say, tears in their eyes. "You were chosen, you must be special, God spared you."

They acted like he was a symbol, not a person.

No one asked him how he felt.

No one asked what it was like to survive when all his friends were dead.

His house was cold and empty when he got home. His parents barely looked up from their phones when he walked through the door.

"You're still moping?" his father grumbled from behind a newspaper. "You should be grateful to be alive."

His mother didn’t even say happy birthday when the day rolled around. Not even a cake, not even a card.

They didn’t care.

The Choir Watching Him

From the other side, Mischa watched all of this unfold, his fists clenching tighter every day.

"They're treating him like some angelic puppet," Mischa growled. "Like he doesn't even matter beyond their stupid story."

"You should’ve been there, Mischa," Constance whispered sadly. "He wouldn’t feel so alone."

"I should’ve gone back," Mischa said through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

"But you wanted him to live," Ricky reminded gently.

"Yeah, but not like this!" Mischa snapped, running his hands through his hair.

Ocean folded her arms, scowling. "He deserves better. From all of them."

Dimitri and Dedushka

Dimitri stopped going to school. He stopped singing. He stopped everything.

But one cold evening, while wandering the edge of town, trying to breathe, trying to feel something, he heard a soft chittering sound.

A familiar one.

There, hiding under a bench, was Dedushka — the little skunk Mischa had loved so much.

The skunk looked up at him with wide, shiny eyes and let out a soft little noise.

Dimitri's heart cracked open all over again.

He sank to his knees, reaching out a trembling hand. "Hey, little guy..." His voice broke as Dedushka waddled over, bumping against his hand for pets.

Tears poured down Dimitri’s cheeks as he scooped Dedushka into his arms, holding him like something precious.

"I miss him too," he whispered to the skunk.

Watching From Beyond — Choir Reactions

In the in-between, Mischa was crying now, watching Dimitri cradle Dedushka.

"God, Dima... I’m sorry," he whispered, voice shaking, leaning into the veil like it could hold him up.

Constance pressed her hand over her mouth, tears running down her cheeks.

"I wish we could do something," Ricky whispered.

"I’d give anything to fix this," Mischa choked out.

Town Still Not Listening

Even as Dimitri found small comfort in Dedushka, the town didn’t stop.

They showed up at his house uninvited, bringing food he didn’t eat, wanting to take photos with him, of him, to tell others that they'd "visited the miracle boy."

They asked him to speak at events he didn’t want to be at, to "inspire" them.

And when he refused, when he set boundaries, they called him "ungrateful," "rude," "broken."

They never saw him, only what they wanted him to be.

Mischa’s Anger and Heartbreak

Mischa turned away from the veil, pacing furiously. "I can't watch this anymore. He's dying in there — and no one sees it."

Virgil, watching quietly from the corner, finally spoke.

"You know," Virgil said slowly, "sometimes... people need a little push from beyond."

Mischa's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

Virgil grinned, sharp and dangerous. "Maybe it's time you remind him he's not alone."

"Between Worlds — Finding a Way Back to You"

The wind was sharp that night, slicing through Dimitri’s sweater as he sat under the old oak tree behind his house, Dedushka curled on his lap, purring softly like a cat.

The town was having another "Remembrance Ceremony" — for his friends, his family, who were gone.

But Dimitri wasn’t there.

Because no matter how many candles they lit, none of them knew who Mischa really was. None of them knew him.

And they didn’t know that Dimitri was breaking, piece by piece.

"I wish you were here, Mish," Dimitri whispered, pressing his face into the soft fur of the skunk, his voice hoarse. "I wish I told you how much I loved you when I had the chance."

Dedushka made a soft little chirr, like he understood, like he was saying “I know.”

Meanwhile, in the in-between

Mischa was pacing again, his fingers tangled in his hair, watching Dimitri like his life depended on it.

"He's gonna give up," Mischa rasped, voice cracking. "I can see it."

Constance wiped her tears. "You need to reach him, Mischa. Somehow."

"But how?!" Mischa cried. "There's this wall, this— this stupid line I can't cross. And I left him. I left him."

"You didn't," Noel said softly, for once without a single sarcastic word. "You saved him."

"But what if saving him means letting him suffer alone?"

Virgil had been watching from a distance, but now he stepped in. His sharp grin was gone, replaced with something serious.

"Look, I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but... there are ways," Virgil muttered. "Risks. Things that aren't really 'allowed'."

Mischa froze. "What do you mean?"

Virgil rolled his shoulders. "Sometimes, if you need to say something that badly, if your soul can't let go? You can cross over for a moment. But there’s a price."

Mischa stepped closer, heart pounding. "What kind of price?"

Virgil gave him a look. "You give up moving on. You stay stuck here. Forever. Watching."

Without a second of hesitation, Mischa whispered: "I'd do it."

Virgil blinked, surprised. "You don’t even wanna think about it?"

"I have thought about it," Mischa said, fierce and desperate. "If it means Dimitri knows I love him? I’ll stay."

Ocean swallowed hard, whispering, "Are you sure?"

Mischa’s voice broke. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

That night — Dimitri's dream

Dimitri finally fell asleep, head resting against the tree, Dedushka curled close to his chest.

The dream was soft at first. Warm light. The smell of old flowers.

And then...

"Dima."

The voice. His voice.

Dimitri’s eyes shot open — and there, standing in front of him, was Mischa.

Not like a memory, not like a ghost. Mischa.

"Dima," Mischa whispered, stepping closer, eyes wide and soft and so full of love. "You can hear me?"

Dimitri scrambled to his feet, heart slamming in his chest. "Mish—Mischa?"

"It's me," Mischa whispered, reaching out, like he was afraid Dimitri would fade if he touched him. "I’m here. For a little while."

Tears flooded Dimitri’s eyes as he surged forward, throwing himself into Mischa's arms.

"I thought— I thought I'd never—" Dimitri sobbed against his chest, clinging to him like he was air itself.

Mischa held him close, burying his face in Dimitri’s hair. "I know, Dima. I know."

"I can't do this without you," Dimitri whispered. "I can’t."

Mischa cupped his face, gently forcing him to look up. "You don’t have to do it without me. I’m always with you. Always."

"But I need you, not a memory, not—"

Mischa smiled sadly. "I know. But you’ve gotta live, Dima. You’ve gotta fight for yourself. For both of us."

Dimitri shook his head, tears pouring down. "Why did you leave me?"

Mischa’s own tears fell now. "Because I wanted you to live. To have a chance. Because I loved you more than I loved anything else."

Dimitri was sobbing now. "I love you, too."

Mischa kissed his forehead, lingering there. "You have to keep going. Promise me."

"I can’t—"

"You can," Mischa said, more firmly now. "And when you fight back, when you find your voice, I’ll be right there. Watching. Loving you."

Dimitri's breath was shaky. "You’ll stay?"

Mischa smiled gently. "I’ll stay."

Waking up — Changed

Dimitri woke with a start, tears still on his cheeks, but something different in his chest.

Like a flame that wouldn't go out. Like Mischa's love was burning there, warm and real.

Dedushka was still in his arms, blinking up at him.

"I’m gonna fight, Mish," Dimitri whispered, his voice steadier than it had been in weeks. "I promise."

Dimitri standing up

It started small. Refusing to let people touch him. Saying no when they asked for photos.

Then bigger.

Speaking out, in front of a crowd, when they asked him to give a speech about "God’s miracle."

"I’m not a miracle," Dimitri said, voice trembling but strong. "I’m just a boy who lost his family."

He looked up, eyes fierce through his tears.

"And if you really cared, you’d stop pretending I’m something I’m not. You’d let me grieve. You’d remember my friends. You’d remember Mischa."

The crowd was silent.

His parents, standing in the back, exchanged uncomfortable glances.

But Dimitri didn't care.

"I loved him," Dimitri said, voice breaking, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "And I’ll never stop."

Back in the in-between — Watching him rise

Mischa watched with tears in his eyes, pride glowing in his chest as Dimitri finally stood up for himself.

"He’s doing it," Mischa whispered. "He’s really doing it."

Virgil smirked, leaning on his bass. "Told you he’d find a way."

Constance smiled through her tears, and even Noel gave a tiny, approving nod.

"You’re still with him," Ricky said softly. "Just like you promised."

Mischa smiled, pressing his hand to the barrier. "Yeah. Always."

Final scene — a hint of hope

That night, as Dimitri curled up in bed, Dedushka beside him, a soft breeze stirred the room.

And for a moment — just for a moment — he could swear he felt Mischa’s hand brush his cheek.

He smiled, tears glimmering in his eyes but peaceful now.

"Goodnight, Mish," he whispered.

Somewhere beyond, Mischa smiled back.

"Goodnight, Dima."

"The Light Left Behind"

Spring was starting to creep into the edges of winter, soft and slow, like even the earth was learning how to heal.

Dimitri sat on the porch steps, Dedushka curled on his lap, snuffling against his hand like always. Nothing magical about the little guy—just a stubborn, scrappy skunk who refused to leave him alone.

And honestly? Dimitri was grateful for that.

The town was quieter now. People still stared sometimes, still whispered when they thought he couldn't hear. But the shrines were smaller, fewer. The fake smiles and pitying eyes were fading, leaving space for something else.

Real life.

Standing up to his parents

His parents had tried to keep ignoring him—tried to pretend he didn’t exist, like they always did.

But Dimitri wasn’t that scared, quiet boy anymore.

He stood in the kitchen one morning, watching them sip coffee, scroll on their phones.

"Do you even remember what day it is?" Dimitri asked, voice sharp as glass.

His mother barely glanced up. "What are you talking about now?"

"It’s the anniversary," he said, every word shaking but solid. "Of the accident."

Silence.

"And of losing everyone I loved."

Still, nothing.

"And you know what?" Dimitri whispered, standing straighter, a fire in his eyes. "You don’t get to act like I’m not here anymore. You don’t get to pretend I’m some ghost haunting this house while you go on like I don’t exist."

His father frowned, finally looking at him. "Watch your tone."

"No," Dimitri snapped. "You watch yours. Because you lost a son that day too. But unlike you, I’m still here. And I’m done letting you make me feel like I’m nothing."

For the first time in his life, they looked at him like maybe they were seeing him. He didn’t wait for a response.

He just turned and left — chose himself.

The signs from the others

There were little things that made Dimitri wonder, though.

Sometimes when he walked by the old park where the choir used to hang out, he swore he could hear a soft hum — the echo of Constance’s laugh, Ricky's warm singing in the breeze. Sometimes, when the sunset hit just right, it felt like Noel was still sitting on the swings, muttering sharp words but smiling softly. And Ocean — god, he could almost hear her lecturing him to "fix his posture" if he slouched too much on the benches.

And Mischa—

Mischa felt like a constant heartbeat behind it all.

But Dimitri knew now, deep down, that while the others had found peace, Mischa was still here. Watching. Loving him from a distance.

It was both heartbreaking and comforting.

Meeting someone new — and seeing Mischa's light

A new family moved into town that spring. Quiet, a little odd, not the type to show up to every town event — Dimitri liked that.

Their son, Alexei, was... something else.

Soft brown eyes, a sharp wit under layers of shyness. Someone who didn’t treat Dimitri like glass or a myth, but like a person.

They ran into each other at the park when Dedushka decided to steal Alexei's sandwich straight from his hands.

"Your skunk just stole my lunch," Alexei said flatly, but then cracked a small grin.

Dimitri blinked — and for the first time in forever — laughed. Like, really laughed.

"Yeah, well," Dimitri said, "he’s kind of a menace."

They started hanging out after that. Small things — walks in the woods, music shared over cheap headphones, long conversations about everything and nothing.

And slowly — slowly — Dimitri felt himself soften.

There was a day, sitting in the grass, where Alexei looked at him, head tilted.

"You always look like you’re waiting for someone who isn’t here," Alexei said gently.

Dimitri swallowed, looking away. "I guess I am."

Alexei nudged his shoulder. "It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting with you."

And in that moment, something shifted.

Because when Dimitri looked at Alexei’s warm smile, his soft eyes — he didn’t just see Mischa. He saw someone who could be his own kind of light.

Letting go — but never fully

It was on the first warm night of summer when Dimitri went back to the tree behind his house, where he had always sat and cried for Mischa.

But this time, he didn’t cry.

He sat quietly, watching the stars.

Dedushka curled beside him, a comforting weight.

"I think I’m gonna be okay, Mish," Dimitri whispered into the dark.

A soft wind stirred the leaves, and Dimitri closed his eyes, imagining Mischa smiling at him from beyond that veil.

"I still love you. Always will," he said, voice soft but steady. "But I think it’s time I lived like you’d want me to. Time I let myself love again."

For a moment, the air felt warm around him — like arms wrapping him close, like a kiss on his forehead.

And when he opened his eyes, there wasn’t sadness in his chest. Just love.

"Goodnight, Mischa," he whispered.

And far away — or maybe closer than he thought — Mischa’s voice echoed back, soft and proud: "Goodnight, Dima."

Epilogue: "For the Ones Who Stayed, and the Ones Who Had to Leave"

The town never told the truth about them.

They said Mischa was "troubled" — like that was all he was. Not a boy who crossed oceans with his mother, only to lose her and be left in a house that never wanted him. Not a boy who carried fire and love in equal measure, who only ever wanted to protect the people he cared for.

They never spoke of how Noel had to hide every piece of himself — folding his heart smaller and smaller — because being seen was dangerous in a place like this. Of how he dreamed of music and love, but lived in fear no one would ever let him have it.

They called Ocean "bossy," but they never said how she fought to be heard in a family that floated away from her, who never understood why she didn’t smile and go along. They never said how she held everyone else together while quietly falling apart.

They called Constance "sweet," like she was just some little bird. But no one saw how hard she fought to be enough — even for the family that loved her, even when she had a baby brother to protect. No one saw the way her own mind could be her sharpest enemy.

They called Ricky "brave," like that was enough. They didn’t know what it was to be trapped in a body that didn’t always listen, to be cut off from voices and laughter, from running and shouting with the other kids. To want so badly to be part of the world and feel like you never could be.

And Dimitri —

Dimitri was their saint. Their holy boy. The one who lived when everyone else died. Frozen in time as this perfect symbol of tragedy and hope.

But no one saw Dimitri, the person. The boy who was neglected and hated by the people who were supposed to love him. The boy who only ever felt safe around his uncle, until even he was taken away. The boy who couldn’t speak English until he was twelve, and who learned to survive by going silent and small. The boy who was hurt in ways no one ever knew — by the one adult he thought he could trust, his music teacher, who shattered what little safety he had. The boy who only ever had Dedushka, the stray skunk in the alley, as a friend. The boy who thought Mischa was the first person who ever truly saw him.

And now, he was the boy who had to live when no one else did.

But this is not where his story ends.

It took years for Dimitri to understand he was allowed to be more than a ghost walking through his own life.

It took years to see that the town’s love wasn’t love — it was obsession. A way to keep him frozen so they didn’t have to face what really happened.

It took even longer to see that what Mischa had given him — that final act of love — wasn’t meant to trap him in grief forever.

It was meant to set him free.

Years Later — Dimitri’s New Life

Dimitri left.

He left the town behind, left the people who never knew how to love him right, left the house that had never been a home. He took Dedushka (who still waddled along, fat and spoiled like a tiny king), packed a backpack, and left.

And he built something new.

A home.

It wasn’t perfect. He still flinched sometimes when people got too close. Still struggled with nightmares that pulled him under. Still had days when the guilt felt like it would crush him — because he lived, and they didn’t.

But he also laughed.

He found people who saw him as a person, not a symbol. He learned to cook. He learned to dance — badly, awkwardly, but joyfully. He kept singing, though sometimes his voice broke on the high notes.

And somewhere along the way, he met someone.

Someone gentle, patient. Someone who never asked about the scars unless Dimitri wanted to speak. Someone who sat with him in the quiet and didn’t try to fix him — just stayed.

And slowly, Dimitri let himself love. Not like with Mischa — that love was a wildfire, bright and burning and too fast. This love was a soft candle. Steady. Safe.

The Memory of His Friends

But he never forgot.

Some nights, he would sit on his tiny apartment balcony, Dedushka curled on his lap, and look up at the stars.

He would remember Mischa’s laugh, the way he used to call Dimitri "Dima" like it was a secret just for them.

He would remember Ocean rolling her eyes but always looking out for him. Noel quietly slipping him notes with song lyrics that said all the things they couldn't say aloud. Constance pulling him into hugs that made him feel less alone. Ricky smiling at him with eyes full of understanding no one else had.

And sometimes, he would whisper their names to the sky — like maybe, just maybe, they could hear him.

"I’m okay," he would say. "I’m living. I’m doing what you wanted for me."

Final Image

If you were to see Dimitri now — years later — you might not recognize him.

There’s still sadness in his eyes, sure. But there’s life, too. There’s a man who knows how to stand up for himself, who would never let anyone treat him like an object again.

There’s a man who fights for kids like him — who volunteers, who listens when no one else will. Who makes sure no other quiet boy has to go through what he did without someone to see him.

There’s a man who still talks to a fat skunk like it's his child.

And if you looked closely, on his wrist, there’s a small tattoo.

Seven stars, one for each of them — and one for himself.

Because he belongs to that story, too. Not just as the one who lived. But as the one who found a way to keep living — for all of them.

Last Words — For Them, and For Himself

"You weren’t just tragedy," he whispers to the night. "You were light. And I’ll carry that light. Always."

And then, with a soft smile, he heads inside.

Because there’s a life waiting. A life he chose.

A life they would be proud of him for living.

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currentlyconfused16 · 2 years ago

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Normally I hate it when there’s fighting in sports but the Argentinians had it coming sorry not sorry

#virgil really said ‘don’t mess with my boy’#argentinia vs netherlands #fifa world cup #fifa 2022 #netherlands #argentinia #nedarg

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poisonedapples · 4 years ago

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Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other.

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit.

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s…cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

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Nobody Left Behind

Prompt: So I don't know if you're taking requests? But I just watched Lilo and Stitch for the first time since I got into TSS and I've adopted the headcanon that it is Remus's *favorite* movie (and he's memorized the script) and I love your writing and I'd love to see something angsty involving Remus feeling lonely/unloved by his brother, and maybe Lilo and Stitch is involved somehow. IDK, go wild. (and feel free to ignore this if you aren't taking requests) <3 - anon

it is Le Fluff™ hours my good bitches

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Remus has some abandonment issues, but it’s not too much

Pairings: it is platonic all the way down, babes

Word Count: 2935

Ohana means family.

Family.

FamILY.

What a weird word.

Sometimes it’s the people you’re born with. Well, not ‘with,’ not necessarily, but the people you are born to. A mother, a father, a sister, a brother. Sometimes two mothers, sometimes two fathers, sometimes a different parent. Sometimes two sisters, sometimes two brothers, sometimes a different sibling. Sometimes a mess of assorted people that all share the same blood. A family.

Remus wasn’t born.

He was made though, crafted and shaped and born out of the swirling chaos of a child’s mind that didn’t understand the world well enough without other people to help. He remembers getting cobbled together from scraps of thoughts and feelings and morphing them into limbs, into features, into something that vaguely resembled the body of the child he was made to fit. Not the ‘fitting’ was ever his job.

Just his brother’s.

Is his brother his family?

By all accounts he should be, right? A brother is one of those people that are traditionally part of the ‘family’ group, right, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, live with. But is Roman really his…brother?

That’s what they decided to call themselves because nothing else worked. They weren’t really brothers, they were halves. But they weren’t really halves because there was never a whole to begin with.

The King wasn’t a ‘whole,’ he was…well, he was the King. Half of a king is not a prince. Half of a king is not a duke.

Half of a king is a mess of blood and bones and viscera dripping off of the end of a Morningstar in the middle of the night when only a destroyed facsimile makes the insanity bleed away just enough to breathe again.

The closest thing to twins, is what they decided on eventually. They’re twins. One light, one dark. One that marches boldly into danger to confront the wickedness of the world, one that dwells in the shadows and cackles with the demons nipping at his heels. One that loves, one that isn’t loved.

Sure, they had some things in common. They both loved to fight, hence the scars and the bruises and the wounds that would never, ever heal, the distrust that would never be fixed ever, because the urge to sink their teeth into each other’s necks and rip never went away. They both loved to make, Roman the peaceful lies he tells himself to make up for the gaping wounds Remus leaves as he carves his perfectly tailored destruction. They both love Disney.

Roman’s made it part of his whole deal as the Prince, he loves Disney. He bursts into song every chance he gets, drags the others in until the Mindscape rings with joyful song and there’s nowhere left for any sadness or darkness. He takes his lessons from it, models himself using the traits of the characters he admires most. Cultivates his art of storytelling, perfect to a tee.

Remus loves Disney too. Loves how easy it is to twist the lens to distort the image just enough to let the darker parts of the Imagination run wild. What is the real implication of never growing old, never understanding what it means to die? What kind of person curses a ten-year-old boy for being cautious about who he answers the door to? What could the story have been if the prince never comes to save the day?

When they were smaller it was fine. When they were still getting used to the fact that they weren’t King anymore, they used to sit and watch so many Disney movies. Roman’s favorite was always changing, one week it was Beauty and the Beast, then it was Mulan, then it was Cinderella, it never stayed the same.

Remus’s was always Lilo and Stitch.

Roman never understood it, said it was boring, there wasn’t a prince, there wasn’t anything exciting. Remus said that aliens were plenty exciting, thank you very much.

But they would always watch it. The King wasn’t there anymore, but the prince and the Duke were.

…when they were smaller, there was one time where the prince wasn’t there at all.

Remus remembers waking up one day and feeling like he was being Split all over again. The maggots in his bones reached their awful little mouths into his heart and pulled, yanking him all the way across the bed and to the door, howling and screaming for his twin.

Only to be met with a blank wall.

He remembers howling at the top of his lungs until Janus had rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him and telling him shh, be quiet, hush now, you’re alright, you’re not hurt. And when he couldn’t explain that he was hurt, half of him was missing, Remus needed to go find him, Janus’s mouth had hardened into a thin line and told him that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

He remembers thinking that was a lie.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a lie.

Roman was fine.

Roman was more than fine, because Roman had a family.

Roman had Patton, who is the actual manifestation of sunshine and rainbows and loved so much it almost burns. The darkness that wrapped around Remus’s corner of the Imagination screeched and hissed at the very idea of being loved that much, even as part of him strained with all its might to get to it. But Patton would never set foot near this side of the Mindscape.

Roman had Logan, who represents everything true about the Mindscape, about Thomas, about the world. The reality of things that would never let anything Remus created make it anywhere close to anything important because it was dangerous, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. Logan wouldn’t want anything to do with something so useless.

And that was okay. Because Roman may have been gone but Remus wasn’t alone. Remus had Virgil, who lived with fear soaking every fiber of his being. Remus had Janus, who wrapped himself in darkness and obscurity and laughed.

But then Virgil left. And now Roman had Virgil, who used Thomas’s anxieties to keep him safe, to help Roman and the others figure out what to do, how to take care of everybody, and how to make the darkness go away. And Virgil would never willingly sink himself back into the darkness when he’d spent so long clawing himself out of it.

But that was okay, because Remus had Janus. Janus, who plotted and schemed and smirked at how easily the others were pulled along by his strings, luring them deeper and deeper as Remus readied his Morningstar for the trap to be sprung.

But then they sprung the trap and everything went wrong.

Roman didn’t want to fight. He just…he let Remus knock him out and didn’t show up again except to scoff and say he didn’t like him.

And that was…wrong.

Because Roman wasn’t supposed to like him but he was never only supposed to not like him. Roman was supposed to declare that he wasn’t welcome and try and slash him with his sword. Roman was supposed to try and banish him from the Mindscape and spit insults at him until he left, cackling all the while. Roman was supposed to hate him.

But Roman didn’t hate him, he just…he just said he didn’t like him.

But that was okay, because Janus could just come up with a better plan with him this time. They could do it properly, and Roman would hate him again and it would be back to normal.

But then Janus left. And now Roman has Janus, who keeps his eyes where the prince’s aren’t, when he can’t see what’s happening or he can’t bear to look, to help Roman figure out what to do when what seems to be happening isn’t anything that the prince is used to dealing with. And Janus would never willingly step away from a place that finally accepted him.

Roman has them now. Roman has people that chose him. Roman’s family chose him. He chose them. They chose each other.

Remus’s grip on his Morningstar slackens and the thing falls to the ground with a heavy clunk. He moves numbly through his room until he can fall to his knees on his bed.

He just came from the living room. They were all there. Roman was talking with Logan, ranting about some new show they were both watching. Janus was in the kitchen with Patton, making something for dinner that everyone—well, almost everyone—could eat. Virgil was on the back of the couch, reaching out for Roman’s shoulder every once in a while.

Remus had waited behind the couch. For someone to sit down, for someone to see him and shriek, or even maybe—just maybe—for someone to ask where he was.

But no.

Patton had come over and gently ruffled Virgil’s hair, saying that dinner was ready. Logan and Roman had moved into the kitchen, demanding Janus’s attention and pulling him into their conversation. Virgil had murmured a quiet thank you and Roman had asked him for what?

“Y’know,” Virgil had said, “for…this.”

“Of course,” Roman had laughed, the soft rustle of fabric as he probably pulled the emo in for a hug—what did those feel like?— “I should be thanking you?”

“What for, kiddo?”

“I dunno, it just…feels like it’s been forever since we’ve all sat down for dinner together.”

Remus’s chest had started to hurt.

“The whole family.”

The whole family.

Remus’s eyes well up with stubborn tears and he angrily swipes them away, baring his teeth at the memory and focusing intently on the things on the bed. Each hand-stitched, each carefully kept clean.

His family.

He reaches out with a shaking hand and tucks the blue frog plushie into the crook of his arm, crawling into the middle of the bed and balancing the purple spider on his shoulder. His hands keep shaking as he wraps the long yellow snake securely around his neck, clutching the head under his chin and nuzzling it protectively. The dark blue cat he holds in his other hand, careful not to tear its tie as he scrunches in on himself.

Wait.

Where is it?

No, no, no, no—

Remus growls, placing all of his family gently on the floor before all but tearing at his sheets. Where is it, where is it, where is it—his heartbeat starts to rise as his search grows more frantic, where is it, where is it—

The slightest little puff of red hair and he howls, lunging for it and sweeping it into his lap. He pauses to make sure the lion’s crown didn’t fall off and sighs when he sees it still in place. He sets the lion between his legs and leans over, adjusting everyone back into place and scrunching himself into a ball again. He rubs his nose against the lion’s fur and nuzzles into the soft fabric.

He’d never be able to forgive himself if he lost them.

Because Ohana means family.

Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

——————————————————

There’s a knock on his door.

Why is someone knocking on his door?

They knock again.

Remus looks up, carefully butting the spider out of the way with his head and sitting up. The snake hangs off his shoulder and he lets it, only missing its warmth once the knock sounds again.

The frog and the cat watch him warily as he climbs out of bed, the lion clutched in his hand.

The door squeaks slightly as he opens it.

“So, I’ve got popcorn, I found the weird gummy snakes, and they had this chocolate-covered bacon which we have to try—Remus?”

Roman?

Roman stands there, his arms full of snacks and blankets, his head tilted. He glances behind Remus—probably to check something or other—and then back at him.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

“Why are you here?” Roman doesn’t like him.

“It’s movie night, Re, of course, I’m here.” Roman chuckles nervously before taking in his tear-stained face. “Hey, Re, what’s going on? Are you okay? Can I come in?”

Why is Roman here? Roman has his family, what is he doing here? With Remus?

“Remus—“ oh, right, Roman’s talking to him—why is Roman talking to him?—in a soft voice now— “Remus, hey, look at me.”

Remus blinks. Oh. Roman looks concerned now, he’s reaching for him.

“Hey,” he murmurs as he ruffles Remus’s hair, “what’s going on? Have you been crying?”

Remus nods dumbly.

“I’m sorry, Re, can I help?”

Help? Why does Roman want to help?

Oh, he’s waiting for an answer.

“…sure.”

“Thank you,” Roman says softly, “can I come in?”

Remus steps aside wordlessly and Roman walks in, pausing when he sees the rest of Remus’s family on the bed.

“Did you make them?”

Something dark twists in Remus’s chest as he sees Roman reach for the spider.

“Don’t.”

Roman backs off, stepping back as Remus snatches up his family and cradles them in his lap, glaring at Roman and curling up on the bed.

“I won’t, Re, I’m sorry,” Roman says, still speaking softly, “can I sit?”

“…floor.”

Roman sits on the floor, setting aside the blankets and snacks, looking up at him. He still looks concerned. Why? Roman doesn’t like him.

“Why weren’t you at dinner,” he asks gently, “I was worried.”

Worried? About him? Remus snorts.

“You had your whole family there,” he spits, “why would you worry?”

“But you weren’t there,” Roman says like that makes any difference, “so I was worried.”

Remus shakes his head. Roman doesn’t get it. Roman doesn’t worry about him, he worries about other things. But if Roman wants to know why he wasn’t at dinner, he’ll tell him.

“I was with my family.”

Roman’s brow furrows as he glances around again. “…your family?”

Remus huddles protectively around his family. “Yes. My family.”

Roman’s eyes widen as he takes in Remus’s posture and how he reacted when Roman asked about them earlier.

“…are they your family, Remus?”

“Yes.” He holds them tighter. “I chose them. They won’t leave me. They won’t forget me. That’s what family means.”

Something crosses Roman’s face and he lets out a wounded noise. Wait. Are they fighting?

“Wait, Remus,” he murmurs, rising up to his knees, “did you—did you think we forgot you?”

“You did forget me.”

“I’m sorry, Remus, I would’ve come to look for you, but I thought—“ Roman shakes his head— “no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should’ve come got you, Re, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

Oh.

“…you didn’t?”

Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, Remus, I promise. I never meant to leave you.”

“But everybody leaves me.”

If possible, Roman’s eyes are now wider and he scrambles for the edge of the bed. “What do you mean, Remus, what do you mean everybody leaves you?”

“You left. Virgil left. Janus left. Everybody left.” The lion’s mane brushes against his lips as he bows his head. “But not them. They won’t leave me.”

“Oh, Remus—“

Something big lunges at him and Remus whimpers, he doesn’t have his Morningstar, he doesn’t want to fight, he doesn’t—he doesn’t—

What’s happening? He feels warm and he’s being squished and Roman is pressing himself against him and what—what—

“What’re you doing?”

“It’s a hug, Remus,” comes Roman’s voice, slightly muffled, from over his shoulder, “I’m hugging you.”

Oh.

“R-Ro?”

“Yeah, Re, I’m here, I’m right here, I won’t forget you, I won’t leave you behind, you’re my brother, you’re my family, I choose you.” Roman’s grip tightens on him and Remus just about gasps. “I choose you and I want you and I like you.”

Roman…Roman likes him?

Roman chooses him?

Roman won’t…leave?

“No, Remus,” Roman promises as he cautiously asks, “I won’t leave. Not unless you want me to.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s it.

Remus throws his arms around his twin and sobs, cries an entire ocean of tears into his brother’s shoulder because he’s here and he cares and he chose Remus. The darkness shudders as that small part of him surges forward, into Roman’s chest, finding a home in the prince’s heart and languishing in the warmth there.

“I’m right here, Re,” Roman murmurs, stroking up and down his back, “right here, I’ve got you.”

The snake drapes itself cautiously over Roman’s shoulder, the spider taking up watch on his knee. The cat and the frog stare at him, making sure he isn’t lying, that he won’t change his mind. The lion, sandwiched between them, feels the reassuring rumble from Roman’s chest and purrs.

After a long, long time, Remus pulls back a little and scuffs a hand over his nose.

“…did you say something about chocolate-covered bacon?”

Roman’s smile lights up.

“Let’s put on Lilo and Stitch and we’ll try it.”

Ohana means family.

Family means no one gets left behind.

Or forgotten.

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snowdice · 3 years ago

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Little Kestrel (Part 42) [Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb, sexual coercion of minors implied, a minor offering sexual favors

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted (and possibly some future content), look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41

“Come on,” Patton urged. “You’re already all dressed up.”

Virgil made a dissatisfied noise like a cat that had just been picked up from its spot on a heated blanket.

“We’ll barely be outside five minutes,” Patton said. “You won’t even notice the cold.”

“Will so,” Virgil argued back.

Virgil’s return to the castle proper had been relieving. Everyone had been content to let him curl up on the floor near the fireplace and sleep for the past couple of weeks, but life did move on, and Patton and Logan had talked. They had agreed that Virgil’s constant anxiety about the weather probably wasn’t good for him. It had played a major part in making him stressed out enough to hit Logan which had caused the entire mess with him disappearing.

They’d brought it up to Virgil gently and, while they’d had to dial it back on requests like actually playing in the snow, the suggestion that they take the short trip from the castle to the horse stables was met with some interest. However, now that the time had come to make the trek, he seemed to be having doubts.

“Honestly,” Logan said. “I don’t think you’ll even feel the cold in that get up.”

They had, indeed covered the boy from head to toe. He currently looked a couple of inches taller and wider than he actually was bundled up with every piece of extra snow gear they could find.

He looked adorable with only his eyes uncovered even if said eyes were glaring at them both. However, Patton was a little worried he’d overheat if they didn’t leave soon.

“I don’t like snow,” Virgil said.

“We know, Virgil,” Logan said. That was the problem. They were hoping that a little minimal exposure would help him calm down just a bit. “The path’s been cleared of snow and ice though and it isn’t that much of a walk. You’ll be fine and then we’ll be able to look at all of the horses.”

Virgil still looked unconvinced.

“Just half an hour, Virgil, please,” Logan said.

“…Fine,” Virgil relented.

“Great,” said Patton, grabbing his coat sleeve and tugging him towards the door. Logan followed behind and Princess Marisol seeing they were going somewhere, got up and padded after them.

They made it all the way to the door nearest the stable. Patton could see when he opened it that the path they were to take was well cleared. Virgil still did not appear enthused. He glared at the outside like it had a knife.

Princess Marisol, for her part, saw Patton open the door, hissed, and abandoned them to strut off towards the kitchen.

“She knows what she’s talking about,” mumbled Virgil.

Patton sighed.

“Come on Virgil, I promise it won’t be that bad.” Patton offered a gloved hand. “You can hold my hand the whole way.”

Virgil was still frowning up a storm that would rival the one that had caused the snow in the first place, but he did take Patton’s hand. Patton used his grip on the hand to pull him forward through the door. It was still very chilly, Patton thought as they walked outside. Patton had chosen a coat that was a bit lighter since they were only walking to the stable and the wind bit him through it. He really hoped Virgil’s outfit was warm enough to keep him from freaking out.

Luckily, it did seem to be keeping him warm enough because, while he was tense, he still let Patton lead him forward.

They made it to the stable faster than usual since all three of them were quickening their pace. Patton gave a sigh of relief when he entered the stable and the warmer air inside of it. The stable wasn’t as warm as the castle, but it was warm enough that most of the stable hands only worked in light coats most of the winter. At least, they did inside the stable.

The head stable hand had already been warned about their visit beforehand and was waiting for the three of them at the door. “Good morning,” she greeted them, and… Virgil was already hiding himself behind Patton’s back.

“Hi!” Patton said cheerfully. He stepped to the side, so Virgil was no longer hidden. Virgil glared, reaching out to grab the edge of Patton’s sleeve and tugging on it in discontent. “This is Loraine, Virgil,” Patton said, nodding at her. When he glanced her way, he became a lot shyer, looking down at her feet instead of at her face. “She takes care of the horses. Say hello.”

“…Hello,” Virgil said quietly.

“Hi,” she said. “I hear you wanted to see the horses.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, we have plenty for you to meet and they’re mostly all inside because of the cold. Usually in the summer most want to spend a lot of time in the pasture. Let me show you around.”

Loraine showed them around the stable a bit even though Patton and Logan already knew where everything was. Virgil slowly got a little bit more comfortable, even asking a couple of questions unprompted. Surprisingly, there weren’t many basic questions about horses like Patton had expected. On the contrary, he seemed to know a good amount about horses already.

“Have you worked with horses before?” Loraine asked a bit into the tour after Virgil expressed interest in what they were feeding some of the older horses.

“I used to help take care of horses sometimes when people came to visit the orphanage,” he said. “They’re nice.”

“Do you ride?” Loraine asked.

Virgil shook his head. “I just fed them and cleaned up after them,” he said.

“Well, maybe you can try to learn when it gets a bit warmer,” she offered. “It’s a lot of fun.”

He nodded. “That would be nice,” he said.

After that, she mostly let them wander around looking at different horses in the stalls. She even let them feed some of the gentler ones who didn’t have a specific diet.

It was about 25 minutes into their adventure and while Virgil obviously liked the horses, Patton could already tell his anxiety was rising every time he took his glove off to feed a horse and it hit the chilly air. Patton glanced at Logan.

“Right,” Logan said. “We should probably be heading back inside, but I would like to stop by and see Mr. Apples before leaving. Otherwise, he will be cross with me.”

“Mr. Apples?” Virgil asked.

“He’s one of the horses,” Logan explained, moving to where the different treats were kept for the horses.

“Why do you need to see him in particular?”

Logan paused, his hand hovering briefly over the container of red apples before reaching in to grab one. “He was my Pa’s horse,” he said. “He likes when I visit him.”

“Logan’s the only one he likes visiting him,” Loraine added as she started to lead them towards where Mr. Apples’ stall was.

Patton had learned long ago that Mr. Apples could be a bit crabby. He wasn’t as mean to Patton as he was to some people, but he wasn’t exactly nice either. Patton tended to keep his distance whenever Logan went to visit.

Now, he stood on the other side of the hall from where Mr. Apples was as Logan stepped forward to greet him.

Logan spoke to him softly for a bit and he nuzzled his face against Logan’s shoulder with a huff. Eventually, he offered a piece of apple which Mr. Apple happily took.

“Can I say hello to him?” Virgil asked.

Logan glanced back at him. “Sure,” he said, “though be careful. He doesn’t like… anyone besides me.”

Virgil nodded and stepped forward cautiously. “Hello,” Virgil said. Mr. Apples turned his head to look at Virgil. There were a couple of seconds of silence and then Mr. Apple’s snorted softly. Virgil took that as permission to stretch out a hand.

“Wait,” Logan said. “He bites actually and…” Mr. Apples pressed his nose to Virgil’s hand softly and Virgil gently stroked it a couple of times.

“Huh,” said Loraine. “You’re officially the third person he’s ever liked, and you could say Prince Logan was cheating since he was grandfathered in as a baby.”

“Really?” Virgil asked. “He seems nice enough.”

Loraine rolled her eyes. Patton noticed she was standing a good distance away from the stall herself. “Oh no,” she said. “Trust me. He’s a bastard to everyone else.”

Virgil just frowned and pet the horse’s nose again. Mr. Apples leaned forward to nibble at his hair a bit.

Logan smiled at him and handed him one of the apple pieces to feed Mr. Apples which Virgil offered to the horse on a flat hand. “Red apples are his favorite,” he told Virgil. “He refuses to eat green.”

Logan and Virgil finished feeding Mr. Apples his treat and then it was time for Virgil to face the cold once again to return to the castle. Patton hoped this positive experience of going outside would make him more open to it in the future.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 43

Birds of Different Feathers Master Post

My Masterpost

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #character thomas sanders #adriana writes #little kestrel #birds of different feathers #implied/referenced child abuse #assassination attempt #past torture #captivity

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brain-deadx0 · 4 years ago

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Blood in the Water

Summary: Virgil is kidnapped for ransom, but when his captors don't get what they want they decide to get rid of him.

Characters: human Virgil, mer Logan, oc villain

Warnings: Kidnapping, restraints, hostage, injury of a main character, implied torture, attempted murder, drowning mention, near drowning, noncon kissing(?)/mouth to mouth, knife, uh… let me know?

Virgil had never given much thought to his father. Sure as a kid he thought the man was cool as hell. But he was more like that rich uncle you never see who sends you cool toys on Christmas and your birthday.

As he got older he came to realize this but didn't care all that much. Sure he thought he would've liked to have an actual relationship with the guy, until he got old enough to realize his mom was the only one who was actually supporting him and paying the bills. So he decided the guy wasn't worth it anyway since despite all the money he seemed to have he never tried to help out.

Virgil knew his father was a bastard.

Virgil thought he was simply a rich yet deadbeat dad up until his mom got sick. The two had never once asked him for anything, but when Virgil was a broke college student who couldn't afford the growing medical bills he reached out. Hoping that if nothing else the man would help pay for her treatment.

He didn't even go to the funeral.

So yes. Virgil knew his father was a bastard. He just didn't realize how much of one he actually was.

Virgil was currently tied to a chair on what he could only assume was a boat. Or at least he hoped it was a boat or else his concussion was worse than he thought.

He didn't bother testing the restraints. He was too tired at this point and every attempt before had ended in pain.

He didn't even know why these people had suddenly grabbed him off the street and shoved him into a trunk. Sure his estranged father was rich or something but it's not like either of them had been in contact for years. Virgil didn't even get gifts anymore since his mom died and he told the man to not even bother.

He really hoped these people didn't actually know who he was because if they tried to ransom him he was definitely going to die.

The sound of the door slamming open startled him from his thoughts.

Virgil glared despite the new ball of anxiety sitting heavy in his stomach.

"So," a man in a pristine white suit said as he walked through the door, "You must be Virgil."

"Who's asking?" Virgil growled.

He almost regretted it as one of the guards made a move for him, only to be stopped by the man holding up a hand.

"You can call me John."

"Because that's totally not a made up name."

'John' just smirked, "Remind me: what was your father's name again?"

Virgil cursed, "Look man, if you're looking for money you kidnapped the wrong guy. I haven't had contact with that bastard in years. He didn't even pay child support!"

"I asked for his name, not your life story."

Virgil huffed, "George Storm," he ground out, "why are you even asking me? You obviously know already."

"Just wondering which alias he used on you."

"What?"

"Now Mr. Storm-"

"It's Sanders. I got rid of his name when I told him to fuck off."

"Fair enough," the man said, "regardless of your name the fact remains that you're still his son and that means you're worth something."

Virgil couldn't help but laugh at that, "Didn't you hear me? He won't give you any money. He probably forgot I even existed by now."

"Then let's remind him shall we?"

Virgil couldn't help but flinch at the sudden sound of ducktape.

…

"- and if you don't? Well your little boy might just have a little accident."

Virgil's screams came out muffled as the cattleprod was once again jammed into his side.

"Enough."

Virgil shook as he tried to recatch his breath.

"Well Mr. Sanders, you played your roll quite well." John told him.

Virgil just glared back.

...

Virgil wasn't sure how long he had been in the small room. It had to have been a couple of days at least. They had taken a few more videos after his fathers response or lack thereof. Each time Virgil was beaten or tortured just shy of unconsciousness.

He wasn't restrained anymore at least. It's not like anyone thought he could do anything at this point.

He laid on the cold metal floor hoping it might somehow make his body feel less like a puddle of pain, but if it did it wasn't noticeable.

He flinched and curled into himself when he heard the door open. Several sets of heavy foot steps made their way towards him. He tried to curl up tighter in a meager attempt to protect himself but inevitably failed as a rough hand pulled him into a sitting position. A bright flash let him know they were taking another photo before the hand in his hair began pulling him towards the door.

"Hello again Mr. Sanders." John greeted pleasantly as Virgil was thrown to the deck.

Virgil coughed as he pushed himself to his knees, "I'm guessing he won't give you anything?"

"No." John hummed, "I guess you were right. He really doesn't give a shit about you."

"Will you let me go now?" He couldn't help but ask.

John smirked again in the way Virgil had unfortunately become familiar with over the last however long, "Seeing as you aren't worth any monetary value I see no reason to keep you."

For a brief moment there was a flicker of hope in his chest.

"But I've wanted to kill that father of yours for a long time now. And you do bare quite the resemblance."

Virgil screamed as a heavy net was suddenly thrown over him. He tried to fight off the men surrounding him as they began to wrap rope around the mess he was quickly getting tangled in.

"Any last words for your father?" John asked as he stood over him with a camera.

"I hope you both burn in hell!" Virgil hissed.

"I suppose we'll just have to meet you there." The man told him before nodding to one of his goons.

Virgil screamed out a slew of curses as he was dragged the short distance to the side of the boat. He managed to suck in a breath as he felt himself be hoisted over the side and tried not to lose it as he hit the freezing water.

Logan's nose twitched as the faint scent of blood traveled on the weak current around him. Normally this would be a sign of an easy meal. A struggling seal, perhaps a fish that made a narrow escape, the occasional whale injured by human vessels.

He knew there was a boat in this area. He had been following it of course. Humans were dangerous but they were interesting and it was rare for them to be in this area.

Unable to resist his curiosity he quickly followed the scent to the boat.

The surface churned as the boat sped away but Logan barely paid it any mind as his eyes caught on something heavily tangled in one of the cursed human nets.

Logan knew humans used them to catch large amounts of fish. He wasn't sure why they needed so many all at once but that was one of life's great mysteries. He also knew that other creatures often got caught in them. If they were lucky the humans would let them out. If they weren't they often drowned.

He swam closer to the poor creature that was still struggling in the net. Whatever it was had obviously been left for dead.

I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die…

Virgil struggled as the net seemed to get tighter around him and his lungs screamed for air.

Oh god I'm gonna die!

He had to get out he had to get out of the net.

Despite his mind telling him to struggle and get out so he could breathe, his limbs started to fail him as he sank deeper into the cold water.

He barely felt the nudge of panic that shot through him as a shadowy figure that looked too close to a shark came closer.

'Sharks are cool…' he thought as his vision turned dark.

Logan wasn't sure what he expected to be in the net, but he knew 'human' wasn't on his list.

The human's unfocused eyes landed on him for only a moment before closing. Small bubbles of air began to escape from their face as they went limp.

That was… not good.

He quickly grabbed the net and tried to pull it upwards to the surface but barely slowed the descent caused by the heavy weights.

Logan looked up to the sky that grew farther and farther away. He needed to cut the weights off but the human would surely die before they would make it to the surface. There was only one thing to do if he intended to save them.

He hesitated a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the humans.

When he pulled back the human drew in a sharp breath followed by a short coughing fit. Logan was a bit concerned they didn't wake up but at least they weren't about to drown.

Logan reached into his bag and pulled out his knife before moving to cut the ropes. The heavy weights quickly disappeared into the dark below and Logan began pulling the human back to the warmer water near the surface.

…

Virgil woke up cold. It took him a moment to realize he was soaking wet. Another moment passed and he realized he wasn't alone.

There was someone next to him, humming in an odd tone, and seeming to be messing with something covering him.

He managed to crack one of his eyes open just in time to see a blurry flash of what looked like a knife. He quickly closed his eyes and curled into himself causing the person above him to stop humming.

Logan knew he should've fled back to the water as soon as the human showed signs of waking. He was only part way through cutting the human out of the net when the human's eyes opened. Only for them to immediately close again and for the human to retreat into themself.

Logically this would be the next perfect opportunity to leave.

"It's alright," he said instead, "You're safe now."

The human flinched at the sound of his voice but made no move to look at him.

After a minute Logan realized he wasn't going to get an answer, "You're stuck in a net," he told them, "I was in the process of removing it when you woke up. May I continue to use my knife to get it off?"

The humans eyes remained screwed shut but after a moment they nodded.

"Alright, I'm going to start near your abdomen is that acceptable?"

Another nod and Logan began to cut through the plastic ropes once more. As he worked the human gradually began to relax slightly. By the time he finished the human was only marginally as tense as they had been when they woke up.

Logan stored his knife back in his bag, "You should be able to get out now."

Once again the human flinched at his voice but thankfully didn't seem as scared as before. After a few seconds, the human began to shift cautiously.

By the time the other person had spoken again Virgil was pretty sure they didn't intend to murder him. But he was still confused. The last thing he remembered was being thrown overboard and left to drown.

Had another boat just happened to be near enough to see it and help him? It wasn't likely but that was all he could think of.

Until he finally got the courage to sit up and open his eyes.

The human gasped as their eyes locked onto the sharkmers tail. They seemed to freeze for a moment before their eyes rolled back and Logan lunged forward to try and catch them.

"Oh dear," Logan said as he looked down at the once again unconscious human.

He looked around the area, unsure of what to do next. The sky was beginning to shift to a morning grey and more humans would undoubtedly start making their way to the currently empty beach. Logically he should leave now and let the other humans deal with it.

Logan was feeling very illogical today.

He gently laid the human back down and waited.

It was a bit concerning how long the human remained unconscious a second time. Logan knew it was likely due to their injuries, both seen and unseen, but for some reason he couldn't help but hope they would wake up soon.

Logan kept a sharp eye on the beach. Just as the sound of voices started to travel down from the cliffs the human began to show signs of waking.

Logan hesitated longer than he probably should have before quickly making his way back to the safety of the ocean.

He hid some nearby rocks and watched as the small group of arriving humans seemed to notice the figure in the sand. When they got close the group picked up speed and surrounded the injured human.

It wasn't long before humans in matching dark clothing appeared and took the first away.

Logan took that as his queue to leave as well.

...some time later…

Virgil stared out at the ocean as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to come back to the beach so often. Honestly you'd think the almost drowning in it would make him more wary of the ocean. And while there were many things he'd rather forget, and a few he probably had, he couldn't help but think about the person he saw.

He had met the people who found him on the beach, how he got there was still a mystery, and while they were nice people, none of them were the one he'd first seen. The one who he was pretty sure saved him and cut the net.

So here he was, sitting on the dock, waiting for something to happen.

As the sun finished sinking into the ocean he almost swore he saw a large fin break the water.

#brain dead writes #blood in the water #tw kidnapping #tw torture #tw knife #tw restraints #sanders sides fan fic

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oneletteredwondered · 5 years ago

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One of the Boys

Virgil is a new tenant to an apartment complex and his landlord seems real nice. He told Virgil that should he ever need anything fixed to just give a call. He managed to get over the anxiety of calling someone for help, now he needs to get over the gay panic he experiences every time his landlord sends ‘one of the boys’ over.

Pairing: Everyone has a crush on Virgil who is also gay for everyone.

Warnings: panic descriptions from talking over the phone/to new people. Possible second hand embarrassment, swearing

Prompt pic at the end.

In all fairness, Virgil loves his new place. Way more than the old place he used to live at least. At least here the walls weren’t cracked and seemed sturdy enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear his neighbors through them. While he does his sweep of the place, writing down anything that might be wrong so the landlord can’t blame them on him, there’s barely anything broken or messed up. A clear step up from his old apartment.

“What you say Oogies?” Virgil nods to the black cat lounging on the cat tower after he’s finished his walk through. The cat stares at him, he stares back. They blink slowly at the same time and Virgil puffs out a breath. OogieBoogie wasn’t fond of the move. Complaining loudly at every jostle of the cat carrier. Virgil wanted to let her out but couldn’t until all his stuff was moved in for her safety. Seems like he’s forgiven.

“Come on lazy bones,” He finagles the cat out of the tower and she curls over his shoulders, paws dipping into the hood of his hoodie, and purrs. He smiles and scratches at her chin. For the most part she blends into the patterned fabric, her grey stripes the only thing that pop out, and even then only barely.

Virgil locks the apartment door, cat on his shoulders, and walk-through papers in hand. They walk their way around the complex and to the main office building. Virgil almost hesitates, thinking maybe he should go tomorrow morning at a better time, but OggieBoogie nuzzles his head encouragingly.

“Yeah okay,” He whispers to the animal, knowing she’s smug as he opens the door. It’s fluorescently bright. There’s no one at the front desk. Virgil takes two steps, and nearly backs out, when a friendly face pops out of one of the offices.

“Oh Virgil!” Virgil lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes the elderly face

“Hey Mr Sanders,” He gives an awkward wave. The cheery man laughs.

“You may call me Thomas you know,” He says smiling at his cat and waving to the animal. She blinks at him.

“Right, yeah, course, Mr. Thomas yeah,” Virgil says. Thomas gives him a fond smile but doesn’t correct him. Thank god. Thomas helped him fill out lease papers when he first came to check out new apartments. Honestly a blessing as Virgil had no idea what he was doing. Bonus that Thomas professed the place to be queer friendly as well. Virgil hung up his rainbow flag in the window the moment he found it.

“Oh I brought the walk through papers back,” He hands them over and Thomas takes them happily.

“Everything good so far?” He asks. Virgil nods, nothing on there that he thought needed fixing, at least right away.

“Oh,” Thomas says softly. Virgil tenses and Oogie starts purring on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Are you having problems with the lights?” Thomas asks, very sincerely. Virgil shrugs a little and Oogie shifts to accommodate his motions.

“Not really, nothing serious,” He tries to play it off. Thomas pouts at his papers.

“Some of the plugs not screwed in properly, not working, a light out in the laundry area,” Thomas ‘tsks’ as he reads off Virgil’s writing. He perks up and offers Virgil a bright smile.

“No worries at all! I’ll send one of the boys over to fix it.” He offers Virgil a wink and riffles through his pockets. He pulls out his wallet and inside it a business card for the office that he promptly hands over.

“You ever need anything fixed, do not be afraid to call ya hear?” Virgil just nods, taking the card with him.

“Wait the boys?” He finds himself questioning. Thomas smiles again with a flippant wave of his hand.

“It’s the name of the contractor company I have hired here for the apartments. Someone should be over in about an hour to help you with the lights.” And with that Thomas is walking away to his own office, leaving Virgil to go back to his new home.

“Shit,” He mutters as he now realizes. Company coming over, and his new home is a mess. He walks quicker than he normally does to try and clean a little before ‘one of the boys’ makes it over. Oogie is not as impressed.

Virgil does well distracting himself. He organizes the boxes and even rearranges the hazardously brought in furniture to his liking. Oogie is lounging in her cat tower again, watching him try not to be frantic. He’s in the middle of putting some tupperware containers in the cabinets when there’s a knock on the door.

He wipes his hands on his jeans to make sure they’re not sweaty, and opens the door. Somewhere in the back of his mind he debates slamming it shut but in the end remains frozen with the front door wide open. Cause there in front of him is an absolutely gorgeous guy, hair slicked back and a cunning smile.

“Good afternoon, my name is Damien. Mr. Sanders said you needed help with some of your lights?” His voice sounds like silk and though there’s a long scar across side of his face, it takes nothing away from his beauty.

“Uh yeah.” Virgil says awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah,” He says even more awkwardly and moves to the side to let the guy in.

“Much appreciated,” The guy, Damien says. Virgil can’t tell if the dude is cheeky or not, but damn is he flustered trying not to stare at his arms and the way he moves in those white jeans. Who wears white jeans to fix things? Virgil should send them a thank you note.

“Which plugs were having issues?” Damien asks then and Virgil decides words are not needed just this moment and deigns to gesture as best he can. Damien smiles at him and sets to work straightening some of the plugs out and replacing one in the corner when he notices a crack in the casing.

“Excuse me, miss.” He hears Damien say and peeks over his kitchen counter to see Damien gently nudging Oogie away from some of his tools. Virgil whines.

“Oogies come on let the man do his job,” Virgil goes over and scoops the cat up, petting her head to keep her from getting annoyed that she couldn’t continue with her curiosity. Damien laughs though and stands, now taking out the walk through Virgil so diligently wrote not 2 hours ago.

“You said that some of the plugs don’t work and that some of the switches don’t lead to anything?” He glances at Virgil with just a hint of a smirk. Virgil hugs Oogie a little tighter to keep his gay panic from spiraling.

“Yeah just seemed weird? I didn’t know if it was something wrong or what,” He says with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. Damien lets out a small laugh and waves Virgil to follow. He pulls out a small plug in light and pushes into one of the sockets Virgil said wasn’t working. He flicks the switch on the wall and the light pops on.

“Oh,” Virgil says and wants to die of embarrassment.

“Well now I feel stupid as fuck,” He says. Damien lets out another laugh, flicking the light twice more to demonstrate.

“It’s to save power that some of the switches lead to the plugs. Nothing broken there. You’re not stupid because you didn’t know.” He takes back his light and once more gives Virgil that sly smile. The worst is he smiles in a way that makes it seem like he knows what he’s doing to Virgil, which is just rude. Except he’s not, Damien is insanely polite which does not help Virgil in the slightest.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Damien asks as he puts the last of his tools back in the case.

“Nah. I’m good, thank you,” Virgil says, determined not to make a fool of himself this time. Damien nods his head.

“Have a good rest of your day then. It was a pleasure meeting you,” And this smug bastard winks at him and closes the door behind him. Virgil lets Oogie fall to the floor, picks up the nearest pillow, and screams into it. At least he can do it with proper working lights.

Virgil is freaking out. There’s no other way to put it. He is freaking out. So he got a little lazy and didn’t do his dishes. He’s been working so often and never found the energy to keep up. He decided he had a dishwasher for a reason, and even though he felt bad because the machine wasn’t even full, he ran it, and now there is water over the floor. Shit.

He sits on the couch, legs bouncing, with his phone in his hands. Thomas’s number is on the screen, ready to be dialed at the press of a button. Virgil still isn’t sure if this counts as a proper emergency. He managed to clean up most the water with some of his towels, but water is still coming out. Maybe if he just keeps rinsing out the towels and waits for the cycle to be done, he can pretend it never happened.

OogieBoogie jumps into his lap. She kneeds at his leg and is put out when he doesn’t move right away to pet her or give her proper access to his lap. She bumps her head against him and pushes her way to his chest, knocking his phone with her foot in the process.Virgil hisses at the action and ruffles her face in revenge.

“Hello?” A very faint voice calls out. Virgil swears softly and picks up his phone.

“Uh Mr Sanders Thomas?” He says into the receiver, then pulls it away to stare at the ceiling to briefly wonder what is wrong with himself.

“Yes?” Thomas says on the other line.

“It’s Virgil from Unit 16 B.”

“Virgil! How are you?” Thomas doesn’t sound put out that Virgil is calling him, which is a good sign so far. Virgil takes a deep breath, hands working methodically though Oogie’s fur.

“Doing okay yeah, how are you?” He says, it’s important to be polite. Thomas laughs.

“Doing good over here. What can I help you with?”

“Uhm, my dishwasher is leaking? And there’s water on the floor and I don’t know how to fix it. You said I could call if something is wrong and I just, yeah.” Virgil shrugs to himself. Thomas gasps on the other end.

“Oh no! That won’t do. I’ll send one of the boys over to help clean it up.” And Thomas hangs up. Virgil stares at the phone, then at his cat, then back at the dishwasher. He really doesn’t want Damien to see him embarrassed like this again. He buries his face in Oogie’s side and lets her purr calm him down. He must be there for a while because soon enough there’s a knock on the door.

Thankfully, it’s not Damien on the other end. However, it’s another incredibly attractive guy with a wild smile and even wilder hair that makes Virgil tense up because how. This one wears a shirt with the sleeves ripped off to show how ripped their arms are, and again, white jeans, though this time, the jeans are not as white as they once were, evidence of the work that has been done in them.

“Afternoodle! I’m Remus. The Sander’s Man said something was wishy-washy with your dishy-washy?” His smile in untamed and Virgil stares at him dumbly trying to understand what the hell just came out of his mouth.

“Yes?” He ends up asking more than saying, and moves over so Remus can come inside.

“Much appreciated, now what is gong on here?” Remus smirks down at the mess of the kitchen with his hands on his hips.

“I just ran the dishwasher and water started coming out. I was in the kitchen when I felt it on my foot.” Virgil explains as Remus moves some of the soaked towels over. He finagles the machine to open, something Virgil was too scared to try.

“Oh boy, I see. Give me one hot second here hot tamale, and I’ll get this all cleaned up.” Virgil isn’t sure what he should be more flustered by. Being called hot by a hot guy, or the fact the dude flexed while talking and there is some serious definition in his arms. So Virgil just nods as Remus skips out to the maintenance golf cart outside the door, and brings back in a tool box.

Virgil watches from over the counter as Remus pulls out the racks and practically crawls his way into the dishwasher. Virgil decides it’s a good time to walk away so he doesn’t end up staring at Remus’s ass while he works. That’s not proper behavior for someone who is trying to help.

It’s a few minutes, one colorful yet not quite a swear, and a victory noise later that Virgil feels okay going back to the kitchen area.

“Oh! Hello~ pusspuss!” Virgil gets to watch the exact moment Remus looks up to see Oogie staring at him working. Virgil scoops the cat up.

“Sorry she’s really into strangers.” He says. Though really, she hides from everyone. Remus lets out a cackle of a laugh.

“That’s fine, I’m into strangers too. So I fixed the problem here, no more soggy floors for you. Make sure to run it every so often so it keeps things going clean and unclogged.” Remus says far too quickly for Virgil to respond properly. He picks up his tools and returns them to the case. Virgil does a half-assed job of not staring at his back which is now water soaked.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Remus asks at the door. Virgil shakes his head.

“As long as it works I think I’m good,” He says. Remus smiles openly.

“Have a good rest of your day then!” He says and closes the door behind him. There was really no reason for him to flex as he said that but Virgil enjoyed it and no one else has to know.

“Shit shit shit,” Virgil is fumbling. He had to go grocery shopping and get some cat food for OogieBoogieBaby. And no self respecting trash panda such as himself would dream of carrying it back inside in more than one trip. So he’s fumbling with his arms lined with bags that would be cutting into his skin if not for his hoodie sleeves, but even then, those are falling and he wishes it wasn't so hot out.

He manages to make it to his door, shift some bags around so he can get his key out, when the bag of cat food starts slipping. Virgil can see it now, cat food all over the front porch to either collect ants, or other cats, or any other large animal. He wouldn’t feed it to Oogie, to afraid of what is on the ground and if it’ll upset her stomach. He braces for impact and for another quick trip to the store.

“Whoa!” Virgil feels the weight leave him but not the crash. He blinks at the ground, then at a pair of white jeans, then at the bag of cat food in someone else’s arms, then up to the face of a bespectacled stranger with brilliant blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” Stranger asks calmly and takes another bag from Virgil that looks ready to topple at a second’s notice. Virgil snaps out of it once it’s out of his hands.

“Shit yeah thanks,” He breathes out in a rush, thankful as all hell as he manages to finally get the door open. He pushes it with his hip and Oogie is waiting at the door for him, meowing up at him. He coos a greeting to her and sets the bags down in the kitchen, the stranger follows only to the inside door and puts the bags down there to not intrude.

“Thank you so much,” Virgil says once he’s done pretending he can carry that much. The stranger just offers him a small smile, kneeling down to let Oogie sniff his gardening glove covered hands.

“It was my pleasure to help you. My name is Logan, I’m one of the workers on site.” He says and stands. His voice is low and calming, it would make for a great audio book, and Virgil is not going to spend the rest of the day thinking about that.

“Though I do apologize for suddenly grabbing your things, I know that can come across as ‘creepy’ and I do not wish for that to be my first impression.” He pries a glove off and holds out his hand. Virgil takes it and gives it a small shake.

“I’m Virgil, and this is OogieBoogie,” He introduces himself and his cat who has deigned to jump on the counter and sniff at the contraption on Logan’s back. He gently pushes the cat away with a soft look in his eyes.

“Pleasure to meet both of you. None for you I’m afraid,” He chides Oogie gently. Virgil swallows because damn, someone interacting gently with his cat more of a heart throb than originally intended. And Logan is nothing if not simply scholarly stunning.

“My apologies again, be sure to let someone know if there’s anything we can help you with. Have a wonderful rest of your day,” Logan nods his head softly and there is just the smallest crinkle around his eyes hidden under his glasses and Virgil is so weak as he closes the door to his apartment. He’s come into contact with one too many pretty people at this complex and it will be the death of him. Still, it is nice to wave to Logan every so often as he preens the landscaping around the buildings.

Virgil watches as water drips down the window. It started the other day after some rains. He put a towel under it to keep some of the water from ruining anything, but it’s still going the next day. Virgil sighs and looks at his phone, Thomas’s number on the screen. He takes a deep breath and presses call.

“Hello?” Thomas answers.

“Hey Mr. Thomas it’s Virgil, from Unit 16 B.” A practiced line. Thomas gives a happy gasp.

“Virgil how are you?” Thomas always sounds excited to speak to him. It helps.

“Doing okay, how are you?” He asks, absently petting Oogie’s back.

“Good good! How can I help you?” Thomas asks in turn. Virgil looks at the window.

“Something’s up with my window? It’s like.. leaking.” He explains but not really. Thomas hums.

“Did this start up with the rain?”

“Yeah, I’ve tried cleaning it with towels but it keeps going.” Virgil says. Thomas makes another hum noise.

“Sounds like a problem with the roof. I’ll send one of the boys over.” And Thomas hangs up. Virgil isn’t as put off with the abrupt ending, expecting it this time around. He glares at the window and goes to wait for ‘one of the boys’. Oogie follows over and demands pets. It a decent distraction till a loud knock comes from the door.

Virgil opens it and it's just unbelievable how down right beautiful this guy is. His hair in perfect waves and a charming smile on his face. His sleeves are also cut like Remus's were, but far less frayed.

"Wonderful morning, my name is Roman. Our dear Mr. Sanders told me there were some ill issues with the roof is that right?" He speaks with such confident flamboyance Virgil is a loss for words.

"Yeah," Is all he manages to say. He's pretty. Way too pretty for this.

"Yeah, sorry it's over here," He turns and leaves the door open for Roman to follow. Roman laughs loud and proud and does just that. Virgil shows him the window and does not bit his lip as Roman jostles the frame showing off muscles that are illegal.

"The panes seems closed but I'll check outside as well." He turns and heads out the door. Virgil follows.

"And the roof?" He asks. Roman offers him a dashing smile, checking his tools that he attaches to his belt, holding up pristine white jeans.

"You may hear some noises for a while as I'm up there, but fear not, I'll find the problem." He gives Virgil a wink and with ease, he finds a ledge on the building and hoists himself up. Virgil does not squeak. Certainly not cause he's scared that Roman will fall, and certainly not cause he rolls his shoulders and Virgil can see his body move and god damn it he’s so not straight.

So he goes inside and pretends there’s not a real attractive guy fixing his roof. The noises of fixing continue for an hour or so, Virgil keeping busy with cleaning and some mild work emails. Then the noises stop. Virgil glances at his ceiling curiously.

"Uh, Roman?" He calls from his front door, making sure the dude didn't fall off and die.

"Be down in a moment fair tenant!" He hears. Virgil rolls his eyes and barely turns when Roman suddenly lands in front of him.

"Roof is all set. There were a few shingles out of-"

"Did you just jump off the roof?!" Virgil interrupts. Roman blinks at him and has the nerve to smiling so dashingly again.

"I dare say I did," he says as if it's no big deal. Virgil sputters at the reckless, careless, brash attitude. Roman is far too entertained by it.

"I'm honored by the concern, dearest. Just one more moment to check the window from the other side." He winks again and is walking around the building before Virgil can say anything.

He grabs Oogie and plants his face in her fur. Too gay to function. He talks to her plainly about how unfair it is that pretty boys plague his life, only to find out he can absolutely be heard through the window by Roman asking in a muffled voice.

"You think I'm pretty?" Virgil screams and hides in his room, hearing Roman laugh through the wall. This is how he dies, he decides. This is even worse than the time Damien had to tell him his lights weren’t broken, he just didn’t know how to use them. This is so much worse.

He groans loud and dramatically when there’s a knock on his front door. He doesn’t want to open it. But he does, cause it’s rude other wise.Roman stands there, smug expression and a bright smile.

“Checked everything and cleaned up some water. A few shingles out of place and a loose vent, got those all patched down. If it continues to leak it might be a bigger issue so be sure to call if it does. Anything else I can help you with?” He asks. Virgil takes a steady breath to say no.

“I think I’ve dug my own grave enough for today,” He says, further digging his own embarrassment grave. Roman gives another laugh.

“Enchanted to meet you pretty boy, have an amazing rest of your day.” And then Roman honest to goodness bows and drives off in the golf cart. Virgil closes his door softly and looks at Oogie who stares back from her perch on the counter.

“Don’t even start,” He tells the cat. She looks away like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Boogs! No!” Virgil does not like shouting at his cat. He doesn’t like shouting in general. But it gets OogieBoogieBitchBaby away from the wall she is using as a scratching post. She scampers off as he approaches, fingers going over the claw marks in the wall. He groans to himself.

He moved her cat tower because she kept getting onto his work papers. In revenge for disposing her from her favorite perch and sights of the room, she clawed at the wall instead, leaving a few nasty scratches behind.

“How am I supposed to fix this?” He asks where she’s run off, hearing her run around. He bangs his head on the wall. This is not how he wanted his night to go. In the end, he has Thomas’s number on his phone and piece of paper he tore to shreds in worry over what he could possibly say.

“Hello?” Thomas answers.

“Hey Mr. Sanders, it’s Virgil. I-”

“Virgil! How are you?” Thomas asks. Virgil takes a deep breath.

“I’m- I’m so sorry Mr. Sanders. It was an accident I swear.” He needs to apologize, cause if Mr. Sanders kicks him out, he’ll have to go hunting for places to live again, and who is going to take him with a cat who destroys things, and then because no one will take him, he’ll die on the streets and Oogie will eat his toes.

“My cat Oogie she got upset with me and she clawed the wall and I’m so sorry,” He says in a rush.

“Hey, hey Virgil it’s okay. It happens, our furry friends do funny things. I’ll send one of the boys over to help fix it right up, okay?” Virgil swallows a lump in his throat at Thomas’s easy solution.

“Okay,” He croaks out and then hears the click of someone hanging up. He lets his phone drop and then puts his head in his hands. He doesn’t want to be kicked out his apartment, or to have Mr. Sanders think bad of him as a tenant, or as a bad pet owner. He throws himself back on his couch. He feels so dumb.

Thankfully, there’s a gentle knock to his door. Hopefully his savior in this mess. He opens it to bubbly boy in round glasses, giving him the most cheerful smile Virgil’s ever seen.

“Hey there, evening to you, my name is Patton. Mr. Sanders said we have some kitty claws on the walls?” He asks. Virgil lets his shoulders drop.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry about it.” He says Patton waves his hand.

“It’s not a cat-astrophe, it happens. Can you show me where it is?” He asks. Virgil nods and steps back to let the boy in white jeans in, then pauses.

“Did you just make a pun?” He deadpans. And Patton giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, just slipped out. I’m pawfully bad at them.” He says with a bright smile. Virgil stares at him, then snorts into his hand.

“That was really bad,” He says but Patton just beams at him.

“Got you to laugh though.” And Patton should not sound so proud of making a stranger laugh. Virgil coughs to cover his awkward and shows him where Oogie got to the wall and Patton ‘tuts’ in response, putting down a bag of tools on the floor.

“I have just the thing to get this back in purr-fect conditions.” Patton opens his bag and pulls out some paint and calking. Virgil steps back to let him do his job, very aware that Oogie is hiding somewhere away from him. It makes him nervous to not see his cat in the area. Sure Oogie isn’t a registered therapy animal, but she does a good job of keeping him calm.

“There, al-meow-st done!” Patton smiles at him over his shoulder and adds another coat of paint to the wall, looking good as new. Maybe it’s the puns or the cute, but Virgil does relax.

“Thanks for that.” Virgil says as Patton cleans up. He giggles once more and waves Virgil’s concern off again.

“It’s no big deal, it’s what we’re here for.” He reassures. Virgil sighs and turns to the small meow behind him. Oogie is on the table staring at him. Patton lets out a squeal of happiness.

“Oh she’s precious!” He says in syrupy sweet voice. Virgil snorts again and looks between the two.

“Wanna pet her?” He asks and before he finishes Patton is shaking his head.

“Un-fur-tunately I’m allergic. But she is paws-itively adorable.” Patton coos and waves to the cat, Oogie does nothing in return but that’s to be expected. Virgil rolls his eyes at the both of them.

“Thanks again for your help,” He says. Patton beams and there are freckles on his cheeks. Freckles, too cute, not allowed.

“Of course! Anything else I can help you with?” He asks. Virgil’s turn to shake his head.

“I think we’re good now,” He says. Patton giggles once more.

“Have a claw-some rest of your night,” And that shouldn’t be funny but Virgil snorts again and Patton is proudly walking off.

What the fuck, what the fuck. Virgil stares at the door knob in his hand. He just went for a late walk to get his mail, Oogie joining him on his shoulders. Something rattled in the door knob when he opened it, having to actually shove the door open to get back inside after unlocking it. When he went to close the door, the handle came off in his hand before he could close it proper.

What the fuck.

He stares at the space where the door knob was and his open door. His mind immediately races to all the creepy people who can break in and steal things or kidnap his cat. Or even all the bugs that will make home in his food and hair. Nope. None of that.

“Hey Mr Sanders?” Virgil says first, his anxiety over the open door he can not close for fear it won’t open again overriding his normal fear of calling his land lord.

“Virgil! How are you? It’s very late,” Thomas yawns on the other end. Virgil winces. He probably should have thought this through considering the time.

“I’m okay, so sorry to wake you, it’s just. My door handle uh, fell off?” There’s a pause.

“Well that’s not good.” Thomas says.

“I’ll send one of the boys over.” He hangs up plainly. Virgil has enough time to worry if he made Thomas upset by calling so late, and worry Oogie somehow got out only to find her cuddled in her tower, when the bad lights from the maintenance golf cart shine through the crack in the door.

There’s an awkward knock and Virgil pulls the door open. He’s not sure who in their right mind has sunglasses on this late, but at least this gorgeous person isn’t using them to hide their bright eyes. They give him a quirky smile.

“Well this isn’t something you see every day.” They remark and Virgil has to huff out a laugh, some of his panic subsiding.

“Evening babes, I’m Remy. What happened?” He asks and goes about unscrewing the rest of the door knob, kneeling down and scuffing his white jeans that nearly glow in the darkness. Virgil tells him the lead up and Remy scoffs out a laugh of their own, giving Virgil a glance, that turns into a once over, that shakes him to the core.

“No worries, I can see the broken piece. Easy fix.” He winks at Virgil and gets a spare doorknob from the golf cart. Virgil stand idly by as he fixes it, keeping Oogie from getting too close.

“Wassup cat?” Remy asks and gently puts his knuckles to her head in greeting. She makes a noise and then trots off, satisfied with the attention.

“What’s their name?” Remy asks while he screws things back together.

“That OogieBoogie, Oogie for short, though she’s been more of an OogieBoogieBastard lately.” She meows at Virgil from the top of her tower. He hisses back at her. Remy snorts.

“Nice, I have an orange cat named Pumpkin.”

“Nice,” Virgil says back. Remy smirks at his response and keeps working. Vigil pretends the look on Remy’s face didn’t give him reckless night vibes, that he would take Remy up on if he asked, cause damn, the dude’s hot.

“May I borrow your key for a second babes?” Remy twists the knob a few times and with Virgil’s borrowed key, closes, locks, and opens the door with no problems.

“All good to go, anything else I can help you with?” He asks as he hands back the key. Virgil shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks for that,” He says. Remy gives him a wink.

“Have a good night babes.” Another wicked smirk and Virgil does his best to close his door at a proper speed. His heart is pounding and these pretty boys will be the end of him.

“Hi! Welcome in, how can I help you?” Cute, is all Virgil can think when he enters the office. Pastel, is second. There’s a new receptionist at the desk, freckles and a mega-watt smile.

“Hi uh, I got a notification I have a package?” He stammers out. Oogie purrs at his shoulder, reminding him it’s okay.

“Sure! What apartment number?” Virgil rattles off his numbers as the receptionist looks in the package closet.

“For Virgil?” They ask. He nods and takes his box, keeping it away from Oogie as it’s a surprise for her birthday.

“Oh! I’m Emile by the way. I’m working in the office now so if you need anything just give us a call okay?” They’re so earnest. Virgil ends up just nodding his head, only speaking when Oogie bumps her head to his.

“Yeah, thanks,” He says and before he can make an exit Thomas appears from inside one of the offices.

“I thought I head you! Virgil, how are you?” He asks. Virgil gives him a soft smile.

“Good, and you?” It’s only polite. Thomas lets out a laugh.

“Good here too. Say, the staff is hosting a tenant party here, some games and some food, you should join us if you’re not busy.” Thomas hands Virgil a flyer with some gaudy colors. Virgil does a good job of not letting his dislike of the idea show.

“You should totally come!” Emile beams at him and it does something gay to Virgil’s heart. Virgil glances at the two of them smiling at him.

“I could stop by?” He offers not waiting to make them mad at him. They cheer and turn back to their jobs. Virgil walks back to his apartment, petting Oogie as he does.

“What did I just get myself into?” He asks her. She bumps her head to his hand in response.

It’s not a bad turnout for an apartment complex party. Virgil does show up, Oogie situated on his shoulders. Even though its closer to summer, He’s still wearing his hoodie if not just to give her a place to put her paws should she wish to.

There’s those plastic cheap tables lining around the pool area, boxes of pizza and some crinkly plastic containers of mini sub sandwiches sit on top. There’s a section for drinks and cups right next to. Virgil gets himself a cup of lemonade.

He glances about. Some people are playing some bean bag toss game, others are playing on the mini putt putt area Virgil didn’t even know they had. Lots of people are in the pool, messing around and splashing water at each other. He sticks to the sidelines.

“Virgil!” Or maybe not. He looks to who called his name and though he’s happy Logan called for him so he doesn’t have to be alone, he’s lamenting the fact that not only is it Logan, he’s also with Patton, Damien, and Remy. Fuck. Virgil goes bug eyed, giving himself a pep talk, helped along by Oogie making a ‘mrrp’ noise in his ear, and walks to his doom.

“Hey Logan,” Virgil says once he’s close. Patton waves as best he can with hands full of pizza.

“Sup babes?” Remy asks with damn smirk, sunglasses appropriate now. Virgil rolls his eyes.

“Damien, if you don’t remember,” Damien holds out his hand. Virgil of course remembers embarrassing himself in front of freaking sleek attractive Damien, but he isn't about to say that. Virgil takes his hand to shake and Damien flips it to bring a kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand. Virgil’s jaw drops as Patton giggles helplessly.

“Dee don’t do that!” He says but there’s not force behind it. Damien just smiles like the cat that got the cream.

“I didn’t know you two were familiar?” Damien turns the attention to Logan now. Logan just pushes up his glasses.

“I admit to helping Virgil carry in groceries more than once.” Logan says, giving Damien a look that Virgil doesn’t have the power to decipher. Patton whines.

“Kiddo you could have asked for more help,” He says. Virgil shrugs.

“Two trips are for the weak.” He and Remy tap their glasses together in a cheers.

“Yes and I’m sure dropping your groceries is also for the weak.” Logan chides and it does hit a little harder, but still Virgil taps his glass to Remy’s again in a cheers.

“Virgil!” Someone calls and Virgil is blinded by the force of Emile’s smile so suddenly in his face.

“You came!” He’s excited. Virgil nods and takes a step back. Oogie murmurs upset on his shoulder.

“Yep, I said I would and hey, free food.” He ignores the looks the others give each other and Emile just bounces.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. Me and Patton were gunna play corn-hole later, you should join us!” Patton gives an equally excited gasp as Emile gestures to the bean bag toss.

“Uh sure,” Virgil says. Emile bounces and waves, and is off to say hi to other residents as soon as he came. Virgil is reeling from the interaction and it only gets worse.

“Is that pretty boy??” Virgil hears the splash before he sees anyone but then Remus is there in his face, shirtless and in swim trunks and dear god, he has a tramp stamp.

“Hello again stranger~” He coos. Virgil musters up a hi when suddenly another shirtless person is standing next to Remus.

“It is pretty boy! How are you darling?” Roman says. Virgil has officially hit gay panic mode. If the earlier mix of suave and cute wasn’t enough to do him in, the pure amount of muscle now is going to do him in.

“Fine,” He chokes out. Remus and Roman both laugh at his answer. Great. If he hoped for any kind of saving from the others, it’s surely a dashed hope by the amused looks on their faces.

“Are you joining us in the pool?” Remus asks excited. Oogie hisses from his shoulders. Vigil raises a hand to calm her and she nuzzles his knuckles.

“Uh not today.” He says, which is the wrong thing to say.

“But another day?” Remus asks all wild excited. Roman shoves him.

“Like he wants to spend time with your gross ass!” Roman shouts playfully. Patton huffs and calls him for his language but he is ignored. Remus gasps offended with a wild smirk on his face.

“Sure he does, can’t keep his eyes off these guns,” And Remus flexes. Virgil smacks a hand to his face. Oogie dips to hide in his hood. Roman lets out a laugh and firmly shoves Remus back into the pool.

“The only gun he needs is a glock to the face.” Roman puts a fist in his hand, flexing as well. The pun does get Patton to giggle though and Damien rolls his eyes.

“Virgil I am going to get some food, would you like to accompany me?” Logan asks finally done with the nonsense.

“How do you know his name!?” Roman screeches.

“I asked.” Roman let's out an outright offended gasp for whatever reason. He doesn’t get to say another word as Remus from out of no where, runs and tackles Roman back into the pool with no such boundaries.

“Food sounds good,” Virgil says. Logan smiles softly at him.

“I think I shall join you,” Damien says looking into his cup which doesn’t look empty but who is Virgil to judge.

“Come find me and Emile when you’re done okay?” Patton interjects before they can leave. Virgil offers him a two finger salute, and then leaves Patton and Remy to go find Emile, while he finds food.

“Idiots,” Logan mutters once they are away from the pool. Damien hums in thought.

“But not wrong,” He says.

“They aren’t right either.” Logan snaps back.

“Should I go?” Virgil asks as they are clearly not talking to him. Both Damien and Logan look at him scandalized.

“Certainly not!” Damien says and gives him a slick smile. Virgil swallows down his lemonade to keep his throat from clogging up. He spends some time talking to the two of them, making sarcastic comments and opening up. Oogie pops out to lick his hair at one point.

At that, Virgil finds Emile somewhere, letting them know he’ll be right back, wanting to drop Oogie off at home. He’s comfortable enough here to not need her reassurances, besides, she’s tired from napping and needs to go home to sleep. With some ‘hurry back’ wishes, he’s off back to his place.

He makes sure Oogie is comfy and goes to leave, finding Thomas waiting in one of the golf carts outside his door.

“Need a ride?” He offers. Virgil laughs and joins him in the small vehicle.

“Virgil if I may, I have a favor to ask of you?” Thomas says seriously. Virgil nods his head as his lungs refuse to let him breathe for fear of the favor.

“Please be kind to my grand kids yeah?” Thomas asks, an earnest look in his eyes. Virgil isn’t sure what he’s talking about, but then he looks up. All of the boys who have been coming in and out of his life to fix his home are there staring and waiting for him to get back with the same look in their eyes.

Oh. Virgil thinks.

Oh no.

AN: Lol that multiship life

Edit: now with a part 2

4K notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Photo

Food in the Tracy household is a fugitive thing.

It has been known to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. It has been known to be squirrelled away as if a billionaire or six may suddenly run into famine. It has been known to be spooned gently into a sick family member.

It has been known to be wrapped in decorative paper and handed over as gifts.

Yes, food is very popular in the Tracy household.

Well, all the food that wasn’t cooked by Grandma that is.

Why does Grandma continues to cook ghastly concoctions even though everyone in the building, including the many appropriately positioned pot plants, knows that it is a major failing on her part? Only Grandma knows.

Virgil suspects it is simply out of love and a need to show how much she truly cares.

Alan secretly suspects it is a long term plan to summon a demon.

In any case, it is highly recommended to all guests that their grandmother’s cooking be avoided.

Or exorcised, according to Alan.

Each of the boys has their favourite foods of course and each their own quirks at consuming them.

Scott is efficient. That is the only word that can really be applied. He’s a busy man. Food is necessary. It gets eaten. His tastes are simple and easy. It’s food, he’s hungry, get out of my way, Gordon.

He can knock some eggs up, a good sandwich…don’t let him near the barbecue unless you desire charcoal for your meal. Seared steak apparently comes in shades of black.

Virgil, on the other hand, loves a good meal. Sure, he’s a busy man too, but there is a lot of him needing feeding and he has been known to take those few extra minutes over a meal just to enjoy it. A snooze afterwards never hurts. Digestion is something one’s body should enjoy.

Never get between Virgil and his meal. You may be bulldozed. Politely bulldozed, but flattened nonetheless. He’s a busy man. This is his time with his food, don’t interrupt, Gordon, shut up.

Virgil can cook. As long as it is steak.

There have been wars fought over the barbecue between the two eldest brothers.

Do not touch Virgil’s steak.

Particularly if you are Scott.

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Virgil likes to make sure his brother gets a treat from time to time.

So John gets gifted lots of steak.

Alan is fed and watered regularly. With four older brothers, a sister and a grandmother, it is not like he has any choice. The appropriate quantities of vegetables and fruit are provided daily and his consumption noted. Any diversion from the menu is queried thoroughly and a health assessment performed, usually by a pair of stern blue eyes that take their responsibility ever so seriously.

Too bad those eyes have yet to work out that quite a bit of that food is delivered to the two pet hamsters he has stashed in his room. Also Buddy and Ellie consume a diet not recommended by any vet on Planet Earth.

Buddy and Ellie have been eyeing the hamsters for quite some time and are happy Alan is fattening them up.

The hamsters agree with Alan regarding Grandma’s cooking and often mistake Gordon for the demon she is apparently attempting to summon.

Alan doesn’t mind his diet too much. He knows his brothers just love him to death and the feeling is mutual. Plus Kayo slips him junk food on a regular basis. How she got hot churros to the Island still hot, he has yet to work out…Shadow is fast, but really?

As for Kayo, she eats what she wants to eat. No one is going to argue with her. Hey, you want the last pancake, be my guest, here have the maple syrup. After all, she did get her nickname from the big blowout of 2049. One cupcake, five skittle brothers and a very hungry young female bowling ball. Hey, you try growing up in a house full of men and boys. It is either kick ass or have yours handed to you. Gordon, touch that and you die.

Don’t mess with Kayo. Regarding food, or any topic for that matter. Just don’t mess with her. Take her name as a warning and stand back.

No one is quite sure what Grandma eats. Alan is pretty sure it isn’t her own cooking otherwise how could she have possibly lived this long? Virgil keeps an eye on her, makes sure she is happy and content and has everything she needs. Gordon once tried scientific method on his grandmother and her food consumption, leaving several tempting tidbits around the place fixed with sensors to see which would take her fancy. Results were inconclusive since Alan ate half the experiment.

Virgil poured pink dye in the pool and the hypothesis was abandoned.

Brains is the trash can of the Island. He will eat anything put within arm’s reach. The engineer finds food an inconvenient bodily function and often won’t stop working to fulfil his body’s needs. Food appears beside him, the one neuron not focussed on whatever he is doing declares the food his and it is consumed efficiently.

Virgil quickly learnt to keep his lunch out of Brains’ reach when they are working together. One too many instances of going hungry because of grabby food hands taught him quickly.

Gordon, of course, thinks it is hilarious. The aquanaut once sat quietly beside the working engineer and managed to feed him an entire cheesecake piece by piece.

Scott was not impressed when Brains threw up on his shoes fifteen minutes later during his maintenance report. Gordon, go to my office, now!

And that leaves Gordon.

Gordon is a seagull. If you’ve got it, he wants it, and he will nag you until you give it to him.

Of course, this doesn’t prevent him from acquiring his own. Seagulls are scavengers after all. Then he will sit at the table with his plate or bowl of whatever and quite calmly sit there pinching things off your plate.

Whether he does this to amuse himself, or he has a psychological disorder, none of the brothers have bothered to investigate. It’s just Gordon, slap his fingers as needed. Of course, Kayo doesn’t have a problem. No one would dare steal from her plate.

Well, he did try once. Most people think the scar on his hand is just one of those from the hydrofoil accident.

It isn’t.

Of course, there was the time where he ate the steak Scott and Virgil were arguing over. They didn’t realise it until a full ten minutes later, by which time Gordon was no longer in the room, taking the digesting steak with him.

Grandma got to bake him a cake for that one.

But yes, in general, food in the Tracy household is a little chaotic. There have been death threats, mild bruising, profanity, theft, slander, the occasional all out war and sometimes a whole pile of mischief. But honestly, under it all? There is a whole pile of love. Because push comes to shove, each and every Tracy, by name or not, will give their all to help another.

And that includes food.

Though Grandma’s cookies have been declared lethal weaponry and throwing one results in mandatory dish duty for a month. Gordon, for the love of everything, put that down now!

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #nuttyfic reblog #I did write today #a whole page #but distractions rule and yeah still not there #sorry

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quarantinevibes2020 · 4 years ago

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LoveDrug

Summary: That trope where someone's eyes dilate when they see someone they love. That's it. That's the whole fic. OR Virgil and his accomplice play matchmakers for some literal star-crossed lovers.

Word count: 2198

Pairing: Romantic Roman/ Logan (college AU)

Warnings: drinking (not underage), other drugs mentioned but no one uses any

Yes this happened to me. Hush and let me project

AO3 Link

Roman was going to murder his roommate. Or at least shave an eyebrow off in his sleep.

He had been trying to navigate a small apartment decorated in polaroids and newspaper paintings, crowded with people he didn’t know. He had done his best flitting around from group to group: parties weren’t exactly a foreign entity to him and usually he would relish in the chance to make new friends. However, he had been looking for a particularly stormy visage among the sea of people.

He locked eyes with his target: Virgil Kross, aforementioned roommate who had dragged him here in the beginning of the night and told him to stay close before uncharacteristically darting off.

The get together was for everyone in Virgil’s physics class and when Roman found him, Virgil was propped up against a wall and sitting on some steps, swirling around a cider and talking to someone in square glasses and an almost comically over-formal button down.

Virgil caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow. Roman shook his head in a restrained don’t you dare Virgil I swear sort of way. Virgil either didn’t see it or outright ignored him. He waved Roman over, made some sort of excuse that Roman didn’t hear, and left the two alone.

Roman was going to fill Virgil’s pillowcase with popcorn kernels. He was going to tape his toothbrush to the ceiling. He was going to hide his socks in the freezer. He was going to-

“Roman?”

Roman sucked in a breath, litany of threats against his horrible, no good roommate suddenly coming to a halt.

In front of him sat Logan Nova, Virgil’s study partner from when he had taken astronomy a semester ago and also, less important, the person Roman had been pining for ever since Virgil had dragged them on their fieldtrip in September. The class was supposed to map out the stars they saw, identify them, and measure their distances or something. Roman didn’t really keep track of the details. He wasn’t even too interested in looking at the stars, coming from a city where they were mostly blocked out by the light pollution.

And sure, they were pretty in the open sky, but not prettier than the wide eyes that drank them in, than the elated expression that same face had when Roman asked him a question about the class since Virgil was off probably shotgunning a beer with their professor and Roman was bored out of his mind. Logan had shown Roman his star maps and pulled out a worn out textbook with tenderly placed bookmarks of his favorite constellations. Roman had been fascinated by the stories behind them and the two spent the night going through the book, cover to cover.

By the end, Roman was sure he never thought the stars were beautiful until he saw them reflected in Logan’s eyes.

Virgil continued to bring Logan over, even after their astronomy classes had ended, sometimes completely unannounced, before flouncing off to run some errands with his art major friends (how Virgil managed to double major never ceased to amaze Roman, especially given that both those majors were so hard). And for the past six months, Roman had gone from crushing to something close to besotted. It wasn’t something very easy to hide so the next time Roman caught that spider he was going to put ice down his back and-

“Um, there aren’t anymore seats. I can move if you’d like?”

Logan’s voice brought Roman back to the present. He took an extra swig of his drink, hoping that Logan wouldn’t notice how he almost downed it for the courage, and shook his head.

“Scooch on over, Specs, we can share,” Roman said, the burn behind his sternum fueling his words.

Logan laughed, a little bubbly and Roman guessed that his cup was full of something with a similar texture, and moved for Roman to balance on half the seat.

Roman took another sip, looking out over the room of people.

“So this is what you physics people do on a Friday night, huh?” Roman asked, a little teasingly, “not bad.”

Logan bumped him and Roman barely kept his heart from fluttering out of his chest like a frantic dove.

“Did you see how drunk half the class got at the Meteor Fields?”

Roman snorted, “Fair. We almost had to carry Virgil back to the room.”

“You almost had to carry him. I did carry him.”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Excuse me! I am a knight in shining armor! Not a carriage!”

Logan laughed and Roman finally turned to look at him, startling when his face was much closer than he had anticipated.

“I don’t appreciate that I am the carriage in this metaphor,” Logan said with a faux-pout. Roman wanted to quip something back, but he had something of an elephant-sized lump in his throat. Logan tilted his head before leaning in. Roman just barely managed not to squeak.

“Goodness,” Logan said, “your eyes are so dilated!”

Roman blinked, taking another sip of his drink and trying to will a blush down.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Logan exclaimed back, leaning in even more and woo-boy was he close.

Roman looked to his drink slightly, not able to hold Logan’s wide eyes for a second without turning cherry-red.

“It’s pretty bright in here, they shouldn’t be,” Roman said, trying to ‘science it out’ like Logan loved to do. Logan, mercifully to Roman’s thundering pulse, sat back a bit: considering.

“Well. Quite a few things can cause one’s pupils to dilate. Lack of light. Opiate withdrawal. Looking at someone you’re attracted to. Love. Parasympathetic activat-”

“Coke,” Roman nearly choked out. Logan paused in the list he was rattling off and blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Coke. I did coke. Just- whole line of cocaine all in one gulp.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t drink cocaine, Roman. Furthermore-”

Roman didn’t hear the rest of Logan’s sentence. He pushed off the wire seating, sputtering out something about refilling his drink, and made a beeline for the back exit.

When he got to the balcony, he nearly slammed his head into the corner of the railing.

Well Roman thought miserably better for him to think you’re on drugs than hopelessly in love with him. Really dodged a bullet there.

The thought didn’t help. Roman let out a groan and let himself slump. He poked his legs between the columns of the balcony and swung his feet. Above him, the sky was hazy. The moon was barely visible as it peeked through a curtain of clouds. Not a star in the sky. A part of Roman thought that was rather fitting given how royally he had just messed up.

A door opened and closed behind him. For a moment, Roman thought it was Virgil from how quiet the footsteps were and was about to get up and tell him he was heading out when he turned around.

Logan Nova, adorable wavy black hair and now slightly-crumpled but still endearing button down, was staring back at him. Clutching his drink a little as he moved to sit next to Roman. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then-

“Whoever your dealer is, I don’t think they gave you cocaine,” he finally said.

Roman swiveled around to meet his eyes. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Your eyes are dilated again. And while that is a symptom of its ingestion, your behavior otherwise does not indicate its use.”

Something bubbled out of Roman’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Roman thought it was his drink trying to take revenge, but no- it was laughter. Croaky at first, but rapidly devolving into full-bellied howling.

“Perhaps I misjudged?” Logan said after Roman’s guffaws continued, Roman shook his head, trying to stop the shake in his shoulders as Logan, obviously more than a little concerned at Roman’s ‘illicit drug use’, got more and more worried by the minute.

“I didn’t do any drugs, Logan,” Roman finally got out between heaving breaths. Logan stuck out his bottom lip a little.

“But you said..?”

Roman waved at him, he must have misjudged the distance because his hand caught Logan’s shoulder but Roman didn’t feel like moving it.

“I know what I said,” Roman said, laughter trickling, “I know, it was stupid, I promise though. I haven’t had anything besides this crappy beer and,” Roman took in a breath, now or never he guessed, “maybe a little love,” he finished quietly, not sure whether he should thank the alcohol or curse it for letting him say it.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, “Lovedrug? Like ecstacy?!”

“What?!” Roman shot back, looking incredulous before rubbing his face, “NO, not- not lovedrug you-UGH- how are you smart but so dense??”

Logan only blinked in return. Roman supposed he deserved that.

“Lo,” Roman said, taking his legs out of the balcony and setting them in a lazy kneel, “what were the things you listed off for making someone’s eyes dilate?”

Logan’s nose scrunched, “Em. Parasympathetic activation?”

“Keep going,” Roman said, exasperated but woefully fond.

“Ecstasy would certainly be on the list.”

“Logan.”

Logan huffed, “Ah. I believe I also said looking at someone you’re attract-”

Logan stopped. His expression almost sent Roman into hysterics again but he didn’t give in because if he did he might have ended up crying.

“Oh,” Logan said in a small voice.

“Yeah, oh” Roman echoed softly, “sorry I lied, I kind of just. Panicked. A little.”

“So you led me to believe you had taken a bad strain of cocaine?” Logan replied, voice strained but still shocked out of emotion.

Roman squirmed. “Yee. My bad, you don’t- you know. Have to say anything though. I know you don’t- I just wanted you to know since you seemed a little freaked that I was having a bad drug reaction.”

“You know I don’t what?” Logan asked suddenly as he spun to face Roman. Roman looked down and scratched his nose.

“You don’t-ugh. Don’t make me say it dude, you know what I mean.”

“Roman, look at me.”

Boy, Logan was not making it easy. But he supposed if he was going to get rejected, he should look at him straight in the eyes. At least he’d retain some of his dignity then. Roman lifted his chin.

“What color are my eyes?”

Roman blinked, a little caught off-guard from the question. Was it that obvious that Roman had been waxing poetic about Logan’s eyes in his own mind from the moment he had met him? How they caught the light and sucked it in, like two galaxies swirling in his irises. How his lashes curled naturally, almost touching his brow bone when they were alight with wonder. How it didn’t even matter now that he couldn’t see a star in the sky because they were all caught in Logan’s eyes. They were a force of gravity pulling him in and everything else with them.

“…black?” Roman said, tamping down on his raging thoughts. Logan cocked his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Roman almost would have been offended if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment to tug Roman’s chin towards him.

“Look closer,” Logan said.

Breathe, dumbass Roman’s brain said. He listened to both as he squinted.

There were still the swirling galaxies in the middle. The soft gaze did nothing to curb that, but there- Roman tilted his head as he saw something else. Like the sun brimming over the earth, a honey brown at the very edges. Logan must have seen Roman’s expression as he realized it.

“My eyes are amber, Roman.”

There was something in Logan’s voice, it was the same one he used when he was helping Roman with his GenEd calc class. Like he was trying to lead him somewhere. If Logan’s eyes were amber, then his pupils must have been massive because they took up the majority of the…oh.

“But-I-I don’t,” Roman stuttered.

“What were the reasons for someone’s eyes to dilate?” Logan pushed.

“Didn’t take you for a coke guy,” Roman said, trying for cool but bordering on watery. Logan huffed, his face was so close that Roman could feel the breath.

Then, Logan’s lips were on his own and suddenly Roman could care less about eyes.

“Logan,” Roman breathed, smiling when he pulled him forward into another kiss. He turned to pepper more along his jaw bone. Logan giggled. Roman tried to stamp the sound into his brain.

“You’re amazing, you know. Amazing, smart, beautiful, so beautiful,” Roman whispered, half out of his mind as he tugged on the hair at the nape of Logan’s neck.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking?” Logan managed, though it came out a bit garbled.

“Nothing can addle my brain more than your beauty already has,” Roman replied instantly, pulling Logan in again.

Behind the window of the balcony, a blue sweater clad boy adjusted his round glasses and gleefully took a five dollar bill from a pouting spider.

“I told you all they needed was a little push,” whispered the glasses boy.

“Fucking finally,” replied the spider, not missing his five dollars all that much.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logince #ts roman #ts logan #fluff #all the fluff #only fluff #I did my boy Logan dirty in the last fic so #I wrote this

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ferretbitexo-fic-den · 5 years ago

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So cold that your stare's 'bout to kill me (Nicomas)

"I'm surprised when you kiss me"

Synopsis: Nico and Thomas's first date couldn't have gone better in Thomas's opinion.

Warning: Swearing, Spoilers for Flirting with Social Anxiety, gay-mess Thomas.

...

“Which reminds me; Sanders, you’ve been holding out on me!” Nico pointed his fry at Thomas, smirking accusingly.

The two were on their first date, and everything had been going real smooth, and Janus would call him out if Thomas denied how hard he was falling.

“Oh?” Thomas smiled and arched his brows. “Really?”

(“Shit , holy shit, what did we do? Oh God, what did we do?”)

(“Relax emo, he's teasing. We're fine!” Roman reassured.)

“When you said you made YouTube videos for a living, I didn’t think you had about 3 million subscribers!” Nico exclaimed, and Thomas could’ve sworn he saw his date's pupils dilate immensely.

(“Try not to flex, Thomas.” Janus smirked, clearly teasing Roman.)

(“Oh you know he won’t!” Patton nudged the snake side. Janus let out a hearty chuckle.)

“Well, I…” Thomas stammered, finding himself in a tizzy trying to figure out how to respond to that.

(“Virgil!” Roman scolded.)

(“Here, allow me.” Logan suggested, scooting closer to Roman.”)

“It didn’t really matter how big my subscription count was, I love each and everyone of my viewers and every single letter on the comments.” Thomas scratched the back of his head looking down on his burger.

(“Aww, Logan!” Patton and Roman cooed as Virgil and Janus smirked warmly. Logan denied the claims on his red meta-physical face.)

Nico smiled at Thomas, causing a flood of euphoria to come crashing down on him.

“Well, that's really sweet.” Nico said, placing his hand on Thomas’s.

He could hear the distinct screams of Patton and Roman in his head.

“Yeah, they mean a ton to me.” Thomas answered with a very sweet sigh.

There was silence between them for a while, but Thomas knew Nico had something to say, so they waited.

(“Shit, did we do something wrong? Fuck, is he mad?”)

(“Virgil, it's quite unlikely that he's mad at Thomas for not mentioning his subscriber count.”)

(“But what if he is?”)

(“Let's ask him shall we?” Janus said, scooting beside Roman.)

“What is it?” Thomas asked, biting his lower lip.

Nico looked him in the eyes, almost embarrassed. He mirrored Thomas' lip bite and intertwined his hand with Thomas’s own.

“Is this okay?” Nico asked.

Thomas gave up on trying to hide his smile hours ago. “Absolutely.” He echoed Janus’s words

(“This is… actually going great.” Janus remarked. Sarcasm and cynicism were absent from his statement.)

Nico exhaled. “Can I ask you something?”

(“Can I panic now?” Virgil asked, fingernails in between his lips.)

“Anything.” Roman made Thomas say.

Nico pursed his lips. “About Sanders Sides.”

Thomas could hear the simultaneous screams in his head, short-circuited by his date’s question.

“Oh jeez! Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” Nico stammered, redder than Roman's sashn fearing that he might have crossed a line.

“No, it’s fine!” Thomas said under Virgil’s influence.

(All the sides looked at their anxiety in awe.)

“The sides, well, they’re, sorta like, I guess,” Thomas stammered as Virgil looked to Roman and Janus for help.

“Sanders Sides is kind of my way of discussing my emotional issues and mental turmoil in a light, sort-of gentle way.”

(“Thanks, Logan.” Virgil relaxed a bit.)

“Are they…” Nico prompted, motioning to Thomas's head.

“Yeah, they are.” Thomas replied sheepishly.

“Cool…” Nico said breathlessly. “I love them.” Nico leaned in to pressed a kiss on Thomas’s lips.

Thomas let out a dignified squeak which Nico laughed at. He buried his face in his hands, hiding his embarrassment from his endeared datemate.

(“FIRST DATE AND WE ALREADY GOT A KISS!” Roman yelled. Virgil froze right where he sat. Patton got up and began running around the room.)

(“He said, the L-word…” Virgil muttered, causing everyone to stop. )

The screams in his head made Thomas flinch.

…

“Can I please sleep now?” Thomas groaned.

“Hun, his smile was so perfect, how did you get so lucky?” Remy sat at the foot of his bed legs crossed and day(night) dreaming.

Thomas buried his face in his pillow with a groan.

“And his voice! It was so dreamy! Boy, you can not let go of him!”

“Let me sleep! It's 2 am!”

Remy was right. Thomas just can’t let a boy like Nico go.

TAGLIST❤

@shadowjag , @wigsnatchedhoteltrivago , @arsonenthusiast , @i-love-my-dark-strange-sons @phantom-moonfire , @lostonehero , @awkward-child-of-satan , @deetheimposter , @ashtonbby2 , @lokiamorstuffs , @janus-the-sassy-snek-boi , @eeveeeclair246 @enragedbees , @franthehorsegir

Ask to be added or removed. Ilyasm!!!!

#logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #nico flores #character!thomas #remy sanders #sanders sides #sanders asides #ts spoilers #tw swearing #pintroverts #karrot kings #flirting with social anxiety #nicomas

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 4 years ago

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Simply Meant To Be (pt 1)

An expansion on this soulmate blurb (no Virgil in this one though)

[part 2]

Rating: teen

Word Count: 2130

Pairings: Roceit, Intrulogical

Warnings: minor swearing

~~~START~~~

Roman is a romantic, that’s just a fact. He loves love. Any day he gets to watch two soulmates meet each other is automatically a good day. The second best day of his life was getting to watch Remus meet their soulmate when they were sixteen. The best day of his life is reserved for when he meets his own soulmate.

It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. One day.

For now, Roman is content with being colorblind (well not content, but he’s learned to not let it bother him too much). Remus and Logan are actually a huge help with that. Logan has even gone as far as to make a list of all of Roman’s clothing and includes a chart of what pieces do and do not go together based on Remus’ (admittedly professional) opinions, and Remus actually went through and labeled all of Roman’s makeup with what color it is and what kind of look it should go with.

Anyone who vaguely knew the twins might think that Remus would use this opportunity to mess with Roman, but Remus knows how much Roman hates being colorblind; they would never lie to Roman about colors — about other things? Sure, but not colors.

Remus and Logan met when Logan moved to their school from Georgia. One day Remus had claimed that there was a trail of color — they would later learn that it was navy blue, Logan’s soon-to-be favorite color — leading from the parking lot, to the main office, to the east wing. They’d chosen to skip first period in order to follow it, having never seen the trail before, and Roman, being unwilling to miss the opportunity to watch his brother meet their soulmate, followed him. Remus had walked right into a physics classroom, and straight for a boy with short curls and thick glasses that Roman had never seen before and declared him their soulmate.

Roman got detention for skipping first period, Remus got a pass on account of meeting their soulmate.

Most people met their soulmates before they turned twenty-five, after all, how difficult can it be when all you have to do is find the trail of color they leave behind them everywhere they go and follow it?

Well, as Roman has learned in his thirty-five years of being alive, it can be pretty freaking difficult.

As children, Roman and Remus had wandered their town far and wide looking for colorful trails, and even after they met Logan, Remus continued to go with Roman as he searched, even if they couldn’t see Roman’s soulmate’s trail themself. As soon as Roman graduated from high school, he took the customary gap year that most everybody who hadn’t met their soulmates yet takes to search for their soulmates.

He never caught a glimpse of anything.

“What if I missed them somehow? What if I saw their trail and just didn’t realize it?” Roman whines one day at his usual Saturday brunch — because they’re adults goddammit — with Remus and Logan.

“You wouldn’t have missed them, Ro bro,” Remus assures him as they do every time Roman starts lamenting about having not met his soulmate yet. “Colors are so unmistakable that there’s no way you’ll miss them.”

“And even if you are genetically colorblind — which is unlikely considering Remus is not,” Logan continues before Roman has a chance to respond. “I have read multiple papers that state that soultrails will still make themselves distinct. There are multiple accounts of the trails emitting light, absorbing light, or even emitting sound. All of that is, of course, on top of the translucent cloud that follows your soulmate’s every move. I find it improbable that you, of all people, would not have noticed a soultrail.”

“Yeah, I know you guys are right,” Roman sighs. “I just want to meet them! I’ve travelled all over the place looking for them, where are they?”

Remus says nothing, which Roman is grateful for because Remus has a habit of saying dark jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, and Roman really doesn’t need to hear them suggest that his soulmate died in a car crash or something right now. Besides, the question is rhetorical. If Remus could see Roman’s soulmate’s trail, then he’s sure they would have spent the last nineteen years looking for them too.

“Sorry, I guess I brought the mood down,” Roman apologizes. “How are you guys?”

Remus opens their mouth.

“The PG version, please!” Roman rushes to say before Remus can mentally scar him. Again.

Remus closes their mouth again.

Logan rolls his eyes fondly and proceeds to get Roman up to date on all the high school gossip.

“- and of course the middle school’s robotics instructor left suddenly to follow her soulmate to England, so I have taken over as their advisor until a suitable replacement can be hired.”

“How is that?” Roman asks, cringing at the thought of having to deal with middle schoolers. Kids in general kind of freak him out, but middle schoolers especially.

“It has been fine, they are not as adept as my high school students, but of course for many of them this is their introduction to such things, so I’m trying to be patient and supportive.”

Roman snorts at that. He’s sure Logan is a good teacher, but his brother-in-law can be a bit short tempered, and has a habit of talking down to people who don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them.

“Don’t laugh at him!” Remus jumps in to defend their soulmate. “Logan’s great with kids, it’s adults he has a problem with.”

“They are much too old to be as ignorant as they are,” Logan defends himself resolutely.

“Of course they are, Sugar Butt.” Logan cringes slightly at the pet name, which is really all Remus is ever looking for with their pet names.

“Anyway,” Logan says, somewhat forcefully. “There is one student who seems to know what he is doing, but he doubts himself at every turn. I have tried telling him that he is doing everything correctly, but he is… reluctant to trust himself.”

“Maybe as the year goes on he’ll gain confidence,” Remus suggests. Logan hums in acknowledgment, and Roman takes that as the end of talking about Logan’s students. “Oh! Ro bro! Did you hear the theater got a new makeup artist?”

“Finally!” Roman groans, thinking back on their last makeup artist. “I swear Lisa was trying to poke my eyes out every time she did my eyeliner!”

“Oh she probably was,” Remus comments offhandedly. “I told her — back when she first started with the theater — that you thought that makeup artisting was a waste of time.”

“WHAT!?” Roman screeches, gaining the attention of the staff and other patrons.

“Roman,” Logan warns, growing uncomfortable under the curious stares.

“How could you do that to me?” Roman hisses at a much quieter volume. “I never said that! She hated me for five years because of you!”

Remus shrugs, slurping the end of their drink through their straw loudly.

“You better not make the new artist hate me!”

“I would never!” Remus gasps, clutching their heart dramatically.

Roman glares.

“Cross my heart!” Remus insists with a much too innocent expression.

“I hate you.”

Remus just gasps again before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles.

~~~

There isn’t rehearsal on Sunday, so Roman doesn’t have to go in to work. Unfortunately, he is saddled by the knowledge that Remus — as the theater’s costume designer — does have to go in today, and therefore has a whole day to lie to the new makeup artist about him.

Come Monday, all Roman can do is hope that Remus hasn’t done irreparable damage.

“Calm down,” Remus orders when they come to pick Roman up. “They weren’t even in yesterday; I haven’t met them yet.”

“I’m not letting you ruin my relationship with the makeup artist again,” Roman pouts.

“Just try and stop me!” Remus cackles.

Once they reach the theater, Roman practically jumps from the car before Remus has even parked.

“REAL MATURE!” Remus yells after him as he sprints for the theater door.

“THIS ONE IS GOING TO LIKE ME!” Roman yells back.

“NOT IF I MEET THEM FIRST!”

Roman skids to a stop as soon as he reaches the lobby. Not expecting their twin to just be standing there, Remus slams into his back, throwing them both to the ground.

“The fuck, Ro Bro?” Remus demands as they flop off their brother and onto their back.

“I-I see it,” Roman whispers, voice filled with wonder.

“See what?” Remus demands. “The lobby? You’ve seen the lobby bef-oh!”

The awestruck look on Roman’s face finally clicks, and Remus bounces excitedly.

“You see it? Like it it?” Remus scrambles to their feet, dragging Roman up with them. “Where? Which way does it go?”

“It looks like how the sun feels,” Roman says instead of answering. “All light and warm and good.”

“Roman Kingsley you tell me which way your soulmate went this instant!” Remus demands loudly. This is important dammit!

“It goes from there,” Roman points to the side door that’s usually used by staff that take the bus to work. “To there,” the door leading backstage.

“Excellent!” Remus cheers dragging Roman forward. “Time for your date with destiny!”

Remus throws the backstage door open dramatically, but Roman groans as he realizes that his soulmate’s trail is going in literally every direction, making it impossible to know which way they went last.

“Well?” Remus asks expectantly.

“Either my soulmate is familiarizing themself to the theater, or they knew I’d be here and are trying to spite me,” Roman answers somewhat dejectedly. “I can’t tell which trail is freshest.”

“Well shit.” Remus scans each entry as though Roman’s soulmate will just happen to wander in (plausible, considering they’ve trailed all over the theater).

“Hey guys!” A voice calls from by the dressing rooms. The brothers turn to find Thomas, the owner of the theater and their boss.

“Thomas!” Remus cries gleefully. “My absolute favoritest person in the world behind my incredibly sexy soulmate!”

“Okay, so you want something,” Thomas answers with an amused grin. Remus always piles on the compliments when they want something.

“Who’s new today?” Roman asks, more to the point.

“Like, in the theater?” Thomas asks. “Just Janus, the new makeup artist. Why?” Thomas’s eyes widen as if he’s just had a realization. “You’re not going to prank him or something, are you? He’s very talented, I can’t have you scaring him away already!”

“Roman’s soulmate is the new makeup artist? Lame,” Remus pouts. “How am I supposed to trick him into hating Roman?”

“Soulmate?”

“My soulmate is in the building, Thomas!” Roman declares, striking a dashing pose before deflating a little. “Except his trail leads all over the place, I don’t know where he went!”

“Oh… well,” Thomas looks to each direction Janus could have gone, but he clearly doesn’t know which way Janus would have gone. “He said he wanted to get a lay of the land before everyone got here…”

“I got this!” Remus pipes up suddenly before cupping their hands around their mouth like a megaphone and screaming at the top of their lungs. “JANUS!”

“What?” A faint, far-off voice calls back, followed but the sound of hurried footsteps. “Thomas?”

“Dressing rooms!” Thomas calls back.

Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and all too soon a man appears on them.

The first time you lay eyes on your soulmate, you begin to see the world in color. Everyone’s experience is different: Remus said that as soon as he laid eyes on Logan, the world exploded violently into vibrant shades. Logan said that colors appeared one at time, quickly, but slow enough for him to notice. Roman’s mom said that her soulmate’s trail swelled to fill the space before things slowly began to take on their proper color, and his mama said that it was almost like everything had always had color, she just hadn’t bothered to notice before.

For Roman, the man before him is painted in vibrant shades while the background remains in grayscale, but as soon as the man makes eye contact, his colors begin to slowly bleed throughout the space.

The man’s eyes widen as he stares, slack-jawed at Roman — no doubt mirroring Roman’s own expression.

“I’m Roman,” Roman says quickly, before Remus can forever ruin his first meeting with his soulmate by making a dick joke or something.

The man smiles and Roman immediately decides that his favorite color is whatever this guy’s eyes are — they’re hazel, but Roman will later change his favorite color to red after realizing how stunning and bold the color is when it isn’t just another shade of gray.

“Janus.”

~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~

General Taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly

@pixelated-pineapple

#ts sanders sides #sanders sides #roceit #intrulogical #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #Janus Sanders #character thomas #My writing #thursday writes #fanfiction #fanfic #creativitwins #princeit #soulmate au #simply meant to be au

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emoprincey · 4 years ago

Text

Two Truths and a Liar

For the @loceitweek2021 prompt: Aftermath

Author’s note: I’ve had this idea in my head for ages but I just wrote it down this afternoon. I really enjoyed writing this, and I’m looking forward to doing more stuff for this week!

Summary: After accidentally messing things up with Logan in the courtroom, Janus goes to Remus for help, and takes his advice of being a little more honest

Parings: Romantic Loceit, platonic Dukeceit

Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight

Word count: 2021

“You can’t just avoid Logan forever.”

“Watch me,” Janus mumbled, his voice muffled by the cushion he’d collapsed onto the moment he entered Remus’ room. The cushion smelled vaguely of something disgusting, but then the whole room did, and Janus had long since become desensitised to it. Still, having the stench so close to his nose was unpleasant by any standards, so he lifted his head. That was a mistake, because now he could see his best friend looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You were the one who was harping on about being accepted. You’d have to work with him,” Remus reasoned. And when Remus was being the reasonable one, well, that meant circumstances were very dire indeed.

“Yes, but you weren’t there, Re! I could barely talk to him in the courtroom!” Janus wailed. Logan could be distracting at the best of times, with his charming smiles and witty quips, but even when he was sat at the back of the courtroom, Janus could feel eyes boring into the back of his neck, ready to pick up on any flaw in his reasoning. There was also the inconvenient matter of Logan looking incredibly dashing, and Janus couldn’t help stealing glances at him while the others were talking. It was no wonder he’d lost the case.

“If you knew you’d be nervous, why did you even invite him?” Remus asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You know nobody would have been bothered about him not being there.”

“I didn’t want him to feel left out,” Janus said. He’d noticed how little attention the other Light Sides paid to Logan, and though it didn’t seem to bother him outwardly, Janus could feel the denial of dejected and dismayed feelings. It broke his heart to see the side he cared for so much feeling so down.

“So, you tried to make him feel included by shoving to the back of the room before he’d even finished saying his piece?” Remus raised an eyebrow again.

Janus groaned, flopping onto the pillow again. “I wasn’t thinking straight. In my defence, if I’d had to debate with him for a minute longer I might have actually combusted.”

“That would’ve been cool,” Remus said sagely. “But seriously, you should just tell him how you feel!”

“Easy for you to say!” Janus snapped, sitting up again to glare at Remus. “You just say everything that comes into you head. I… can’t. I just push everything down, and I don’t know how to stop doing that.”

“Hmm…” Remus knitted his eyebrows in thought. Janus was a little surprised by how much effort he was putting into helping him, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been – the two of them had been closer to each other than anyone else in the mindscape for several years, and had clung to one another like lifelines when Virgil left. More times than he could count, Janus had felt like Remus was all he had. “Just… be spontaneous!” Remus decided eventually. “Don’t think before you speak, just let the words flow!”

Janus bit his lip. He didn’t really do spontaneity; everything he did was meticulously planned out, no detail unaccounted for. “What if I say something stupid?”

Remus smirked. “Well, you do that even when you think about what you say.”

“Hey!” Janus lightly batted at his shoulder, but a laugh escaped his throat. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Remus let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his heart as if Janus had committed the worst betrayal possible. “Oh, it’s on, snakey boy. Wanna settle this in Mario Kart?”

Janus grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

-----

Several weeks later, Janus practically broke Remus’ door down as he burst into the room. “Remus, I need your help.”

Remus jumped, almost dropping the viscous ball of slime he was moulding at his desk. “Where’s the fire?”

Janus groaned, immediately marching over to the bed and burying himself in the numerous cushions and blankets. “I asked Logan out.”

“You what?” Remus jumped up from his desk, dropping the slime with a squelching noise, and dashed over to the bed. “Tell me everything.”

Janus took a few breaths to collect himself, and actually answer rather than letting out the garbled scream that was building in his throat. “I didn’t really mean to. We were just… we were in the kitchen and Roman was going on about something to do with romance or dating, and Logan mentioned that nobody would want to date him. I don’t think he meant it seriously, but I could feel all the sadness he was suppressing, and so I… just said that I would.”

Remus squealed, the noise so high Janus was surprised he could hear it and even more surprised he didn’t immediately go deaf. “See? I told you it would work!” He gabbled, grinning from ear to ear.

Janus was getting closer to screaming by the second. “No, this is terrible. I have a date with the hottest Side in the mindscape tonight, and I have nothing to wear!”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” Remus said immediately, grabbing Janus arm and pulling him to stand up. “I’ll make something for you! What do you wanna wear? You want super formal or something a bit more casual? What’s the date?”

“We’re- um, just going to dinner,” Janus said faintly, a little taken aback by his friend’s enthusiasm. Remus almost seemed more excited about this date than he was.

“Okay, so I’m thinking a suit,” Remus rambled, holding Janus’ arm out as if he was going to start tailoring it at that instant. “You like skirts, don’t you, so maybe… yeah, I can think something up…”

-----

Five hours later, Janus stood outside Logan’s room in a black dress shirt and a dark grey waistcoat embellished with a swirling gold pattern that upon close inspection resembled snakes. By far his favourite part of the outfit was the black pleated chiffon skirt which came down to his ankles, showing his gold high heels. He knocked clearly five times, and the door opened almost immediately.

Logan blinked as he stared at Janus, his mouth open with a greeting paused on the tip of his tongue. “I, uh- you look… you look nice,” he said eventually, his voice slightly strained.

Janus smiled graciously, hoping his cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt. “And you look absolutely stunning, my dear,” he replied. And Logan truly did look stunning, in a black three piece suit with a deep blue tie.

“Thank you,” Logan murmured, clearly trying to suppress a grin as he glanced away from Janus.

“Shall we go?” Janus asked, offering Logan his arm.

Logan stared for another moment, before placing his hand on Janus’ elbow. “We shall.”

It took all of Janus’ self-restraint to hide a giddy grin as they walked down the stairs. Any doubt he had about Logan’s feelings for him were quelled by the soft expression on his face, the quick glances he stole when he thought Janus wasn’t looking. For the first time in months, Logan actually looked happy. Janus felt a warm swelling in his chest at the thought that he’d cause that. He had made Logan happy.

The dining table was set with a nice white tablecloth, with cutlery and a wine glass on each side. A candle sat in the middle, and it flickered into life as Logan waved a hand. Logan had offered to take care of the arrangements for the night, and Janus thought he couldn’t have done a better job. The setup was understated, but there was a romantic atmosphere to it. Although, maybe that had more to do with the man taking a seat across from him than the arrangement itself.

“I thought we could start with some soup,” Logan said, fiddling with a button on his blazer.

“That sounds wonderful,” Janus said, though his response surely would have been the same even if Logan had suggested eating fried pickles for their first course.

Despite the obvious nerves from both parties, they fell into an easy conversation, about Agatha Christie novels and constellations, philosophy and music. Janus was careful to steer the conversation away from anything that could cause an argument, but was surprised to find they had much more common ground on many subjects than he’d previously thought. By the time they had finished their soup, Janus had settled to resting his chin on his hand as he watched Logan ramble about the moons of Jupiter. He didn’t take in a tremendous amount of information, focusing instead on how Logan’s eyes lit up as he talked, how his eyebrows knitted as he quoted any factoid which he thought had dubious evidence, how the candlelight caught his cheekbones.

Logan must have been silent for at least a few seconds before Janus noticed he had stopped talking. He was fidgeting again, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him.

When Logan looked up, Janus raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I need to ask you something…” Logan murmured, his voice heavy and reluctant. “And I would like you to be honest with me.”

Janus swallowed, feeling a sense of foreboding wash over him. “Okay, what do you want to ask?”

“I…” Logan silently moved his lips, as if testing out the question before he spoke. “This evening is very pleasant, but I need to know… are you doing this because you feel sorry for me?”

Janus gaped, shocked into stunned silence.

Logan seemed to take this as affirmation. “It’s alright, I would not expect you to reciprocate my feelings. I know that I must have sounded quite pitiful in our conversation earlier, you’re very kind-”

His voice was only wobbling a little, but Janus could feel all the sadness Logan was pushing down. It was almost overwhelming, and he found himself having to blink back his own tears in response to it. Without hesitation, he reached out and rested a hand over Logan’s.

Logan looked up at him, the quiet hope only just visible in his downcast expression.

“Logan,” Janus began, and he had to clear his through to speak clearly. “I promise that I didn’t ask you out because of pity. In truth, I have had feelings for you for a long time. I was too nervous to tell you, but today I couldn’t hold back.” It felt a little strange to tell the truth so much, but if there was one thing that could compel him to go against his nature it was alleviating Logan’s sadness. “You are absolutely wonderful Logan, I mean that. So handsome, and smart, and a brilliant debater.”

Logan’s eyes were wide, searching Janus’ face. “Oh,” he eventually whispered. He took Janus’s hand in both of his, and smiled so brightly Janus thought he was more spectacular than any star in the universe. He spoke slowly, but with a conviction Janus had rarely heard even during debates. “In that case, I feel I should tell you that I think you’re incredible. You amaze me with how carefully you plan, and your knowledge and desire to learn. And you are also… ah, um, very attractive.”

Janus felt a smile spread across his own face, his cheeks feeling as warm as his heart did. His head was spinning as he tried to take everything in… Logan thought he was incredible, Logan was opening up to him, Logan was happy in his presence and flustered when Janus wasn’t even trying. “So, you do have feelings?” he blurted, which may have been the worst possible response, and he began to regret ever taking Remus’ suggestion about not thinking before he spoke.

Logan looked at him for a moment, but then his lips curved into a smirk. “For you? More than I thought was possible.”

Janus wasn’t sure how he managed to remain calm, but after taking a few moments he lifted one of Logan’s hands to his lips. “And I could say the same about you. Now, shall we continue with our dinner?”

Logan smiled as he retracted his hand, leaving it clasped with Janus’ in the middle of the table. “We shall.”

#loceitweek2021 #sanders sides #janus sanders #logan sanders #loceit #ts janus #ts logan #remus sanders #ts remus #sanders sides fanfiction

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