#what happened when Janus and Remus met after Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone that night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 10: Shakespeare

Prev - Shakespeare - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3733 - Rated: T - CW: A little old angst? And a lotta subtext.

(Don't worry. It's coming.)

Quietly singing the opening to Law School Boys, Roman whipped a shaving brush against the disk of soap in his palm. It was new, a sweet musky blend that reminded him of the lavender softener Logan had used last week. Of course, he hadn’t noticed the association when he’d been sampling scents at the Body Shop. It hadn’t been until the ride home when the soft blend of vanilla and musk had made his mind wander back to that blissful Saturday morning, the faint hum of a dryer and, even fainter, Madonna’s poppy croon in the background as they’d folded his laundry together.

The Lyft driver’s gentle nudge had pulled him back to reality and he’d quickly gotten out and paid, stealing one last little sniff at the bright green bag.

Once Roman had worked up a good lather, he closed his lips and hummed the rest of the chorus. He didn’t usually wait to shave until the afternoon, not since his earliest days on stage, at least, and he’d managed to get scruffier than he’d recalled. Pointedly ignoring the sprinkling of—

“Finally shaving off those greys, little bro?” Remus laughed, leaning against the door jamb, hands casually shoved in his pockets.

“How long have you been standing there?” he muttered, lips stiff as he continued to spread the lather.

Remus laughed. “Long enough to see you blush at ‘Watchin’ you readin’, boy, doncha know, doncha know, doncha know I’m your open boooook?’ ” Roman rolled his eyes at his brother’s mocking and rinsed the brush. “No denial, I see,” he cackled. “So… who’s the lucky fellow?” Remus stuck a finger in the shaving cream and sniffed it before pretending to taste it. Laughing at Roman’s disgusted expression, he wiped his finger clean on the towel draped over his brother’s shoulders. “Seriously, though, I haven’t seen you this worked up over a date in quite some time…”

Pointedly ignoring his brother’s antics, Roman continued to shave. “It’s… it’s not even really a… date.” He tried to ignore the way his brother’s eyebrows shot up at his hesitancy. “Just… meeting a friend.”

“Hm… a friend you’d like to knock boots with, am I right?” Remus laughed when Roman’s face bloomed in a new blush. “Oh, I am right. So, what’s he like?” he fished in a sing-song voice. “Do I need to give him a shovel talk or…” He waggled his eyebrows and looked down the hall toward his bedroom. “Do I need to take him off your hands?”

“Neither, Re,” Roman snapped, softening his tone at the last moment. “He’s just a friend who… I… “ He sighed and pulled his brother all the way into the bathroom before closing the door. Remus’ smile remained but his eyes grew wide at Roman’s furtive behavior. “You can’t tell Janus,” he hissed, holding Remus’ gaze. “Please?”

Remus frowned, but finally nodded. “Okay,” he said, his switch to seriousness as jarring as usual. But weirdly comforting. “This stays between us.”

“Thank you,” Roman sighed, then shaved another stripe down his cheek. “Do you… do you remember that guy from the Q-Law party?”

“Devin? Are you out of your fucking mind? He’s a lot less hot with a busted nose, I’ll tell you—”

“Wait!” Roman grabbed his shoulder. “No! Not that slimeball… The… the other guy.” He let go of Remus’ shoulder and tried to get back to shaving. His hand shook so he tapped the razor and rinsed it while he waited for more control. “Logan,” he said quietly, eyes flicking up to his brother’s.

“Uh, Ro? Isn’t he…”

“He’s a friend,” Roman insisted before trying again to finish shaving.

Remus watched him for a moment. “A friend you’re getting all dolled up for?”

“Pardon me for wanting to look nice.”

“A friend you bought new cologne for?”

“It’s not—” Roman interrupted his own protest with another heavy sigh. “I… might feel some… attraction , but…” His voice trailed off and he continued shaving. Remus just watched and waited.

Finally, he rinsed the blade and washed away the last little dabs of shaving cream from his face and neck. Remus offered him a clean towel, still silently waiting. “How did you know,” he asked at last, voice muffled by the towel. “How did you know you were serious about Janus? How did you know he was serious about you?”

“You mean other than watching him on his knees as he—”

“Dammit, Re, I mean it!”

Remus hitched himself up on the counter and knocked his heels against the cabinet. His brother acted like all there was between him and his husband was one big sex party, but Roman knew better. They’d both fought like hell to get their relationship where it was and… And Roman was beginning to wonder if he was meant to actually learn something from watching them over the years.

“He was… different.” Remus wobbled his head, eyes fuzzy. “He didn’t act like anyone I’d been with before. He listened to me, even…” He shrugged with a crooked grin. “Even drunk, even fooling around… He listened like what I said mattered.”

Roman gripped his arm. “Re,” he started but Remus smiled up at him, shaking his head.

“I don’t mean you didn’t,” he grinned. “You always have. Guys I saw… maybe not so much.” Remus laughed and waved the hand with his wedding ring. “How do you think Jannie finally convinced me to say yes?”

Laughing, Roman punched his shoulder. “As if I don’t know who asked who.”

“Damn your memory,” he muttered, still smiling. “So,” he said as Roman began the rest of his skin routine. “Just a friend?” he asked again. “As if I don’t know the difference?”

Roman couldn’t make himself meet his brother’s eyes.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Ro Bro,” he said, suddenly serious again. “I don’t know this guy and… while he doesn’t strike me as the type to hurt somebody on purpose…”

“Yeah, I know.”

Remus hopped off the counter and hugged him. “So are you sure he’s straight?” he asked with a little laugh, pulling back a bit and—thankfully—ignoring the wetness in his eyes. “I mean, I didn’t think I liked snails until that trip Jannie and I took to Paris, and now…”

Roman laughed and hugged him tighter. After a long while, he pulled away. “You won’t tell Janus?”

“I won’t,” he shrugged. “I don’t think you need to keep this a secret, though. Besides, he might be able to give you some tips.” Remus waggled his eyebrows, “After all, he bagged me, didn’t he?”

“Oh, get out of here,” Roman laughed, opening the door. “I need to get dressed.”

It was an unusually sunny and dry day for late March in Seattle and the sun’s slow march across the sky cast Seattle Center in a warm, golden hue. Roman had left his Burberry open, hem slapping against his pant legs as he watched a huddle of pigeons and crows battle for the remains of a spilled box of popcorn. He refused to check his watch again, wishing for at least the fifteenth time he’d insisted on picking up Logan at his house. He knew it was logical to meet in Seattle, but if he’d picked him up, then he wouldn’t have this nagging worry that the next time his phone buzzed it would be Logan, backing out.

He knew Logan wouldn’t just stand him up. He was too kind for that. He might, though, decide this was a bad idea and cancel. Unable to fight the impulse, Roman finally pushed back his sleeve for a peek at his watch. Disgusted with himself, he hung his head. Logan was even due for another fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes. Okay, that’s five short songs. Great. Start singing.

Roman was halfway through River of Dreams when he spotted Logan’s careful stride at the other end of the path. Grinning, he started walking and met him just under the Skyspace, awash in pinks and ambers.

“Logan,” he grinned. His hands twitched at his sides. The war raging in his mind over whether to shake his hand or hug him or kiss him was over quickly and Roman stepped closer, gently gripping his upper arm. “You’re early,” he said.

“Traffic was remarkably light today and I caught an earlier monorail than I’d planned,” he smiled. Roman hadn’t removed his hand and for just a moment, he could’ve sworn Logan actually leaned into it.

“There’s time for a little tour, if you’d like.” Roman gestured toward the gallery side of the theatre’s entrance. Leaning a little closer, he breathed in the soft scent of vanilla and cinnamon and… sage? “We can avoid the line. There’s another door to our box seats off the second floor.”

Logan laughed, soft bells ringing out. “It seems you have all the insider secrets, Mr. Prince.”

He winked. “I do indeed.” Roman waved at the guard by the entry desk and escorted Logan inside the gallery. “Right this way, Mr. Sanders.”

“Oh,” he breathed as they stepped through the curtained entrance. “It’s incredible.” The Theatre Gallery was small by most standards, a few hundred feet long with just enough space between the walls lined with paintings and mostly flat media for a half-dozen sculptures down the center. The rotating exhibit filled the space with a riot of color, each piece representing a different play or musical from the theatre’s repertoire.

Roman grinned, watching him turn on the spot, peering around them at the collection. He gravitated toward a familiar mixed media piece, a mural of the forest in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. As he got closer, he let out a surprised little laugh, quickly muffled behind his hands. “It’s from reviews!”

Nodding, Roman stood beside him and studied the work. “A few years ago, the director here, Nate Ennis, got… a little experimental with the production.” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“You mean the… ‘clothing optional’ adaptation?” he asked, fighting a smile.

“Oh, you’ve heard of it,” Roman laughed.

“Only from the papers,” he winced and turned to peer at the colored decoupage. “It closed after two days…” His voice trailed away as he stepped closer, head tilted as he read the tiny text plastered on a tree trunk.

“Nate’s an old friend. He commissioned this piece as a way to have the last laugh.”

Shaking his head, Logan chuckled again and read the placard. “R. Prince?” He looked back at him, eyes wide. “ You created this?”

“No, no,” Roman raised his hands. “My artistic skill lay elsewhere. My brother has this gift.”

“Remus Prince,” Logan whispered, nodding. He stood back, taking in the full piece for a long while before moving close again, eyes following the shadows Remus had created with dense layers of newsprint. After a while, he turned to Roman with a little smile. “Your old friend just spontaneously commissioned your brother for a piece this size?”

Roman shrugged lightly. “He creates beautiful art.”

“I hope my sons will look out for each other the way you two do,” he murmured. “I… don’t have any siblings. It’s… You make me hopeful.”

“It wasn’t always perfect,” he sighed. “O beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.”

“It’s understandable,” Logan nodded. “I mean, look around. Is it any wonder he’s be jealous of you?”

“Oh, no,” Roman turned, shaking his head. “No, I’m the one who’s been jealous of him. It’s what…” He raked his hand through his hair and pushed back against the regret hanging off his shoulders, heavy, wet wool spun from a litany of mistakes he can’t undo. “It’s what made it so easy to stay away. I mean…” Roman shrugged and met Logan’s eyes. “I’ve had amazing opportunities all around the world that I never would have had if I’d stayed in Seattle. But…” He looked up at his brother’s art. “I didn’t leave to chase opportunities, though. I left…”

He paused and Logan drew a little closer, listening with gentle, accepting eyes. “No-one knows this, but… I left because it was becoming too difficult to hide my jealousy of… Of him and Janus.

“Remus had always been the more… flingy of us? And the first man he falls in love with… They’ve been together since college. Our sophomore year. And I’ve…” I’ve just kept falling in love with the unattainable. Logan stepped closer and Roman’s eyes caught on his, soft, clear and bright, gazing back at him like he was the only thing that mastered.

Maybe not always unattainable.

Logan gripped his shoulder and smiled. “You seem to have found a place for yourself. Do you still envy him?”

“Hmph,” Roman considered. “Not really… And… not Janus specifically.” Not anymore. “And I think… I think I might be figuring out how to find that kind of happiness for myself.” Logan smiled back at him and Roman’s heart danced against his ribcage, wild, crazy hope pounding through his veins.

“Like the theatre here?” His eyes flicked around the space. Was Roman imagining that it was difficult for him to look away?

He stepped closer to Logan. “That’s part of it, I think.”

Logan looked up into his eyes for a long moment before his jaw twitched, something… painful flashing over him. “You know, for a long time, I didn’t realize you had a twin,” Logan admitted slowly, turning his gaze to a bronze sculpture of what looked like a squashed rose. He walked to the next piece, a wire sculpture of Hamlet amidst a field of skulls.

“I… I’d seen your brother dozens of times over the years. More? He… he would, um, pick up Janus from the office most nights, bring him flowers… little gifts, and…” His cheeks glowed, a bright pink blush flooding his face. “It wasn’t until ah, the Q-Law benefit gala in… 2010?” He smiled up at him, almost a wince. “Janus introduced me to his ‘future husband’ and I heard his name for the first time. That was when I…”

“Oh, Lo…” Roman stopped walking and reached for his shoulder, gently turning him so their eyes would meet. “You thought he was me?” Logan shrugged and looked away. “And you thought…” Tears burned his own eyes at the hurt clouding Logan’s face. “I’ve seen the singular focus my brother shows Janus. You thought he was me and that I was just ignoring you, didn’t you?”

“I could hardly blame you if you had been. I was… just someone from your past,” he finished in a shaky voice, still not quite meeting his eyes. “Why should you remember me?”

Moving slowly, ready to drop his hand if Logan showed the slightest bit of discomfort, Roman tucked two fingers beneath his chin and tilted up his face. He smiled. “Nothing could ever make me forget you, Logan.” A tiny smile broke through the dark clouds behind his eyes and Roman couldn’t resist stepping closer. “I am so sorry my brother’s rudeness ever left you feeling otherwise.”

Logan’s smile grew and he shrugged again. “I felt so silly after we’d been introduced and I… I saw him up close. Your…” His skin warmed against Roman’s hand. “Your resemblance ended once I got a good look at his eyes.”

“The mustache wasn’t a giveaway?” he laughed and Logan shrugged again.

“I’d thought you were trying a different look.” Logan glanced up at his mouth before quickly looking away.

“Do you think I should give it a try?” Roman laughed, reluctantly releasing his grip on Logan’s chin and stroking imaginary facial hair.

Shaking his head, Logan laughed with him. “No, I like you like this,” he said before his mouth snapped shut and his eyes, wide with panic, darted around the gallery. “Oh, look, is th—this from The Tempest?” he stammered before rushing over to an ornate ship in a glass bottle, cracked open in a tray of sand.

Smiling, Roman watched Logan studiously read—pretend to read?—the inscription next to a plastic palm tree planted beside the ship. “The tree’s molded from found materials off Carkeek Park beach,” he murmured before he stood with Logan and admired the work of art beside him.

“I’ve seen at least fifteen different interpretations of As You Like It,” Roman laughed. “And I could see another fifteen and still be impressed with the ingenuity. And their Silvius!” He kissed his own fingers and grinned. “He’s a simple character, but a lot of fun to play.”

Warmth from the setting sun and a few strategically placed outdoor heaters kept the early spring evening comfortable enough to take their coffees outside. They sat together at a tiny round table, just large for their to-go cups set between them. Just small enough that Roman could still catch traces of Logan’s cologne on the breeze, spice and sage. The vanilla was probably from his own latte, but it was nice to pretend otherwise.

“I saw you play him,” Logan said more to his coffee than to him, a soft smile curling up his crooked little cupid’s bow.

Roman leaned closer. To hear him better, of course. “Oh, you did? I haven’t played Silvius in the States since—”

“Since your senior year.” Logan looked up with a little shrug. “At Childrens’ Days?” Roman nodded, the memory of the kids cheering and laughing at all the wrong—or right—parts flooding his mind. “I brought Remy and Virgil. This was before… before Patton was born. The front of house had been transformed, there was hay on the floor and a petting zoo with the sheep from the production after the show. And…” He looked away and something painted a soft pink over his cheeks. The heat of his coffee? A chill from the evening breeze? Roman’s heart beat faster. Something else? “And you were wonderful,” Logan smiled at him again. "The way you strode across the stage, you stole every scene. And when you sang, I—I’m—I’m babbling, forgive me,” he said, chuckling quietly. His eyes danced between him and the cup in his hands.

“Nothing to forgive,” Roman murmured. “Your face lights up when you talk.” He moved his cup closer to Logan’s, tapping them together before he let his hand rest on the table, their fingertips nearly touching. “‘When you do dance, I wish you a wave o’ th’ sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.’”

Logan huffed out a surprised laugh. “The Winter’s Tale is one of my favorites,” he admitted with a wry smile. He looked down at his coffee cup, fiddling with the paper sleeve.

“Really?” Roman grinned, head tilted. “I… I never would’ve guessed that. I would expect you to be more of a… a Hamlet man or… or one of the Histories.”

Logan’s cheeks blushed beautifully. “Well, it’s definitely not one of the Bard’s more complex storylines, but… it’s… hopeful. Maybe I hold on too long to things. Should accept I’m just in my sixth role and—” his voice trailed off at Roman’s perplexed expression. “‘All the world’s a stage…his acts being seven ages.’”

“Mm-hm. No.” Roman shook his head with a little grin. “No… I can see it in you. Deep down, you’re a romantic. You’ve got the heart of Orlando, brave and strong…” Logan scoffed, and Roman just laughed and nodded as though he’d made his argument for him. “Humble.” He sobered quickly, watching the shifting lights in the sculpture behind him sparkle over Logan’s eyes. “Devoted to the people you love.”

“Me?” Logan shook his head and took a long draw on his coffee. “Oh, no,” he chuckled dryly. “I’m Jaques if I’m anyone in that play.” Logan lifted his eyeglasses and blinked through the sudden blurriness. “Look at these eyes. These are the eyes of a bitter old cynic.”

“No,” Roman said quietly. He leaned closer, examining his eyes. The sky had darkened since they’d started their coffees and the deep, almost indigo of Logan’s eyes matched the cloudless sky. “No, when I look in your eyes, Lo, I don’t see bitterness or cynicism. I see kindness. I see intelligence.” He set down his cup and let his hand rest near Logan’s left, fingertips just barely brushing against the back of it. “I see wisdom,” he whispered. “Hard-earned wisdom.”

Logan stared down at Roman’s hand and his fingers jerked closer. Roman continued. “And maybe a little fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Roman,” Logan said, swallowing hard. “I trust you.”

“I know,” he smiled. “Not a fear of me. I see a fear of…“ Roman paused, and licked suddenly dry lips. “I see a fear of being hurt… and of… of being alone.”

“A certainty, perhaps.” Logan scoffed, looking away. He pulled his glasses from the top of his head and resettled them on his face. “What kind of woman would want a middle aged, divorced man with three kids, greying hair, and a… dad bod?”

Roman picked up his coffee with his other hand, letting the hand on Logan’s linger, warming the soft, chilled skin near his sleeve. “Lo, I think anyone with any taste at all would be thrilled to have you in their life. And in their arms.” With a little smile, he reached across the table and brushed a lock of hair from Logan’s eyes, then pulled his hand back and drank his coffee.

“'Love looks not with the eyes?'” Logan finally managed, voice cracking, as he tried to laugh.

“Hmm… no,” Roman hummed, still smiling. “‘Love adds a precious seeing to the eye. A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind. A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound.’”

Logan stared back at him, a flush darkening his cheeks and his lips. Roman set down his cup again and drew closer. “The simplest truth is, Logan, I… 'I would not wish any companion in the world b—”

A familiar string chord played from Logan’s phone, interrupting him. It seemed to take him a moment to register the sound and just as Roman recognized the theme from Doctor Who, Logan suddenly fumbled for his phone in his pocket. “Oh, excuse me,” he muttered, looking down at the screen. “It’s—it’s Remy.” Across the table, Roman grinned and pulled out his own phone.

“It’s a group text,” he chuckled, turning the screen to show they’d received the same message.

Across the Spider-Verse opens next month and tickets are already up on Fandango. Do you want to go? ~~~

“Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken.” - Sonnet 116

#The Uses of Adversity #ts roman #ts logan #ts remus #Roman Prince #Remus Prince #Logan Sanders #logince #slow burn logince #Logan's got some stuff to figure out‚ okay?#butterfly story in the Happily Ever After Universe #what happened when Remus and Janus met and Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone that night #the Logince happy ending to It Could Always Be Worse #sanders sides fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

It Could Always Be Worse, Ch. 5: Happy Families

Butterfly universe version of Happily Ever After, Ch. 5: Happy Families.

Prev - Happy Families - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 1038 - Rated: T - CW: past hospitalization, minor injury, angst

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” - Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (1878)

Logan stood by the kitchen window, watching the snow fall on the road outside. He checked his phone again.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙, 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛

That had been four hours ago.

Logan lifted his mug to his lips again, tilting it back, only to find it empty. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and refilled his cup. It was the last of the pot, so he washed the pot and the filter, then, after staring at the clean pot for a moment, took out a fresh filter and started to brew another batch.

Once that was complete, he picked up his mug and resumed his watch over the street. It had been snowing for the past hour and a half and, while it was beautiful, the untreated streets were getting slippery.

The roads were mostly devoid of cars. It was Christmas Eve and it looked like most families were already home. Finally, sometime after Logan finished that cup and had his first from the fresh pot, he spotted headlights. He watched carefully as the car slowly drove through the accumulating snow.

Logan let out a long sigh when he recognized Kelly's car.

Logan had just put the last dish in the dishwasher when Virgil approached him, twisting his hands together in from of him. "Um, Dad?"

Logan felt his shoulders tighten at Virgil's tone, but he took a deep breath and tried to push away the first five worries that bled into his mind at Virgil's obvious hesitance to ask for what he needed. He looked at his son, focusing so he could let some warmth out through his smile. "What can I help you with, Virgil?"

”Um, in the rush to get ready, I forgot to drop off the presents for Matt and his little sister and brothers." Virgil looked down at the floor. "Can you drive me?"

”Virgil, the roads are going to be pretty bad until they plow, I really do not think it would be wise to drive."

”Fine, I'll walk," Virgil turned away from his father, heading toward the shoe rack.

"Wait, please..." Logan dried his hands on a towel, following Virgil to the shoe rack. "It's dark, the roads are bad, and you're wearing dark clothes." Logan sighed, "I'll come with you." Virgil scowled at his father. "I can help carry the bags, at least."

”I can go places without you, you know. The safety plan Dr. Halls emailed you says I can," Virgil stood firm, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"This doesn't have anything to do with the safety plan. You know what drivers are like around here the one time a year it snows." Logan carefully brushed Virgil's shoulder. "I would prefer that you weren't alone out there."

Virgil looked out the window at the slow-moving car driving past. It skidded a bit on the turn around the corner, brakes squealing. "Alright, yeah."

"Let's get Patton. Remy's asleep but I'll leave him a note in case he wakes up."

Virgil nodded, "Okay. Okay, thanks, Dad."

When they finally arrived at Matt's house, Matt's mom answered the door before they even rang the doorbell. "Yeah, we saw you three trudging through the snow." She looked sharply at Logan, eyeing him up and down. "I saw you slip... Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course I'm fine." Logan stood stiffly and tried to smile. "Just a little bruised ego."

"Oh, is that another word for butt?" Patton laughed. Logan turned to Patton with a frown, already opening his mouth to correct the rude remark. Patton cut him off, "What? It was just a joke." He looked down at the ground. "Mom woulda laughed."

Logan took a deep breath and swallowed back his reactive words. Before he could properly respond, Virgil interrupted. "Hey, is it okay if I say hi to Matt real quick? I know it's late. I'll be fast." Matt's mother pursed her lips, staring at Virgil for a moment before finally nodding. He mumbled a quick thanks and sidled past her into the house.

Matt's mother met Logan's eyes. "Can I talk to you for a bit?" She looked significantly at Patton.

"Oh, of course. We can walk and talk."

Logan limped a bit as they walked, taking careful steps. The snow was beautiful, but underneath was a layer of ice from when the temperature had risen just slightly before dropping suddenly. Matt's mom watched his tentative movements. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, yes, of course I'm fine. Just a little kink to work out from the fall. Please don't worry about me." He tried to straighten his posture and take longer, more confident steps. He grit his teeth against the pain radiating up his back. He looked at Matt's mom, bowing his head slightly. "You'd seemed like you had something important to discuss."

"Yes, well. Matt's stepdad and I have been talking and... We both think it would be better for both of the boys to spend less time together." Logan froze for a moment, uncertain he'd heard her properly. He stopped walking, turning to meet her eyes. "They're both in bad places mentally and they seem to be bad influences for each other. Like a loop of negativity." She smiled at Logan, the warmth not quite meeting her eyes. "It would be better for both of them if they kept their distance from each other. Matt's changing schools at the end of January, too, so it will be easier for them. "

Logan fought for words. "I really wish you would reconsider your belief. Matt and Virgil are best friends." Logan could feel his voice rising in pitch and he bit his lip, fighting to keep his tone under control. Reason with her.... "They are each other's support networks. I think it would actually be detrimental to their health to cut that off so suddenly, particularly as they are going through major changes like Matt changing schools."

"Well, our mind is made up. I truly am sorry but you'll need to help Virgil find someone else to depend on. I need to do what's best for Matt.” She started walking back toward her porch. "Please don't bring Virgil around here anymore."

#It Could Always Be Worse #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #Logan Sanders #Virgil Croft #Patton Croft #Kelly Croft - OC #mentioned #butterfly universe of Happily Ever After #what happened when Janus and Remus met at Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone #sanders sides fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

It Could Always Be Worse, Ch. 4: The Sun Did Not Shine

Butterfly universe version of Happily Ever After, Ch. 4: The Sun Did Not Shine.

Prev - The Sun Did Not Shine - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 1826 - Rated: T - CW: self-harm, arguing, hospital, suicidal ideation, self-deprecation, verbal abuse (by OC)

"The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house All that cold, cold wet day." - Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat (1957)

Logan hunched over the case file in front of him, re-reading the statement. He made another note on the yellow legal pad to his left, then stuck another little removable tab at the appropriate portion of the plaintiff's statement. He grit his teeth, shaking his head at the memory of the judge refusing to refer to his client as anything but 'The Victim." She's not a victim. She's prosecuting her attacker. She's not a victim.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Logan tried to refocus on the materials in front of him. Ruminating on the last pre-trial hearing would not help his client. He picked up his pen, right finger slowly scanning through the dense print.

Na, na na, na, na na na

Virgil's ringtone erupted from Logan's phone. Logan picked it up immediately. He had configured his phone so that the ringer would only sound if someone on his starred contact list called twice, otherwise, it would buzz silently. All the boys knew the best way to reach Logan when he was at work was to call the receptionist's line. He quickly thumbed the phone on, his voice a half-octave higher than usual, "Virgil? Virgil, are you okay?"

"Dad?" Virgil's voice was quiet and it was hard to hear over the background noise of the call. Where is he? Virgil had stayed home from school that day, telling Logan that he had a headache and thought he might be feeling nauseous. His school had a terrible culture of 'presenteeism,' where kids would often show up for school with masks or hospital-grade anti-emitrol patches. Logan had been relieved that Virgil was taking his health seriously enough to stay home when he felt ill.

"Dad, can you come get me?" Logan pressed the phone against his ear. That was definitely the sound of a espresso machine. "Please."

He didn't know why, but alarm bells rang in Logan's head. He closed his laptop, stacking the case file and his notepad on top, shoving all three into his satchel. "Of course, Virge, where are you?"

"I'm at a Starbucks near the marina. You know the one by the pier." What the hell was Virgil doing there?

"Yeah, yeah of course I know it." Logan shook his head, pulling the strap for his bag over his head, letting the strap cross his chest. He switched off the light in his office and headed down to the head attorney's office desk. "Hang on just one sec, okay, Virge?" He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for his boss to look up before speaking. "Hey, um Janus, I have a family emergency and will be out the rest of the day. I'm not due in court until Monday. I—" Logan took a deep breath, "I am sorry to leave so suddenly, but, um, it's my son."

Janus looked up, brow furrowed, "Yes, yes, of course, do what you need to do, Croft." Logan flinched slightly, not feeling like this was the time to correct him again. "We'll still be here when you're back." He looked back down at his computer screen for a moment, then looked up at Logan again, "Good luck with whatever it is. I hope the family is okay."

"Thanks, Janus. If I need more than a day, I will call you." Janus waved him off, going back to his work. Logan rushed out of the office, bringing his phone back up to his ear. He could hear Virgil sniffing over the line, like he was crying. The background noise had changed and Logan could hear fewer voices and more traffic sounds.

"Okay, Virge, I'm on my way." He rushed to the stairs, running down two at a time to the garage, not trusting the elevators to be any faster at this time of day. "Virge, it sounds different now... where are you?"

"I'm... I'm outside." Virgil started crying. "Dad... Dad, I went—" His crying got louder and Logan gripped the phone tightly, pressing it against his ear, struggling to hear him over the background noise in the garage, over the line, over his tears. "I went to go buy blades."

Logan held his breath for a moment then slowly said, voice catching, "Virge, are you still outside that same Starbucks?" Logan could just barely make out Virgil's hummed yes over the sound of his cries. "Virge, just stay right there, do you hear me? Stay right there. I'm on my way."

Logan got to his minivan, fumbling his keys and dropping them as his hands shook. He covered the mouth piece on the phone for just a moment as a strangled cry escaped his own throat. Pressing his lips together he breathed in through his nose then slowly exhaled. He uncovered the mouthpiece "Okay, Virge, I'm getting in the car. I'm going to stay on the phone with you until I get to you, okay?"

Virgil murmured faintly, "Okay."

Taking one more shaky breath, Logan replied, "Okay. Okay, I'm putting you on speaker so I can put down the phone." He tapped at the phone, setting it into the little hands-free holder he'd hooked up last year. "Can you hear me?" Logan asked, increasing the volume on his phone.

"Yeah," Virgil's voice was a little stronger but he was still crying.

"Okay, I'm going to narrate as I drive, just like when you were little, okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, I'm leaving the parking garage and turning right..."

Forty-five minutes later, just as Logan's phone was flashing an angry red low-battery signal, he parked in front of the Starbucks by the Kirkland marina. Virgil sat on a bench, under a patio umbrella, hood drawn down over his forehead, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, earphones plugged in his ears.

Logan got out of the minivan and ran through the rain to the bench where he cowered under cover. He sat next to his son. He reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder but Virgil shook him off. Logan bit the inside of his cheek, keeping an iron grip of control over his features. Virgil looked at him, "Can we just go?"

Logan nodded, standing up, pressing his hands against his shaking legs. "Let's get in the car." Then climbed inside and Logan started the engine, adjusting the heater and blowers to point warm air against Virgil's soaking wet sneakers and pant legs. Starbucks' patio umbrella had done a decent job of keeping the top half of his body dry, but the rest of him had gotten soaked in the rain.

"Virge, I think we need to take you to a hospital."

Virgil was quiet for a long while, the only sound in the car was the air rushing through the blowers and the periodic rub-rub-squeak of the windshield wipers. "Yeah." He chewed on his thumbnail, looking out the window at the soggy street. "Yeah, that's what Matt had to do."

”Okay." Logan took a deep breath, slowing letting it out as he backed out of the parking stall and turned onto the road, headed back toward Seattle and Children's Hospital. "We'll call Mom once we get there, okay?" Virgil nodded, continuing to stare out the window as they drove in silence.

"So what caused this?" Kelly leaned over the small table separating Logan and Kelly on one side and Virgil's evaluating clinician on the other. "Could it be," she glanced at Logan, then looked up at the clinician with big eyes, "Could it be because of, well, the family breaking apart?" Kelly said the last part in a little whisper.

Logan shifted in his seat, folding and refolding his hands in his lap, as the clinician flipped through his interview notes from his evaluation with Virgil. He frowned, looking at what he had written. Kelly patted Logan's knee, speaking more to the clinician than to Logan, "Of course, Logan, this isn't all your fault, right, Dr. Nale?

Kelly looked into Dr.Nale's eyes, nodding her head with a little pout on her lips. Dr. Nale cleared his throat and leaned forward in his seat, gesturing to the clipboard in his hand. "Ye—yes, of course not. We're not here to place blame or point fingers, but to find out how best to help Virgil." Dr. Nale looked between the two of them. Kelly smiled sadly at him as Logan bit the inside of his cheek to fight the tremor in his jaw. "Now, as a first step, we need to get Virgil stabilized to a point where he's no longer in imminent risk...."

Kelly stood outside Virgil's room while he slept. Logan approached carrying two cups of water. Extending one toward her, he murmured her name.

”What do you want?" she hissed quietly without looking at him. A nurse passed and she smiled and nodded at the passing staff before turning to face Logan. He remained silent, holding out the cup. The water trembled slightly in the cup. "Jesus, Logan, don't look at me like that. It's not my fault you snuck up on me like that." She took the water, mumbling a quick thanks. Logan turned to face Virgil's room, carefully lifting the cup to his lips, spilling only a tiny drop on his tie. He looked down, grateful the spot didn't show against the dark floral pattern.

Logan cleared his throat, gripping the cup tightly in his hands, trying to keep their shaking unnoticeable. "Thank you for what you said in the consultation room."

Kelly looked at him out of the corner of her eye, scowling lightly. She shook her head. "What are you talking about.?"

Logan bit his lip for a moment, taking another sip of his water. "Wh-what you said about... about—"

Kelly spoke quietly, eyes focused on Virgil's room. "About how this is all because you decided to leave and break up our family? Because you couldn't just man up and be a father and a husband?"

Logan's breath hitched. He tried to cover it by taking another sip, draining the last of the water inside.

"Virgil tried to kill himself while he was home with you." Kelly's voice was calm, and quiet, and cut Logan to the bone. "What part of this is not your fault?"

He remained silent, bringing the empty cup to his lips as though to take another sip, hiding his trembling lips. Fuck, Logan, man up. You swore you'd never let her see you cry again. Cut this shit out now. He took another shaky breath concentrating on the texture of the cup in his hands.

Kelly finally looked at him, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Logan kept his eyes trained on the cup in his hands. "Oh, so you're playing the 'ignoring me' game. Okay, fine. Look, I've got to call my office. Why don't you take care of his admittance and then we'll see if you're ready to talk like an adult." She turned and walked toward the exit without waiting for a response.

#It Could Always Be Worse #ts logan #ts virgil #Logan Sanders #Virgil Croft #Kelly Croft - OC #fuck kelly #butterfly story of Happily Ever After #what happened when Janus and Remus met at Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides

2 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

It Could Always Be Worse, Ch. 2: It Was a Bright, Cold Day in April

Butterfly universe version of Happily Ever After, Ch. 2: It Was a Bright, Cold Day in April

Prev - It Was a Bright, Cold Day in April - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 1404 - Rating: T - CW: swearing, self-deprecation, divorce, dogs

"It was a bright, cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." -George Orwell, 1984 (1949)

Logan drove slowly down the winding road, fingers still a little cold while he waited for the heater to finally start in the old minivan. As he passed each mailbox or curbside label, his eyes quickly flicked over, searching for the right house number. He got the end of the street, peering out at the sign on the intersection. He shook his head, muttering to himself in the empty minivan. "No, that's already East 67th. Fuck. I must have passed it."

Sucking in a breath, fighting against that all-too-familiar burning tightness in his chest, Logan carefully made a K-turn at the intersection, biting his lip and wincing as he came close the the curb on the opposite street. Finally, he got his old minivan turned around so he could drive back up the street he'd just come from. Logan put the van in park and pulled up the email from the PTSA treasurer for the fourth time that morning. 5923. He needed 5923. He huffed out a little puff of air, swallowing against the growing lump in his throat. There isn't a 5923.

Logan ripped his glasses off his face, tossing the frames onto the passenger side seat next to him and buried his face in his hands. He let out a long, muffled scream into his palms. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He screamed he felt his eyes might burst. He screamed until he felt glass scraping his throat. He screamed until he was completely empty.

He took another breath and muttered to himself again. "C'mon, you dumb fuck, get yourself together. Google Maps says the house exists. The Treasurer says the house exists. You're just not seeing it. Try. Again." Logan lowered his hands and replaced the frames on his face, taking a couple of deep breaths and ignoring the burning in his eyes and the fire in his throat. He licked his lips, tilted his head from one side to the other, feeling one side crack. He shifted out of park, checked his mirrors and his blind spot, and pulled back onto the road, searching again for the proper house.

After another half-hour, Logan finally spotted tiny white numerals painted on the edge of the curb. "See, it's right fucking there," he muttered to himself. "You must have driven past the place ten times." He carefully parked on the street, turning his steering wheel against the incline of the hill, and engaged the parking break. He gathered his laptop, pen case, phone, and keys, and locked the car, racing up the walkway to the house. The front door was open, the other PTSA parents in the audit sub-committee already sitting around a tastefully decorated dining room table. The hostess waved him in and he carefully toed off his shoes, leaving them just outside the door.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, two large dogs lunged against a gate covering the hallway next to the front door, barking and snarling at him. Logan jumped backwards then froze, breath caught in his throat. Oh my god, Logan, if you have a fucking panic attack in front of the PTSA moms...

"Oh, sorry, about that, they get so excited when people come over," the hostess called out to him.

Logan nodded, pressing a smile onto his face. He forced his feet to move forward toward the table, keeping a steely grip on his computer, refusing to look toward the dogs. He pushed up the corners of his mouth, trying to brighten his smile. "Hi, Liz, Grace. Bridgett, thank you for hosting this year." He sucked in a breath, "Sorry to be so late."

"Oh, hun, it's fine. We're just glad you're here. Now we can get started."

Grace handed Logan a large, thick three-ring binder filled with paper copies of every check and cash deposit transaction for the PTSA that year. "We had a lot of small teacher grants this year, plus the graduation yard sign sale was a big success. We've got a lot of ground to cover. Bridget and Liz will reconcile the minutes and budget updates. Will you validate that each check for reimbursements and grants matches the requisition form and documentation?"

Logan nodded, "Certainly." Opening the binder, Logan pulled out the four checkbooks-worth of check duplicates and began the audit list.

Grace looked around the table and waved, "I'm not supposed to stay for the audit but you all can call me if you have questions! See y'all later!" She skipped away from the table, petting the dogs as she left.

The three worked in relative silence for a few minutes as Bridgette and Liz finalized the short report for August. Finally, Bridgette cleared her throat, "Oh, did you hear about the Petersons?," asked Liz as they compared reports for September.

"Do you mean that they're moving or that—" Logan could feel Liz' eyes on him. He kept his eyes trained down on the documents in front of him.

Bridgette hummed, leaning closer to Liz, whispering low enough that Logan couldn't make out most of the words and the few that he could hear were easy to tune out. He turned to the next page in the notebook, confirming that the check number, date, signature, and payee all appropriately matched the requisition form.

The audit sub-committee worked this way for a few hours before, finally, Bridgette and Liz had completed their notebooks, signing off on their portions of the audit list. Logan had a few more forms to check and then he could sign off, as well. Bridgette refilled their water glasses, then turned to Logan. "So, Logan, how has Kelly been doing? We haven't seen her around much lately and it's been forever since Pete and I have had the two of you over."

Logan bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to try and stop his jaw from trembling. "Kelly is doing fine, thank you." He nodded absently, eyes fixed on the forms in front of him. He turned to the next check in the book and the next form to validate.

Bridgette sounded surprised. "Oh, well, that's good to hear." He didn't look up, but could hear the little popping sounds of one of the two mouthing something to the other.

"Are you sure she's okay?" Liz pushed. "You know, we had heard that you two had gotten a divorce."

Logan sucked in a breath, staring down at the form in front of him. "Yes, yes that would be accurate."

"Oh, that's such a shame. You had such a beautiful family," Bridgette murmured, taking a sip of her water glass. "You know, Brad and I have definitely been through some rough spots, let me tell you!"

Logan quietly nodded, trying to complete the last few pages in his book without breaking. He could feel the lump in the back of his throat growing, but he was confident that if he could just concentrate on the numbers in front of him, he could get this done and get back in his car before his control slipped completely.

Liz reached out, patting his hand. "So how often do you get to visit the kids?"

Logan grit his teeth, pressing his lips together for a moment before forcibly relaxing his jaw and answering quietly, "We have a shared custody agreement. The boys spend half their time home with me and half their time at Kelly's."

"Oh," Liz said, pulling her hand back. "I'd heard, well, I'm—"

Logan finally turned the last page in the book and snapped it closed. "Well, I believe our work here is done. With the exception of the one reimbursement for more than the request amount on check 7294, everything is perfectly in order here." Logan reached for the audit report sheet and quickly signed it. He looked up at Liz and Bridgette, "It has been a pleasure, as always." He drank the last of the water in his glass, thanked Bridgette for her hospitality and left, flinching as the dogs barked at him in his retreat.

Rushing to get in his car before they could see his face, Logan started the car, carefully backing out and driving home in the waning light. When he had gotten a few blocks away, he pulled over, leaned over the steering wheel and sobbed.

#It Could Always Be Worse #ts logan #Logan Sanders #butterfly story of Happily Ever After #what happened when Janus and Remus met at Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic

2 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

It Could Always Be Worse, Ch. 9: Ships at a Distance

Butterfly universe version of Happily Ever After, Ships at a Distance.

Prev - Ships at a Distance - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 751 - Rating: T - CW: angst, closeted

"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board." - Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

Logan looked up from his laptop. It was dark outside. He leaned back and stretched, reaching his arms over his head and bending his shoulders back until he felt a few joints pop. He took a deep breath and checked to see how much coffee he had left in the mug in front of him. Empty.

He shrugged and stood, walking over to the coffee maker. He poured another cup and leaned back against the counter, sipping at the hot, bitter liquid. He had the house completely to himself tonight, even Remy was out at an ex-girlriend's graduation party. Logan shook his head. At least I did something right with him. Remy's managed to stay friends with every single one of his ex-girlfriends.

Logan checked the time. Not quite nine o'clock. Topping off his coffee, Logan brought his mug back to the table, re-reading his notes. He'd wrap this up and then think about bed.

Logan picked up the first case file, re-opening it and scanning the opening motion. At least Janus' cases were engaging. As Attorney in Charge at the firm, Janus tended to take on the thorniest issues and, while Logan knew was likely selected merely because he was one of the few attorneys at his level who Janus had not invited to his anniversary party, he also knew his boss wouldn't have entrusted him with the work if he had believed him to be inadequate.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Logan closed his eyes and reached out to touch the sharp pang that had been poking at his heart ever since Janus asked him to cover his cases. He felt the edges of it, the cutting, stinging knowledge that the rest of his team was at Janus' anniversary party at that moment. Logan gulped at his coffee, pushing away the thought and focused on the work in front of him. It was fine.

Reviewing the notes, Logan assured himself that he had the key points memorized, and had the basic facts of the case and full supporting evidence at his fingertips. He nodded to himself. He was ready. Logan saved his work, then snapped the laptop closed. He looked up at the time on the coffee maker.

11:45 PM

His eyes involuntarily bounced up to the staircase. The icy rock in the pit of his stomach grew.

Logan's phone suddenly buzzed and he picked it up. It was a text from Remy.

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝙰 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚒𝚝. 𝚑𝚝𝚝𝚙𝚜://𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚘𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗.𝚘𝚛𝚐/𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜/𝟷𝟷𝟹𝟼𝟷𝟽𝟸𝟿

Curiosity piqued, and grateful for distraction from the empty bedroom waiting for him upstairs, Logan clicked the link. After the page loaded, he stared at the screen, blinking for a moment. A Doctor Who story? Online? He took another sip of his coffee and started to read.

~~~Epilogue~~~

At the party

Jacinta read over Remy's shoulder, then gave him a little squeeze. "Your dad's gonna be cool with this. You just need to give him a chance."

”I mean, yeah, I know you're probably right." Remy stared at the unsent text on his phone screen, gnawing at his lower lip. "And... I know I shouldn't have let him think that you were my girlfriend... It was just... easier than telling him the truth."

"Doesn't your dad, like, work in an LGBTQ law firm?" Jacinta tilted her head, frowning at her best friend.

”Well, yeah, but... We never talk about it." Remy leaned his head back on Jacinta's shoulder, frowning. "We never talk about anything but grades or grocery lists or Doctor Who. I don't know what he actually thinks about anything real.”

"So here's your chance to talk to him. Send him the story. It'll raise the topic, and then when he says something positive about it and about how supportive Twelve is with Bill's sexuality," she grabbed his chin, giving it a gentle shake while she met his eyes. "Then you tell him."

Remy stared at the screen for one more minute, double-checking that he had the right link. Then he took a deep breath and hit Send.

--- This is the story Remy sent to his dad: Proud, by color of my mind. Summary: Set anytime between The Pilot and World and Enough Time. The Doctor decides to surprise Bill with a special trip to the future that honors the past. It's short and fluffy and lovely and you don't need to know anything about Doctor Who to appreciate and love it.

#It Could Always Be Worse #ts logan #ts remy #Logan Sanders #Remy Sanders #Butterfly universe story of Happily Ever After #what happened when Janus and Remus met at Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone that night #sanders sides fanfiction

1 note · View note

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

It Could Always Be Worse, Ch. 7: All This Happened Here

Butterfly universe version of Happily Ever After, Ch. 7: All This Happened Here.

Prev - All This Happened Here - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 963 - Rated: T - CW: heavy angst, dissociation, past injuries, implied self-harm

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

Logan didn't sleep that night.

Instead, he'd laid in bed, in the quiet, dark, empty room, pretending he could hear someone else there. He pretended he heard the sounds of someone taking a shower in the next room. Or downstairs, making coffee so it would be ready when he came down. He closed his eyes and pretended he could hear someone's quiet breath next to him, peacefully sleeping.

In the still, unbroken darkness of his room, he let himself feel. He let himself poke at emptiness in his chest, in his arms, in his hands. He felt the crushing, radiating, ache in his chest that had been there so long that, during the day, he almost didn't even notice it anymore. He clutched his pillow, gripping it tight, trying to calm the tremors in his muscles fatigued holding nothing but air. In the darkness, he could hold his own hands, believing for just a moment that they weren't really empty. Until he felt his scars.

Logan held his hands in front of him. He couldn't see them, but he knew what they looked like.

He could picture the shiny white scar that covered his left palm and most of the inside of his fingers. He pictured the little half-moon callouses on his right palm from repeatedly clenching his fist as one of his only tools for self-control. He pictured the bent ring and middle fingers on his right hand where fractures had set wrong because he'd gone too long before treatment. He felt his right wrist, picturing the metal pins he knew to be there, buried in the bones, from when he had gotten to the emergency room in time. He didn't want to touch the scars on his left wrist.

Logan rolled over on his side, tears dripping down over his pillow, as he counted, first by ones, then threes, then primes, Fibonacci's... Finally, the sky started to lighten and the room brightened. His alarm went off. He stared at it, listening to it repeat the same 30 second loop until it stopped, either by timing out or because the battery finally died.

Logan didn't get out of bed.

Logan stayed in bed all morning, barely moving. He watched the shadows change and shift as the hours past and the angle of the sunlight moved down the walls. Finally, at around 11, he heard Remy's door open and his quiet steps shuffling down the stairs. He was laughing, talking with someone about a raid they were in the middle of. Discord.

He listened as two more times, Remy left his room and went downstairs. The second time, he was downstairs for much longer, and Logan thought he could hear the faint sounds of the television bleeding through the floor. Finally, at around 7, Remy went back upstairs, talking on the phone. Logan just laid there, watching the tiny flicker of a shadow cast from a tree branch waving in front of the streetlight.

Logan must have dozed off at some point, because the next time he opened his eyes, the room was beginning to brighten again from the sunrise. He lay there until his thirst drove him to drink and, then use the restroom. He'd felt a little dizzy when he stood, but it really didn't matter much, so he ignored it.

He slowly made his way downstairs and walked into the kitchen. He looked around a bit before shrugging and taking out his laptop, sitting down with it at the kitchen table. He pulled up all of his financial paperwork and checked the last time he'd updated any of it. Not since just after the divorce, so it had been well over a year.

Logan got to work.

Several hours later, Remy came downstairs.

"Hey, Dad," he said as he passed Logan's chair on this way to the refrigerator.

"Hi, Remy. Good morning," Logan caught sight of the clock on his laptop. "Or, rather, good afternoon," he smiled at Remy, punctuating his joke.

Remy chuckled, "Yeah, I guess it is technically after-noon at 12:03." Remy rooted around in the freezer, pulling out a microwavable curry dish. Ripped it out of the packaging and tossed it in the microwave, he leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers while he watched the glass tray inside spin. Logan could smell when it was ready, the warm, spicy aroma filling the kitchen. It smelled nice and made his mouth reflexively water, but just the thought of putting food in his mouth made him want to go back to bed.

Remy put his food on a plate and headed for the staircase, "I'm paused on a game with my friends, See you later," he called before leaning over the banister. He narrowed his eyes at Logan. "Hey, Dad, are you okay? You seem a little quieter than usual."

Logan screamed inside. His heart cracked into bits, pushing the sharp pieces through his chest and his arms and his stomach, scraping and tearing him up from the inside. He took a breath, but the air was flames pouring into his mouth and nose and throat and down into his lungs. He his eyes burned with unshed tears, his vision blurred, and there was a roaring in his ears as he tried to stop them from falling.

He smiled. "Oh, I'm fine, Remy, thank you. Have fun with your game."

"Oh I will, it's new... I'll tell you about it when we beat this boss." Remy started back up the stairs, talking into his phone, "Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way. Gimme a minute."

"Oh, and, Dad?" Remy called from the landing.

“Yes?” Logan looked up at his son.

“Hey, next time you’re at the store can you get more cat litter and those cat litter bags?”

#It Could Always Be Worse #ts logan #ts remy #Logan Sanders #Remy Sanders #Butterfly universe of Happily Ever After #what happened when Janus and Remus met at Jack's party and Janus never walked home alone that night #cw angst #cw self-harm #cw dissociation #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides

1 note · View note

edupunkn00b · 3 years ago

Text

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 6: Hello, My Old Heart

Prev - Hello, My Old Heart - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Rated: T - CW: suggestive, swearing - WC: 1141

The room was dim, the walls around him barely discernible, but it was comfortably warm and his shoes tread without an echo on the smooth marble floor. A quiet guitar melody filled the space and slowly, the room grew brighter. The light was soft, diffuse, and Logan couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. Just as he began to wonder about that, he noticed strand after strand of warm fairy lights sprayed across the walls, dipping and swooping like parade bunting. A sparkling chandelier appeared overhead and flickering tea lights dotted every surface.

He turned around and they were dancing to the slow rhythm, bodies close, cheek to cheek. The warm hand grasping his, the loving arm draped over his shoulders, the sure, steady movement of their feet as he led their dance, they all just fit together, like puzzle pieces. They twirled across the floor, the music rising up into a crescendo.

“Hello, my old heart,” Logan whispered, their bodies moving in unison across the dance floor. Oh, how he'd missed this. This was their first dance, but they’d always danced. Round and round, the music guided their feet, their heartbeats kept time to the gently plucked melody.

The voice in his ear was soft, and sweet… and the hot breath ghosting across his skin sent a shiver up his spine. “I love you, Lo.”

His heart soared as they spun around the dance floor, now the only couple left. Logan tilted his partner's chin and smiled into his eyes. “And I love you, my Prince.” He leaned in, softly kissing his lips. Roman draped both arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss, each touch growing more and more heated until, breathless, they broke apart.

Now they stood in the middle of Logan’s bedroom, panting. Needy, fumbling fingers tugged away clothing. Logan’s jacket hit the floor, then Roman’s shirt, Logan’s belt, and then his tie. The rest of their clothes soon followed.

The bedroom lights were off, the room filled with bluish moonlight spilling through the gossamer curtains. The same song now played from Logan’s cell phone where it rested on his night stand.

One hand at the small of his back, the other gently tangled in his silky auburn hair, Logan walked Roman backwards toward his bed as they devoured each other through their kiss. Finally, they separated, chests heaving as they fought to steady their breath. Bright green eyes sparkled back up at him as he carefully laid Roman down over the thick comforter.

“I love you,” Logan whispered again, capturing his lips in another kiss as he lay down on top of him.

Logan sat up in bed and dragged his hands down his face, his panting from the dream bleeding into the waking world. He forced a slow, hitching breath, trying to slow his racing heart.

“Fuck,” he whispered to his empty room, tears pricking his eyes.

He flung back the covers and climbed out of bed. He stripped the sheets and piled them in the corner, along with the duvet covers for his comforter and his weighted blanket. "They can wait until morning," he muttered as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower shower.

Wincing, he peeled off his pajamas and stood under the hot water.

It had been years since he’d last dreamt about Roman.

He’d tried to deny it, if only to himself, but it had only taken a moment for Logan to recognize those bright green eyes. It was his voice he'd remembered at first, though, that deep resonance sparking the memory of a feeling he fought to ignore.

Back in the coatroom when he first saw Roman, Logan had prayed to whatever deity he hadn't yet pissed off that Roman simply wouldn't recognize him. Back in law school, he'd tried so hard to match the professional distance Remy’s favorite teacher had maintained with him. But Roman was bright and friendly, and had a presence that had made Logan unsurprised when he’d first learned the man was double majoring in theatre and early childhood education. Roman was the type of person you just wanted to be around. Smart, charismatic, funny….

Logan disregarded the tiny pang he felt every time Roman called him Mr. Croft, or the way he would sometimes avoid his eyes. He knew thinking about the undergrad in that way was wrong on every single level. Back then, Logan had still been married… A father, four years Roman’s senior…. Straight.

But sometimes, at night, Logan’s subconscious had other ideas. He’d researched the topic, of course, but had found very little conclusive information. Some sources explained that cishet people having same-sex dreams was simply a sign of self-acceptance. Metaphorical self-love made more concrete in dream form. Others, particularly when the subject of the dream was personally known by the dreamer, insisted the dreams were a sign of jealousy over something the subject had.

And, of course, there were the sources that said it was nothing more than a sign of repressed desire. Logan made a face and poured a dollop of his facial scrub into his hand, rubbed his fingers together, then attacked his t-zone with the lather. He shook his head and plunged his face under the hot spray. Ridiculous psychobabble.

By the time Logan had finished his shower and gotten dressed for the day, the first rays of dawn peeked out over the horizon, so he gathered his dirty bedclothes and brought them down to the basement to wash. When he returned to his room, he checked his phone and sat on the edge of the bed to read the message waiting for him. It was from Roman.

'And as the morning steals upon the night, melting the darkness…'

Though he couldn't deny the apt description of the way that morning's dawn seemed to melt away the night's sky, he puzzled over the incomplete verse from the Tempest. He saw the little dots that indicated Roman was typing, though, so he waited. When the message finally popped up, Logan's laugh burst out of him before he could muffle it behind his hand.

So I reload Google Maps yet again in vain, in search of an address it cannot find.

:) Google says you live in the woods, but that can't be right. What are your proper cross streets? - Ro

Shoulders still shaking with laughter, he tapped out a response.

I will then aid its muddled senses and chase the ignorant fumes that blind th'blasted app from clearer paths.

Logan followed with a message with their cross streets and a pinned map from another navigation service that seemed to better handle his suburban neighborhood.

'I can no other answer make but, thanks, and thanks; and ever thanks;'

See you in a few hours! - Ro

After several attempts, Logan finally sent a simple response, tapping out his full name, before finally adding the shortening from his dream and hitting send before he could second guess himself.

Yes, see you soon! - Lo

#The Uses of Adversity #ts logan #ts roman #Logan Sanders #Roman Prince #slow burn logince #logince #future logince #Janus: Logan is straight. Remus: Sure‚ Jan.#continuation of It Could Always Be Worse #Happily Ever After Butterfly Story #what happened when Janus met Remus at Jack's party and never walked home alone

18 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 4 years ago

Text

My Heart is On My Sleeve and my Fics are on AO3

AO3 | Honesty Hour | Logan’s Master Schedule | Art

Just Like Magic - Endgame QPP Mage Loceit and more