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[naminethewriter]

Just One More

I love your SaSi fics! Might I request some touch-starved analogical? No pressure tho! *disappears in a poof of smoke, leaving a plate of cookies for you* – amateurmasksmith

hello! i'd hate to be a bother but i love your writing so much and would love to see some more logan hurt/comfort? Any type works but there isn't enough highschool au!Logan overworking himself and the others not noticing until he's completely burnt out and realising that Logan is a lot more damaged than they thought in my opinion <3- anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: overworking, burn out

Pairings: analogical

Word Count: 2377

Just one more. Just one more. Just one more.

It's been just one more for the past hour and a half, but that's beside the point. If he thinks about how much he still has to do, he'll get so overwhelmed he can't do anything but stare at the mountains of work piling up in front of him. But if he thinks about it as just one more, then he can do just one more. And he'll do it over and over and over again until there aren't any one mores to be just.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. He's getting lyrical again. Anytime he starts to wax poetic he knows Roman's overworking tendencies are rubbing off on him again.

Now, that's not to say that Roman always overworks, it's just that out of their friend group, one of them has this habit of pulling all-nighters and downing coffee as though it could replace the blood in his veins if he tried hard enough, and one of them has a color coded schedule that marks out just how much he can get away with before he has to take a break to drink water, eat food, or recover some semblance of sanity before he loses it to equations and spreadsheets beyond number. Said schedule might have been, ahem, put off for a little bit too long in order to allow for such repeated actions as just one more, but that's beside the point. Beside several points, actually, and he'd rather not think about it right now when he should be focusing on the just one mores.

His pen scribbles down the answer and without blinking, he picks up the page and flips it over so he can start working on the next problem. He's already broken down the respective equations by the time his brain catches up to the fact that this is not, in fact, just one more.

Just one more.

What time is it? He doesn't know. He doesn't particularly care. He has work to do, that's far more important. Besides, it's not as though he'll suffer egregiously if he works a little later than he's supposed to. He's the one who allocates his time, if he has an issue with how he's spending it, he'll take it up with himself later. After this one. After this next one. Just one more.

He blinks. Oh, his eyes were closed. That's annoying. How is he supposed to work with his eyes closed? His gives his head a good shake and promptly cries out from the pain. That's bizarre, when did his headache get so bad? He's supposed to drink water every fifteen minutes to keep his fluid intake constant, and that helps keep the headaches at bay. He reaches out blindly for the water bottle and gropes thin air. That's weird. His water bottle should be right there. He turns his head to look—

He cries out in pain again. That's not right. Why is his neck so sore? He's supposed to take breaks to look around to make sure his muscles don't get too stiff from staring at the same place all day. Come to think of it, he's also supposed to be doing his eye relaxation too to make sure he doesn't focus in too hard and risk losing his peripheral vision. Granted, that is more common in fields where attention to fine detail is much more common, but it can't hurt to be cautious. In this case, it's hurting him not to be cautious. Perhaps he's focused in too deep…missed the forest for the trees…and now it's hard to see…isn't it a challenge to be free?

Now he's rhyming.

What time is it?

His hand flops uselessly down to the side. It's burning. Is it burning? No, pins and needles, that's the term. That's the term for when his circulation isn't making it all the way to the end of his fingers, why is that? How can that be? It hasn't been that long, has it? He has work to do, he can't have been so careless with his time that he's forgotten he has work to do? No, he'll rally himself to do just one more.

Just one more.

His hand clatters uselessly against the desk.

Just one more.

His notebook slides off into his lap and splays out on the floor like a corpse.

Just one more.

His eyes slide shut.

Just one more.

He falls forward.

Just one more.

He hits the desk and something is—is—

Just one more.

***

Alright, Virgil's getting nervous.

Not that it's a wild thing for Virgil to get nervous, but it is wild that it's Logan that's making him nervous. Logan's like the beacon of work-life balance, which is why it's fucking weird that Logan of all people isn't here, at breakfast, like they planned last week and confirmed literally every day up until yesterday. Yeah. That's weird. Logan's not here and he's almost a full hour late and Virgil is getting pretty fucking nervous about it.

The clock keeps ticking. And ticking. And ticking.

When it ticks over to yep, Logan's officially a full hour late, Virgil muffles a curse and gets up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind billows around his hood as he hurries across the street, ducking cars and avoiding other people walking around as the sun gets higher and higher and higher. Logan's street isn't far from here, just a few blocks over. His fingers itch at the sound of many passing conversations but he squeezes his hands shut.

No time for music, not right now. Not when he's on a mission.

Logan should've texted if he was running late. Logan always texts when he's running late. And the fact that he hasn't texted saying he's running late means that something is wrong with Logan or something's wrong with Virgil's phone. And given that their group chat has been blowing up all morning as Roman and Janus argue about some video game franchise and who's hotter and who's overrated means that Virgil's phone is working just fine.

So something's wrong with Logan. Which is making Virgil really fucking nervous.

He doesn't even realize his feet have carried him all the way up the stairs to Logan's house until his hand is raised to knock on the door. He does, shuffling a few paces back and waiting until the footsteps on the other side get closer.

"Oh, Virgil," Logan's mom says as she opens the door, "it's good to see you, honey. Are you and Logan still going out for breakfast?"

"Yes, uh, yes, ma'am. I think so, at least."

"You don't need to call me ma'am, honey, you can come in." She waves him inside, smiling kindly when he mumbles something along the lines of I want to 'cause you're always so nice to me, and turns up the stairs. "Logan! Logan, sweetheart, Virgil's here!"

No response. Yep, getting real nervous.

"Do you want to go up, honey? He'll react better if it's you getting him than me."

"Is—is everything okay?"

She looks at him for a moment, her mouth twisting from side to side, before she sighs. "Honestly, I think you've got a better chance of dragging him out of there than I do. He's very reasonable, isn't he? Always coming up with the perfect explanation for what he's doing."

"Uh huh."

"Which is why I think you've got a better chance of just dragging him out to go to breakfast, hm?" She winks as Virgil splutters slightly. "I'm only teasing you, honey. But on a serious note: please, if you can get him out of the house just for a little, I think some fresh air would do him good."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"That's a good boy. Go on, now."

Virgil quickly makes his way up the stairs, down the hall, right to Logan's door. Remus made them all signs for their rooms that indicate whether or not they're cool with having people come knock on their doors and for the most part, everyone's parents and siblings have respected them. Logan's has four different markers: Out, In – Disturbable, In – Not Disturbable, and Asleep. The pin is still listed next to Out.

Yep. Yep, yep, yep. All signs lead to being real nervous.

He knocks on the door. "Logan? Hey, L, it's, uh, it's Virgil."

Nothing.

"You, um, you didn't text saying you were late or anything, so I, uh, I got worried."

Still nothing.

"Logan? Logan, I need some sort of sign of life, buddy, or else I'm gonna come in."

When there's yet another round of nothing, he grits his teeth and carefully opens the door, preparing to meet an angry Logan who was just about to text you, Virgil, there wasn't any need for this, or a sleepy Logan who accidentally overslept—it happens, it might have only happened, like, once, but it is possible—or even a Logan who's just about to put his coat on and rush out, but…

But not the Logan who's passed out on his desk, his glasses still on his face and his notebook on the floor.

"Holy shit," Virgil mumbles, rushing over, "Logan? Logan, are you okay?"

He carefully lifts up Logan's arm to get his glasses off his face, wincing at the puddle of drool. The movement makes this high-pitched noise happen and he only belatedly realizes that's Logan making that noise—Logan's still asleep, somehow, but he's—oh, god, Logan's in pain.

"Hey, L," he calls quietly, giving Logan's shoulder a gentle shake, "hey, you gotta wake up, buddy, it's just me, okay? C'mon…"

"V-Virgil?"

"Hey, yeah, you got it, it's me—" he crouches down so Logan can see him— "hey, there he is."

Logan blinks. He's all bleary-eyed and sleep-mussed, his hair sticking up in the wrong places and a crease from where he'd been leaning against his shirt. He blinks a few more times, wincing at the sunlight slanting in through the window, before he cringes and brings a hand to his neck.

"Whoa, hey, what's going on?"

"Hurts."

"What hurts, bud?"

"My head," he whimpers, fuck, okay, Logan's really not okay, "my head hurts."

"Okay. I'm gonna go get you some water, okay? Can I go and do that?"

"Don't leave—wait, please—" a hand grabs his arm as he goes to pull away and Logan lets out another frightened noise— "it's so cold. You're so warm."

"I'm—I'm the warm one? Whoa, hey, hey, hey, I didn't mean it like that," he says, softening his tone when Logan shrinks back, "I just meant that—you know, I run cold as hell and you're…"

He trails off when he sees the tears bubbling at the corners of Logan's eyes. He comes back immediately, going to wrap his arms around Logan's shaking shoulders, muffling a curse when Logan just starts crying harder.

"Hey, hey, buddy, hey, it's okay. I'm right here, I'm not gonna go anywhere, I'm right here. I've got you, you're okay. You're all good, buddy, you hear me? Everything's gonna be okay, you're gonna get all of this out for me, I'm gonna go get you some water and painkillers for your headache, and then we're gonna go get breakfast and have a good day, yeah?"

"I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. You know how many times I've been late or missed something? I don't care about that, L, I care about you being okay." He runs his fingers through Logan's hair and Logan shudders. "You…you seem really sensitive right now, bud, have you…have you been dodging Patton's hugs again?"

Logan's silence is telling. Virgil sighs, his breath warming the top of his head, before he pulls away just enough to hook his arms around Logan's waist.

"C'mon," he grunts, lifting Logan up—yes, he is still strong enough to do that, thank you very much, Princey—and carrying him over to the bed, "you need a good cuddle before we go anywhere."

"So much—I had so much work to do, I hadda—I had to finish it, I'm sorry," Logan babbles into Virgil's shoulder as he situates them on the bed, "I didn't—didn't wanna be late, didn't mean to fall asleep, I—"

"Shh, shh, hey, calm down, it's okay. I'm not mad. You're okay, bud, I'm not gonna do anything." He coaxes Logan's head to the crook of his beck. "You're just gonna get some of this out for me, okay? I've got you, you're okay."

"But I gotta do my work!"

"You gotta not let yourself be a wreck first," Virgil points out, not unkindly, "you're stressing yourself out too much and it's gonna be okay, but you gotta—sheesh, Logan, just lemme cuddle you."

"…okay."

It doesn't matter that they end up going to brunch instead of breakfast, not when Logan's finally smiling again. A little sniffly, maybe, but he's at least smiling and his mom ruffles their hair and tells them to order whatever they want—she'll pay them back. No, it's much better because Logan isn't stressing too much about work but instead he's happy and letting Virgil take them on a long walk around the park until they can meet up with the rest of them and Patton can give him a big hug because letting yourself get touch-starved just so you can do your work isn't healthy, Logan. And then of course everyone else wants to hug Logan because Logan's just so huggable.

"Aw, just one more," Remus pouts when Logan says they're all hugging him too much, "just one more?"

Logan looks at Remus, looks at the rest of them, and rolls his eyes fondly as he holds out his arms.

"Just one more."

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[naminethewriter]

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

[Masterpost]

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

Wordcount: 1.5K

~~~~

No-one comes to drag Virgil out of bed. He wakes on his own the next morning and for a few moments contemplates getting out of bed, but then he rolls over and goes back to sleep. It’s his day off, he doesn’t have any plans, and he is cozy.

He wakes again around noon, and wanders downstairs. There’s no-one in the sitting room, but he finds Patton in the dining room, curled up in the armchair with a book.

“Good morning!” Patton greets cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “You?”

Patton’s eyes crinkle up in a pleased smile. “I did, yes, thank you,” he says. 

Virgil fidgets, just a little, and he glances back toward the door. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Hm,” Patton says thoughtfully, tapping the book against his chin. “Logan’s in his office, and last I saw him, Roman was still asleep, poor dear.” He chuckles. “You two sure were up real late last night. And Remus and Janus aren’t here right now, but they were going to come to dinner, so they should be arriving in a few hours.” He pauses, thinking. “I don’t think anyone else was planning to be here today, but I might have forgotten something, or they might’ve forgotten to mention it. That happens sometimes.”

“Must make meal planning difficult,” Virgil says.

“It can,” Patton agrees. “But I like to make sure we have plenty of leftovers anyway, so a surprise guest or two isn’t very hard to accommodate.” He smiles gently at Virgil. “Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”

“If you’re offering,” Virgil says, because they have been incredibly hospitable to him so far, but he doesn’t want to presume anything.

“Oh of course,” Patton says, setting his book down. “I hate to leave anyone hungry when there’s food in the house. What would you like? Are you in the mood for a breakfast breakfast, or something more lunchy?”

Virgil hesitates. “I don’t want to make you cook something just for me,” he says.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Patton reassures him. “I like cooking. But we do have leftovers in the fridge if you would like something quicker.”

Virgil nods a little. “What are my options?”

“Well, we’ve still got plenty of what we had last night, of course,” Patton says consideringly, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Virgil follows. “And I made a fresh batch of boiled eggs this morning.” He opens the fridge and peers inside, then waves Virgil over. “Take a look, anything look appetizing?”

Virgil joins Patton in front of the fridge and looks inside. ‘Plenty of leftovers’ may have been an understatement. The fridge is quite full, mostly of containers. There’s no way Virgil can possibly see all the options without taking most of the contents out to see what’s behind them, and he is not about to do that.

Trying to be quick, Virgil scans the food visible through the sides of the containers. He sees white rice, mixed vegetables, something brown that’s probably gravy, mashed potatoes, a couple drumsticks… 

He knows, reasonably, that everything in this fridge is probably very good. He is also sure that if he was sat down and served any of these choices, he would eat it without complaint and be pleased with it. But just now, looking at the leftover containers, his stomach and taste buds rebel, and nothing looks appealing. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil says. It’s not that he isn’t hungry. His stomach is very helpfully informing him that it is currently empty. It is just also telling him, simultaneously, that there isn’t a single food in the entire world that will satisfy, and unfortunately it has annexed his tongue to its side. His brain, meanwhile, is yelling that he’s taking too long to decide, and he needs to hurry up and pick something before Patton gets upset at him for letting all the cold out of the fridge.

Patton makes a sympathetic sound. “Too many options to choose between?” he says softly. “Would you like me to prepare you a plate?”

Virgil’s very bones go limp. “Yes please,” he says weakly, glad to have the decision taken out of his hands.

Patton rests his hand gently on Virgil’s arm. “Why don’t you go wait in the comfy chair, and I’ll bring you some food in a minute,” he suggests gently.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and goes. Just as he settles, Patton appears in the doorway again with an empty plate in his hands.

“You don’t have any dietary restrictions, do you?” he asks. “I know it’s a bit late to be asking, but…”

“No, I’ll eat anything,” Virgil says, fondness rising in his chest. “Thanks for checking.”

“You’re welcome,” Patton says, and goes back into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later, the plate now laden with a large slice of lasagna. “Do you want to come eat at the table, or over there?” he asks.

“Table, definitely,” Virgil says, moving. Much less risk of spilling red tomato sauce on their furniture that way, plus he’d rather not try to balance a hot plate on his lap right now. He sits, and Patton places the plate in front of him. Virgil’s eyes go wide. In addition to the lasagna, there’s a slice of home-baked bread with butter and jam, and a small heap of peas and corn. “Just how big do you think my appetite is?”

Patton chuckles. “Sorry,” he says. “Force of habit. Roman would clean that plate and then ask for seconds, especially after sleeping through breakfast.”

“I can believe it,” Virgil says with a laugh.

Patton pats his shoulder, then moves away. “If it’s too much, we can put some of it back,” he says as he reclaims the armchair. “You don’t have to eat all of it.”

He’s certainly going to give it his best go, Virgil’s stomach informs him seriously. His tongue agrees.

Virgil starts with a large bite of bread. It’s no longer fresh-baked, but Patton had re-warmed it. Toasted, maybe? There’s a bit of crunch to it, though it’s still pleasantly soft, not hard as a rock like most toast.

Roman makes an appearance when Virgil’s about halfway through his meal, wearing only a white tank top and a pair of red shorts. Virgil isn’t sure if they’re loose boxer shorts or thin actual shorts, but he’s not about to stare at Roman’s crotch and/or ass long enough to figure it out, and he’s certainly not about to ask.

Probably they’re actual shorts. Roman has so far struck him as having somewhat more decorum than Remus, and probably wouldn’t walk around in just his underwear with a random person in his house.

Probably.

“Ooh, that looks delicious, I want some of that, is there more?” Roman says in greeting, completely oblivious to Virgil’s inner musings.

“There’s one piece of lasagna left, and plenty of the rest,” Patton tells him, and Roman strides into the kitchen.

He returns after a few minutes with a lunch identical to Virgil’s, except that the heap of vegetables is taller, and he has a second, already half-eaten slice of bread in his hand. Also his jam is a different color. Roman plonks himself down in the chair diagonally adjacent to Virgil and grins at him. “Good morning,” he says cheerfully. “I see you did not flee into the night like Cinderella.”

“If I was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, it would have happened well before Patton came to tell us to go to bed,” Virgil points out.

“True,” Roman agrees. He turns and points his fork at Patton. “Patty Cake, if he ever turns into a pumpkin, don’t bake him into a pie,” he says.

Patton laughs. “How many times must I promise not to eat him?” he asks.

“Once more, it seems,” Virgil says. “For what it’s worth, I believed you the first time.”

Patton’s eyes twinkle. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you sleep well?” Roman asks Virgil. Virgil nods. As if he could have slept poorly, in that bed. And it was certainly nice to get to sleep in late. “Good, good. After breakfast, do you wanna watch more tv?”

Virgil laughs. “You’re insatiable,” he says.

“We left off on a cliffhanger!” Roman defends. “And I, for one, was thoroughly enjoying myself up until the point at which we were reminded of the cruel passage of time and the physical needs of our frail human bodies.”

“I was having fun too,” Virgil agrees. And, well, he doesn’t have any better plans for his afternoon off. It’ll be fun. He’ll just have to remember to actually bike home before it gets dark again.

“Excellent!” Roman says, clearly taking that as a yes, and tucks into his meal with gusto.

~~~~

Chapter 9: Come for the Bike, Stay for the Game Night - WIP

may have a brief break in my regularly scheduled chapter posting, as I've caught up to myself and am still writing chapter 9. So, we'll see if it's ready next week, but likely not.

[naminethewriter]

A Long Time Coming

Emile is a vampire who has been running his bar for vampires and humans for a long time. Remy is a human customer and friend who has been coming for a while (by human standards). He is known for being down for almost any vampire there to feed from him. So Emile is surprised when one day Remy asks Emile to be the one to feed from him. Why does the thought fluster him so much though?

Set in @edupunkn00b's 'Beside Me' universe

Pairing: Emile/Remy

Wordcount: 2662

Warning: suggestive content

Notes: Vampires have been on my mind lately. So that lead me to rereading again one of my favorite vampire fic series, 'Beside Me'. This prompted me to get several ideas related to that series. Since I've gotten Edupunk's enthusiastic permission to do so, stay tuned for some of those. I think I have maybe four other ideas aside from this one.

This fic makes more sense if you've read those fics, but I do try to give context in it that is needed to understand the premise.

This is set after the second fic in that series, 'Dee'.

Emile hummed as he prepared a tray of drinks. It was still early into the night, but a lot of times his evenings at his bar became pretty routine. It wasn’t hard to catch the types of drinks his regulars preferred. Most of his customers were regulars after all. There weren’t a lot of new vampires to have to prepare for anyways. It actually wasn’t a common thing. Aside from Virgil’s group that was.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” A familiar voice said. Emile smiled and turned to Remy who had just sat at the bar. He was a human regular who often arrived early into the night. Something about having more opportunities for willing vamps to feed that way. Emile giggled. Then he got Remy a glass of water. Remy was totally down to drink, but he usually didn’t right away. Some vampires weren’t comfortable drinking from an intoxicated human. He typically didn’t want to chance a rejection.

“Good evening, Remy. Would you like for me help pick out a vampire to feed from you?” Emile asked.

“Actually,” Remy lowered his sunglasses and looked at Emile, with less caution than he really should. He knew better too.

“I was hoping you could feed from me,” He said.

“W-what?” Emile asked and then cleared his throat. He was usually more composed than that.

Remy smirked.

“You heard me, Em. I’m in the mood for my favorite vampire to feed from me. You work hard here. You deserve to get a treat,” He said.

Emile let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

“I appreciate the offer, Remy. But I don’t usually feed while I’m on the clock,” Emile said.

Remy shrugged.

“So take a break. There’s gotta be someone who can fill in for you for a little bit.”

Emile sighed.

 “I also don’t need to at the moment. When I need to feed, I tend to do so before arriving here,” Emile said.

Remy sighed a bit dramatically.

“Well, when is the next time you’ll need to feed?” Remy asked.

Emile blinked, a bit surprised Remy was still offering for the future.

“Uh, not for a while,” Emile said.

Remy hummed and shrugged.

“Well, I guess I’ll just wait until then,” Remy said.

That was really not like Remy. He had a tendency to take on many vampires in one night. Emile had never seen him willing to wait for a specific vampire, let alone for him. Remy had been going to this bar for a long time too. Not nearly as long as Emile had opened the place, Remy was only human after all. But as long as he could really.

He’d flirted of course, but tended to flirt more with the vampires who could feed from him while at the bar.

“Y-you don’t have to do that, Remy. I know how much you enjoy it,” Emile said.

Remy hummed in consideration.

“True…alright, just let me know before the next time you do feed, alright? Please? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to of course,” Remy said, shifting a bit like he was nervous. Also unusual for Remy.

“N-no,” Emile cleared his throat. “I’m fine with it. Yeah, I’ll uh I’ll let you know.”

Remy smiled and winked.

“Great! Can’t wait,” Remy said. He finished off the rest of his water before slinking off onto the dance floor.

Emile just watched him for a moment, still processing their conversation.

Then he shook his head, turning to face the new group that had entered. It was Virgil’s group, Emile should have known. They’d  been coming more frequently than Virgil used to with the two newer vampires to feed. He smiled at them as the three of them came in. No Dracula tonight though. He didn’t often come with them. Emile wasn't really sure why. He got the impression maybe the count just wasn't used to drinking from places like his bar. Emile could tell the ancient vampire was still around though.

 Emile gestured for them to go to their usual booth and then went on to set up their drinks.

After they were seated, Emile made his way over. He set down the glasses in front of each of them.

“Good to see you three this evening!” Emile cheered. He went on to pour juice for Virgil and Remus. Then whiskey for Logan.

Logan narrowed his eyes at Emile.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. At Logan’s words, Virgil brought his attention to Emile and looked him over.

Emile felt his face heat up a bit. He let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

“Yeah! Why?” He asked.

Logan hummed.

“I don’t know, something just seems off,” He said. Emile waved his hand.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m fine. I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t do my job well tonight after all,” He said.

Logan frowned.

“That’s not why I asked,” He said.

Virgil nodded.

“Emile, I’ve been coming here for a while. You can talk to me.”

Emile hesitantly nodded. He shifted a bit, then decided to set the bottles on the table for the moment. He would be the type to just suddenly become clumsy.

Remus looked at him and then chuckled.

“Did someone hot flirt with you at the bar or something?” Remus asked.

“Emile’s been running this bar for a long time, and has no doubt been flirted with many times. I haven’t seen him react this way to such a thing before, have you?” Logan asked. Virgil shook his head, now looking more curious then concerned.

Emile waved that off.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that. Just,” Emile sighed.

“Remy said he wanted me to feed from him. I told him I didn’t need to tonight. But then he asked me to let him know the next time I do need to, so I can feed from him. I just didn’t expect his insistence at being an option, I guess?”

Virgil raised his eyebrows then shared a look with Logan.

“I know I haven’t been around you when you’ve fed, but that seems like an unusual reaction to such an offer,” Virgil said. Logan nodded. Remus chuckled.

“Could there be another reason such an offer has flustered you so?” Remus asked.

As Emile thought about it, his breath catches a bit as he imagines how close he would get to Remy while feeding.

“You have known him for a while,” Virgil said.

“For human standards, yes,” Emile said.

“Not that length of time is necessary to fall for someone,” Remus said, smiling at Virgil and Logan. They both smiled back at him.

Emile reached up and fidgeted with his hair some, smiling shyly as he thought about what he liked about Remy. He was charming, funny, flirty. Good at showing confidence. He wasn’t afraid to go after what he wanted. Plus he also had his sweet side that not everyone got to see. Emile had always felt honored he was one of the few who got to.

 It’s not like Emile was new to liking someone, so why did he feel so out of his element here?

“This may be a strange question, but have you dated before?” Logan asked, almost as though he knew what Emile was thinking. Emile nodded.

“Of course I have…” Not in a while though. It just wasn’t something that was often on his mind. He was usually occupied by helping people at the bar.

Logan hummed and nodded.

“You seemed very unsure about why Remy would want this with you. Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask him? That may help keep you from overthinking the interaction,” Logan said.

Emile wanted to protest that he wasn’t doing that, but well…he was, wasn’t he? Emile nodded.

“That is probably a good idea. Thank you all, for the help,” He said. Virgil smiled and nodded.

“Of course.”

“You’ve helped us many times. It’s the least we could do,” Logan said, lifting his glass up to Emile before drinking from it.

“You deserve to be happy as well,” Remus said.

Emile giggled.

“Alright, let me know is there’s anything else I can for you,” He said.

They nodded.

“We’re good for now. Thank you though,” Virgil said. Emile waved to them before going back to his duties checking on other customers. He was admittedly a bit distracted now, thinking about this feeding with Remy. He almost wished he hadn’t just fed right before arriving tonight. Because now he’d just be thinking about it until next time.

*

The next time Emile was thirsty, he texted Remy. He also let his usual human friends know that someone else offered this time. He arrived at the bar early, before opening, so it would be easier to meet with Remy. He shifted a bit in place, nervous about what was to come. He’d been around Remy many times. But this would definitely be the most intimate thing they did. Something felt more special about it too with how much Remy wanted it.

“Hello~ Emile.”

Emile’s breath caught as the delicious scent of Remy’s blood wafted over him. He’d usually been pretty good at keeping himself healthy. And with willing human friends who were kind about it, he hadn’t gotten to a point much where he would be thirsty long. Really it hadn’t been that long for him. But he was desiring it more than usual. And Remy smelled good.

He looked over to Remy, struggling more to not meet his eyes. He gave him a shy smile.

“H-hey, Remy,” Emile croaked. His eyes were drawn to Remy’s neck, fixated on his pulse.

Remy chuckled.

“Oh, you’re definitely ready for me now,” He said.

Emile swallowed.

“Here, let’s take this somewhere more private,” Remy said.

Emile blinked and carefully looked up at Remy’s face again. He wanted to know why. No one else was here anyways, and Remy had never seemed to care who watched him as vampires drank from his neck. But in that moment, Emile was too thirsty to care.

“I live in the basement under the bar,” He said. The basement had been there before he opened the bar. Although it was more traditional for business owners to live over their places of business, living under had worked out to be safer from the sun anyways.

Remy smiled.

“Sounds good.” Remy gestured for Emile to lead the way. Emile mechanically walked him over to the stairs and then down. Barely thinking past the draw of Remy’s blood overcoming him. When they got to his door, the hand holding his keys was nearly trembling. Remy gently took the keys from him and opened the door.

“Bedroom?” Remy asked. Emile didn’t even question it, just walking straight over there. Not bothering to close any doors. Just wanting Remy to be close. Remy must have closed the doors behind them because it was a moment before he joined Emile in the bedroom. The bed was big enough for both of them.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Remy said. Emile didn’t respond. Remy cooed.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you Em.” Remy sat on the bed. He kicked his shoes off and scooted up. Then he  gestured for Emile to join him. Emile plopped onto the bed next to Remy. He started reaching for Remy’s wrist, but Remy pulled his arm back. He shook his head.

“Aw, come on, Em. We’re close enough you can go for my neck,” He said. He shifted so he was facing Emile. Then he bent his neck to make it enticing. Emile almost reached forward then had the mind to pause when he saw the scars on Remy’s neck from all the feedings. Remy sighed.

“Don’t worry about those, Em,” He said. He reached forward and brushed a hand over Emile’s arm.

“I don’t mind. And I want you,” Remy said. That’s what finally did it. Emile rumbled as he launched himself onto Remy. He knocked them both over so they were laying on the bed when Emile finally sank his teeth into Remy. Remy laughed and then let out a very pleased sound as Emile began to drink.

He tasted so good. Emile felt how warm Remy was against him. Remy continued to make pleased sounds, touching over Emile as he fed from him. Remy’s scent so enticing and around him. There was something so satisfying about getting to feed from him. As enjoyable as this was, Emile knew better than to overindulge. So when Remy tapped him, Emile was already pulling off. He had to catch his breath before he rolled off and laid next to Remy. Still facing him.

Remy hummed pleased and turned to face Emile as well.

“Well, that was certainly worth the wait,” Remy said, running his hand along Emile’s side. Emile smiled a bit dreamily at him. Remy chuckled.

“You really enjoyed yourself too, hm?” He asked. Emile hummed and nodded.

“I’ll always be available for you, okay?” Remy said. He used a finger to catch some blood from the punctures on his neck. Then he waved it over Emile’s mouth. Emile immediately put his mouth over the finger and sucked the blood off. Then he blushed at his own eagerness. Remy laughed.

“Aw, it’s okay doll.” He scooted closer to Emile and put a hand to the side of Emile’s head.

“I don’t mind,” He said quieter. Emile’s breath stuttered when he felt how close Remy’s lips were to his own.

“Can I kiss you?” Remy asked. Emile sucked in a breath at that.

“Yeah,” He said quietly, voice shaking a little. Emile could feel Remy’s smile before he leaned in. The first kiss was slow. Then he kissed Emile again, gradually deepening it. He rolled over on top of Emile as he continued, in a reverse of their positions when Emile fed from him. Apparently Remy didn’t mind any lingering taste of his own blood from Emile’s mouth. They made out for a bit more, Remy getting more handsy. Just as his touches started to move to the next level, Emile pulled away, laughing.

“Remy,” He said.

“Hmm?” Remy asked. His hands paused, but he continued to kiss along Emile’s jaw then down his neck. Emile hummed and his eyes fluttered. Then he shook his head.

“Remy, I do still have to eventually open the bar,” Emile said.

Remy sighed and pulled his mouth away. His hand going back to just feeling over Emile’s side.

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to wait for you until after,” Remy said. Emile blinked at him.

“You’d be willing to wait?” Emile asked.

Remy smiled at him.

“Of course.” He moved his hand up to card some hair behind Emile’s ear.

“I like you, Em. I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Remy said.

Emile giggled.

“I like you too Remy,” Emile said. Remy smirked and leaned forward to kiss Emile again. This time a slow sweet kiss that lingered. Remy made a rumbling sound as well as he pulled away.

“Damn, I could just keep kissing you, Em.”

Emile blushed and giggled.

“Later, or we’ll never get up,” He said. Remy sighed as he started to sit up.

“Alright.”

Emile sat up as well. Seeing Remy’s neck, he seemed to remember himself.

“Oh! Let me get that taken care of for you,” Emile said. Remy watched Emile with a fond look as he went about getting Remy some fruit juice and cookies. He didn’t even bother to complain. He just continued to look at Emile in adoration when he started to drink the juice he was given. Emile blushed and shifted again, smiling shyly. But then Remy leaned on his side, so Emile leaned against him as well.

“It’s a shame you’re always working at the bar. It would be really nice to get to dance with you there,” Remy said. Emile hadn’t even considered hiring another until Remy’s suggestions. But now it seemed like a good idea.

“Maybe we’ll get to at some point,” Emile said with a smile, glancing to the side at Remy.

“We have time.”

Remy smiled back.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

[naminethewriter]

On a Technicality Part 3

Hey I love your work so much, especially your Sander’s Sides fics! I didn’t even know about Sander’s Sides before finding your work, but your writing is so good it got me into them! I really like your fic “On a Technicality.” I was wondering if you could maybe continue it if possible? It would be so cool to see demon Logan taking good care of Remus after taking him in, while also trying to “study” him, as he put it (I love how demon Logan is caring, kind and well-intentioned but also slightly off-putting lol). – anon

Hi! You are one of my absolute favorite fic writers! I hope you are having a lovely and blessed day! I'm not sure whether you are taking requests rn or if this is even the right place, so if you want to ignore the rest of this that's totally fine. I had a request/prompt you might enjoy: Someone (possibly Remus would make the most sense) starts doing self-destructive behavior for attention, then slowly grows to be convinced he deserves it. Hurt/comfort ensues. Ciao! -🦇

I just reread On a Technicality and man, I love it so much! Logan is so soft and Remus is in so much need of care! If you'd like, I would love to see how Remus adjusts to his new life with Logan, whatever that entails! 💙💚 – naminethewitch

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: anxiety attack/panic attack, self destructive behaviour

Pairings: intrulogical

Word Count: 3395

"Easy, easy, little one," as darkness envelops him once more. He splutters for air—when did that happen?—leaning back against Logan's chest as his hand settles back over his eyes, the other patting his chest in reassuring measures. "That's it, take a deep breath…I'm so sorry, my dear, I should've known that would be too much for you."

"Alright, little one," Logan says softly, removing the hand over his eyes, "you're all safe now."

"It's probably a good thing that you did that, because I've never been more tempted to look around than when you said how important it was that I kept my eyes closed."

He chuckles. "Noted. Is there anything else I should keep in mind like that?"

Remus doesn't say anything, because he's too busy staring at things that he is now allowed to look at, except no, he isn't, because everything he's currently looking at is spectacular.

They're standing in a tower, except it's not really a tower, because like, half of it is missing. The parts of it that aren't missing are rich black stone except it's not just black, it's reflecting blues and pinks and purples and every single color in the world depending on how the light hits it, but that light that's hitting it is—okay wait, no, no, he's getting ahead of himself. The rest of the tower has this furniture that Remus shouldn't even be allowed to look at, be in the same room as—it's all rich wood and velvet and looks like all the things he overheard from people talking about the castles and palaces and the fairy tales stolen from books—and there are machines and things that he has no idea what they are but they all look exceptionally fine and delicate and he has no idea what he's gotten himself into—

But that's not even touching what's outside the tower. The edge of the room opens up to this lush garden that looks like every single thing they ever told him about Paradise: exquisite, welcoming, and never for him, all verdant greens and bright colors and there's a waterfall in the corner that seems to fall forever into endless starry sky—because they're standing in the middle of the stars. The sky isn't blue or gray or black or any one color, it's full of stars and gleaming things and swirls of clouds that seem to defy any sort of logic or reason and it's all so beautiful it's terrifying and Remus—Remus—

"Easy, easy, little one," as darkness envelops him once more. He splutters for air—when did that happen?—leaning back against Logan's chest as his hand settles back over his eyes, the other patting his chest in reassuring measures. "That's it, take a deep breath…I'm so sorry, my dear, I should've known that would be too much for you."

"What—what is this," he croaks, "did I—did I do something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Logan stiffens. "What in the world do you mean, my dear, how could you have done something wrong?"

"Is this a punishment? Did—did you trick me? Am I—you—you did it, good job, whatever trick it was, I—I fell for it, I—"

"Hush, Remus, shh, shh, there isn't a trick. There's no punishment, you won't be in pain, I would never harm you. Take a deep breath, shh, shh, slow your breathing now…once you're calm, we can talk and clear this up, yes? But for now, little one, I need you to breathe."

Clinging onto Logan's hand for dear life, he hunches his shoulders, trying to get smaller, get away from all of this, get as small as he can so he won't touch any of it, panting against his knees. Logan folds impossibly close, his mouth next to his ear, still murmuring reassurances. The cramped position trips some primal sense in his brain. That's right. Cramped. Small. Uncomfortable. Difficult to breath. This, this he's used to. This is his familiar space. He knows how to navigate this. He quickly switches to breathing deeper, taking more time with each one to get the air he needs, pressing his cheek against his knee in lieu of something more comfortable. But try as he might, Logan's hand over his eyes is too soft, too tender, and he keeps stroking up and down his side as though soothing a frightened animal—which he guesses he is, at least a little bit.

"Forgive me, my dearest one," Logan whispers and the hint of genuine remorse in his voice is enough to give Remus another shudder, "I had no intention to make you think this was all a trick. I do not mean you any harm, this I swear to you. I—if I had known the sight of my dwelling would concern you so, I would have manifested us in another room."

"What—what is this place?"

"This is my home, Remus, where I live. Well, I guess technically this is my…living room, I believe mortals call it? The main space where I spend my time, be it at leisure or at work."

Remus gulps. He was right, then: there is a catch to all of this. He'd been under the impression that he'd be no more than a glorified pet, but this was as blunt a confirmation that he was going to get. Alright. Okay, he can do this. He knows—he knows how to do this, at least. He's had practice in it.

"What are the rules?"

Logan jerks again. "Rules? Whatever do you mean, little one?"

"What—what am I supposed to do? I'm not—I don't know how long you've been—I don't know how familiar you are with the village you—that I came from, but I promise I do know how to follow rules, I just…sometimes I have questions about them. But as long as you tell me what they are, I'll do my best!"

Logan's quiet for a long time. Oh, no, are there going to be that many rules? He's not sure he can remember all of them, not while he's so new—maybe Logan will be patient. He's been nice so far.

"Why are you determined that you must do something? Are you asking about restrictions I have for you?"

"Yes."

"None."

No. No, no, no, that's not how this works. "But I—what if I break something? What if I ruin something?"

"Then we will fix it."

"How will we fix it?" How much must I pay for my mistakes? What sacrifices will you demand from me?

Logan sighs, settling on the floor behind him and tugging him into his lap. One arm wraps around his waist, holding him close, the other still lightly petting his closed eyelids. "It will depend on the thing that is broken. If it is simply a plate, then I will remake it or discard the pieces and we will use another one. If it is one of my many tinkering projects, then I daresay they will not get into a more broken state than they already are. And as for everything else…"

He lets out another chuckle, leaning forward to hook his chin over Remus's shoulder.

"They are all only things, Remus," he says softly, too softly, "and you are far more important to me than any of them ever will be."

"But you just got me. You've had those for—for—for years, how can I be more important?"

"I've just met you," comes the gentle correction, "and you are a living, breathing, wonderful mortal who has chosen to come and let me house you, tend to you, study you. That makes you someone else I now have the pleasure of caring for."

"But I'm—" he breaks off into a humiliating noise when lips press themselves delicately to the curve of his neck.

"Forgive me for taking the liberty, I…I have always wondered how it might feel. But this is about you, not indulging my curiosity." The arm around his waist urges him to turn around, back in the position they were on the stone floor—they had only just left, how does it feel like an eon ago? "Allow me to put this bluntly, then: I have not brought you here to serve me or become another one of my trinkets. I have brought you here to live with me, and that means that I could no more be angry at you for breaking or ruining something than I could be at myself. You are not to be bound here by any means, to be punished for breaking rules or restricted in any sort of way. Do you understand?"

"I…no."

"Which parts of it are unclear to you?"

"I deserve it!"

"Deserve what, dear?"

"To—to be hurt when I mess up, that's the point, that's why I was—that's why they picked me to be the sacrifice, I'm—"

"Enough."

Logan's voice sharpens the way it did when the zealot spoke and Remus's shoulders shoot up to his ears. This is it. This is the point where he goes too far. This is where he learns the consequences of his actions, this is where—

"I do not know who it was that inspired this idea of deserving pain, but they should pray to whatever deity they worship that our paths never cross." His voice is dark, swirling depths, but not…not at Remus? "You are not something to be disciplined like an unruly animal, and you most definitely so not deserve to be afraid or hurting. I will have none of that. To err is to live, how could I punish you for living?"

"B-but—but—"

"Oh, little one," he murmurs when Remus starts to tear up under his hand, "shh, shh, come here, come put your head on my shoulder, yes, that's right…"

He has half a mind to apologize for how much he's crying on Logan, for all he's wanted to study him all he's apparently able to study is how many ways he can make Remus cry just by treating him with some small amount of kindness. Logan, at least, doesn't seem to mind, rubbing his back again as the sobs slowly work their way out of his chest. He calms much quicker, body likely already growing used to the soft treatment—and wasn't that a scary thought?—and cautiously, cautiously opens his eyes.

The floor. He can look at the floor. It's pretty too, it's got this cool pattern of tile where it appears like little pieces of stained glass are in it.

"Your floor is cool," he mumbles.

"I like it too. I got the idea from this one creature's skin, designed to reflect the light in such a way that it can change color at will."

"What's it called?" Logan says a word that he couldn't hope to pronounce. "…oh."

The chuckle warms him from chest to tummy. "Don't worry, dear, there are names in your tongue, I just don't know them yet."

"How many languages do you know?"

"I use about three hundred in typical interactions, but I possess the ability to learn any given language or script provided that I can either hear it spoken or see it written."

"I didn't even know there were that many languages."

"The Cosmos are far vaster than you could ever conceive, little one, and I will be more than happy to be your guide through them."

"Do you have, like, a ship that you use to travel?"

"Most demon-kind can travel using the Aether—"

"The what?"

"It's a realm that exists just below the material plane—that is, the plane that most life is capable of existing on, although there are some elemental spirits and beings capable of existing elsewhere—that acts as sort of a…conduit, let's say." He sighs, fingers idly scratching at the hair at the nape of Remus's neck. "I believe any further explanation would require my model of the Cosmos."

Remus dares lift his eyes a little higher, looking at the garden. He feels like that's safer, he knows a little bit about what plants and things are sort of supposed to look like. "What is that flower called?"

"Which one, dear?"

"The—the one that has the blue and purple stripes."

"Ah, that's a Morpho bloom. Stunning, isn't it? There is an planet in one of the galaxies near the Nalimbo cluster where they grow in a thick cover over the mountains, it's quite a sight."

"That sounds really cool."

"If you would like," and here Logan's voice grows soft and sweet again, "I would be happy to take you so you could see."

A lump appears in Remus's throat. "You…you would?"

"If it would please you, then yes."

Remus just stares at the flower. Logan must feel the way his mood starts to dip for he adjusts his hold, bringing his mouth closer to his ear.

"If you would be so kind, little one, may I ask a few questions of my own?"

"…yeah."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Um—" he wracks his brain— "two suns ago?"

"And the last time you could bathe?"

"I washed in the river a sun ago."

"Would it be alright with you if I took you to the bathing chamber? Not because I believe you dirty or unclean, but you are still covered in blood and I imagine it is not the most comfortable for you."

"I…kind of forgot about it, to be honest."

Logan's quiet for a moment, in a way where Remus is sure he's thinking either that's concerning or of course you did, which one is dependent on how nice Remus is planning on being to himself today, before he tightens his grip. "I would have us walk there, so you could get used to the layout of this place, but I believe it might be better to go there directly, given our…current position. Is that alright with you?"

"Should I shut my eyes again?"

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I can tell you when it is safe to open them. It wouldn't be more than a moment, I assure you."

Remus closes his eyes and there's another tugging swirl in his gut, before Logan is rubbing his back and telling him it's safe to open. He does so only hesitantly, only to look around at the small room. Granted, 'small' is relative compared to the massive space they were just in, but it's still about the size of the barn attic he's used to sleeping in. One side has a set of gleaming taps, the vast majority of the floor a shimmering pool basin. Logan's hands have him positioned right near the edge, Logan himself just behind.

"May I help you undress and wash, my dear? Or would you rather do it yourself?"

"I—uh—I don't know if I can…do this."

"By 'this,' do you mean operate the bath?"

He fiddles with the hem of his threadbare tunic. His mouth twists up. After another moment Logan lets out a quiet oh and a hand cups his chin, raising him up to meet softly glowing eyes.

"Let me help you," he coaxes, "let me show you that you can be treated gently, that you can enjoy things, that you are deserving of safety and comfort."

"How am I supposed to say no to that?"

"You aren't, little one. Here, allow me…" Hands, too-gentle hands, slip underneath his tunic and begin to lift. Remus shuts his eyes tightly, only for the movement to stop. "Look at me, my dear."

He does. Logan tilts his head, his eyes flash, and behind him, Remus can hear water running. "What?"

"If I ever do something you do not want, I need you to tell me, will you promise to do that?"

"Y-yes, yes, I promise."

"Alright. Can I help you remove this? So that you might bathe?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, little one." He gathers the material as though it were the finest silk, lifting it gently over his head and settling it to the side. Remus flushes at the sheer number of scars and terrible things written all over his skin, but Logan runs a hand through his hair and smiles. "Would you like to remove the rest yourself while I tend to the bath?"

"Is…is that okay?"

"Of course, my dear."

This can't be real, he thinks as he takes off the rest of his filthy clothes and sits on the warm stone floor.

This can't be real, as he turns around to see the steam rising from the perfect warm bath, Logan smiling softly at him.

This can't be real, he thinks as he sinks into the warm, warm water, his body crying out in relief as pains leave him and a moan slips into the still air.

"It's real, little one," Logan whispers, coming back over to crouch by his head, nails scratching delicately at his scalp, "I promise you, it's all real."

"I'm gonna fall asleep in here."

"That's alright—I'll lean you against the side so you won't slip under water, though I might have to wake you so I can get you to your bed."

"My—my bed?"

Logan tilts his head, something slightly sad coloring his expression. "You didn't think I brought you all this way just to have you sleep on the floor, did you? No, dear one, you'll have a bed. Any sort of bed you like, though…oh, never mind."

"No, no," Remus says, far too eagerly as the water swirls around him, "what?"

"Well—I had hoped, at some point, when you felt comfortable enough, that you might be amenable to…sharing a bed with me."

Remus blinks. Then he blinks again. Logan tugs on his tie and adjusts his glasses—is the demon nervous? He should be the one that's nervous, putting aside the whole demon thing, it's someone else asking to share his bed, someone who—okay, look, if Remus didn't know that Logan was a demon and that he'd been summoned, he…he might react the same way to seeing Logan as he did to seeing the living room, okay?

"Of course, that doesn't have to be now—"

"No!" The shout echoes around the room and he winces. "I—I mean, I—yeah. I'd—yes."

Logan's face slowly splits into a smile. "You would share with me?"

"If…if that's okay with you?"

"More than, my dear, absolutely alright with me. Let's set about getting you on with your bath, shall we?"

"And will—will you take me to see the flowers on the mountains?"

Logan chuckles. "Yes, little one."

"And will you show me your model? To explain the—the—the—"

"The Aether? Yes, I can."

"And will you let me ask about all your machines and things?"

"Darling, I will happily do all of those things, and more, so much more." He leans down and kisses his forehead—oh, there's no way this couldn't be real, Remus would never dare to imagine something like this. "I'll even introduce you to my Kraken, if you like."

Remus's eyes nearly leave his skull. "You have a Kraken?"

"He's not mine, per se, he comes and goes about the infinite multiverse as he pleases, but I do believe we have some companionship." His smile quirks up higher. "I daresay you will get along with him even better than i will."

"What's his name? Does he have a name?"

"I believe he goes by Oliver."

"I wanna meet him," Remus slurs as Logan begins to wash his hair, "I really wanna meet him."

"Then you shall."

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[naminethewriter]

Come Here

Once more inspired by @sleepyvirgilprompts

“Thomas! Thomas, get up, we’re late!”

Thomas slowly opened his eyes to see Virgil standing over his bed. The alarm clock by his bed read 6:00am. It at least explained why Virgil’s sense of urgency hadn't hit him hard in the chest like it normally might have.

“Come on, what are you waiting for, get up!” Virgil waved his arms emphatically, tryingnto shoo Thomas out of bed

“Virgil…" Thomas groaned tiredly half turning onto his back, "that’s tomorrow. We don’t have anything going on today. We made sure last night, remember? Or else we wouldn’t have stayed up so late.”

“…Oh.” Thomas could see the tension drain from Virgil’s form, replaced by tired sheepishness. He stood there silently for a few seconds, arms tucked awkwardly in the pocket of his hoodie

Thomas rolled his eyes with a tired, affectionate smile. “Oh, come here,” said he lifting up the blanket.

Virgil climbed into the bed next to Thomas and hesitantly wrapped his arms around him as Thomas tucked the blanket around him. “Sorry," he mumbled, fidgeting with Thomas's hoodie strings as they settled next to each other.

Thomas smile softly and yawned, securing Virgil in his arms. “It’s all right, Virge, I know you were just looking out for me. Let’s just-" he yawned again "-go back to shleep." He rested his hand on the back of Virgil’s head, lightly thumbing back and forth, and began humming. He smiled as Virgil relaxed against his chest and he felt his Anxiety's breathing deepen and level out. "There ya go, buddy," he murmured into Virgil’s hair. "Thanks for looking out for me. Love you, Virge." He drifted off moments after Virgil did.

[naminethewriter]

It’s been a long, worrying day for Thomas, which has worn Virgil out. But now the day is over, and it’s evening, and Thomas and the four Main Sides are re-binging a show together. They’ve reached the end of an episode, and Virge is on the verge of sleep. Patton picks him up to take him to his room. Virgil curls closer to him and mumbles, “You’re so warm. I love you.”

[naminethewriter]

To Make a Heaven of Hell (9/?)

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Virgil finds himself in the residential levels of hell in need of a certain heroic incubus after running from his teasing friends.

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Chapter warnings: A person being a little creepy with flirting and not backing off

Notes: Okay I have absolutely no excuse for this one taking me like seven months fdjslfjds uhhh oops??

Hell's Belles coming back from hiatus definitely sparked this again - though this fic is definitely set a little bit behind the canon point of the series haha, so Ruggy and Sharkie won't be reincarnating in this fic for a little while <3

----

“Soooo…” Angel said, looking at Virgil in a way that he knew meant he was about to get teased within an inch of his life, “Did’ja get his number?”

Okay, maybe less teasing and more right to killing him by fluster overload. 

“I- wha- huh-” Virgil stammered, their face bright red whilst Angel cornered them in the break room, he attempted to recover, but it didn’t really go very well, “Wha- I mean, who- who’s number? What’s a number? What’s a phone-”

Angel burst out into giggles just as Penny came into the break room too - finally, someone reasonable. 

“Miss Penny please save me-” Virgil basically begged, making Angel laugh harder. 

“Well-” Penny started, “Did you?”

“Did I what?” Virgil asked, the moment he said it he knew this was a trap.

“Get the cute demon’s number?” She asked with a teasing grin. Virgil groaned.

“Yes - okay! Yes I got his number!” Virgil cried, “It’s not even that special he was already in the goddamn group chat.”

“Oh,” Angel said, “Right.”

“Yeah. Right,” Virgil grumbled, before getting up and grabbing a cookie and storming out of the break room. 

He wasn’t actually that upset - he’d text them both in a minute to make sure they knew, but they just couldn’t handle the teasing in the moment. The heat on his cheeks had gotten too much for him. 

Not to mention thinking about Roman too much always seemed to lead to thoughts he shouldn’t be having in public.  

But then again, he’d seen the books Lily read. Maybe his thoughts weren’t that bad. 

“Hey Vee!” Sharkie called, “Where’s my desk buddy going?”

“Dunno,” Virgil called back as he stormed off, “I’ll be back later, call if you need me.”

“Oh - okay! Everything okay?” They called, Virgil glanced back to see them ignoring some random person at the desk, looking over at him in confusion. Virgil clutched his phone in his jacket pocket and nodded.

“Yeah just - need a break,” he said, waving them off with one had before heading for the elevator that would take him deeper into hell. 

“Do you think we really upset him?” He heard distantly from who he thought might have been Angel. 

—-

Virgil had never been down to the residential levels of hell before. 

Lily and the others had told him all about them. Roughly they knew what to expect when they stepped off of the elevator. The hustle and bustle being primarily made up of demons was something he definitely expected, all sorts of different people - just like the demons he saw in the lobby but so many more of them. These people too seemed less scarred, he supposed a lot of the front gate demons were retired soldiers after all. 

There were kids here, younger than Dante, some who were barely toddlers and a few in whom he saw himself - the fears he had had when he was first starting school, when he was taking his finals. Somehow, though, no-one looked miserable as he made his way aimlessly through the streets - looking for anything to take his mind off of his thoughts and, more importantly, feelings. They supposed afterlife school was probably easier than mortal world school. 

Virgil saw a coffee shop across the road and sighed. That was good enough. Warm light spilled through the open doorway, the interior was dark but not gloomy - lit with warm yellow lights that weren’t too bright or fluorescent. Bioluminescent flowers sat in vases on the windowsill and the counter - providing extra lighting under the menu and in the window booths for those who were coming to work on something. 

Right now though, the cafe wasn’t too busy. Less than half of the tables were filled and the single demon working at the counter didn’t look overworked or stressed in the slightest. In fact, they waved Virgil over when they saw him standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Hey handsome! Welcome to Brewed Brimstone Cafe!” They said brightly with a wave, their forest green skin shimmering in the light from the flowers, they upt their hand on their hip and give him a flirty look - making Virgil frown, “See anything that takes your fancy today?” 

“Just um -” The introduction had thrown him off, the immediate compliment and the flirting - what was that about? His eyes darted to the menu but he had no room to process that in his mind right now, “-Can I just have the sweetest iced coffee you’ve got?” Virgil asked, stepping up to the counter and tilting their head. The demon hummed and turned to look at the ingredients they seemed to have on offer.

“Ahh, sweet tooth, I can get behind that - I’m sure I can whip something perfect up for you! How ‘bout you sit that cute little butt down over there and I’ll bring it over for you since it’s not busy?”

“Oh - um, thank you,” Virgil said with a small, polite but awkward smile, going over to sit down at a two person table and pulling out their phone. They shot a quick text over to Penny and Angel to let them know they weren't upset. He’d just… gotten anxious and ran off. That was his fault and not theirs. 

—-

“Hey hon, you look a little down there, everything okay?” The barista demon asked a few minutes later as they placed down a tall glass full of something pale with a whole heap of cream, marshmallows and chocolate powder on top. 

“Yeah, everythings fine,” Virgil said, shaking his head. The demon put a straw into his drink before hopping up again.

“You sure? I’ve been told I give great advice,” they say, winking as they pull a napkin out of the pocket of their apron and fold it neatly before placing it next to Virgil’s drink. They leaned over and looked at him - as if waiting for him to tell them what was going on. Well, fat chance. Virgil didn’t even know this person - and honestly they were starting to make him a little uncomfortable with the persistent flirting despite Virgil’s complete lack of reciprocation. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Virgil said, nodding before taking a sip of his drink. It was really good - he did want to stay and finish it, of course, but part of him really wanted to get out of here.

“Okay well, anything you need, okay?” They asked with a wink. Virgil nodded slowly before looking down at his phone again as a couple walked in through the door and they hurried back to the bar. 

Virgil wanted out of here - or at least the situation, but they didn’t want to leave their drink nor the cafe. This seemed like the perfect place to relax if it wasn’t for… the barista who was giving him an odd look - it almost looked like that same look Lily gave Bell sometimes before they ran off to do… things. Virgil didn’t particularly like having that look directed at him, especially not by a stranger. Yeah, he didn’t think staying here alone with his problem saying no to people was going to be a good idea. 

He could text someone at the desk, he was sure they would come and rescue him, but they were all working… Bell was training, Greg was down in Level 9, Remus was off in a different realm somewhere, Janus was likely at home in his paradise - almost everyone else was busy, so that left….

Virgil shifted their hand and he noticed something written on the napkin they’d been given. A phone number. They then noticed the demon at the bar giving him a bright smile. They seemed like a nice guy, sure, but Virgil wasn’t interested and he didn’t know if he’d be able to protest if something happened. He felt vulnerable here, but if he got up and left without finishing they were worried the barista would go after them.

There was one person they could text for help. They’d just have to hope he wasn’t too busy right now - and that they didn’t die of embarrassment from texting him. 

He opened up the group chat and clicked on Roman’s contact, pausing to take at least four deep breaths before typing out a quick private message and hitting send before he could think too hard. 

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Hey this is gonna sound really weird

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Srry in advance esp if ur busy

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> can you come rescue me?

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> The barista at this coffee shop I’m at is being weird and flirty and I cna’t leave and idk what to do 

<Your Prince Charming> Great timing cutie - I just got sent on my break, where are you?

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Coffee shop - Brewed Brimstone

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx shared a location> 

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Here

<Your Prince Charming> Gotcha - sit tight!! I’ll be there in ten!

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Tysm omg

<Your Prince Charming> No problem darling!

—-

Virgil breathed a deep sigh of relief, going back to sipping his drink and playing minesweeper on his phone and attempting to ignore the barista’s longing gaze whenever there wasn’t a customer to serve. Halfway into the ten minutes he was to wait, Roman sent another text asking if they would be okay with touch and that he had a plan. Virgil sent back a thumbs up - not quite sure exactly what Roman had planned - and received instructions just to play along. They’d be okay with any sort of plan. Hell, if Roman had to kiss him to get him out of this situation he’d be okay with it (they may be okay with it regardless, but that’s irrelevant). 

Five minutes later, Roman came through the door full of energy. He immediately drew every pair of eyes just with his aura - and maybe his outfit. 

Roman was wearing skintight jeans with a loose flowy pale pink top tucked in with a large belt - gold buckle and all. He was wearing a whole host of jewellery adorned to his wrists, neck and horns. With a hand on his hip and his tail swaying back and forth Roman’s eyes quickly found Virgil. His hair was tied back and he was wearing platform boots. Virgil might die if he kept looking at him like that.

“Hello beloved,” Roman announced, ignoring the barista entirely in favour of approaching Virgil and taking both of their hands in his, immediately pulling them up to kiss their knuckles, “I’m sorry I was late for our date darling, just got caught up in theatre, but I’m here now! Oh! You got yourself a drink whilst you waited - perfect, I’ll just get one to go and we can head off to the museum like we planned, sound okay?”

It took Virgil just a tiny moment to process everything Roman had just said, okay, so the plan was fake dating. He couldn’t have said that?? At least given Virgil a chance to mentally prepare himself for an onslaught of cute petnames and gestures. 

“Oh - yeah, of course, it’s okay,” Virgil said, doing his best to play along despite the raging blush on his cheeks and the way his entire mind was screaming, “Don’t worry about it - um - I wasn’t waiting long…”

“Oh good, I’m glad,” Roman said, helping Virgil up from the seat and immediately wrapping his tail around Virgil’s waist. He blushed deeply - even though he wasn’t all too in the know about demon culture, that felt incredibly intimate. 

Turning to the barista - who was now staring at the two of them like they’d grown six heads - Roman flashed a winning smile, “Hi there! Could I get a hellfire mocha to go? With cream and rainbow sprinkles if you please, would you like anything, my darling?”

It took Virgil a few seconds to realise that the last part was directed at him, but when he did he managed to stammer his way through an order, “O-oh, um, yeah I - can I have the same thing you made me before? But um - to go as well?” He asked the bartender, he was trying not to seem so nervous, though he knew he was failing. He just hoped it would come across more as flustered. 

“Sure, coming right up,” The barista said, looking significantly glummer than they did before as they turned back to make the two drinks. Virgil let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

Once they got their drinks, Roman quickly took Virgil by the hand and led them outside and down the street a little way, where he let go of them and stepped away looking oddly bashful. Virgil’s face hadn’t calmed down in the slightest and now they were outside. Right, Roman had rescued him. 

“Thank you so much for that,” Virgil said, taking a deep breath, “They were just - they gave me their number and kept looking at me like Lily looks at Bell sometimes and it just freaked me out - sorry for taking you away from your break-”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Roman said, ruffling his hair in the same way Remus often did, somehow making Virgil relax even more with the soft tone and familiar gesture, “I was going to get coffee anyway - and I’ll never complain about rescuing someone in distress - I just hope you weren’t too put off by my methods.”

Virgil sighed in relief hearing that he hadn’t pulled Roman too far from his plans, before he choked at the last statement, his face returning to it’s red state where he’d just been starting to calm down dammit, “No - no it’s fine I didn’t- I didn’t mind- um-”

“Careful, you’ll be giving me a run for my money if you keep getting redder,” Roman teased, gesturing to his own crimson skin. Virgil huffed and stuck his tongue out at him as he tried to de-red his face, “Anyway, what are you doing down here on such a fine day?”

“I was - kind of running away from Angel and Penny…” Virgil admitted, Roman raised a curious eyebrow, “They were teasing me about uh - stuff-” 

“Ah, stuff, I see,” Roman nodded solemnly, “Angel can be like that, don’t let her bother you too much - but if you wanted to stay down here… perhaps you’d like to come back to the theatre with me? I’m running a day-long rehearsal today, but I’m sure no-one will mind your pretty face in the audience-?”

Virgil smiled - he had never actually been to any sort of theatre production before, and this was just a rehearsal, but it was with Roman and it gave him something to do, and he’d called him pretty, so… “Sure, why not? What do you do in the theatre anyway?”

“Well I do act of course, it’s one of my passions,” Roman said, “But I also help direct and run the youth musical theatre group for this area, right now we’re putting together a medley of our favourite mortal world musical songs, We only began last week, so it’s still very much a work in progress, but the blocking process is lovely to watch with everything coming together and these kids are rather dedicated so I’m sure you’ll have fun…”

Roman kept rambling all the way to the theatre, Virgil smiled and listened to everything he said - Roman was good at talking, he filled the space well and wasn’t overwhelming even though he was boisterous and fairly loud.

When they arrived Roman introduced them to the gathered kids and they gave an awkward wave. He sat in the audience and watched with interest. Though being honest he was watching Roman more than anyone else, the passion with which he moved around the stage to give everyone tips as they practised scenes, the way he got truly engaged with the students instead of sitting up front and yelling at them… Virgil could practically feel the passion in the room. 

Once the rehearsal concluded, Virgil waited for Roman - who offered chivalrously to walk him home despite it being all the way up in paradise and Virgil accepted because they were trying to learn to take nice things when they were offered to them (Lily would be proud). They walked back through hell and up to paradise arm in arm. 

Virgil really hoped this was going where he thought it might be, because he couldn’t deny to anyone anymore that he had the biggest raging crush on Remus’ brother possible. 

They were going to tease him something awful about this when they found out, he was sure. 

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer @yourchemicallyimbalancedromance :)

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[naminethewriter]

Second Chance Chapter 3

"Thank you for coming after me tonight," Roman said quietly as they sat at the table, half-heartedly munching on crackers and pepperoni slices.

"You're welcome. I'm glad I was able to be there for you," Janus answered sincerly. "I'm just sorry I wasn't faster."

"You did your best. It would have been a lot worse if you weren't there at all.

"It was bad enough," Janus answered softly. "And you don't have to pretend it wasn't just because I showed up. It's no slight to me that this still hurt and scared you. Having help doesn't lessen the weight of what just happened to you. You don't have to invalidate yourself for my sake."

Roman nodded. "I'll try to keep that in mind." He sighed and rubbed his face. "I'm so tired, but I'm scared to sleep."

"You can sleep in the bed with me," Janus offered, "that way you won't be alone."

Roman snorted and scrubbed one eyes. "Are you sure you want me in your bed with how gross I am right now?"

"I'm sure," Janus confirmed, feeling a touch guilty that once upon a time the idea of one of them being getting into bed unwashed would have been an argument. "Your well-being is more important to me than a little sweat. Bedding is washable. You're more than welcome to shower if that would make you feel better though. We already know you fit fine into my clothes, anyway."

"I want to, but...I don't know if it would help. I don't- I feel really weird, Janus." Roman scrubbed his face with both hands.

"You're still dissociated, sweetheart, not to mention probably a little concussed. It's going to take time to recover from the shock of everything. If you want, I can sit in the bathroom with you while you shower. That way I can be there to get you out or help if you get overwhelmed."

Roman nodded. "I really just want to feel clean, Jan."

"I'll help you."

Roman blinked slowly and found himself in the tub, leaned against Janus's fully clothed chest, tucked under his chin, and covered in a soaking wet towel. The water was still running.

"What happened?"

Janus stroked his head. "You had a panic attack and fell. I was afraid you'd fall again if I tried getting you out of the shower fully, so I just covered you up and sat with you. I didn't want you getting cold, just sitting here wet so I left the water on."

"I'm tired, Janus."

"Let's get you dressed and into bed then."

"Sorry," Roman groaned and used the edge of the tub to push himself upright.

"It's alright, darling, really." Janus turned the water off and helped Roman to his feet. "You don't have to keep apologizing."

Janus stepped out of the shower and quickly grabbed a dry towel and wrapped it around Roman, who let the wet towel fall with splat! and quickly covered himself up again. Janus took his arm and guided him out of the tub and helped him dry off and dress.

Roman shook his head. "You're shaking," he realized.

"I'm alright," Janus shivered. "Just need to get out of these wet clothes."

"Janus!" Roman scolded, suddenly coming fully into the moment with a sharp clarity.

"It's okay. I'm taking care of you right now, remember? And you're dressed now so I can do just that."

Roman shook his head. "Take those off, I'll go get you new clothes."

"Alright, alright, no need to fuss," Janus grumbled through chattering teeth and began stripping.

Roman slipped into the bedroom and easily found the clothes he was looking for in the same places they had always been. It was almost like they'd never broken up. Almost.

He tapped on the door before entering the bathroom again and silently held out the clothes.

Janus snatched them up gratefully with a muttered thanks. His hands shook as he tried to get them on as quickly as he could, causing him to nearly trip himself as he stepped into the underwear.

Roman caught him and propped him upright again. "Let me help," he said softly.

Janus's heart fluttered to hear that tone from him again and he nodded, letting Roman help dress him in turn.

"You're always so cold," Roman complained and pulled Janus into his arms, trying to warm him, once he was fully dressed again.

"And you're always so warm," Janus shuddered, nuzzling into his chest.

"You should have changed first."

Janus shook his head. "That would have taken too long. I didn't want to distress you further. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Ready to try to get some rest."

"Let's go lie down then."

---

"Janus?" Roman spoke into the dim light that seeped from under the bathroom door. Janus had insisted on leaving the light on for him in lieu of a proper night light.

"Yeah, Ro?"

"I'm sorry too. I was mean and snappy, I just...wasn't kind. I was awful at communication and I just blamed you instead of trying to do better."

"In your defense, sometimes it was my fault," Janus pointed out and turned on his side. "Neither of us were great at communicating and we both dug our heels in rather than trying to sort it out. I forgive you, darling."

"Thank you," Roman spoke softly. "I forgive you too."

Janus smiled and nuzzled a little closer to Roman's side. "Look at us, communicating like healthy adults. How far we've come."

Roman snorted. "It only took us how many years?"

"That doesn't matter. We're figuring it out now. That's what's important."

"I've really missed you, Jan," Roman nearly whispered.

"I've missed you too. I can't tell you how shocked I was to hear your voice when you called tonight."

"I wasn't sure you'd even answer," Roman admitted. "I just...didn't know what else to do. I didn't have anyone else to call."

"I'm going to be honest, I didn't even realize it was you at first. I didn't bother checking the caller ID."

Roman was quiet a moment, staring up at the ceiling above him. "Would you have answered if you did know?"

"Yes," Janus answered without hesitation, watching the outline of Roman's profile. "At that hour of the night, absolutely. I would have answered anyway, but at that time of night? There are no good phone calls after midnight. I never hated you, Roman. I hope you know that. We fought, and things didn't work out between us, but I never hated you."

"I never hated you either. I was just...selfish."

"We both were. You always see people talk about going separate ways because they're too different. I think for us, we were too much the same. Both had the same needs and wants that we couldn't figure out how to fulfill for each other. We couldn't give each other what neither of us had. Our problems were mutual, sweetheart, don't just blame yourself."

Roman snorted. "I don't know about that. I think I've been the problem in every relationship I've been in."

"So have I. That doesn't mean none of our past partners have been perfect or without issue. Recognizing your flaws takes an incredible amount of maturity, it's not something everyone is willing to do. I wasn't doing it while we were together. Unfortunately, recognizing that is only half the battle, the rest is working on those issues. And that can be really difficult to do, especially with an unsupportive partner. And I wasn't very supportive of you."

Roman turned to Janus and snuggled closer, letting his eyes fall closed. "You're supporting me now. Thank you for doing that."

Janus stroked his hair as he drifted off. "You're welcome, my love."

[naminethewriter]

Survival | Coda

Okay, so, I just read Survival, and. yus. (/pos) All I keep thinking about is what if the Others encounter (their) human Virgil having an anxiety attack or feeling very overwhelmed & panicked? Like...how would they handle that? Would they have help from someone who knows a bit more about humans' nervous system? Would they also kinda freak out because they don't know how to help Virgil calm down? – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: panic attack

Pairings: none

Word Count: 1682

"Roman? Remus, report to Engineering Main Hub." "What did you do," Roman mutters as they leave their stations, eyestalks flicking back and forth, "what didn't you do?" "It wasn't me! I didn't do anything wrong!" "You know that just makes you sound more suspicious, right?" Or, Virgil has a panic attack, and Roman and Remus are called in to help.

"Roman? Remus, report to Engineering Main Hub."

"What did you do," Roman mutters as they leave their stations, eyestalks flicking back and forth, "what didn't you do?"

"It wasn't me! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You know that just makes you sound more suspicious, right?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that it wasn't my fault that the quantum field generator was out of alignment this morning because I spent four matrons aligning it last shift and when I left, everyone including Lieutenant Alvarez signed off on it saying it was fine, so if it's messed up again, it's not on me!"

"That's a lot of words for 'I don't know what I did this time.'"

Remus shoves him as his mandible chitters and the two of them manage to make it the rest of the way to the reporting station without breaking anything. It's a close thing, but they manage it. The supervising officer looks up and sighs, gesturing toward the ducts.

"You two are close with Human Virgil, aren't you?"

"We're friendly," Roman says, "but I wouldn't say close."

"That's good enough."

"What's happened with Virgil?"

The officer sighs again—that's probably not good. "I don't know exactly what's going on. Medical Officer Patton is over there, he's got a better grasp of humans than the rest of us on staff here, ask him."

"With all due respect," Remus points out, "we're not exactly experts on humans either, I'm not sure we're qualified to—"

"Well, the human's the one asking for you, so when they're in a state where they can talk coherently again, you can ask them."

Three things occur to both of them at rather alarming speeds.

One: Virgil is asking for them specifically.

Two: Virgil is not currently in a state where they can explain why they've asked for the two of them specifically.

Three: Virgil is so much in a state where they cannot speak coherently that a medical officer has been summoned.

"Where are they?"

The officer jabs a tentacle toward the ducts and they're off, dodging other crew members and murmuring apologies for their brusque journey across the floor, mandibles chittering rapidly. Sure enough, by the time they round the corner to reach the stairs leading up to the overlooking platform, they can hear the soft voice of the medical officer murmuring something.

"That's it, you're doing very well. Keep trying to take deep breaths, okay? That will help stabilize the oxygen levels in your body, which will help bring about the end of this."

"I know that—it's just—I can't—I—I—"

"You can. I know it seems hard right now—"

"No shit!"

"Medical Officer Patton?" Remus calls as they reach the top of the stairs. "We were called, is everything…?"

Roman shoves Remus aside as he too makes it to the platform, trying to see what's caused Remus to stop so suddenly. He then slams to a halt when he sees the bright blue of the medical officer's uniform nearly covering a small, curled-up ball of dark fabric that appears to be shuddering. Before he can ask if this is another stage of human development they're unaware of, part of the blob lifts and he lets out a soothing rumble before he realizes it.

Virgil, their human, is curled up so tightly in a little ball that it must be painful, and his face is all red and blotchy and—leaking?

"Virgil?" Remus's voice drops to the low register they use to communicate with fresh hatchlings, crouching down to make his silhouette smaller. "What's going on?"

"You—you came—you actually—actually—"

"Easy," Patton says gently as another horrible noise leaves Virgil's lips, "don't try and speak too much, you'll over stress your system. Here, let me—"

He reaches into the small toolkit on his belt and retrieves a comfort canister. A light hissing fills the air as it decompresses, the blanket within growing larger and larger until he can drape it over Virgil's shaking shoulders. The human lets out another thorax-wrenching noise as he huddles under the soft blue fabric, taking a fistful and bringing it to cover his mouth.

"What's happening?" Roman asks, crouching down too. "How long has this been going on?"

"I was called a few malton units ago," Patton explains, his eyes still on Virgil curled up under the blanket, "about a crew member in distress. He appears to be otherwise uninjured. I believe this is an exacerbated response from his nervous system."

"Is this related to his parasite?"

Patton's head whips around. "Parasite?"

"Not a literal parasite, uh, Roman, help me out—"

"I think he calls it anxiety? It's not actually a parasite, he just described it like that to us once—"

"Ah, yes, anxiety, I'm familiar with the term in humans. Yes, I think this is part of it. It's not uncommon for humans with anxiety to experience periods of time where their systems is overloaded with instincts that are not applicable to their current situation."

"Their system attacks itself?"

"In a manner of speaking. I believe human experts refer to them as 'panic attacks.'"

Roman blinks with both eyestalks. "Well, that sounds…unpleasant."

"No shit," comes Virgil's voice through the blanket, "it's a bitch and a half."

"Do you normally measure inconveniences in female dog lengths?"

"Figure of speech." The rattling breaths haven't stopped yet, and they can hear a few more drops of liquid hit the grating. "Shit."

"How can we help?"

"Protocol suggests surrounding the crew member with those familiar to them," Patton explains, "who may be able to offer comfort and security."

"O-oh."

The human thinks they're…safe? They've not had more than half a dozen conversations and they're nowhere near approaching brood mate status, they've not even seen each other that many times off shift. But Virgil is extremely distressed and if they can help, well, what are they supposed to do, refuse?

"What do we do?"

"Virgil?" Patton rests a hand carefully on the top of the blanket-human pile. "Roman and Remus would like to help. What would you like them to do?"

"Can—can you come closer?"

Both of them skitter along the platform and bracket the pile on either side. Patton removes his hand and shuffles back to give them space. Roman bumps an eyestalk against Remus as Remus lies flat, making it easier for Virgil to see him without having to move his head so much.

"Hi," he chirps, some of his feelers playing gently with the edge of the blanket. "We're right here. You look like a hatchling all curled up in the blanket."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Do you know a lot about how our species nests?"

"No."

"We make these really big colonies that are just devoted to rearing the young. We gather supplies from everywhere we can to make the environment as safe for them as possible."

"Which in Remus's case, means getting rid of all the dangerous things he hoards like a ravenous purple worm."

"Hey!"

"It's true," Roman says, stroking the blanket, "but once that's all done, we get these big bunches of fluff from the canyon lands and make nests out of them, kind of like this. Then we wrap the young in them so their limbs can get used to having ambient pressure and sensation in a safe way before they're big enough to try moving on their own."

"That's why I said you look kind of like a new hatchling, all bundled up."

Virgil sniffles, wiping at his face. "That sounds nice."

"Why are you leaking," Roman asks gently, "is there something we can patch?"

"'M not leaking, 'm just crying."

"Crying is something humans do to cope with overwhelming emotions in their systems," Patton adds quietly when they still look confused, "it helps with the release of extra things that re-stabilizes them."

"Oh. Keep doing it, then."

A watery huff. "I'm not gonna be able to stop anytime soon, don't worry."

"Do you want us to keep talking?"

"Y-yeah. Um, what are the canyon lands like?"

"They're these massive stretches of bare rock that reach from one side of the planet to the other. They're very treacherous for single or even double exploration teams, so we have to go in really big groups to be able to get around them safely." Remus's eyestalks wave back and forth. "There's not a lot of cover out there so we gotta be able to have eyes in all directions."

"It also gets really hot because of that," Roman adds, "so we take turns being at the top of the group."

"What do you mean, 'at the top?'"

"Oh, sorry—we travel in a horde when we go out in groups that big to make it easier on our legs for long distances. The ones at the bottom provide the power to keep the group going, the ones at the top are the eyes for the rest of us, and the ones in the middle provide stability to make sure no one gets left behind."

"That's…cool."

"But it gets really hot at the top so we change positions every so often to keep the group moving and stable."

"I don't get hot as easily as Roman does—"

"Hey!"

"—so I get to spend more time at the top."

"You just hate having to walk for yourself when you don't absolutely have to."

"I'll have you know I'm still the winner of the Marsh Dash for three galactic cycles in a row and you've never gotten in the top 200."

"Yeah, but that's for your pride."

Remus chitters in an affronted way and Virgil makes another little one of those watery laughs. The engine hums around them, just like the thriving colony of a healthy hive.

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[naminethewriter]

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

[Masterpost]

Chapter 7: How They Kept Him Very Well

Wordcount: 1.1K

~~~~

“You know, if you keep feeding me like this, I’m going to gain weight,” Virgil says, settling back in his chair with immense satisfaction.

“No offense, but you look like you could use it, Jack Skellington,�� Roman tells him.

“Hey!” Virgil protests, though he isn’t actually particularly offended. Roman’s not wrong, for one thing. Virgil certainly doesn’t have the time and energy—or skill, honestly—to make as good food as Patton does. These last couple days have been the most well-fed he’s been since he moved out to be an independent adult.

Roman pushes his chair back and hops up. “Ready for movies?” he asks eagerly, already heading for the doorway.

“Roman Augustus Sanders, do not leave your plate on the table,” Logan says tiredly. Roman freezes mid-step, shoulders raising guiltily. Slowly, cartoonishly stiffly, he spins back around.

“Oops.”

“I can’t stay anyway, remember?” Virgil asks. “I gotta get going so I can bike home before it gets dark.”

Roman's eyes go wide. “I. Forgot,” he says with a grimace.

“It is well past sunset,” Logan informs Virgil. “I am afraid that ‘before it gets dark’ is no longer possible tonight.”

“Oh.” Well, fuck. What's he supposed to do now!?

“Sorry,” Roman says. “I did not take the passage of time into consideration. I'll make it up to you. Do you want me to drive you home? I'll drive you home right away. Or you could spend the night again, and I'll take you to work in the morning?”

“I have tomorrow off, actually,” Virgil says, which is the first thing he can think of in response to that extremely generous offer. Roman brightens.

“Oh, perfect!” he says. “That means you can stay the night and then take your bike home tomorrow when it's light out!”

Virgil hesitates, glancing at the others. “Are… you sure that's okay?” he asks.

Logan shrugs. “Unless you have plans for your day off and would prefer to be taken home tonight, that would seem to be the most expedient method,” he says.

“No, I… No, no plans,” Virgil says.

“So you’ll stay?” Roman asks. Virgil hesitates, then nods. Roman whoops, bouncing. “So can we watch Unfortunate Events then?” he asks hopefully.

Virgil can’t help smiling, Roman’s excitement contagious. “Sure, soon as you take care of your dishes,” he says.

Roman sticks his tongue out at him, coming back to gather them up and take them into the kitchen. 

Virgil takes care of his own, and Logan puts the leftovers away tonight. The instant their dishes are rinsed and in the dishwasher, Roman whisks Virgil off to the theater again.

One episode follows another, as they eagerly discuss, theorize, and refuse to stop on cliffhangers. They pause, once, because Roman wants to make popcorn, and once more a few episodes later for a bathroom break, but otherwise they continue watching episodes back to back.

Eventually, Patton interrupts their marathon. He’s wearing his grey cat onesie again, and yawns as he opens the door.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” he asks.

Roman pauses the episode and glances at his wrist, on which he is not wearing a watch. “What time is it?” he asks.

“Midnight-thirty,” Calico says, and yawns again. “Logan’s already asleep.”

Roman catches Virgil’s eyes and makes a wide-eyed whoops expression at him. “Stop after this one?” he suggests, and glances at the screen again. “I think we’re almost done.” He presses a button on the remote and pulls up the time bar thing. “Yeah, ten minutes left,” he says.

“Sounds doable,” Virgil says, glad that he doesn’t have to get up for work tomorrow. It’s going to take him a while to wind down enough to fall asleep, and if it’s already past midnight, he would have had no chance of getting anywhere near enough sleep. Hopefully they won’t mind him sleeping in, because otherwise they're going to have to literally drag him out of bed in the morning, and that might spoil their weirdly good opinions of him. “Probably another cliffhanger though.”

“Probably,” Roman agrees. He sucks in a breath, drawing himself up. “We shall have to be strong and resist the siren’s call of another episode.”

“Ten minutes?” Patton asks.

“Ten minutes, beloved,” Roman promises.

“Okay,” Patton says sleepily, and closes the door again.

Ten minutes later, they are indeed left on a cliffhanger. It takes real effort not to continue despite their promise, but Roman visibly gathers his strength, screws up his face, and points the remote at the tv. “For love and cuddles,” he says, pressing the power button.

“Where should I sleep tonight?” Virgil asks as Roman leads him tiredly up the stairs.

Roman shrugs. “Same room as last time unless you’d rather join us,” he says. “We can share Paddy Bear.”

That’s… that’s a joke, right? Roman didn’t just seriously invite Virgil into his bed, invite him to cuddle with his boyfriend. Right? Virgil chuckles uncertainly. He’s even tireder than he thought, to not catch the jesting tone. Or maybe Roman’s too tired and deadpanned too hard.

Probably a combination of both, Virgil decides. It is late. “I think I’d better not,” he says, trying to match Princey’s levity. “I don’t know if you snore.”

Roman gasps in pretend offense, pressing his hand to his chest. Then he leans forward and relates in a conspiratorial tone, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Logan snores like the most adorable rumbly kitten purr.”

“Does he?” Virgil says, grinning. Roman nods happily.

“He does,” he says. “It is adorable, but it does take some getting used to, so I can’t blame you for wanting your own room.” Roman yawns, then reaches up to pat Virgil’s shoulder. “Night, Spoops,” he says. “See you in… I dunno, prolly not the morning. See you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Princey,” Virgil answers. “Sleep well.”

Roman pats Virgil on the shoulder again, then shuffles off into his bedroom.

The room they had put Virgil in last time is nearly as he left it, except that the pajamas have been moved to the nightstand. Virgil carefully does not touch the bed as he changes, knowing that if he had been unwilling to leave it the first night, the exhaustion he can feel in his bones will make it a veritable black hole of comfort tonight.

Pajama-clad, Virgil turns off the light and climbs into bed. He sinks into the softness, comfort claiming him, and is asleep faster than he knew was humanly possible.

~~~~

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This - To be posted Saturday, September 21st, 2024

[naminethewriter]

Never Did I Truely Hate You

----

Janus doesn't expect any of the others to want him around after he's accepted. Even Remus has been acting off. So, of course, the most sensible course of action would be to avoid the source of hurt entirely.

Virgil does not agree.

----

| Ao3 |

----

Warnings: Self isolation, pretty negative self image

Pairings: Anxceit, very background intruality.

Word Count: 2071

Notes: Did a poll on here for which fic I should post next and this one won in a tie with another fic that I will post on Wednesday :3

I feel like I don't write very much canonverse anymore so lmk what you think!!!

----

Janus hadn’t expected everything to be perfect now that he - and begrudgingly Remus - had moved up to the light side’s commons. 

He did not expect Roman to forgive him, or become any less hostile towards him at all, after everything he had done to him. He didn’t expect Patton to want much to do with him, and he expected Logan to prefer talking to anyone but him - even Remus, who he’d spent a surprisingly long amount of time with recently, but whatever, that was none of his business.

And even more than that, He didn’t expect a single ounce of kindness from Virgil. 

Not after he’d left, not after the quips and insults and snipes whenever they’d been within hissing distance of one another. No, he didn’t even expect Virgil to want to be in the same room as him, let alone talk to him, or heaven forbid sit down at the same table as him.

So, Janus decided to intrude on their space as little as possible. It was better to avoid the emotional turmoil and annoying pain it would cause than go through it all… right? …Right??

And so that was how Janus found himself becoming almost nocturnal for the first few weeks of this new arrangement. He also just so happened to spend an ungodly amount of time in the private greenhouse Remus had made for him as an extension of his room (fit, of course, with deadly tropical plants and poisons). He sat there for hours reading, or spent time caring for the snakes that also shared the space and he didn’t come out when someone knocked.

Which was rare because, of course, no-one wanted to talk to him. 

He spent time in the commons at night, making food, eating said food, sometimes even watching a film during the dead hours of the morning. It was fine, he was fine with this arrangement, and he was sure everyone else was enjoying business as usual - you know, without him there.

So far, Janus had managed to avoid running into any side at night - aside from one time, when he came across Roman, though he was already passed out at the kitchen island, so it hardly counted. Something he should have remembered - and would kick himself for forgetting after the events that were about to unfurl because of it - was how awful Virgil’s own sleep schedule was. 

He realised this fact very abruptly when, one night at just past three in the morning, Janus went to open the fridge, only to be attacked from above and tackled to the ground by some kind of hissing creature. 

Moments later, when he gathered his thoughts just enough to will the lights in the living space to turn on, he realised that said hissing creature was actually their resident spider himself, who was now sitting firmly on Janus’ chest as he pinned him to the ground with strong hands on his shoulders. What the fuck?

“Virgil?” Janus asked after a long stretch of silence in which they both stared at each other. 

“I finally got you,” Virgil huffed, seeming a little out of breath from the violent attack, “I’ve been - trying for the last week but you’re too fucking - slippery.”

“What??” Janus asked, staring at Virgil in disbelief, “why?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding all of us since you came up here, idiot,” Virgil said, pushing a little more weight onto Janus’ shoulders, it was starting to hurt, just a little, but he wasn’t about to tell Virgil to get off - this was the closest he’d gotten to him since… before, and Janus wouldn’t lie - at least not in his own thoughts - about how big of a crush he’d always had on Virgil. So yes, he was confused as hell, but he was absolutely not going to push Virgil away when he willingly touched him for the first time in years. What could he say, he was selfish.

“And?” Janus said, trying to make sure his face didn’t betray his raging feelings the position they were in were causing, “So what? I totally expect you and the others would actually want me around.”

“...So what? Dude I’ve been worried sick! Patton asks if we’ve seen you literally every day at breakfast- what? Even Remus doesn’t know where you’ve been!” Virgil yelled, “And then- I was down here on the sofa one night and - well I guess you didn’t fucking see me or whatever but you came down and then disappeared again - so I’ve been trying to catch you every night since to work out what the fuck is going on.”

“There’s nothing ‘going on’,” Janus protested, he was pretty sure he’d lost his hat when Virgil had knocked him over, he didn’t feel too comfortable without it, “I’m just giving you all space to recover after the last episode.”

“No you’re not,” Virgil said, shaking his head with a frown, “I know you too well for that, and we don’t need space, what’s going on, Janus.”

“I-” Janus trailed off, realising that Virgil had really trapped him in a corner here - both literally and metaphorically, Virgil knew him too well, even now, he could spot his lies easily, “It’s nothing of your concern.”

“I didn’t tell the others,” Virgil said, Janus blinked, staring at Virgil’s face in confusion.

“...Didn’t tell the others… what?”

“That you were coming down here at night, that I was trying to uh - do whatever you call this,” Virgil huffed, lifting one hand from his shoulder to gesture to the position the two of them were in, “I didn’t tell them.”

“Why not?” Janus asked, frowning.

Virgil groaned and rolled his eyes, “Because I know you too fucking well, now tell me why you’ve suddenly turned into an owl instead of a snake.”

“I’m saving you all the trouble of pushing me away,” Janus snapped after a long enough pause that Janus knew Virgil wouldn’t relent, “I already know that you all totally want me here, even if Patton’s stupid gesture to accept me meant anything.”

Virgil was silent for a second, didn’t break eye contact as he hesitated, before moving his hands from Janus’ shoulders. For a moment Janus expected him to stand up, dust himself off and mention something about how he was right before walking off. Instead, Virgil sighed and flopped down so he was lying fully on Janus’ chest, head tucked under his chin. 

Almost completely on autopilot - since his brain was entirely bluescreening at the action - Janus’ arms came up to wrap around Virgil, who let out a surprised hum at the action.

“...Virgil?” Janus asked, voice wary. Everything he could have possibly expected from this interaction had just been flung out of the window with a single action.

“When Patton accepted you,” Virgil said, voice a little muffled to Janus’ ears, “I- I was angry at first, but then I just thought that like- now that they liked you I could - I could go back to liking you too, I was excited, I think, to have you back - but then you just disappeared and I - started overthinking it as usual.”

Janus couldn’t help but chuckle even if it came out a little sad, “I thought you out of everyone would want to see me the most, you definitely made that very clear in all of our recent interactions.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, readily and without hesitation, “I was awful to you, and it was - it’s no excuse but I only did it because everyone else chose to hate you too I - I was scared I’d lose their respect over it, but - it doesn’t matter now? Because Patton accepted you so - so they’re not going to hate me for liking you, right?”

Virgil lifted his head to look at him, and Janus sighed. 

“You already know that I don’t know the answer to that,” Janus said, “and I’m sure the others will totally just like me without question now that Patton has accepted me.”

Virgil chuckled, “Roman is still mad about the moustache comment.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Janus said, shaking his head, “And I certainly don't expect that Logan isn’t still angry with me about the courtroom.”

“Okay so maybe we- we don’t tell the others about uh - this,” Virgil said, resting his head back on Janus’ chest. 

“I totally know what’s happening right now,” Janus said with a sigh.

“I’m lying on you.” Virgil said, matter of factly, “B’cause you’re cold and strong and nice to lie on.”

“Okay, well this floor is definitely soft and warm and comfortable,” Janus pointed out, “So if you want to continue to lie on me may I suggest we move somewhere that wont give me back problems?”

“Oh right, yeah of course, sorry if I hurt you, when I uh - tackled you, by the way,” Virgil said, almost immediately getting up, looking a little sheepish. 

“It’s fine. Would you like to watch The Black Cauldron?” Janus asked as he sat up, changing the topic, “I think there’s a DVD of it around here somewhere, we could lie on the couch…?”

“You… remember that I like that film?” Virgil asked, sounding oddly quiet, Janus turned from where he had begun walking over to the couch, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

“Of course I don’t,” Janus said, “It’s not like you made us watch it every other week - interchanged with The Nightmare Before Christmas - without fail since Thomas first watched it or anything.”

He couldn’t help but delight in the way that Virgil’s face flushed red, despite him hurrying to join Janus by the couch. 

“I had almost forgotten about that,” Virgil admitted, “I’ve barely watched it since being over here.”

“I haven’t watched it since you left,” Janus sighed, “I highly doubt I remember the plot.”

Virgil smiled tentatively, “I’ll probably fall asleep before it finishes… but… that just means we’ll have to watch it again at some point, right?”

“Of course, let's take this opportunity to watch it now, shall we?” Janus said, summoning the DVD case in one hand whilst offering the other to Virgil. There was a long second of hesitation during which Janus could almost feel his world crumbling around him as Virgil didn’t take his hand, for a second he thought this must have been a trick, to have a relationship he wished for so badly dangled in his face and then snatched away again at the last second.

But no, that couldn’t be right, Virgil might be sarcastic, mean at times, but he wasn’t cruel and he certainly wasn’t dishonest enough to pull such a stunt so sincerely. Which meant…

“Are you alright?” Janus asked gently, taking back his hand. 

“Oh yeah, Yeah i’m okay,” Virgil lied, Janus raised an eyebrow, “Okay fine, no I- when I left I just- sorta maybe convinced myself that you guys hated me and I just- I didn’t expect you to be so… I definitely didn’t expect you to remember my favourite film, or- or want to cuddle while we watched it.”

“It’s not like I expected you to be any kinder towards me,” Janus replied, face going soft, “But… maybe it’s safe to say neither of us actually hate each other?”

Virgil snorted, “Yeah uh- maybe not, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Janus answered, “And I’m sorry too, honestly.”

There was a second where Virgil just took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Thank you, I forgive you too.”

“Good,” Janus smiled, putting the DVD into the player before sitting down on the couch, patting the seat next to him in invitation, “Because we’ve missed a lot of weekends - so we’d better make up for all the lost viewing time, hm?”

“I think we’d get bored if we watched it that much,” Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, flopping down on the couch next to him and immediately leaning into his side, and God had Janus missed this. 

“Perhaps,” Janus nodded. 

“Maybe if you actually came to the movie nights we tried to invite you to we’d have more things to watch,” Virgil murmured as Janus pressed play. 

“You tried to invite me to movie nights?” Janus asked, tilting his head. 

“Yeah - we all took turns knocking on your door every time we did one, you never answered.”

“...oh.”

“Now shut up, the film’s starting.”

Neither of them made it halfway through the film before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

-----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[naminethewriter]

The Worst Part

Could I possibly request some anxceit (platonic or romantic) where Virgil rescues Janus from some kind of danger? In the imagination, maybe? – anon

Hello hello! This might be a strange request, but I am such a sucker for both your merlin & sanders sides fic. If it strikes your fancy, I would love to see your rendition of an angst fic of a merlin au of sanders sides, with Virgil as merlin and a side of your choice as Arthur? I think the angst implications of that dynamic would be LOVELY – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: anxceit

Word Count: 2455

This is the worst part, honestly. It's not the frantic churning in his gut when he uses his magic, it's not the icy dread of what happens right after when he's trying frantically to avoid suspicion, it's not even the looks he gets when there's a few too many knights looking at him.

It's when they're back in the safety of Janus's chambers and Janus is swanning around like he's the one that saved the day, and he takes the opportunity to get as many insults into Virgil as he can.

Now, Virgil knows he's lucky: Janus's famous acid tongue isn't actually as sharp as he thinks it is, and he's in the unique position of being able to snipe back at the Prince of Camelot, but…death by a thousand cuts and all that.

"Oh, and of course, Virgil, you'll have to have one of the knights help you with that, I know you'd rather cut off your own arm than actually wield steel."

"Now, don't get all excited, this won't be nearly as fun as changing my sheets, but do try to pay attention…"

"—and don't worry, you won't be anywhere near any of the action, you'll be far enough back that your delicate little fingers won't see any specks of blood."

Some of them hurt worse than others. He can stomach the ones about him being unfamiliar with the castle and the citadel at large—he's from a tiny village, for crying out loud—and the ones about him being weak aren't the worst—he's seen the knights, Roman and Remus are terrifying when they want to be—but the ones about him being a coward?

Sometimes he wants to scream at Janus that he's braver than Janus could ever dream of being. That he's here, in the heart of a kingdom that's sworn to kill every single one of his kind, serving the Crown Prince that is determined to see it through, and he's still fucking here. He hasn't run for the hills, he hasn't turned tail and cowered in Logan's chambers, he's still here, taking those fucking insults, and he's damn proud of it. And, also, he's the one who saved Janus's royal arse earlier, so a thank-you for that and all the other times he's had to do that since coming here would be appreciated.

But that would be tantamount to suicide, and he's too much of a coward to get himself killed like that.

He's surprised, honestly, that Janus doesn't choose to poke fun at his obvious fear of fire. It's not as though he's very good at hiding it, not with the way he flinches from candles and does everything he can not to be responsible for lighting the prince's fire at the beginning of the night. Even when they're out in the fucking woods, making all the noise and light for any bandit to see, he shies away from the fire and shivers in the cold. Those are the only times he thinks he sees something like concern flicker in Janus's eyes.

"Virgil? Are you listening to me?"

"No."

Janus rolls his eyes. "Are you capable of doing such a thing, or have you just managed to guess your way through most of your duties up until now?"

"It's not as though you make it particularly difficult, 'here, do this stupid thing, now do this other thing I'm just making you do because I can.' Not exactly sophisticated things, are they?"

"Oh, well, if you're such an expert, perhaps you should try being the prince for a day, see how you like it."

"No, no, my head's not nearly big enough."

He hears a small scoff that could be a laugh as he continues folding the prince's laundry—he was listening enough to know what Janus was telling him to do. There's a pause as the quill scratches across parchment before there's a telltale rustle of paper and he ducks just in time for it to land harmlessly on the bed in front of him.

"How honorable, attacking a man while his back is turned."

"Of course you think having a ball of paper thrown at you constitutes an attack."

He manages to disguise the tensing of his jaw by reaching for it. His fingers brush the crumpled edge, scoffing when he sees the list of chores. "I did half of these things this morning."

"Well, that's the wonderful thing about chores, Virgil, you have to keep doing them as people live their lives."

"Or, maybe you could try not taking up all the space in the world for once in your life."

"Careful, you're threatening the prince of Camelot."

"Only you would view being told to take up less space as a threat."

This time Janus throws a roll of bread and he doesn't turn around fast enough, stumbling backwards as it hits him in the forehead. He flails, trying to regain his balance, only to hit the curtains and get tangled. He can't see, he can't move, and he ends up falling right on his arse.

Right in front of a laughing Janus.

"Magnificent performance!" He hears clapping as he swallows down his humiliation. "If you were auditioning for the part of a jester, I'd hire you on that alone."

"Very funny," he mutters through gritted teeth, just barely resisting the urge to throw the bread back. Instead, he stuffs it in his pocket and goes about fixing the curtains.

"Oh, come on," Janus coos mockingly when he doesn't let him see his face for a long while, "don't be such a petticoat, Virgil. A little fall now and then's good for any man."

Virgil grits his teeth and says nothing.

This. These insults he'd rather not deal with. He's still shaky from earlier, his senses on high alert, and Janus thinks it's funny to scare him and make him flush and generally feel unsafe. Not something he needs right now, thank you very much. But could he say any of this out loud? No! He'd be opening himself up to even more insults, more mocking, more jeering at his sensitivity because what sort of person—no, what sort of man would he be if he tried to say that he felt uncomfortable? He'd be lucky if Janus didn't call in the others just to laugh at him.

"You don't need to sulk," comes Janus's voice again as he goes back to silently doing the laundry, "I thought we were past this."

He keeps his mouth shut. He puts the laundry back in the closet and turns to start fixing the bed. He hears Janus sigh.

"The silent treatment's a bit childish for you, isn't it?"

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment."

"He speaks!" He sees Janus throw his arms up out of the corner of his eye. "What a miracle this is."

"I can just shut up again."

"Words I never thought I'd hear you say. It's a wonder you're even capable of it."

See, he seethes internally, this is why I wasn't talking. You just take every word I say as an opportunity to insult me.

But it seems like Janus doesn't actually want him to shut up, so of course that's exactly what he does. He doesn't say another word as he finishes doing all the chores on the list, no matter how much Janus needles him, no matter how many things get thrown at him—he doesn't bother dodging them anymore, he just lets himself get hit and swallows whatever pain might come from having a metal cup collide with his shoulder—no matter how many times Janus stares at him waiting for him to say something. Instead, he waits until there's just about nothing else he can do to stop, fold his hands behind his back, and bow slightly.

"Is there anything else, sire," he mumbles in that polite voice he and Janus both hate, "or will that be all for the evening?"

"Alright, you've made your point," Janus grumbles, getting up from his desk, "now stop it."

"Stop what, sire?"

"Stop it," Janus barks. Virgil doesn't look up and he hears a muffled curse before heavy boots are tromping across the room.

It's just Janus. They're in his chambers. In all likelihood, he's just going to get cuffed across the shoulder or the ear and told to knock this off, told to get out so Janus can see him bright and early tomorrow. That's what always happens, that's probably what's going to happen, there's no need for Virgil to flinch.

But part of him is still on the muddy ground, a bandit roaring as an axe lifts high in the air above him. Part of him is still shivering as his magic acts without his permission and forcing him to scramble for cover to choke down the panic at possibly being discovered. Part of him is still cowering on the ground as heavy footsteps race over to him, sword drawn and flashing like a torch in the setting sun.

So, as much as he screams at himself not to, Virgil flinches.

The footsteps stop abruptly.

Slowly, so slowly it almost seems like a dream, he watches a hand raise and settle on the nape of his neck. The prince's gloves are soft and buttery leather, warmed by his touch and by riding in the late afternoon. The touch is so gentle for a moment he's not sure if he's imagining it, but then there's another hand under his chin.

"Virgil," the prince says, and Virgil reels at how soft Janus sounds, "what's going on?"

"What?"

"You're upset," and who the fuck is this and what the hell has he done with Janus, because Janus doesn't talk to him this softly and he certainly doesn't ask Virgil if he's upset, "are you still afraid because of what happened earlier?"

"No!"

Janus tuts, gently chucking him under his chin. "Don't lie to me, sweetie."

"What the fuck is going on?" Virgil jerks back, trying to break Janus's hold but the prince is strong—far stronger than him, and he barely moves. "What are you doing?"

"You're upset, I can tell. I'm trying to help."

"Why?"

Janus chuckles, only to realize Virgil is most certainly not laughing, and he sobers quicker than Virgil could've thought possible. "What do you mean, 'why?' You're my Virgil."

"I'm your what?"

"My Virgil. My disobedient, lazy, cowardly manservant Virgil—" which hurts, but Janus is saying them so tenderly they almost sound like endearments, which is making his head spin— "and you're upset, which means I have to fix it."

Virgil just stares at him, mouth opening and closing wordlessly until the hand on the back of his neck squeezes gently. Then a mortifying wounded noise escapes his lips and he buries his face in his hands.

"Hey, hey," Janus murmurs, stepping even closer, "none of that, now. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't understand."

"You're safe. We're back in Camelot, there are no more bandits here. You're in my chambers, everything's alright." Fingers card gently through his hair. "Are you still embarrassed about falling earlier?"

"…you threw bread at me."

"I know. That wasn't very nice of me, was it?" Virgil shakes his head. "Is that why you're still upset with me?"

"You keep insulting me."

"That's what we do, sweetie—" and Virgil shudders at the pet name— "oh, hush, now, it's alright. Here, come here—"

And before Virgil can say or do anything, he's being swept up into a hug. An actual, certifiable hug from the Prince of fucking Camelot and it's warm and safe and fuck he's going to start crying—

"Hey," Janus says sternly when Virgil starts fidgeting in his hold, "settle down, now."

"Let go—let go—I'm gonna—"

"Shh-shh-shh, don't fight me. You're going to cry, is that it? Shh, hush, it's alright, none of that, I don't care—oh, for the love of—" he's spun around and pinned against the prince's chest with an arm around his chest and his waist, a mouth at his ear, "there, now I can't see, is that what you wanted?"

"J-Janus—" Virgil claws at his arm— "Janus, I didn't do anything, I didn't do it—"

"Shh, shh-shh-shh, take a deep breath for me, Virgil. Yes, just like that…that's it, calm down. I'm not angry. You're alright, you're safe, I'm not going to hurt you. Just let me hold you." Janus coaxes him down to the floor when his knees buckle, leaned back against his chest. "There…that's it, calm down, calm down. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"I don't under—understand," he manages, "I'm—I—you—"

Janus's thumb strokes carefully over his chest, still shushing him gently. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're upset, I should've known better than to tease right after something like that. You're safe, you have my word."

"I—" tears start to bubble at the corners of his eyes— "I—"

"Shh, don't try and speak right now," he says softly, pulling Virgil more into his lap, "just let it out."

And, well, he's not sure he's ever going to have the opportunity to bawl in the prince's hold ever again, so he's going to take advantage of it while he has it. Still, it takes him a moment to wrestle with the sheer amount of blackmail he's giving Janus in this moment before he's properly sobbing, knees drawn up to his chest and all, while soft words are murmured in his ears and a hand strokes comfortingly through his hair.

"That's it, you're alright. Shh, I know, that was frightening. It's over now, you're safe, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Jan—Janus—"

"Shh, shh, shh, I'm right here. I'm right here, Virgil, I'm not going anywhere."

This is the worst part, honestly, the part right after everything's over and Virgil has to get all of the fear out of his body before it can get him into even more trouble. But, when he's done crying, Janus will smile at him fondly and tease him gently about his nose being bright red, and he'll think that maybe, maybe it's not as bad as it could be.

Janus could know about his magic, after all.

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[naminethewriter]

The Shadow Falcon

Hello! Big fan of your sandersides and merlin fics! I saw a tiktock skit the other day (I unfortunately don't remember who by) that had the prompt of a undercover hero going into a club/party full of villains only to be shocked to see their supposedly dead sibling. I thought of Roman and Remus right away (especially in your Come now, Little Prince verse which i am Obsessed with) and thought I'd try sending it to you as a prompt as I thought if it stuck a cord with you, you would be able to bring it to it's full angsty/sweet potential! – ultrageekygirl

Read on Ao3

Warnings: interrogations, beating, presumed dead character

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4288

The Shadow Falcon is one of the many elite clubs that line the city's lower town, complete with a fabulously gaudy marquee, armed enforcers, and the most exclusive guest list outside of the wealthy mansions on the other side of the river. Roman Sanders, alias 'The Prince,' has been sent to gather intel on a possible operation threatening the nearby population. He wasn't expecting to see his dead brother.

Roman tugs at the collar of his costume, ducking around another patron as the club's bass thuds against his ears. The stench of bizarre liquor and some sort of substance he's definitely not willing to touch with a ten foot pole makes his head ring and he makes his way through the crowded dance floor over toward the bar. He times a pass by one of the many security guards with a frantic strobe of the lights overhead and slips past them, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he's not been spotted yet.

The Shadow Falcon is one of the many elite clubs that line the city's lower town, complete with a fabulously gaudy marquee, armed enforcers, and the most exclusive guest list outside of the wealthy mansions on the other side of the river. The points of his disguise dig into his neck once more and he winces, trying to play the frantic tugging off as some weird new dance move from someone who's had just a little too much to drink. A woman in a latex catsuit catches his eye and tips him a flirtatious wink over the rim of her glass. Thankfully, someone passes in between them and he ducks out of the way, making a beeline—a subtle beeline—toward the far end of the room where a few private booths tuck against the wall, complete with curtains, tables, and couches. A passing waiter holds out a champagne flute wordlessly and he takes it, discreetly leaving it a few spaces away amongst a fleet of half-empty ones in front of a body slumped over the table in a drunken stupor.

We can tell you what sort of stuff might happen, he remembers his handler saying, but you're going to need to be extra careful. No room for showboating; the general public won't be on your side if something starts to go down.

That means no drinks, no food, and no casual conversation if he can help it. Not when the room's 'civilians' are villains that would gladly see his head on a spike. He's fortunate enough that he hasn't run into anyone he's helped put away before, let alone had someone recognize him through his alias.

These guys are professionals, he will admit; no one who works here has even said his alias out loud, they just checked to see if he was on the list and waved him through. Still, the hair on the back of his neck refuses to go down as he weaves around writhing bodies and ostentatious floor decor.

"There should be a service elevator at the northwest corner of the room," his earpiece crackles, just audible over the booming music, "see if you can slip in there without getting noticed."

That's gonna be hard to do if there's someone over there, he thinks as he eyes the army of waitstaff milling about near the bar. It's not even as though there's a door to the kitchen or backstock or whatever have you, there's just an entire fucking fleet of them. And he has no doubt that all of them are at the very least armed, if not highly trained. It's hard enough having to handle one villain at a time, he can't imagine trying to break up fights between drunk ones. Hope they get paid enough to deal with that.

"You look like you're looking for some company," he hears purred in his ear and he plasters a half-hearted smile on his face as he turns to see a well-dressed man sidle up to him. "Or have you just been left by some unwanted face?"

"Sorry to be a buzzkill," he half-slurs, slipping into a strange accent, "appears 'm not very good company tonight."

"A sweet little thing like you? You'd be welcome company if you just let me look at you." A gloved hand touches under his chin, tilting it slightly back and forth. A slow smile spreads across his face. "How pretty, how well-crafted. Come, come, sit with me a moment, allow yourself to be admired."

"Afraid you wouldn't like what you see if you look to closely." He pulls away from the hand and nearly laughs at the pout that manifests on the other man's face. "Though I'm flattered by your interest."

"Not even a moment? Just one drink's worth?"

"You brute!"

Not even one moment later, they're both flinching as a woman in a short red dress slaps the man across the face. Roman quickly takes a step back as the man reels, barely regaining his footing in time for the woman to yank him closer by the lapels.

"I leave you for two seconds and you're already eyeing the next piece of meat? What, am I not good enough for you? I don't even flinch away from the knife anymore, and you'd pass me over for the next beast that blinks slowly at you?"

"My dear, you misunderstand—"

"I saw the way you were looking at him! I'm not misunderstanding anything!"

The argument serves as an excellent excuse for Roman to get the fuck out of there, scolding himself for not ducking out at an earlier opportunity. He's not going to spend a whole lot of time thinking about the implications of any of those statements right now, thank you very much, he's sure they'll come back to haunt him in his nightmares later. He resumes his slow advances toward the service elevator, swiping a half-drunk glass of something from an abandoned tray to keep others from trying to offer him a drink, leaning casually against a pillar as he surveys the wall.

The elevator is cleverly hidden: one of the seams in the wallpaper belies a concealed door with a—

"There's a security pad," he mumbles under his breath, "don't know what the key is."

"Have you seen anyone come in or out yet?"

"No." He glances at the fleet of waitstaff. "And no obvious keycards or badges."

"I'll see if I can identify what sort of locking mechanism they're using, but this place's firewalls are no joke."

"Is there any other way to where the objective is?"

"You're just gathering intel," the handler reminds, "you don't need to worry about getting too deep in right now."

He grits his teeth and wishes he could take a sip of the mystery drink. "Understood."

"Keep an eye on it. Let me know if you see anything."

"Will do."

The earpiece crackles again and he blows out a breath through his nose. Seems he might actually have to risk getting a drink to maintain the ruse, or else he's going to find himself making slow laps of the room just to avoid unwanted attention by risking more unwanted attention. He eyes the bar, trying to ascertain what the least risky thing would be to order, turning his gaze to the drink stations littered about the dance floor as well. He highly doubts anything in there is just water.

He pushes off the pillar, turns, and sees a ghost.

His ears are ringing. Did he drop the glass? Who knows, does he even still have his hand? He's staring into the eyes of his dead brother, maybe he did accidentally take a sip and die because of it. He's six years old, watching those eyes drive away from him in the back of a car, he's twelve years old, seeing them stare up unseeing, he's thirteen years old, watching someone close them for the last time. He blinks. It's still there.

"Prince? Prince! Respond!"

The shrill squeak in his ear jolts him back to reality and he shakes his head hard to clear it, but no, that's definitely still Remus's fucking face staring back at him from one of those private booths. He's—good fucking god, he's alive. He's alive. He's standing right over there, looking at Roman, and he's not dead, he's alive.

"It's—it's him," he slurs, not even faking it this time, "he's alive, he's here, he's alive."

"Who is, Prince? What's going on?"

"It's my brother!"

"Your brother?"

"Yes, it's him—he's alive, he's looking at me—"

"Get out of there! Your identity's been compromised, Prince, I repeat, you're not safe there, get to the extract point!"

But Roman might as well be glued to the floor; he's just seen his brother alive for the first time in close to a decade and now they want him to just leave? Like he hasn't had his entire worldview shattered? Remus hasn't moved a muscle either, staring at him like he's the zombie come back to life, and someone's tapping his shoulder to get his attention but he's still staring at Roman.

"Prince! Prince! You need to move now, that is an order!"

The person's looking at Roman now too. They're talking into a radio. There are three people moving across the floor toward him. Remus hasn't moved a muscle. Roman needs to go, his handler's right, he's been compromised, but his brother is right there.

"Prince! Move!"

His body snaps to obey, the drink shattering in an instant—so he hadn't dropped it already, what a surprise. He ducks around the arguing couple and throws himself back onto the dance floor, slipping between the crowd and shedding pieces of his costume as he goes, stealing other bits to wrap around himself. A sash turns into a scarf, a hat on a belt replaces the mask on his head, he dips his fingers into an open bottle of paint—look, he's not going to question anything anymore—and smears it across his face. By the time he leaves the floor, he's almost entirely covered and he slips past the guards without so much as a blink.

Raised voices come from behind him and he quickly joins a group heading toward the exit, mimicking their drunken stumbling through the doors and into the parking lot. He slips behind one of the largest cars, waits until the coast has cleared of stumbling villains, and hurries to the curb. Cars whizz by as he starts walking down the street, re-shedding the disguise until he's left in just his body armor, panting like he's run a marathon.

"Prince? Are you clear?"

"Clear," he responds, voice hoarse, "HQ, that—I swear I wasn't seeing things. That was him. He's alive, he's—that was him!"

"He's been dead for almost eight years, Prince—"

"I know that, but I know what my fucking brother looks like and that was him. He's—how is this even possible?"

"I don't know. Did you see who he was with?"

"No." A stab of guilt flares weakly in his gut. "I didn't get a good look at them."

"Get back to HQ as quickly as you can. We'll figure out where to go from here."

"Copy. Thanks."

"Of course."

The earpiece rings off again and he lets out a shaky breath, ducking into the alley to move toward the extract. His hands tremble as they brush his side, lingering over the scar hidden below the kevlar.

Remus is alive. Remus is alive and he was in the same room as Roman. Remus is alive and he's working for a villain. Remus is alive and Roman hasn't done anything about it. How many times has he laid awake at night. wishing and hoping his brother was okay? How many times has he almost thrown himself into something too dangerous just for the flash of maybe seeing his brother again? How long has he waited for something exactly like this and how much of a coward is he for running away?

He doesn't get time to answer any of those before something hits him in the back of the neck and he collapses on the ground.

***

He wakes up with a pounding headache and a sour taste in his mouth. Restraints clink around his wrists and a groan leave his lips before he can stop it.

"Ah, good, you're awake."

The deep voice comes from just behind him and he's not too proud to admit he flinches away from it, prompting a chuckle as the figure steps around to look at him. He does manage to suppress his shiver, but only just, as Logan fucking Hoskins smirks at him. He swallows heavily and raises his chin.

"You were quite the daring little adventurer, weren't you? Sneaking into the Shadow Falcon all alone with nothing but some face paint and a Halloween mask to hide you. Quite the risky affair for such a publicly-beloved hero."

"You really should look into getting that music turned down, I think I've had hearing loss from explosions less severe than that."

The smirk doesn't waver. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you. Or rather, when I saw you staring at one of my entourage."

No. No fucking way. No fucking way is Remus working for Logan Hoskins.

"Oh, don't be coy now," he purrs, stepping close enough that Roman's trying to flinch into the solid metal wall, "nothing hides that sort of desperation in a man. It's a pity you didn't stick around, I would've loved to see the rest of the family reunion."

"What the fuck did you do to him, you bastard?"

"Temper, temper," Logan tuts, tapping his nose like he's a disobedient pup, "I'll thank you not to think the worst of me. Perhaps that tongue of yours has a habit of driving people away."

Damn him, but he's fucking good. The stab of guilt lances through him more effectively than any knife or bullet and Logan just chuckles at the pain contorting his features. He strokes his cheek in mock comfort and he has to fight the urge to bite him. Judging by the growing grin, Logan knows it too.

"What do you want, you son of a bitch?"

"You wound me. Perhaps I'm just as invested in this little reunion as you are."

"Don't play with me!" Roman jerks against the bonds and Logan barely moves. "What the fuck are you doing here? What the hell do you want? Where is Remus?"

"Interesting how that wasn't the first thing out of your mouth. Has he always been an afterthought to you?"

"Don't fucking talk about my brother like that. You don't know him, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about!"

"Oh, don't I?" He tilts his head, still smirking. "Have you been with him for the past eight years? Do you know what he's been through? Do you know how he sleeps, the stories of his scars, the things he's done?"

Roman seethes, yanking at the restraints as shame settles low in his stomach. He doesn't know, but he'll be damned if he admits that out loud. He doesn't have to, not going by Logan's smug fucking face, but he'll die before those words leave his lips.

"I don't think you know your brother as well as you think you do," comes the cruelly light taunt, "if you never expected to see him at the Shadow Falcon."

"Shut up."

"He's a wonderful addition to my enforcers, isn't he? So disarming, so observant…I doubt anyone else would've had the immediate recognition of you through your gaudy excuse for a disguise…and so quick to respond too."

"Shut up."

"Do you know what he thinks of you? He hasn't spoken about you in so long, I have to admit, I nearly forgot he had a brother before all of this, though I suppose you waited to talk about him until after your threats, so—"

"Shut up!" His wrists cry out in protest as he throws his weight forward. If looks could kill, Hoskins would be a dead fucking puddle on the floor right now, but he only chuckles and steps back. "You don't fucking know me!"

Logan just chuckles, looking at him with something so close to pity it makes Roman sick. He shakes his head and turns, walking toward the door. Rage and desperation war in his chest as Logan gets further and further away, his hand on the doorknob—

"Wait!"

Logan stops.

"I want to see my brother," Roman forces out, "let me see him."

Nothing. Not good enough. He steels himself.

"Please. I'll do anything you want."

Logan turns to him with a satisfied smile—he's won the game before Roman realized he was playing, but he doesn't take it back. "That's quite a dangerous offer, little hero."

Ice runs down his spine and he swallows heavily, but Logan doesn't say anything else. He opens the door and his heart leaps to his throat, only to break out in a sob when Remus steps inside.

"Remus," he chokes out, "Rem—Re, you're alive, you're alive!"

Remus lets the door close behind him with a thud. He doesn't say anything.

"You're okay—" he's properly sobbing now and he doesn't care that Logan's probably still watching— "you're okay, you're alive, you're alive, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I looked, I tried—I didn't know—"

Remus just walks closer as he babbles, still frantically trying to reach him. He comes to a stop right in front of him, right there, he could reach out and touch him, he's right there, he's alive and he's here and he's right there—

"Re—"

A fist plants itself firmly in his gut and he chokes, spitting up blood. Another. Then a kick to his ribs. Something breaks. Another hit across his jaw and he feels the bruise bloom.

"Remus—"

The blows don't stop. Blood flows in rivers from his shattered nose, his lungs wheeze in protest as he tries to draw breath, the pain thunders through his veins but he's still aching for his brother. He'll take the beating of lifetime if it means Remus won't stop touching him. His mouth still moves in the shape of his name when his voice gives out.

Just when he thinks Remus might actually kill him, everything stops. He's still staring at him like he's the best thing he's ever seen—which he is, and Remus is panting so heavily there are tears in his eyes too.

"…Ro?"

"Re," he sobs, renewing his frantic struggle to get out and hug his brother, "Re, Re, Re—"

Remus lets out a wounded noise and surges forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Roman's torso and burying his head in the crook of his neck. Pain rockets up from all the injuries but the thing that makes Roman whimper is the way he can't move his arms to hug his brother back. His neck grows damp from Remus's tears, his own mixing with the blood still flowing from his nose, and he thinks he might die here, in Remus's arms, and he would be okay with that.

The world begins to go dark again and he distantly registers the sound of the door opening once more, but Remus's arms are still around him and his brother's crying with him and he doesn't care about anything else right now.

***

When he wakes for the second time, he's in a too-big bed with someone holding his hand.

The world is filled with cotton and smoke, cleared mostly by a few blinks but still with that fuzzy feeling of being on too many painkillers with not enough fluids in his body. There's something uncomfortable in his arm that he recognizes belatedly as an IV drip and the sounds of him rustling around must wake the person holding his hand.

"Hey," comes that voice, his brother's voice, "don't move too much right now."

"Re—"

"Hey," and there are hands on his shoulders holding him still, "I said not to move too much. I really fucked you up, so hold still while you heal."

Roman opens his eyes again—when did he close them?—and just stares at Remus. His wonderful, terrible, irreplaceable brother who smiles at him a little sheepishly and ruffles his hair.

"Hey, Roro," he says quietly, "long time no see."

"Yeah, no shit." He can't stop smiling either. "I thought I'd never get to see you again."

"So did I. And—come on, Ro, spikes? We both know that's not your aesthetic."

"That was the point! It was supposed to be a disguise!"

"You looked like a teenager that lost a bet and had to dress up in the worst Party City costume you could find."

"Hey! I was making do with what I had."

"Was what you had the Dollar Store clearance section?"

Roman makes to swat at him but winces instead when a stabbing pain in his side makes itself known. Remus winces too, patting his chest.

"I might've cracked one of your ribs."

"'S okay."

"It's not, but I don't really wanna argue about it."

"You were alive and I didn't know," Roman says lowly, "I didn't—I just accepted it. I'd beat the shit out of me too."

Remus goes quiet for a moment, hand still holding his. After a moment, he brings it up and holds it under his chin like a kid with a teddy bear, letting out a shaky breath. "I thought I'd killed you for a second. You went so still and so quiet and I thought—fuck, Ro, I've not been—you're still alive and you know what, that's good enough for me."

"It's okay, Re, I'm fine—"

"You're not fine. You are very much not fine right now."

"Re—"

He cuts himself off when he hears the door open and can't stop himself from flinching when he sees Logan Hoskins walk into the room.

"I must agree with Remus," he says, voice somehow softer as he comes to sit in another chair, "you're far from being alright, little hero. Try not to move around so much, you'll stress your stitches."

Roman just stares at him, wide-eyed. Logan tilts his head and chuckles, reaching out to smooth the hair back from his face.

"You don't need to look so petrified," he says, still in that gentle voice that sounds wrong coming from him, "I'm not here to harm you. You're safe in this room."

"For how long?"

"Ro, it's okay."

"No, no, Remus, I can hardly expect Roman to see me as anything other than a threat right now. We did kidnap him."

"Yeah, and?"

"Oh, Remus," they both mutter at the same time, only for Remus to burst into peals of laughter as Roman eyes Logan warily. Logan shrugs. "Your brother has an interesting perspective on certain things, let's say."

"That's one fucking way to put it."

Logan chuckles and yet again, it sounds almost kind. "I don't expect you to believe me, but I am telling you the truth: I don't wish any harm to come to you, not here, not like this. Your brother's been quite inconsolable ever since he spotted you at the club and I fear I'd be risking far more than just my neck if I didn't let him at you."

"To—to beat me up?" Remus lets out a soft noise and he squeezes his hand.

"To see you. Properly, without that hideous thing you called a costume in the way."

"I didn't choose it," he mumbles only for both of them to make disbelieving noises, "wow, you both suck."

"I suck real good."

"Remus."

"Re."

"Wow, you both did that at the same time again. You guys are gonna get along great."

"I'm sorry, I'm going to get along with Logan Hoskins?"

"Ouch, my feelings," Logan says dryly, still idly playing with his hair, "oh, do calm down, little hero, I'm not some cackling supervillain for you to defeat. I can be reasonable."

Roman thinks back to the file they have on him and decides that they might have different definitions of 'reasonable' but he's too high on painkillers and seeing his brother alive and well and still Remus to argue about it right now.

"Besides," and his voice is getting soft again, "you need to rest and heal before we can think about anything like that. Do you need more painkillers? Are you hungry at all?"

"What's happening?"

"You're getting taken care of, Roro," Remus says, squeezing his hand, "'cause you're really bad at it still and you need to heal."

"Hey!"

"It's true."

"How would you know?"

Logan holds a hand to his chest, a barely-hidden smile playing on his lips as he feigns hurt. "Clearly, we are not operating on the levels of mutual respect I had anticipated."

"…I'm too woozy to unpack that right now."

"Don't worry, you'll have time to think about it. Now: food? Painkillers? Water?"

"I…I think I'm okay?"

"Water," Remus says, "and maybe something small."

"Re…"

"I just got my brother back too," he reminds, "let me take care of you too."

Perhaps he did die. Perhaps he's in this strange afterlife where Remus wants desperately to take care of him as much as he wants to take care of Remus, where Logan Hoskins plays with his hair and teases him fondly. Perhaps he overdosed on something that was slipped into his drink or the hit outside the club really did kill him.

But as Remus's hand wraps firmly around his and Logan chuckles at the two of them, he thinks that maybe that doesn't sound so bad right now.

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[naminethewriter]

We Might Not Have A Tomorrow (Please Let Us Have a Tomorrow)

There was a prince from another kingdom that Roman’s parents wanted him to marry. He’d meet him at the Royal Ball in a days time, the same night they were to be engaged. Roman didn’t want to date - let alone marry - someone he didn’t even know. Not when he already had someone he loved right here.

----

| Ao3 |

----

Warnings: Fake blood, faked death.

Pairings: Prinxiety, Demus

Word Count: 4327

Notes:

Hi everyone!! This is my first piece for the @xts-reverse-bangx !! My partner for this fic was @its-the-cat-queen !! Go check out their awesome art with that link there! Trust me it's so beautiful <3

----

“Stay?” Roman asked, voice small and desperate as he clutched at Virgil’s hand as the knight went to walk away, “Please?”

An indiscernible look crossed Virgil’s face, something sad and strained as he stopped in his retreat, looking back at his Prince. For a moment Roman thought he really would come back. It was never that easy. 

“You know I can’t, your highness,” Virgil said softly, “We knew this wouldn’t last forever.”

“I know,” Roman said, still holding tightly to Virgil’s hand, “I know, just - one more night? Please?”

Virgil faltered, he could hardly resist the expression on Roman’s face, that sad look, “You are to be engaged, Roman,” Virgil said, “How many ‘one more night’s will you ask for?”

“You know I can’t answer that,” Roman said softly, looking up at him. 

“You’re highness-”

“Don’t call me that,” Roman said, bringing Virgil’s hand up to lay a kiss to his knuckles, “We’ve been through too much together for you to call me that, Virgil.”

“Roman,” Virgil corrected himself, “If this continues - I’m afraid we’ll get in more trouble than we can get out of.”

“I’m not engaged tonight,” Roman said, squeezing Virgil’s hand, “Please?”

In the end, Virgil knew he could never say no to him.

“Okay,” Virgil said softly, “Okay - but, really, this is the last time, okay Roman?”

“Right,” Roman said with a soft sigh, “The last time.”

Roman felt his stomach twist at the idea, but he still let Virgil’s hand go when he said he wanted to get out of his armour. He tried not to cry as he was left alone in his room, he knew Virgil would come back, he always did, Virgil had been there for him ever since he could remember.

“This isn’t fair,” Roman whispered to himself as he changed into softer sleep clothes. There was a prince from another kingdom that Roman’s parents wanted him to marry. He’d meet him at the Royal Ball tomorrow night, the same night they would be engaged. Roman didn’t want to date - let alone marry - someone he didn’t even know. Not when he already had someone he loved right here. 

When Virgil got back, Roman pulled him into a tight hug and Virgil ran his fingers through his hair twirling and ever so gently pulling at the long loose strands in the way that made Roman melt into the strong arms that carried him back to his bed, laying him down gently whilst his beloved knight climbed in after him. Turning, Roman buried his face in Virgil’s shoulder and wished he could stay here forever.

—

“Five more minutes,” Roman said softly, keeping his nose buried in Virigl’s shoulder as light from the sunrise streamed in from the open curtain at his bedside. Virgil’s hand rested at the small of his back, lightly gripping his clothes. His knight sighed, heavy breath ruffling Roman’s hair just a little. 

“You have to get up, Roman, we have responsibilities,” Virgil said sadly.

“What if we didn’t?” Roman asked, squeezing Virgil a little around the waist in hopes of getting him to stay a little longer, “What if we ran away together? We’d be able to stay like this forever, we wouldn’t have to be apart.”

“Oh, Princey,” Virgil said sadly, “You know it isn’t that easy.”

“But what if we could?” Roman said, “Would you want to?”

“...Of course I would,” Virgil said with another deep sigh, “I… I love you.”

“I love you too,” Roman said, voice soft and quiet.

“I’m sorry we can’t be together.” Virgil brushed his fingers through his long hair, untangling knots that had formed overnight, “I’m sorry things can’t be the way we want them.”

With a deep sigh, Roman sat up, pulling Virgil with him, “Will you help me get ready?” He asked. 

“Of course,” Virgil nodded, “So long as you help me too.”

“Always,” Roman said with a smile, cupping Virgil’s cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss. He would take every moment he could get before tonight. 

—-

The suit Roman wore felt tight in all the wrong places. The shimmery white material pulled at his thighs, forced his shoulders back, the collar choked his neck and the gloves he wore pinched the webbing between his fingers. It was a perfect fit, naturally, but still it felt suffocating. The gold glimmered, the jewellery set with rubies and rose quartz shone in the light, the crown atop his head sparkled. He looked beautiful, there was no doubt about it. 

“There you go,” Virgil said softly, patting down the suit jacket he was wearing, “You look amazing.”

“So do you,” Roman hummed, “Did you polish your armour?”

“Of course,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes, “Are you ready?”

“No,” Roman said, “What if he’s awful, Vee? What if I can’t stand him?”

Virgil sighed, “Well, hey,” he said, “I’ll still be here - you know we can’t… but I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m still your guard.”

“I wish we could keep being more than that.”

“Wishing for things we can’t have will only cause us more heartache, my love,” Virgil sighed, cupping Roman’s face. Roman gave a soft, sad smile before pulling him in for one last kiss. 

—

The only thing keeping Roman from flying apart into a million pieces right now was Virgil's strong and sturdy presence behind him. 

Filled with people, the ballroom buzzed with an energy that settled on Roman’s skin and made him feel nervous. He could see handfuls of royals and nobles dotted about the room, he had no clue who or which one he was going to be getting engaged to tonight.

His presence was announced as he descended the stairs and heads turned. Everyone knew what they were here for tonight. Even his younger twin brother was already there despite being renowned for his lack of punctuality, it was like Roman was the last to arrive despite him being right on time. 

As it turned out, though, he wasn’t the last, because shortly after him, another prince was announced. The Prince came from a kingdom not far, but not exactly close either. It was a kingdom Roman hardly knew anything about. Their royalty was elusive and secretive and their Princes the most of all. Roman had never even seen this man before, in his fancy cloak and big feathered hat that covered most of his face. Roman shivered - he had such an… oppressive presence, almost scary. Roman really hoped it wasn’t him.

It was him. 

Not even twenty minutes later his mother approached him with the mysterious prince in tow and Roman’s heart dropped. 

“Good evening,” Roman greeted with a polite bow. The other Prince gave a nod and returned the bow. 

“Prince Janus, this is my son,” His mother said, gesturing to Roman, “Roman, this is Prince Janus, from the kingdom of Nathair.”

“It’s good meeting you,” Roman said stiffly, holding out a hand for a polite handshake that was returned swiftly. 

“You as well,” Janus spoke for the first time, dropping Roman’s hand quickly, “It is a pleasure.”

Roman noticed at that moment that Janus seemed a little distracted by something behind him, but Roman didn’t have the time to dwell on that right now.

The conversation moved on to how they were to be married, the announcement of their betrothal would happen later this evening. The royalty from both of their kingdoms had agreed to give them this time to get to know each other before they were swamped with the other guests attempting to talk to them. 

That was how Roman found himself standing with Janus on the balcony that overlooked the ballroom. It wasn’t so crowded up here and Janus had brought him up here so that they could talk in peace. Aside from their guards of course, they were completely alone up here. 

For a while neither spoke. Roman leaned on the railing and placed his chin in his hand. He was sure he looked awfully glum, but he couldn’t bring himself to force a smile. Janus must have noticed, because eventually he hummed. 

"Dearest betrothed,” Janus started. Roman winced - normally he would’ve been able to control such a reaction, but right now he was struggling, “I’ve come to assume your feelings on the situation we're in happen to be similar to mine." 

"That depends darling,” Roman said, the nickname tasted rotten on his tongue, “Do you happen to loathe the way we were set up with no way out?"

Janus laughed, “I wouldn’t have worded it so colourfully, but this situation is certainly unfavourable, I’m glad you agree.”

“I don’t know how they can expect us to marry someone we hardly even know,” Roman sighed, shaking his head, “I understand the political gain - our kingdom and yours would make a wonderful alliance but… I don’t even know you.”

Janus nodded, “I quite agree, though you do not upset me as much as I expected you might… I do have my eye on another.”

The last part was a whisper, Roman’s eyes widened.

“Oh really?” He said, raising an eyebrow with a small grin, he glanced back at Virgil - who’s expression almost made Roman laugh, he clearly was just waiting for Roman to do something stupid, “Well - if we’re stuck together for now, the least we could do is engage in a little gossip - will you tell me who it is?”

Janus hummed, swirling his finger in the ballroom, “I’ll let you guess,” he hummed.

“May I ask questions?” Roman asked, tilting his head.

“Hm… you may have three.”

Roman smiled, “Hm, okay, are they here tonight?”

“Indeed,” Janus nodded.

“Do I know them?”

“Very well,” Janus nodded again.

Roman glanced around the room, eyes lingering on everyone he knew especially well, he assumed that meant they were from his kingdom…

“Are they royalty?”

“A yes once again,” Janus grinned, though his eyes were fixed on one spot. Roman followed his eyes to where his own brother was standing near the buffet table, no doubt stealing a heap of food. Roman almost burst out laughing.

“You like my brother?” Roman asked, before being shushed. Roman did feel a little bad about being so loud, “...Really?”

“Well,” Janus said, “Of course I couldn’t know for certain - but I’ve seen him around the ballroom and he seems quite endearing, I’d like to get to know him at least.”

“Well..” Roman says, frowning, “If you’re supposed to be marrying me you’ll have plenty of time to do so, we are brothers after all.”

“And what about you?” Janus asked.

“What about me?” Roman asked.

“I’m not attracted to you - I’m sure I’ve made that quite clear - but I still would feel bad leaving you for your brother when I’m supposed to be your fiance.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry about it - I…” he glanced back over at Virgil, who frowned but shrugged, “I already have someone, anyway.”

“Oh?” Janus hummed, turning to him with a small smirk, “What a scandal, Prince Roman! Who might that be? I told you mine.”

Roman smiled, before glancing over at Virgil again, more obviously this time. Virgil gave a small, awkward little wave when Janus followed his gaze. Janus’ eyes widened.

“Your guard?” He asked in a whisper, Roman nodded, “A secret relationship! Well I am one for a good drama.”

Roman smiles a little, “Well - I suppose you will get some, if you wish to pursue my brother.”

“Will he not be upset?” Janus asked, a little astounded.

“Upset by what? You being my fiance?” Roman asked, “If we’re not interested in each other I don’t think he’ll care less.”

Janus frowned - it was a thinking type frown, not an upset type frown, which Roman was grateful for - and they fell into a somewhat comfortable silence.

Eventually, Roman’s mother stood from her throne to make the announcement and Roman and Janus had to return to the ball hand in hand. Roman somehow felt that he could breathe just a little easier after their talk, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Virgil, a newly hopeful feeling in his heart. 

If Janus wanted to pursue Remus, then maybe he wouldn’t be upset if Roman wanted to stay with Virgil. 

They would have to talk about it, Roman knew that, but he was hopeful that this may not end as painfully as he thought it would.

—- 

Once the ball was done, Roman pulled Virgil into a tight hug. Neither of them let go for a whole five minutes, but eventually Virgil gently detached himself. 

“That was really dangerous, Ro,” Virgil said softly. Janus was staying in the palace - their wedding would take place in a week and they had that time to really get to know each other.

“He told me he liked my brother first,” Roman huffed, “And it ended well, so what’s the harm? Especially if it means I can still have you.”

“But what if he was tricking you!” Virgil said, gripping Roman’s arms, “This is Janus - he has a reputation for deceit! I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get to you!”

“Virgil,” Roman said softly, “I saw the way he looked at Remus - he was so distracted the whole time, that sort of thing can’t be faked - I just - this could be our chance, love, if he’s willing to let me have you -”

“Roman,” Virgil said softly, cupping Roman’s face, “Look - I’m hopeful too, okay? I know you want this to work but just - please don’t get your hopes up too high, okay? You’ll just - I don’t want to see you even more heartbroken.”

Sighing softly, Roman nodded, “I won't,” he said, “But - but I’ll do my best to make this work.”

—-

They got Remus involved. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do so immediately. Roman knew better than anyone how volatile Remus could be, but Janus had apparently sought him out the day after the ball, and now the three royals were sitting around a low table with tea and afternoon cakes to talk.

“So…” Remus said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over them the longer they had sat there, “Lemme try and understand what the fuck the situation here is.”

He stood up, holding his teacup - which Roman was not sure actually contained tea - and began to pace. Roman raised an eyebrow and shared a glance with Janus, who only looked fond.

“You two are engaged,” Remus said, “But Janny likes me and Roro likes Virgil, and you two are coming to me because….?”

Roman shrugged, he had no idea.

“Well - of course, you found out about my feelings this morning,” Janus said, rolling his eyes, Remus nodded, “So I thought that perhaps you would be able to help with this… situation.”

“Well,” Remus said, taking a sip of not-tea before putting a hand on his hip, clearly he had an idea, “If RoRo went missing, then they’d probably try marry you to me instead to keep the political alliance, right?”

Roman frowns, “But then you’ll end up being King, Ree, you’ve always hated the idea, and we wouldn’t be able to see each other.”

“You think I can’t sneak out of the castle to come visit you and your boytoy guard?” Remus huffed, “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to run off and live in the woods with him.”

Roman couldn’t exactly argue with that, it was true after all. Running away with Virgil was something they had talked about time and time again.

“And the first point?” Roman asked instead of trying to argue.

“Well being king would stink but I’d have Janny.”

“I would be happy to rule your kingdom if it meant everyone would get their happy ending,” Janus said with a small smile. Roman looked at the two of them.

“So… you two really do like each other?” Roman asked, tilting his head.

“Who knows!” Remus said, walking over to sling his arm around Janus’ shoulders, almost spilling his tea, “Guess we’ll find out!”

Roman made a face, “You’d risk ending up not liking him for me?”

“Well,” Remus said, “Look at it this way: you get what you’ve wanted for like years, I get to try out dating this cutie and even if it doesn’t work we can just be besties and it’ll still be great, everyone’s happy either way.”

“Indeed,” Janus nods, “Even if it turns out we do not enjoy each other romantically, I still think I would value Remus as a good friend - And I would enjoy running a kingdom with him - I would not have gotten to do so in my own kingdom after all.”

Roman nodded slowly, “Okay - um - if we’re going to discuss this plan further, could we bring Virgil in?”

“Course,” Remus shrugged, “Go get your boy-toy RoRo.”

—-

The plan was strangely simple. 

Roman was supposed to fake his death. The night before the wedding, with Remus’ help, they were going to stage a murder scene. Roman would escape with Virgil and the palace and kingdom would think he had died. They’d make it look like an outside attempt - an assassination. 

On top of that, Remus planned to set Janus up too, have him be present for Roman’s ‘murder’ so that he could verify the story and help to convince them that it was true whilst also proving his innocence - if Janus barely made it out then he couldn’t possibly be at fault for the murder after all.

It was the perfect plan. Roman wasn’t exactly enjoying it as he packed up a bag - only the essentials, and stuff that would reasonably be stolen. Having fake blood smeared across his bedsheets and floor made him feel queasy and disgusting. Honestly he was just glad he wasn’t Janus, who was having the stuff smeared across his clothes and face. 

“It’s weirdly artistic,” Virgil said as he appeared at Roman’s side, scrunching up his face all the while, “In a really gross way.”

Roman made a face back, “You can say that again.”

“Hey RoRo!” Remus said, bounding over, “How's it going?”

“We’ve got our stuff,” Roman said, shrugging his bag onto his back. Virgil had already done the same, “And this looks like a murder scene.”

“Great! That’s what we’re going for! You think it’s believable or do we need more blood?”

“As long as Prince Snakeface over there can do his job then I think we’re good,” Virgil said. Janus glared at him though it was light hearted.

“Of course I can do my job,” he rolled his eyes, “Playing a damsel in distress has never been awfully hard, I act as though I’m grieving for a lost lover and find solace in his grieving brother, from there we grow a connection and the Queen will marry us instead, it’s practically foolproof as long as you two can get out without being spotted.”

“Speaking of,” Remus said, “Here, put these on, you’ll need ‘em.”

Two cloaks were tossed to Roman and Virgil respectively. Roman nodded and put his on quickly, though Virgil took a second longer.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked quietly to Roman, who took his hands.

“We’ve talked through this plan a thousand times,” he said, “We can do it.”

“But if they don’t believe us - and we don’t know how to run a homestead by ourselves-”

“Vee,” Roman said softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his beloved’s cheek, “We have more than enough gold and jewels to get ourselves a house and plenty of supplies, we can buy books and seeds and food and we can figure it out, okay?”

“And if it doesn’t work you’ll still have us to help!” Remus said brightly, Roman smiled.

“We’ll be sure to send word once we’re out safely,” Roman said, before going over to give his brother a final hug. Remus wrapped him up so tightly he could barely breathe, but both of them pulled away with a smile on their faces. 

“Go live the life you want, dumbass,” Remus said, slapping Roman on the shoulder. 

“Thank you for everything,” Roman said to Janus, who gave a small nod and a smile in response, “No really - you had no obligation to do any of this for any of us - I still barely know you - but I’d consider you a great friend for this.”

Janus smiled a much more real smile at that, “I would consider you a good friend as well, I’m grateful to have you as a brother in law rather than a fiance.”

Roman laughed and nodded, “You as well, I think this will be much better for all of us.”

“Indeed,” Janus nodded, “Now, cut the sap, we need to get this done before someone comes in here and sees this mess.”

“Right,” Roman said with a laugh. Remus nodded quickly.

“Yes, yes, you two gotta go,” Remus said, “Make sure you don’t get seen, I’m gonna go as well - a different way, I’ll head back to my chambers from the library. Janny, you wait at least half an hour until you make a fuss, ‘kay?”

After murmurs of agreement all around, the plan was set into motion.

Once Janus raised the alarm, the palace and surrounding kingdom would be swarming with guards looking for the non-existent assassin, so Roman and Virgil had to hurry. Hand in hand the two of them rushed through servants' passages and down staircases. The palace was quieter at night, thank goodness. Less people hurrying about meant less chance at being spotted. 

Before long they had made it out, the two of them were almost giddy as they bounded through the surrounding city. The plan was to get out of the city by morning and head for one of the surrounding towns where hopefully they could buy a pair of horses. They would have to travel further out from the capital whilst the hunt for the assassin took place, the further out they got the safer they would be, but eventually they planned to settle in the forests a day's ride from the palace. 

Half a night’s walk got them to a nearby town where they were able to rent out a room once the sun had risen, not wanting to draw attention to themselves by appearing in the early hours. 

By the time they had gotten settled and bought some basic supplies, word had begun to travel of the Prince’s death by raven. It wouldn’t be safe to send a message to Remus yet. For now they would have to lie low.

Virgil had suggested that they cut Roman’s long hair in order to conceal his identity. Roman’s face was recognisable and his hair even moreso. At first the idea had upset him, but Virgil promised he could grow it back and Roman knew it would be for the better. No-one would be looking for a dead prince, but someone who looked exactly like him would surely catch attention. 

—

A week passed and slowly the buzz began to die down. A funeral was held, a big ceremony involving all the capital city. Many people went, Virgil and Roman were not among them. Janus and Remus were at the front of the procession, right behind the current King and Queen. 

The kingdom mourned for weeks, but still things moved on. Roman sent a letter to Remus telling him of their safety and journey so far. They travelled back up towards the capital and found a carpenter and stonemason willing to assist in building them a new home out in the forest. 

A month later a new wedding announcement was made. Janus and Remus were to be wed the next week and the whole kingdom would turn out for it. Of course Roman and Virgil would be there. Roman wouldn’t miss his brother’s wedding for the world.

—-

Life was good, for Roman. 

He never imagined he could live a life like this as he drew water up from the well behind their new house, using half of the water bucket to feed the garden he and Virgil had been cultivating together over the last three months. Some of the things they were growing had started to get big, some of the plants even showing signs of fruit and vegetables getting ready to harvest. Roman was proud of how far they had come.

“Oh Virgil!” Roman sang as he walked into the house, wiping off his boots and setting the now half full bucket down on the table, “I’ve brought the water for the soup!”

Virgil appeared through the archway that led into their kitchen with a smile, “Thanks Ro,” he said, kissing Roman’s cheek and making him blush. The easy shows of attention were something he thought he would never truly get used to. No-one was here to catch them out or punish them for behaving improperly. 

“You’re welcome of course,” Roman chuckled, “What are you making?”

“Just a simple vegetable soup with stuff from the market this morning,” Virgil said, smiling, “Hopefully it’ll be good, I got a good deal.”

“Yeah?” I’m sure it’ll be great, your cooking always is,” Roman laughed - they had learned quite quickly that Roman couldn’t cook if his life depended on it, his first attempt had resulted in the near destruction of their new house, Virgil had done all of the cooking from now on.

“Well good, because Remus and Janus are coming tonight, remember?”

“How could I forget? I’ve been excited all week,” Roman said, wrapping an arm around Virgil’s waist. Virgil leant into him, smiling.

“Hopefully the soup will be done in time,” Virgil said with a small chuckle.

“Im sure it will be,” Roman said, resting his chin on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Well it’ll be done a lot faster if you let me go and work on it, love,” Virgil laughed, “I have to boil this water hon, come on.”

Roman laughed and let him go. Yeah, he was happy with this. 

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[naminethewriter]

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

[Masterpost]

Chapter 6: Baiting the Trap

Wordcount: 1.8K

~~~~

Virgil is woken by his alarm and has never once in his entire life been less interested in getting out of bed.

He's comfortable. The bed is soft, the blankets are warm, and Virgil is sleepy and wants nothing more than to just lie here forever.

He snoozes the alarm and drifts back off.

Five minutes later, of course, he's dragged back out of sleep by the insistent melody.

Virgil seriously considers quitting his job so he doesn't have to ever leave this bed, but he does actually need money to buy groceries and pay his rent, and also his hosts have been real gracious but even their patience would surely wear thin if Virgil never left.

So, regrettably, Virgil sits up. He yawns. He longingly contemplates lying back down, but forces himself instead to get out of bed.

At some point in the night, someone—Patton, presumably—had returned his cleaned clothes, which are now sitting folded on the floor by the foot of the bed. Virgil dresses. He folds the borrowed pajamas and sets them on the foot of the bed. He doesn't usually fold his pajamas, but it seems like the polite thing to do in this case. After a moment, he makes the bed too.

And then he goes downstairs.

They're all in the dining room again, and they give him breakfast, and this time he's calm enough to appreciate it.

Princey drives him to work, and he has an otherwise normal day. He borrows a clean apron, and he makes a lot of coffee. He eats lunch at the shop, he takes the bus home, he has leftover spaghetti for dinner, and he does that load of laundry.

His bed seems even harder and lumpier than usual, contrasted with the memory of the bed—no, the actual literal cotton candy cloud—he'd slept on last night.

At least it makes it easier to get out of bed in the morning, when staying isn't bliss. If only by a little. Virgil is not and has never been a morning person. Still, he manages to actually catch the bus for the first time this week, so that's good.

Their newbie’s here for her second day of training, which means that Virgil splits his time between his usual duties and showing her the ropes. She's wary of the fancy coffee machines, and looks attentive but intimidated when Virgil walks her through one of the more simple brews.

She does better with the register. Its layout is also unfamiliar, but at least the potential worst-case consequences of pressing the wrong button are much less severe than “breaking an expensive machine” or “third degree burns and coffee everywhere.”

Several hours into Virgil’s shift, his manager joins him in the back while he's on break.

“There's someone out front looking for you,” Morgan tells him.

“Who?” Virgil asks.

“Nobody I recognized,” Morgan says with a bit of a frown. “Said he was a friend of yours though.”

“Did he give you a name?” Virgil asks, and Morgan's frown deepens.

“No, and I asked,” she says. “I said to him, ‘and you are?’ and he said ‘oh I'm roamin’ like that's an answer, so I prompts him, ‘yer name?’ and he just says ‘yeah’. So seeing as he's decided to just be evasive I told him he could order something or he could leave, but he couldn't hold up the line any longer, so he bought a coffee. Paid in cash, too, so I didn't get to see his name on the card neither.”

“He said he was roaming?” Virgil asks, gears turning.

“Yeah, ’cept he ain't, he sat down with his coffee,” Morgan answers.

“Brown hair?” Virgil asks, fighting back a rising laugh. “Maybe bout this tall, looks a bit like Remus if he ever shaved and combed his hair?”

Morgan nods. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”

Virgil pinches his lips together and shakes his head. Morgan squints at him.

“And what exactly is so funny?” she asks.

The laugh spills out of him. “Sor– sorry, Morgue,” he says. “I think you misheard him. His name’s Roman.”

“What, like Greeks and Romans?”

“I think so,” Virgil says, still grinning. “He's Remus’s brother.”

“I see,” Morgan says. “Well, if you don't want me to get rid of him, do you want to talk to him, or stay back here til he leaves? Lexi and I can handle the customers for a while yet if you don't wanna see him.”

“Nah, I'll go see what he wants.”

Roman is sitting in one of the booths, sipping a coffee and staring dramatically out the window. He turns as Virgil approaches, and then perks up. “Finding Emo!” he says. “Your coworkers said they had never heard of you in their lives. I was starting to think I’d gone to the wrong coffee shop.”

“Nah, just being protective,” Virgil says, sliding into the booth across the table from Roman. “We don’t give that kind of information to customers.” They’d had problems with stalkers trying to get information on employees before, and one bewildering man who’d kept coming round looking for someone Virgil had genuinely never heard of, til Morgan banned him from the shop. “What’s up?”

“So we realized your bike is still at our house,” Roman says. “I wanted to see if you’d like a ride over to get it back. Also if you would be interested in watching more Unfortunate Events, because we left off at a really climactic bit, and I know I already know what happens next, but I want to know what happens next, you know?”

“I definitely want my bike back,” Virgil says. He glances at the clock. “I don’t get off for a while yet today, but if you want to come back around five?”

Roman nods. “And movies?” he asks eagerly.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Virgil says. “I don’t want to bike home in the dark.”

“Oh of course,” Roman says. “I'd never force you to do that.”

Virgil glances back toward Morgan and Lexi at the counter. They’re busy with customers, but the line isn’t very long. Lexi catches his glance and grins at him with a little wave.

“Do you need to get back to work?” Roman asks.

“Not yet,” Virgil decides, settling more comfortably into his seat. “I’ve got a few minutes left before my break ends.”

~

Roman returns just before five, as Virgil’s getting ready to hand off the machines to the next shift. He orders three coffees to go “and whatever Virgil would like,” with a wink in Virgil’s direction.

Virgil rolls his eyes and makes himself a hot chocolate, which he sips on the drive back to Roman’s house. The sun is already dipping toward the horizon, so it looks like there isn't going to be time for tv before he has to bike home. It's a shame, because he really was looking forward to it.

“We’re home!” Roman calls as he opens the door from the garage into the rest of the house to lead Virgil in. As they cross the threshold, Virgil is hit with a nearly tangible wall of scent, stopping him in his tracks. The air smells rich and warm and delicious. He can smell fresh bread, and roasted meat, and something sweet, all mingled together into a tantalizing aroma that makes his mouth water and his stomach perk up eagerly.

“Oh good!” someone Virgil can’t see calls back. “Great timing!”

Roman pulls his jacket off and hangs it on a hook by the door. “It smells great in here!” he says brightly, heading deeper into the house. Virgil manages to unglue his feet from the floor and finally closes the door behind himself and follows Roman.

Calico is putting a steaming dish onto the table when they enter the dining room. “Welcome home,” he says fondly. “Dinner's just about ready.”

“Oh good, I'm hungry,” Roman says. “It smells fabulous, darling.”

Calico beams, eyes scrunching up with it. “Thank you,” he says.

“We brought coffee,” Roman adds, and hands Patton one of the to-go cups. “Your Chemical Romance made this just for you.”

“Aww,” Patton says, smiling heart-meltingly at Virgil. “Thank you.”

Virgil finger-guns awkwardly back at him with his free hand. “No problem.” Making coffee is literally his job. Roman was the one who had paid for it, and picked the flavor.

Then Patton notices what Virgil had put on the side of the cup instead of his name. “Aww!” he exclaims. “You drew me a kitty!”

“Yeah, I figured– you like cats, right?”

Patton looks up at him with shining eyes. “That is paws-itively precious. Thank you so much!”

“Please do not keep the empty cup just because there is a cute cat on it,” Logan says. Roman hands him his own coffee, on which Virgil had drawn a robot face and a triangle science beaker. “Thank you. We do not need additional clutter in our home, Patton.”

Patton pouts at him. “But look, it's so sweet!” he says. “Look at this precious little kitten drawn specifically for me and tell me that you want to throw her in the trash!”

Logan sighs. “At least cut the picture out of the cup instead of keeping the entire thing,” he says.

“Deal!” Patton agrees cheerfully.

“Sorry,” Virgil says. He had not expected Calico to appreciate the art to quite that extreme. He might've put more effort into it if he had.

“No need,” Logan replies. “This is hardly the first time something like this has occurred, and I hold no illusions that it will be the last.”

“Sure won't!” Patton agrees shamelessly.

“Um, so where's my bike at?” Virgil asks after a moment.

“By the door still,” Roman says, taking a seat at the table. “Do you wanna sit next to me again?”

Virgil just now notices that the table is set with four plates. “You… want me to stay for dinner?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course,” Roman says, now looking puzzled himself. “Why would I bring you to dinner and then not want you to stay and eat?”

They hadn't discussed him coming to dinner. They had planned for him to retrieve his bike, and perhaps watch tv with Roman, but the topic of dinner hadn't come up.

Virgil means to say no, that he had better get going, but it does smell so very good, and they did set a spot for him, and he is hungry, and if he goes home now he'll have to figure out some other meal and honestly it's not going to be anything fancier than frozen pizza and fries, or maybe just ramen since that would be faster.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and sits next to Roman.

~~~~

Chapter 7: How They Kept Him Very Well - to be posted Saturday, September 14th 2024

[naminethewriter]

Smile Wiped Clean

Roman loves his job. He loves to be creative, to make things, to put everything he has into his work. Roman loves his job. He does.

He loves his job, but he struggles to get it done sometimes, the pressure is overwhelming, the criticisms feel like splinters digging into his skin, working on a script can sometimes feel like he's being asked to cut off his own hands. What is he supposed to do when he has to love his job?

----

| AO3 |

----

Warnings: Self depreciation, RSD, Roman be struggling, Patton adn Logan are kind of assholes in the beginning.

Pairings: platonic dlampr

Word Count: 7961

Notes:

Hello everyone :3

I was inspired to write some roman angst and then cranked out almost 8k in like five days. Why can't I do this for the projects I actually need to work on, huh?

----

Roman let out a deep sigh, putting down his pencil and resting his head in his hand as he gazed at the sketch he had begun to work on today. He had planned to attempt a storyboard of the latest script idea he had come up with for Thomas’ video, hoping a change of format would help with the pooling sense of dread he had been feeling every time he thought about working on it. 

Somehow, though, it may have made it worse. When he drew all the lines simply came out wrong. The sketch looked off, the lines were wobbly, when he tried to draw himself and the others the faces just felt off in a way he couldn’t hope to describe or fix. He groaned, ripping out the notebook page and tossing it into the overflowing basket beside his desk along with every other attempt he had made so far. 

With another groan, Roman tugged at his hair in frustration. If he couldn’t at least get this started before their next meeting tomorrow Logan would get angry and Patton would get upset. Virgil would probably tease him and usually he would tease back, but right now he just couldn’t fathom being able to handle it. 

He had to get something written, even jotting down ideas in bullet points would be better than staring uselessly at a blank piece of paper and pulling his already dishevelled hair - from the amount of times he had run his hands through it in frustration. 

This wasn’t working. It just wasn’t and trying to force it wasn’t helping. Roman stood abruptly and shut his notebook. Take a break, he told himself, that’s what Janus would tell him to do. He had so many things to do today, even catching a glimpse of todays to-do list in the front of his book made that sense of dread come back. Roman counted out three deep breaths to calm himself and ease the knot in his stomach even a little before snapping himself into his Prince outfit, stopping in front of his mirror to fix his hair before squeezing his hands into fists. Another deep breath and he stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Go downstairs, get something to eat, sit and watch a show maybe, relax for a bit and then go back to the tasks. 

He really hoped no-one else was downstairs. Roman wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with that right now. 

Tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited for his leftovers to eat up, Roman wondered if he really even wanted to eat them. Sure, the meal was nice last night, but… Roman wasn’t sure it sounded appealing right now. He had to eat something though, and the idea of cooking something new felt even worse. No-one was downstairs right now, it was a little late for lunch but too early for Patton to be downstairs working on dinner already, so he figured he would be safe for the moment. 

The sound of the microwave timer running out startles Roman out of his thoughts and he quickly rushes to remove his food, bypassing the table entirely and bringing his plate and a glass of cooled water from the fridge over to the living room couch. He would just watch an episode or two of a cartoon whilst he ate and then get back to work. That sounded like a good idea, right?

He put on an episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender and sat back to eat his meal in peace. 

Admittedly, Roman was eating a little slower than maybe he should have been so that he could watch more episodes than he would have otherwise, but when he finished his food he was halfway though - he couldn’t exactly stop in the middle of the episode, so he told himself he would go back upstairs as soon as this was done.

Unfortunately, his luck with the common area being empty seemed to run out only moments after he had finished eating, putting his plate on the coffee table to be cleared up when he left. Alas, it seemed the end of the episode was destined to be interrupted as Logan came down the stairs. 

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. 

“Roman,” Logan greeted, Roman hid a wince.

“Hey Logan,” Roman said, smiling brightly as they all expected from him, “How are you on this wondrous afternoon?”

“I’m doing well,” Logan said with a nod, “I have had a productive day, I simply came down for a cup of coffee.”

“Ah! I think the pot was brewing when I came down, so it should be done now,” Roman said happily, glad he could provide some hopefully useful information to the other side. Logan just hummed.

“Hm,” Logan hummed, Roman let out a soft sigh, before glancing back at the TV. Logan’s gaze followed his, “Don’t you have a lot of work to get done today? Why are you wasting time watching a cartoon?”

Roman wished he was exaggerating when he thought about how that felt like an arrow to the chest. He gripped the material of his trousers between his fingers, looking back at the TV - any hope that he could do this he may have gotten from the cartoon was immediately crushed. It turned out, Roman was well aware of how much work he had to do today, being reminded of it only made things worse.

“I do have a lot of work to do,” Roman said, “I’ve been attempting to work on it all morning - I simply came down for some food and a break, I was going to go back to my room and keep working after this episode.”

“Ah, of course,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. Roman couldn’t help that he felt a little crushed. “Well, I shall prepare to pick up your slack, as usual, then.”

With that metaphorical punch in the gut, Logan turned and walked into the kitchen. Roman grit his teeth as he reached for the remote to turn the TV off. He had wanted to finish the episode, but now even the thought of doing so made him feel sick. The passive aggressive remark rang in his ears, bouncing around the inside of his skull and bringing back that feeling of dread tenfold. 

He went to put his plate in the sink. With a scathing look from Logan as he went to leave it, he turned back to rinse it off and put it onto the dishrack. All whilst trying not to cry or scream. 

Part of him wanted to make a cup of tea and grab a few biscuits to take up with him, but the idea of spending a second longer in the kitchen with Logan made his gut twist. How was he supposed to write a script when he felt like this? The break was supposed to help, but now he just felt even worse than before. 

—-

“Roman,” Logan said at the meeting the next day as he held Roman’s proposed script in hand, “I thought we talked about you doing this work yesterday?”

Roman might have winced, “I did? It’s… right there? You’re… holding it?”

“What I’m holding,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses as he looks down at the binder, “Is…. mediocre at best.”

“Well… yeah teach, it’s a first draft? It’s not going to be perfect-”

“Roman,” Logan interrupted, fixing his gaze on him, “This reads like an elementary school child’s first play script. What happened?”

Roman really did wince this time, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to come up with something to say around the burning hole that had just been punched through his chest, “I-”

“Surely it can’t be that bad, kiddo,” Patton said brightly, “Hey Logan, can I have a look?”

For a moment, Roman was relieved as Logan passed over the script, Patton wouldn’t be as harsh, he was always softer in his approach. Roman tried not to hold his breath as Patton read through it.

“Well-” Patton frowned, shifting from one food to the other, “I’m sure there's… some part of this we can use? With some refining of course! Roman did say this was a first draft after all!”

That did not make him feel half as reassured as he had thought it should. Roman fidgeted with his fingers, chipping away at the red nail polish he had applied yesterday in hopes it would make him feel any better about this. He took a deep breath and tried to swallow it down.

“Right, right of course, I can refine it,” Roman nodded, his smile felt forced and broken, he suddenly wished Virgil had come to this meeting - he was always good at distracting Roman even if it was with something equally painful. It would even be better if Remus popped up and distracted everyone, maybe then the attention would be off of him. 

“Wonderful, please don’t procrastinate this again,” Logan said primly, “I would not like you to leave it to the last minute again.”

“I wasn’t-” Roman started protesting, before biting his lip, “I won’t,” he said with a soft sigh, “It’ll be done.”

“Awesome! Thank you Roman!” Patton said with a clap of his hands, clearly trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“Yeah, um, is that all?” Roman asked, looking at the two of them, “I’d like to get working on the script, you know? So that it’ll be ready?”

“Of course, I believe that was the primary purpose of this meeting,” Logan nodded, “The rest of the points I have for today do not require your input.”

Roman nodded and wordlessly sunk out to his room, trying to ignore the stab of pain from that closing statement on top of everything else. He dumped the script on his desk and sat down on his bed, holding his hands in his lap and trying to stop them from shaking. 

—

The script made him feel sick. He knew it was bad, it really was thrown together. Just like Logan had said, it read like the creation of an eight year old. After the events of yesterday Roman had barely managed to get in an hour's work. He had no idea why he was struggling so much. Thomas was doing okay, Roman was getting enough sleep and eating when he was hungry and getting water when he was thirsty. Usually when he struggled to get words down on a page it was because something else was wrong, but now he couldn’t figure out what that was. 

Roman took a deep, shaky breath to battle the threatening tears. The script was awful, Roman didn’t know how to fix it, no matter how hard he tried now no ideas were coming to his brain. Part of him didn’t want to create at all now. He didn’t want to work on the script, he didn’t want to disappoint them again. Everything he made recently was like this, just getting worse and worse. Logan was just trying to encourage him to be better, but Roman couldn’t help the dread he felt at the idea of picking up that script, opening up that document, even the idea of brainstorming felt like too much right now.

If everything he made was useless anyway, why should he bother?

Maybe going into the imagination when he felt this bad about his creative talents was a bad idea, but Roman couldn’t stand the sight of that script on his desk like a beacon of failure and he couldn’t go to the common area incase one of the others found him there and chastised him for lying to get out of the meeting. He definitely didn’t want Janus to find him after that show and ask him what was wrong, so… imagination it was. 

—

The imagination was normally bright and full of life, Roman’s side especially was always populated by vibrant colours and lively bright characters and creatures, butterflies that fluttered around the forests, townsfolk going about their business with smiles on their faces in the villages he had created, the palace gleaming in the distance, shimmering with gold on the hilltop, the mountains behind coated with shimmering mist from the seas beyond.

Right now, yellowed dead grass crunched beneath his feet, the leaves on the trees were dulled, there wasn’t a butterfly to be seen. He spotted a hornet's nest in the woods and quickly altered his path to avoid it. 

The villagers he talked to - hoping for any sort of kindness or reassurance were snappish and rude, turning away from him with a huff or a scoff. The sky was dimmed with clouds and the palace and mountains loomed menacingly on the horizon line. The imagination always reflected him, after all. There was no escaping the reality of the situation here.

After walking for what must have hours, Roman found himself on a beach. Unable to go further - he had no energy to conjure a boat right now, or turn himself into a fish or a merman. In the end he just settled down on the shoreline, watching the grey waves lap at the gritty sand that was normally golden and bright. Roman let it fall through his fingers, knowing he wouldn’t find any seaglass was in this state. Sighing softly, Roman pulled his knees up to his chest and looked out to the sea. 

Roman didn’t move even as it got dark and the tide went out. The sky was clouded over, he saw no sunset nor moon and stars, just a dark, black void. The smell of seaweed and salt was too strong and vaguely unpleasant, the sound of the waves grated on his ears and the texture of the sand under his hands made him feel a little sick, still it was better than the alternative of going back. The script he had to work on was back in his room. He almost gagged at the thought. 

—

“Hey Roman!” Patton called the next day as Roman came downstairs for breakfast. He hadn’t changed, only making his way back from the imagination when the sun began to rise, washing the sand off of his hands and running water through his hair to make it look like he had just showered, he’d snapped himself into suitable pajamas and covered up the bags under his eyes and made his way downstairs, “Tried to come see how you were doing with the script yesterday but you were out of your room! How’s it going?”

“Oh! Uhm,” Roman said, glancing around the room. Virgil was sitting at the dining table and Logan was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, invested in some book, okay, it would be okay, “It’s going fine - um, I went to the imagination yesterday to get some more inspiration - building scenes to write and stuff.”

It was a blatant lie. Roman knew it and resisted the urge to look around for Janus. But Patton seemed to buy it. 

“That’s great! Did you get what you needed to work on it?” 

“Yeah, for sure, I’ll start doing the actual rewrites today, what’s for breakfast?” Roman said, plastering a smile on his face in the face of that same sheer dread he felt at the idea.

“I was actually about to start cooking!” Patton said, “Virge and I were trying to work out what we should have, I wanted to make eggs and bacon but he thinks we should have pancakes.”

“We had eggs and bacon like two days ago,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms on the table and digging his fingers into his jacket - which he had pulled over his pajamas it seemed. Roman slipped into the chair next to him, “And yesterday we just had toast.”

Roman was about to say something about how he’d prefer pancakes too - sweet foods were always great for getting him in the mood for creative thinking - before Patton got there first.

“Why don’t you decide, kiddo?” Patton asked, looking at Roman with a bright smile - Roman tried to keep his own on his face even though his chest seized with panic at the question, “Would you rather have pancakes or eggs?”

Roman’s eyes darted quickly between Patton and Virgil as his fingers tapped worridly on the table. Patton’s smile never left, but Virgil’s grimace might have become something more concerned. Roman suddenly felt trapped, being the tiebreaker, he would disappoint someone no matter which option he picked. He knew which he would prefer, but it wasn’t that simple. If he sided with Virgil then Patton would get upset, but if he sided with Patton then Virgil might get angry. Not to mention, if he picked the more unhealthy option then Logan would probably get upset too, but he didn’t want to disappoint Virgil-

“It’s fine,” Virgil said after a few seconds, “Make your bacon, me and Princey can make pancakes ourselves afterwards, boom, problem solved.”

Roman couldn’t help but perk up - getting pancakes and possibly being able to cook with Virgil felt like a good way to start the morning. Virgil sent him a small smile - he must have noticed. 

“Hm-” Patton said, frowning, Roman immediately deflated, hand coming up to fidget with his wet hair, Virgil seemed to notice this too because a quiet growl escaped him - Roman didn’t think Patton had heard, “Well, I s’pose you could, but… Roman is banned from the kitchen for a reason, kiddo.”

Roman cringed. The last time he had tried to cook had been a disaster, but if he and Virgil were doing it together surely it wouldn’t be that bad.

“I won’t let him touch the oven,” Virgil said, whilst Roman sat there awkwardly fiddling with his hair and looking away, not sure what to do with himself.

“And you’re okay with-”

“I wouldn’t’ve asked to do it if I didn’t want to, Pat,” Virgil pointed out. Patton sighed and nodded.

“Alrighty kiddos - if you’re sure, lemme just get things together for Logan and I, then I’ll get out of your way?”

“Sure,” Virgil shrugged and Patton headed back into the kitchen to begin cooking. Virgil immediately leaned over to Roman, “Hey Princey, what’s going on with you?”

“Huh?” Roman asked, eyes snapping up to meet him.

“You look like shit, dude,” Virgil said, still whispering, “You look like you just ran your head under the tap and slapped some concealer on your face, not to mention you panicking just now - are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, fine, fine of course!” Roman says brightly, forcing himself to sit up straight and put a smile on his face. Virgil frowned, clearly not buying it, but he just coughed awkwardly and moved on, much to Roman’s relief.

“Okay, well um - do you actually want to cook with me? Do you even want pancakes at all? I didn’t- mean to assume but I know Pat can be kinda pushy and you seemed panicked so I-”

“I do want to cook with you, Scaramore,” Roman interrupted him with a small smile, “As long as you can handle my ineptness.”

“You’re not inept,” Virgil rolled his eyes, waving his hand, “Pancakes are easy anyway.”

“If you say so,” Roman chuckles, shaking his head. 

Once Patton was finished in the kitchen, Virgil got up and urged Roman to follow him, setting out the ingredients. With specific instructions and supervision that was slightly overbearing but to a level that somehow made Roman more comfortable than less - it was nothing like when Patton did it, it felt more like he was being guided and looked after as he did the things that Virgil told him to do, rather than making one mistake and having Patton swoop in and take over. 

The pancakes weren’t perfect, but they were still nice. Roman had a lovely time making them with Virgil too - he didn’t think they would've been half as much fun if he had made them alone. 

He didn’t want the meal to end, honestly. The conversation was light and fun - Virgil was talking about some new music he had listened to and Roman had been laughing along with him. Virgil told him he should give it a listen sometime and Roman said he would. It was almost enough to give him his spark back. 

The rest of the day he spent working on the script. Careful to avoid Patton and Logan - Janus and Remus too in all honesty - Roman headed back into his room to work his way though the script, fleshing things out, making the descriptions clearer and the dialogue more interesting and nuanced. By the time Patton called them all down for dinner Roman was absolutely exhausted and incredibly drained, but he actually had something he thought he could be proud of to show them. Maybe this would actually go well.

Even still, the idea of having Patton and Logan look over it made his hands shake and hairs stand on end, he didn’t like it one bit. 

The next few days he spent refining the script as much as he could. It needed to be perfect for Thomas to use it after all. It needed to be perfect for Logan and Patton to approve. He needed to be perfect if he didn’t want them to get upset with him, and if they did get upset with him then… well he needed to be perfect then too. 

And then they had the meeting with Thomas.

Roman rose up with the script clutched to his chest. Everyone was staring at him - he knew he was late, he had just been making some panicked, last minute touches, making sure everything was perfect, but now he was late and they were all staring at him.

He should say something witty. Something about how he was always fashionably late maybe, but Logan was glaring at him and Patton looked disappointed and Janus was here too and Roman couldn’t get the words out past the lump in his throat.

“Roman,” Logan said when it became clear that Roman wasn’t going to say anything, “You were made aware that we had a meeting today. We were all waiting for you.”

Nevermind the fact that no-one ever chastised the others for being late for these. Roman squashed the thought down with a bitter feeling. 

“I was just making finishing touches!” Roman announced in his normal bright and boisterous tone, “I didn’t want to leave our darling Thomathy without something perfect, after all!”

Logan hummed and nodded, Roman couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him as the conversation moved on without a lecture. Janus looked at him for a second too long, Roman wished he hadn’t noticed.

“Well then kiddo! How ‘bout you show us what you’ve come up with?” Patton said, almost like he was coaxing Roman into sharing. Roman was, admittedly, reluctant, but he handed the script over to Patton to look at anyway. It was his job to come up with these things after all, he shouldn’t be afraid of the criticism he was bound to receive. Still he couldn’t help but nervously twist his hands together as Patton read through the script with a small frown on his face and passed it off to Logan to look at whilst Thomas and Janus tried to make conversation with him. He knew he was distracted, watching Logan’s face for any sign of what he might be feeling about the script Roman actually felt fairly proud of after all of the heartache that had gone into it. Whether he would actually let Thomas see it at all. 

“Well,” Logan started, snapping the binder shut, “It is not our best work-”

Roman felt like he had been punched in the gut, but he schooled his features to look neutral as Thomas took the binder.

“But! I suppose if this is all Roman can create it will have to do.”

“But I-” Roman started, wanting to tell them how hard he had worked on it, if that would even mean anything. 

“It’s alright, kiddo!” Patton said brightly, “I’m sure you’ll do better with the next one! One bad script isn’t anything to feel bad about.”

But Roman did feel bad about it, that was the thing. If Roman expressed that he wasn’t sure what would happen, would they get upset with him? Janus was giving him an incredulous look.

“Well,” Thomas spoke up as he skimmed through the script, “I think we’ll have to rework this a bit to get it to work - but it’s a really good start Roman! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Roman said automatically, almost not even registering that he had said it. His mind was elsewhere. He was too busy thinking about hiding his shaking hands and holding back the tears he knew were threatening to get through. They had said it was fine, it was a good starting point, but Roman had spent the last three days working on this, he had worked and reworked and spent so much time making it perfect - he had been proud of the script he had ended up with, and it was just… subpar. A good start, with pieces they could pull out though the majority was trash. 

“Are you alright, Roman?” Someone asked, Roman startled and looked up, glancing around. Everyone was looking at him - why was everyone looking at him?

After a long moment of blank staring, Logan sighed.

“I asked if you would be able to rework the script by Friday,” he asked. That was two days' time - they really wanted him to redo a whole script in two days? He pressed down the bubbling panic that was trying to make his way up his throat. He didn’t want to work on the script at all, the idea of doing so made him feel like he had just been told to cut off his own hand, but he would have to.

“Oh- uh, sure,” Roman said, “Um- can we go over what exactly I need to rework?”

As much as it would be painful to hear, he needed to know exactly what was wrong with his script so that he could change it to what they wanted. Janus frowned at him, but didn’t say anything to Roman’s relief. 

“Ah, of course, I can go over the issues with the script for you now,” Logan said, taking the binder back from Thomas. With every comment he made - every nitpick, every piece of emotional nuance he decided was unnecessary - Roman felt himself grow more and more upset. Still he kept that mask of indifference on his face, made it look like none of Logan’s words were hurting him. He made it look like he was listening intently and taking in every word whilst really he couldn’t hear a thing Logan was saying over the roar of his own insecurity in his ears. 

‘This part could be better’ Logan said, ‘this whole section is useless’ Roman heard. ‘There should be more jokes in this part’ Patton told him, ‘None of this is engaging’ Roman heard. 

‘If you rewrote this part-’, Logan said, over and over. ‘You should never write again’ Roman heard, over and over. 

This is bad, this is pointless, everything you create is worthless, you’ll never make the viewers happy with this, no-one will ever want to watch Thomas’s videos with this sort of script, do better, work harder, useless, worthless, bad, bad, bad-

“Roman?” A voice cut through the stream in his head and Roman all at once realised he had screwed his eyes shut and clamped his hands over his ears as though he could block out the voices in his own head. He knew he was taking their criticisms too harshly, they were being constructive, he shouldn’t feel this awful over a few constructive comments. Carefully Roman pulled his hands from his ears and blinked away the tears in his eyes to look around. Logan looked annoyed, Patton confused and a little upset, Thomas seemed confused and Janus looked… concerned. Roman thought he must be imagining it.

“Now - Roman, you know how rude it is not to listen to the rest of us, don’t you?” Patton said, in that gentle chastising tone that drove Roman up the wall, “What was that all about?”

“Indeed, I find it very disrespectful that you would resort to such a childish show of disrespect in the face of simple criticism.” Logan said with a frown on his face. Roman looked down - he wanted to retort that it wasn’t just that. He had worked hard on thai script, he had been proud of it, their simple criticism was making him feel like he was being torn apart at the seams, it was more than simple, every comment was like a needle stabbing into his heart, a new paper cut adorning his hands until they were unusable, it felt as though they were tearing out every one of his muscles and organs one by one until he was just a gruesome sack of bones and skin, they were tearing him apart and they didn’t even realise it. Roman didn’t even have the guts to truly tell them. Instead all he did was pretend things were fine and go sob to himself in the imagination when he had time to spare. What a miserable life to lead. 

“Roman, are you alright?” Janus asks eventually after Roman never replied. Roman flinches and takes a deep breath.

“Of course,” Roman says, willing himself not to stutter, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Darling,” Janus drawled, rolling his eyes, “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“What’s going on, Roman?” Thomas asked, frowning a little as he looked over at him. 

“Yes, I would like to know, if this is what is hindering your ability to do your job adequately-”

Roman broke. 

That comment was the last straw, his job, his purpose - he couldn’t even do the thing he was made for. He couldn’t even do the one single thing they expected from him correctly. He was so useless. 

“Maybe you should do it then,” Roman said, finally done with all of this, “You write the script, if my ideas were so terrible, maybe you should do it, give it a try, see how easy it is.”

“Roman, kiddo-”

“No!” Roman interrupted, bringing his hands up to his hair, “Stop it! Just stop! You want to know why I’m having trouble making things to your standards recently? It’s because of you two! You two and your constant- constant telling me what I’ve been doing wrong! Telling me not to take breaks, making me choose, standing here and critiquing something I was so proud of- I- I can’t do it! It hurts! It really fucking hurts and I can’t say anything because you’ll just start getting angry with me-”

Roman sucked in a deep breath, drawing himself up, and trying to calm down, but it was too late, tears were already streaming down his face, he was already shaking violently, there was nothing he could do about this now that he had started. 

“You two never - you never see how hard I’m working, you, Logan, you think I don’t care about the quality of what I give you when I’m trying so, so hard to make it the best I possibly can every time. You have no idea how hard it is to stand here and listen to you both tear apart something I’ve spent days working on- you don’t- you don’t understand how hard it is, Patton, to choose when someone will be upset with me no matter wha option I pick.”

“How could we know these things when you have never told us?” Logan asks sharply, frowning, “Perhaps if you expressed these struggles we would go easier-”

“Would you? Would you really? Because- because we’ve been through this before! We’ve talked about this! About you being too harsh with your criticism, about Patton’s conscientious language - we- we’ve been through this and you haven’t done a thing,” Roman said, “And when I try and bring things up you always get angry and defend yourselves - how the fuck am I supposed to express a problem I have when all I’m going to get in response is anger?”

“We wouldn’t-” Patton tried.

“You would! You would! You always do- that- that passive aggressive tone you do- and even now you’re trying to deny it! How the fuck am I supposed to get through to you two like this?” Roman asked, throwing down his hands, tears were streaming down his face now and he hardly even noticed, “How am I supposed to talk to you two when you act like this?”

“Roman if you could please just calm down - we can talk about this civilly-”

“I’m done talking,” Roman hissed, “I just- I don’t- I’m done, I’m going to the imagination, don’t look for me.”

With that, he sank out. The room was left in silence. After a long moment, Thomas turned to the three of them.

“Guys,” Thomas said, “What the fuck was that?”

“Language-” Patton said.

“Patton, respectfully, shut up,” Janus said, more harshly than he meant to, “I’m not going to look for him.”

And Janus sunk out too, leaving the other three behind to talk.

—-

Roman sat on his beach alone and sobbed into his knees. 

He cried so hard that storms raged in the distance, the waves crashed and the sun was blotted out with dark clouds, still Roman sat and cried and cried. He didn’t know what he wanted right now. He wanted to be alone, he wanted someone’s arms around him, he never wanted to talk to the others again, he wanted to be told that everything was okay. He wanted to be left to his beach and his crying, he wanted to be cared for and comforted. 

“Remus told me I might find you out here,” Said a voice behind him. Roman made a sad, startled sound and immediately felt pathetic for it, “I suppose he was wrong, hm?”

Roman turned quickly to see Janus behind him.

“What- what are you doing here, snake?” Roman asked, trying to sound angry and only succeeding in sounding choked up and miserable. 

“Oh nothing,” Janus said, walking over to come and sit next to him, “Totally not seeing if you need anything after that absolute delight of a conversation - Virgil told me how much you hate being hugged.”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh, “Why would you want to hug a failure like me? You might catch something.”

Rolling his eyes, Janus put an arm around him. Roman didn’t have it in him to protest, he really did want the hug. 

“There you go,” Janus said softly as he pulled him gently into a proper hug, three of his hands wrapped around him as he pulled Roman close, one running gloved fingers through his hair and another wiped the tears from his face, “You are definitely a failure, darling, everyone thinks so.”

Roman sniffed, “Really? How can you - how can you say that after all of- of everything?”

“Cause it’s true, RoRo! You’re not a failure,” Came the voice of his brother from the direction of the sea, Roman turned in Janus’ arms just in time to watch his brother pull himself from the ocean. Roman yelped as Remus ran over and pulled both of them into a hug.

“Remus!” Roman yelled, choked a little by his tears as he tried to push Remus off, “You- you’re soaked! Get off!”

Remus cackled and hung on, “Your fault for having a breakdown on the beach, Ro-Bro- you basically asked for it.”

“You stink of seaweed, Remus,” Janus sighed, “I will only allow you to join this hug if you dry off and change.”

Remus groaned, rolling his eyes, “Roro, snap us back to your room or something will you?”

Sighing, Roman shook his head, clinging to Janus and reaching out to grab Remus’ arm before sinking them back out to his room. Immediately he shoved Remus off of the bed. Janus coaxed Roman back into his arms as he relaxed onto the mountain of pillows in his room. Roman took a few deep breaths before burying his face in Janus’ shoulder and trying not to sob again as Janus rubbed his back up and down in a way that was so comforting. 

Minutes later, Remus joined them, draping himself across Roman’s back and thunking his head on his shoulder. 

“So,” Remus said, “Who do I gotta kill?”

“No-one,” Roman said at the same time as Janus said: “Patton and Logan.”

Roman huffed, “I don’t- I don’t want you to kill them - I just want them to listen for once.”

“I can totally make them listen,” Remus said, “If you tell me what you’re actually upset about.”

“Thanks, Ree,” Roman mumbled, sitting up a little and wiping at his eyes with a sniff, “Um- I just-”

“Why don’t we start at the beginning,” Janus said softly, never ceasing in the way he was petting Roman’s hair so gently, the touch made him want to melt, “Why don’t you just try and tell us both how you’ve been feeling?”

Roman nodded, taking a deep breath before he started spilling everything. Telling the two dark sides everything he had been feeling recently, the way the comments felt suffocating and the criticisms felt like thorns digging into his skin. He told them how he had been feeling about his creations and why the imagination was so grey, by the end he was once again teary. Janus was whispering soft reassurances to him the entire time, whilst Remus seemed to be seething in rage.

“I’m gonna go talk to them,” Remus said through his teeth. 

“Leave the morningstar,” Roman said, there was a stammer in his voice, but his tone was firm.

“You never let me have any fun, Roro,” Remus said, leaving the morningstar leant up against Roman’s bed. Roman nodded his approval and Remus sank out.

They stayed there for some time, about fifteen minutes or so, though Roman wasn’t sure, he spent most of it with his head buried in Janus’ shoulder. The comforting arms wrapped around him helped him to calm down a little more from all of that. The outburst - all of the pent up emotions he had about all of this - had honestly made him feel a lot… better, especially now that he had comfort.

A while later, when Roman was just starting to get sleepy from all the comfort, the door opened slowly - almost cautious, and Virgil’s face peeked into the room. Janus smiled a little and shifted, making Roman grumble. 

“It’s Virgil dear,” Janus said softly. Roman glanced up and made a grabby motion at Virgil, who chuckled and walked into the room properly. Coming to sit down next to Roman on the bed. Roman immediately grabbed him and pulled him into the hug. 

“Hey Princey,” Virgil said, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around them both, “Hey Dee.”

“Hey Virgil,” Janus smiled, “What are you doing here?”

“Remus is talking to the others,” Virgil said, “I kinda heard what happened a little and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, as long as Roman wants you here, you’re welcome,” Janus said with a soft smile. With the way Roman was now clinging to Virgil’s hoodie as well as Janus’ capelet it seemed he really did. 

“What’s up anyway, Princey? I heard what Remus was saying about their mean comments and I mean - I kinda noticed you were having a bad time a few days ago with Patton but…?”

Roman sighed softly, “I don’t know what it is,” He said, “I’ve just… been struggling - with motivation or - I suppose drive? I’ve been feeling bad about everything I make so I’ve been reluctant to make anything, but that just makes me feel worse so it’s just a cycle-”

“Ah,” V said softly, dropping his chin to Roman’s shoulder, “That sounds like burnout.”

“Burnout?”

“Yeah it’s like - when you’ve worked yourself too hard and now it’s causing you problems,” Virgil said with a head tilt. Roman hummed, “When was the last time you did something for yourself Princey? Like - just went wild and didn’t have someone criticising you for it?”

“I…” Roman said quietly, “I don’t know, I don’t remember - I mean, I’ve just felt so uninspired…”

“I think, and you’re not going to like it,” Janus said, Roman sighed, already pretty sure he knew what the other was about to say, “That you might benefit from a break?”

Roman groaned, he had seen it coming, “I can’t stop creating - it’s - it’s my whole purpose! What will I be if I can’t create?”

“Darling,” Janus said gently, “Just like the rest of us, you are allowed to take a break if you need to, a week or two, just… relax, create things for yourself, perhaps we could do something fun in the imagination? I’m sure Remus could help, but you’ll never get out of this state if you keep pushing yourself.”

Roman knew that he was right, he was sure Virgil knew that he was right, but he just… couldn’t figure it out, how was he to be useful if he couldn’t do the things he was supposed to do? But then - if he kept going he would never create anything worth sharing with Thomas anyway. What would it matter then if he took a break?

“What about Logan and Patton?” Roman asks softly, “Won’t they be upset with me?”

“Hopefully not after Remus is done with them,” Virgil said, the frown on his face clear from his tone. Roman sighed softly and let himself melt into them both. 

“Thanks guys,” He says softly.

“Of course,” Janus says, scratching his scalp, “You’re not welcome.”

“Anytime, Princey,” Virgil said with a small smile on his face.

—-

It was just a few hours later when Roman woke up from the impromptu map Roman had had with the other two. It seemed that Janus hadn’t fallen asleep it seemed - he was just sitting there on his phone - nor did he think Janus had noticed him wake up. Virgil however was asleep with his head on Roman’s shoulder. He sighed happily - being surrounded by the two of them made Roman relax so easily, he wished he had asked them for this sooner.

“Good afternoon darling,” Janus said softly, running his fingers through Roman’s hair, “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Roman said, smiling a little, “You okay?”

“I’m totally not fine,” he said, “Remus came back, he said the others would like to talk to you whenever you’re ready.”

 Roman winced, “Is that- is that wise?” He asked, tilting his head, “what if they’re upset?”

“I won’t be with you the whole time,” Janus said, “And if they do get upset I think Remus plans to hurt them.”

Roman made a face, “I don’t want that,” He says, “Don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Well then you can’t tell him no,” Janus said, “And we can bring Vee too.”

Roman nods, looking at Virgil who was somehow still asleep on his shoulder, he gently nudged him awake. 

“Mmm?” Virgil hummed, blinking lazily up at him, Roman laughed. 

“I think the others want to talk to me,” Roman said, Virgil frowned immediately, “I’d um- I’d really like it if you guys were there, for uh- moral support, and possibly Remus control.”

Virgil laughed, “Yeah Princey, of course I’ll be there for you.”

—-

Patton and Logan sat together on the living room sofa. Remus stood opposite them, in front of the TV with his morningstar in hand, smiling in a way that was a little bit terrifying. Roman had decided to walk down the stairs instead of just sinking out, so Janus and Virgil had followed him. The two sides on the sofa looked up, Patton gasped and almost stood up, but something - Roman could guess a menacing glare from Virgil - had persuaded him to stay sitting. 

At least the looks on their faces were fairly remorseful as the three of them went to stand with Remus. A hand was placed on his shoulder and with a glance back he saw it was Janus. With a small smile, Roman turned back to the others, waiting for them to talk. 

“Roman,” Logan said. Roman flinched involuntarily and Virgil placed a hand on his back, Logan sighed softly, “I did not realise that my criticisms were causing such a problem for you, nor did I realise that my harsh tones were causing you so much stress.”

Roman did notice that Logan was talking a lot more softly than normal, it was like he had sanded the edges of his words, the sharp points that tore against Roman’s skin were a little more dull now. 

“Now that I am aware of this I will endeavour to do better in the future,” He says, looking down, “I am sorry to have caused you so much distress.”

“Me too,” Patton said, “You always act so happy and energetic I didn’t - I didn’t realise I was causing you so much pain! I don’t ever want to hurt you, kiddo, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s -” Roman said, taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

“Roman,” Janus said softly.

“But - I need a break,” Roman said, taking Janus hand, “I have - come to realise that pushing myself as I have been hasn’t been helping me or anyone else, and I know it’ll impact your schedule Logan - and it’ll make Thomas’ viewers upset if we don’t get a video out but I just - I just can’t-”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, getting up to come over to him, “You’re more important to us than one missed video.”

“I do believe that there are other videos Thomas is able to post this week,” Logan said, “If I rearrange some things perhaps we could film an unscripted video instead, allowing you time to rest.”

Roman’s eyes widened a little in disbelief - looking around at everyone. They weren’t chastising him? Logan wasn’t telling him that the script has to be done, they were really letting him take a break?

“See?” Janus said softly, “This was absolutely terrible, wasn’t it?”

Roman chuckled, elbowing Janus, “Thanks guys.”

“Of course,” Logan nodded, “Now, whilst you were gone, Patton, Remus and I had a discussion on what we could do to make you feel better.”

“And we settled on a cartoon binge session!” Patton announced brightly, Roman couldn’t help but smile.

“What would we watch?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“Well, Thomas has been wanting to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender all week, who knows why,” Virgil said with a small wink in his direction, Roman couldn’t help the way his smile widened. 

“Can we…” He said, trailing off, but with an encouraging nudge from Janus he finished his question, “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” Patton said, as if suggesting otherwise was offensive, “We gotta make our Prince feel better, right?”

“Come, we wouldn’t want to keep Thomas up too lote,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses.

Roman felt fondness bubbling up inside him, he looked around at his family and for once he wasn’t afraid to talk to half of them. He got to do something nice with everyone without fear of being criticised or told to get back to work - he could truly spend time with them and enjoy it for real, rather than pretend. 

“Then it’s decided,” Roman says, “A cartoon night with Thomas it is!”

It wouldn’t make everything better. Things still weren’t perfect for a while. But Roman could see that it was getting there. Though right now wasn’t perfect, he was certainly hopeful about the future. 

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash . @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

----

[naminethewriter]

Expectation

Your Sanders Sides fics have meant so much to me. I really love the h/c AND ALSO the goofy little ones like the being stuck in a (not) broken elevator. I saw a prompt which was that that Strictest Interpretations of the canon sides meet the fanon versions of themselves, which honestly could go either way (angsty self-reflection or they all have a snowball fight in the imagination). I would honestly love to see your take on it! Thank you for considering and I hope you have a good day/night/whatever time it is where you are :D – anon

Read on Ao3

Pairings: none

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1331

We all know that the canon and fanon differ; from the wild AUs to the canon-compliant, there are variations. What happens when some of these versions come face to face?

 

"Oh, so you're what the fans think I am!" Patton tilts his head to the side. "Your glasses are different!"

The other version of him giggles and fiddles with the glasses. They're almost cartoonishly big, round frames that make him look even more like an anime character. "Yep! I think it's to differentiate us from Logan—you know, 'cause he's more the serious, square-glasses type and we're the fun-loving dad Side."

"That makes sense!"

"This is so interesting!" The other him claps his hands excitedly. "There are so many things I want to talk about with you!"

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, how much we love our kiddos, to start with!"

"That's an excellent thing to talk about, 'cause you know, you don't wanna smother them—"

"—but they're so cute, they might as well be bagels looking for that Crofters jam in the morning!"

"Oh! Good one!"

"Thanks!"

The two of them laugh as Patton waves him over to the couch. "I gotta say, it's so nice to talk to someone who's obviously on the same page as I am. It's been—whoo! It's been a little stressful recently, but this? This is nice."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear it's been stressful, kiddo! Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Aw!" Patton holds a hand to his chest. "Aren't you just the nicest?"

"Hey, right back atcha, pal!"

2.

Logan squints at the person in front of him, who bears up to his scrutiny remarkably well. They have a very similar disposition to him, except of course for the difference in glasses shape and the, well, the quite badly concealed amusement at his situation.

"To separate us from Patton," the duplicate explains wryly, adjusting the frames.

"I see." He crosses his arms. "Are there any other meaningful differences I should be aware of?"

"Unknown at this point."

"Are you aware of what the purpose of this—" he waves his hand— "exercise is?"

"The Doylist explanation is something along the lines of improving Thomas's metacognition, if I had to guess. It can be a useful course of action for any creative to see how their audience is reacting to their material and how it differs from their intended results."

"I see. And the Watsonian?"

"Perhaps something along the lines of a self-reflection day."

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking up in surprise when the duplicate chuckles. "What?"

"Self-reflection doesn't have to be scary," he says in a far gentler voice than Logan expected.

"I know that!" The duplicate gives him a knowing look, which is still too soft to be all together familiar, and it makes him hunch his shoulders. "What?"

"You don't have to lie to me, Logan. I'm hardly going to tell anyone else what happens here if you don't want me to."

"…you won't?"

"No. You have my word. Now," and he gestures to the desk nearby, "what is it you would like to talk about?"

Logan glances at him, at the desk, and slowly moves towards it. Perhaps…perhaps he shouldn't waste such an opportunity.

3.

"Oh, this is marvelous," Janus groans, stretching across the pillows underneath the heat lamp the Other him has in the corner of his room—something he wasn't going to be investigating the moment this was over.

The Other him chuckles. "Tell me about it. I wasn't surprised when you said you didn't have one."

Janus muffles a snort at the memory of the affronted expression the Other him had made when he'd seemed confused as to why they couldn't go lounge under his heat lamp for this conversation. "Well, unlike our beloved fans, Thomas hasn't spent the time creating all of our rooms for them to see, so it makes sense they've taken certain liberties with them."

"I see."

He frowns at the slight melancholy he can hear in his own voice—not a bizarre experience at all—and turns his head to see his own face staring off into the distance. He nudges him. "There's certainly a reason for you making us look so upset right now."

Other him gives himself a shake. "Sorry. I was…lost in thought."

"I can see that."

"I was thinking about our introduction," Other him says, far too soft and sweet for this moment, which sends a prickle down Janus's spine, "and how it…well."

"'Well,' what?"

Other him turns, the snake side of his face glistening in the light of the heat lamp in a way that doesn't make some of the scales look suspiciously wet. "How it could've gone better."

Janus scoffs, closing his eyes and luxuriating under the heat. "Speak for yourself, then. I'm not sure how the fans think everything went, but it's all worked out pretty well in the end, hasn't it?"

A pause, just a moment too long. "You don't regret anything, then?"

"What would there be to regret?"

"Perhaps how some of our dear friends were treated? How hurt Thomas became by the end of everything?"

"Do the fans really believe I'm this sappy?" He shakes his head. "They're all bigger fools than I imagined."

Another pause, long enough for him to drift into a sort of daze under the pleasant light of the heat lamp, but not long enough for him not to notice the way Other him shifts subtly away from him.

It doesn't sting, not even a little bit.

4.

Virgil stares at his clone. The clone stares back.

"This is weird."

"Yep."

"I don't like you."

"That's fine."

"Wanna sit in the same room on our phones and not acknowledge each other at all?'

"Works for me."

5.

"Kinky." Remus squirms in the arms of the giant Kraken—a little cliche, sure, but cliches are cliche for a reason and this beast is incredible— "are you going to hold me prisoner now? Take over my role as the One True Remus?"

"No." The fanon him sits down on the Kraken's head with an—ugh, serious expression. "We're gonna talk about how we treat our brother."

"Oh, for the love of Lucifer, I only beat him over the head once in canon! Why're you so upset?"

"Because you've not been sticking up for him? At all? When you know how easy it is for him to get hurt!"

"That's Roman's job in most of those stories anyway, he's there to get all huffy and bruised, like any Ego—" the arm squeezes him tightly— "ooh, harder!"

"That shit won't deter me and you know it."

He pouts. "It was worth a shot. Works a treat with the troublesome teacher."

"Logan would be far more receptive to an actual contract than just innuendo, but we can talk about that next. But let's start with the fact that you're still too insecure about your place in the canon to do anything other than harass everyone else."

"What? No, I'm not!"

"I might not be Janny but it's not a good idea to lie to me."

"Ooh, why not?" To which he promptly gets dunked under water and cleaned off. "Hey! Stop that!"

"Are you ready to listen to me now?"

+1.

Roman stares at the fan's idea of him. He stares back, before a slow and sad smile comes to his face and he opens his arms.

He barrels forward and collapses, sobbing into his arms.

"Shh, shh," he hears distantly, "it's alright. You're safe now. It's okay. I'm right here."

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