#//i also may have some sort of weird lean towards the spooky because Somehow each of my stories end up containing some sort of thriller

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[desiree-harding-fic]

The Phantom of the Opera but Taakitz

In which Kravitz fails pretty spectacularly at Phantoming but he’s trying very hard. Taako fails at “damsel-in-distress”-ing but to be fair he’s not really trying.

My parents were watching Phantom and my brain went taakitz because you know... spooky one and pretty one. But then I had to make it fit, and idk y’all. It’s pure silliness. Lmk if you want a kissin’ part bc if you do I have like 1/3 of that written. Thanks to @fandomsnstuff​ for encouraging me in every way to post XD

@herbgerblin >:333

*~*~*~*~*

Taako woke up not knowing where he was.

Which was, to begin with, just a massive red flag.

His head hurt. He felt heavy. And where the fuck was he? All he could see was grimy stone brick, and on them, softly flickering candlelight - and the sound of - was that water? He was having a hard time breathing - Lup’s fucking corset, he swore this was the last time she convinced him to take place in some fucking hairbrained scheme -

He shoved himself up to sitting and was immediately assaulted by a voice - 

“LUP TAACO, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE TO -”

“What the fuck?!” Taako shouted, leaping to his feet, and then the fucking skirts got tangled and then the floor underneath him tipped -

And taako was wet. He was in water, in all these fucking skirts and he was wet and Lup was going to pay for this. 

He pushed himself up again, sputtering, and thank god it wasn’t very deep, he didn’t know what he’d do if was forced to swim in this ridiculous outfit - 

The voice came again.

“MISS TAACO, YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS SANCTUARY OF MUSIC TO-”

“I’M NOT LUP!!” Taako shouted desperately, just to get it to shut up, the voice that was splitting his fucking head in two, and trying to arrange the soaking wet gown into some semblance of order, and he didn’t know where he was, and he woke up here, which was just - there was something immensely wrong with that because Taako didn’t remember going to sleep.

“TO- I’m sorry?”

“I’m not Lup!!” Taako shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration, and giving up on the stupid dress, and looking toward the direction of the candlelight, and the whoever was standing there screaming at him, and - huh.

A man, half his face obscured by a mask meant to look like a skeleton, in a suit that looked more at home at the opera (where Taako was a moment ago - or it seemed a moment) than - was this a fucking sewer? - and a full on-cloak atop that, and a fucking ridiculous hat-

As Taako’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see more of the man’s face, which was, even with the one eye obscured, contorted into an expression of confusion.

He may have registered, distantly, that he also looked rather handsome, but fuck that honestly, because Lup’s corset was cutting into his side and he was wet and - and his brain wasn’t working. He was in the opera house, and then Lup - Lup had begged him to switch clothes because please< Taako, I can’t get Grimaldis to quit following me, please, just to throw him off - and then he was going out the stage door, but he didn’t get there… he didn’t get there because-

“Did you fucking kidnap me?!” he shouted.

“I - I didn’t - you’re not Lup Taaco?”

“No!! Fucking - look at me!” he gestured to the ruined dress, the way it hung, now clearly fitting ill - “Do I look like Lup to you?!”

“Yes! Well, no, I mean, but you - but you- you’re wearing her clothes!” The man sputtered.

“And?!” Taako shouted, “you don’t fucking know me, kemosabe! I can wear whatever the hell I like!” The man, whoever he was, was standing on some kind of shore, and Taako, sick of standing in waist-deep water, started hauling up his skirts and wading toward it. “And that’s another thing! Who are you to fucking - get off kidnapping my sister?!”

“I - No!” Tuxedo Man said, stumbling back further from the shore as Taako advanced, “it’s not like that, I - I can see where you’d think, but I - I didn’t want to -”

“Didn’t want to what?!” Taako continued, finally stepping out of the water, the heavy gown dripping on the stone, so much heavier soaked like this. Taako couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to fight this motherfucker over his sister’s honor or whatever, he wasn’t going to do it in a goddamn evening gown. He started tearing at the clasps at back of it, the ties, anything to get the fucking thing off of him.

“You mistake me for my fucking sister,” he fumed, “which firstly, you’re stalking my sister, apparently, so you’re gonna fucking die - and then you -what? Fucking chloroform me and drag me to some kind of sewer sex-dungeon god knows where, what am I supposed to think?!” The outer-most layer of the gown finally came off, and Taako flung it into the water behind him because honestly fuck this.

“No!” the masked man said, shaking his head furiously, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean anything untoward!”

“I think kidnapping is pretty untoward-”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to - I don’t - it’s not a sex dungeon!” he cried, “I don’t even like her!”

“OH?!” Taako said, and god, he wished he could get the corset off, because he was really running out of breath with all the shouting - “what’s your name, thug, because I’m about to-”

“Kravitz, but - Wait! No! I - I - please don’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I was - I was just trying to give her a violin lesson!”

“Give my sister a violin lesson?” Taako growled, “She’s the goddamn concert master of the Paris Opera I think she knows how to play the violin pretty fucking well-”

“It’s just the solo in the third scene of act five!” Kravitz pleaded, actually pleaded, and Taako supposed that was a point in his favor somehow, but still, “She - she keeps - the phrasing is all wrong, and it’s the climax of the piece, and I couldn’t stand it-”

“So you were going to kidnap her?” Taako said, completely dumb with disbelief because who did this motherfucker think he was - “Who are you to give notes on her fucking performance, huh?”

“I’m the composer!” Kravitz said, throwing up his hands.

That stopped Taako in his tracks, because what? Of all the off the wall lies to get him off the hook, that’s what spooky Kravitz went with? The composer of the opera taking Paris by storm. The opera that just had its run extended another two months. And sure, sure he might as well fight the skull-mask man in the fucking - sewers, he guessed, while wearing his sister’s evening wear, the composer of her fucking opera, who wanted to kidnap her for a violin lesson in the sewer because sure! Taako’s life was already so goddamn weird, he figured this might as well happen too, why the hell not?

Maybe he didn’t wake up at all. Maybe this was all one horrible, drawn-out nightmare. Maybe he’d been hit over the head and this was his brain’s last fanciful imagining before he went out.

He buried his face in his hands, tried to breathe deeply. And then couldn’t. Because of the corset.

Ok, he thought, if this is a dream, it has to end now, because I figured it out. I’m dreaming. Time to wake up.

He counted to five and then peeked out from between his fingers. Spooky skele-man Kravitz was still looking at him. In the moment, without all the screaming, Taako managed to just get a better look at him. He was leaning back against something that looked like a manual for an organ. Weird, but then again, no weirder than the whole. Sewer-dwelling skeleton thing.

There were a few things Taako could do. He could fight the skeleton composer man, who, the more Taako looked, didn’t cut nearly as imposing of a figure as he did a moment ago. Or he could play things out.

The thing was, Taako wasn’t particularly a fighter. And Kravitz the skele-man had kidnapped him once that evening. And getting flustered when Taako shouted at him didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of taking Taako if he made good on his threats.

And Taako was tired.

Taako sighed, removed his hands from his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so tired. His head felt like someone had reached down into it and was pulling it slowly apart from each side.

“Uhm,” Kravitz said, “are you alright?”

“No,” Taako groused, and then sighed. He removed his hand. “I would love to kick your ass, darling, because no one stalks my sister and lives, but first,” he gestured to the whole… rest of his get-up. “Would you mind lending a guy a hand in getting this off? It’s fucking cold and ‘chaboy’s gettin’ real tired of not being able to take a complete breath.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz squeaked. His voice sounded about two octaves higher than before. His eyes, just for a moment, flickered over Taako’s body, panicked, and - well. That was interesting, wasn’t it.

“The clothes, Kravitz,” Taako said, purposely evoking his name. “Please? I’m wet as all hell and fucking freezing, and if I’m gonna throw you in this water and drown you or something I’d like to at least have a decent range of mobility so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Um,” Kravitz said, “Please don’t drown me?”

“Gimme that cloak to wear and we’ll see,” Taako said back. Fuck, his head hurt. He was too tired for this.

“I can - I can actually do you one better, if you need me to. I have um…. men’s clothing around the corner if you’d prefer-”

“Fucking fantastic, skeletor, just get a move on.”

“Oh. Alright then, um. Follow me?”

And Taako did. Kravitz pushed himself off the organ and moved to his left, and sure enough, there was something like a corner, and a sort of tunnel, lower-ceilinged, and in it was - well, practically an entire apartment’s worth of furniture, all arranged just-so, with candles perched all about on tables and sconces on the walls. The place was drafty but all the same, it looked quite like Kravitz had made it into a perverted imitation of a home.

Beside the frankly absurd number of candles, and the lakeside organ, there was a series of screens, separating out the space where walls did not. Rugs, slightly tattered and faded. Old brocade armchairs that didn’t match. A desk, ink and pen sitting atop it with scattered papers, and, in the last “chamber” of the long, successive home, a bed and chests in something that looked quite almost like a bedroom.

Kravitz turned around and regarded Taako with a fair measure of confusion as though unsure exaclty what to do next, but after a moment, he fumbled with his gloved hands around his neckline, until he was able to untie the cloak from around his shoulders. He thrust it toward Taako, quite sheepish-looking now behind his half-mask. 

“Here,” he said. “You can um… use it to cover up, while I - find you some clothes.”

“Corset first, bones,” Taako said, only just in a small part to watch him squirm. Sex-dungeon indeed. Taako was feeling out the boundaries of the conversation and Kravitz was bashful, of all things. Probably not kidnapping Lup for - well. Probably not that then. Maybe the violin lesson wasn’t an excuse after all.

Taako was beginning to think Kravitz was… well. For lack of a better term, somewhat pathetic. Maybe just insane.

Still, he’d do. All Taako needed was an extra pair of hands. He turned around, back to Kravitz and facing one of the screens. “Help me outta this. I’m not used to the lacing and I need some more eyes. Might have to take the gloves off though. Dexterity, and all that.” That he did say to be mean.

“Oh. Um, yes of course,” Kravitz said, and Taako felt as much as heard him walk up to his back, closer than he’d yet been. Taako felt his hands pulling at the lacing of the corset, felt something come undone, and the constriction lesson by degrees. He pulled in a deep breath. It was heavenly.

For a moment, something frigid brushed against Taako’s back, and he jumped. “Christ!” Kravitz withdrew; Taako could feel that sixth sense of proximity dissipate.

“Sorry,” Kravitz said. “Poor circulation.” His voice was so much softer than before. Something in Taako’s chest twisted at the sound of it. “You should… you should be able to remove the rest of it, now. I can- I’ll get you some clothes. Oh, um.” There was a moment of hesitation from behind him, then he felt the weight of something thick and soft drape over his shoulders, felt Kravitz withdraw again. The cloak. He’d draped it over Taako’s shoulders. It was surprisingly soft. Heavy, too. Warm. Probably did him some good down here.

“There, you can - I’ll get you something to change into.”

Taako felt strangely hot. He busied himself pulling the rest of Lup’s clothes off of him, shivering as they hit the floor with wet slaps. Good god, it really was cold in Kravitz’s - dungeon… or whatever. Even with the many candle flames all around. Removing the corset was a blessing, though. Taako drew in several deep luxurious breaths, pausing in his undressing to stretch. He could hear Kravitz rummaging around in the trunks and chests behind him.

And the rummaging stopped.

“I’m just going to uh… leave these on the bed?” Kravitz’s voice came, “I’ll. I’ll leave you to it,” and he slipped out between a couple of screens, and Taako was alone in his… in his bedroom. In the bedroom of a mysterious masked man who somehow knocked Taako out, dragged him to god only knew where, shouted at him for being Lup and then seemed, inexplicably, very apologetic the moment Taako called him on it.

He supposed stranger things had happened to him in his life. 

Then he thought again, and no, they hadn’t.

It was almost disconcertingly silent on the other side of the screen. Taako wrapped the cloak around himself properly, stepping out of the last of Lup’s clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor as he turned around and moved to the bed. He dressed quickly (Kravitz’s clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they worked well enough), draped the cloak around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill in the air, and stepped out from the screen. Kravitz was standing in the middle of what looked like his sitting room, as though he was waiting for Taako.

Taako crossed his arms. 

Kravitz began to speak. 

“Mister Taaco,” he said, “you have come to know too much of my domain. I cannot allow-”

“So,” Taako interrupted him, “Are we gonna throw down or what? I promised you an ass-kicking on account of defending my sister’s honor and all.”

Kravitz paused, and Taako could practically feel the frustration coming off of him. “I shall not be taking orders -”

“What happened to your voice?” Taako asked, cutting him off again, because god, what was he doing? “Is that a Cockney accent? What are you going for here?”

“This is how I speak-”

“My dude, we literally had a conversation without you going all Charles Dickens on me like not five minutes ago-”

“Could you let me finish?!” Kravitz finally snapped, accentless once more. “For once?! Please?!”, and Taako just waited, and watched as Kravitz realized what he’d done, as his whole schtick disintegrated before his eyes. “Oh goddamnit all,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

Taako couldn’t help but smile. 

“Really nailing it on the whole spooky sinister vibe, my fella,” he said. “Really knocking it out of the park on that one.”

One hand came up to cover Kravitz’s face, laying over his half mask and eyes. Almost like pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t usually go like this,” he sighed.

“How do the kidnappings usually go?” Taako teased. And god, what was he doing? He needed to get out of here. It was just that -

“I’m really more adept at hauntings,” his host said forlornly. “The abduction angle is new.”

It was just that everything Kravitz said was stranger, more unexpected, more absurd, more interesting than the last. And… strangely funny. It caught strange corners of Taako’s brain and captured his attention, raising flags and illuminating pathways that he wanted to go down-

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay. In the dank candlelit sewer, with Kravitz, who, while it was clear he wasn’t a very skilled kidnapper and - whatever his thing was supposed to be here - had still been good enough to get Taako in the first place. And, atop that, was a person who’d just admitted to kidnapping Taako. And who seemed not to be terribly… thrown by the thought of it. Taako didn’t know anyone - well, until now - who seemed to view unwilling abduction as a done thing. No one Taako knew really considered that socially acceptable.

It reminded him that Kravitz, while… intriguing, was by no means safe.

It reminded him that he still needed to get the hell out of there. 

“Well,” he started, “the whole production could use some work, kemosabe. Points for the aesthetic,” he gestures vaguely to Kravitz’s getup, and the whole… opulent sewer situation, “but really, Taako’s rating this one a ‘room for improvement’ situation. Nice try, though, points for effort,” he cast his eyes around as he rambled, trying to see if there were any visible exits, but the only way he could see was back the way he came in - through Kravitz’s “house” - past Kravitz. 

Nothing for it but to try, he thought. 

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, inching forward, “glad to be of assistance workshopping - well, no, not glad, really - but I uh… I’m going to need to be on my way.” He stepped forward, purposeful. Kravitz countered, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Shit.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, and the thing was he actually sounded it, “but I really can’t let you do that.”

[maple-keenes]

of drunk kisses and superpowers

[HEY GUYS, I’M PUTTING IT AT THE TOP THAT THIS IS A REMUS X DECEIT FIC. PLEASE, DO NOT READ IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.]

summary: deceit (damien) is a mostly-normal journalism student who managed, somehow, to only make friends with superheroes and supervillains. he's in his final year of college, got an amazing best friend who's only a semi-murderous supervillain and he's landed an internship at the new york times. problem is, they keep making him report on all the superhero vs supervillain fights around the city - which means he's seen roman and remus fight against each other a million and a half times. the only issue with that is that he's starting to watch these fights more intensely and notice a hell of more about how good remus's costume looks on him. soon, damien's juggling his job, his schoolwork, and the growing feeling that he might want a little bit more than friendship with remus.

pairing: dukeceit, logicality, remile if you squint 

tw: remus, deceit, cursing, alcohol, getting drunk, more cursing

wc: 4293

a/n: ...i’m not ashamed of what i’ve done here 

read it on ao3

general:

@analogical-chaos @theflatpancake @ilovemygaydad @alltimevirgilant @virgiliananxiety @romanticsanders @theincediblesulk @wroammin @creativity-killed-thekitten @bitchyybabyy400 @wooflesthatwoof @lyditist @heck-im-lost @max-is-tired @demurphart @thelowlysatsuma @land-of-dragons-and-frogs @theeternalspace @magicallygrimmwiccan @weirdsthenewnormal @romansleftshoulderpad

--

Damien May was a fairly normal college student. He was a bit of an asshole, tended to not do his homework, but deep down he was a decent person. He lived in an apartment with a friend of his, Logan, and he was majoring in journalism. 

He was not a superhero. 

Actually, Damien was fairly certain he was the only one in his extended friend group that wasn’t a superhero or villain. Logan, his roommate was also known as Logic (he wasn’t the most creative), Remus was The Duke, his twin brother, Roman, was The Prince, (Damien was ticking these off on his fingers as he went), Logan’s boyfriend was Empath, Damien’s kind-of-friend from Composition was known as Dark Magic, and Damien's cousin Remy was also some sort of superhero. Thank god Remy's husband was just a therapist, or Dami would have gone batshit. 

None of his friends knew that he knew who they all were except Logan. It was something that was hard to hide from your roommate, especially when said roommate is a seasoned professional in persuasion and observation. And Logan tells Patton everything and Damien tells Logan everything and vice-versa, so the whole-Patton-is-Empath thing was kind of out in the open from the beginning. And Virgil, aka Dark Magic, had told him off the bat too.

So really, it was just Roman and Remus. 

Overall, he was generally content to stick with his normal life, with his not-so-normal friends, and continue pissing off Roman's main gang of friends with Remus. 

This worked fine for him until his internship at the Times decided that he needed to cover a fight between The Duke and The Prince that had broken out, and Damien just sighed and grabbed his notebook. Tonight was gonna be great. 

So he sat in a car, watching the twin brothers fly around yelling weird insults at each other. Since he lived and worked in New York, this was not the first or last fight he'd ever have to cover, so Damien just scribbled down an account of what had happened the last four times (the Arellano twins were pretty consistent) they had fought. He pulled out his phone and texted Logan an update. 

The Best Person To Ever Exist (Me) 5:43 PM

they're not even fighting anymore, just yelling weirdly personal insults at each other

The Best Person To Ever Exist (Me) 5:43 PM

"GREEN ISN'T YOUR COLOR" "IT BRINGS OUT MY EYES YOU BITCH" 

Spooky Mind Control Dude 5:44 PM

Oh, hell. Well, that sounds like them. I'll see you later, Dami.

The Best Person To Ever Exist (Me) 5:45 PM

i hate it when you call me that. 

Spooky Mind Control Dude 5:45 PM

Okay, Dami.

Damien groaned and banged his head against the dashboard of his car, not even noticing the fountain explode next to him as Roman and Remus flew over top of the car. 

“This is dumb, my life is dumb, I want to go home,” he muttered to himself as the battle raged on. “Go Remus, go Remus.” 

It dragged on for another hour or so, and Damien found himself napping the backseat and dreaming about… something not to be discussed. 

He woke up when someone tapped on his window and he mumbled “mrmph” and sat up. He quickly rolled down the window and stuck his head out, immediately waking up fully when he realized he was staring right at Remus and Roman. “Oh, hello sirs, I’m with the Times, do you think I could get a statement from you two on what we can expect from you next?”

“Hi, Damien. How long have you been reporting on us?” Roman asked, hands on his hips. 

“I’m not allowed to tell you that. Now, what can we expect -” 

“Damien,” Remus interrupted. “We know you know it’s us.” 

He jerked up, smiling. “Oh, hi Remus, didn’t see you there.” 

“I’m here too! Don’t think you can ignore me just cause you’re gay for my brother or some shit -” Roman said. 

Remus spun around to face his brother. “Now listen here, Ro -”

Damien sank back into his chair, hoping that he could just drive away and possibly hit both of them when he did. He had to deal with their bickering constantly at home, dealing with it at work as well was something he’d definitely had nightmares about. Eventually he gave up and turned back to the window, raising his voice to be heard over the twins’ arguing and said, “Hey! You two! Shut up!” 

They both looked at him, startled. “Damien?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Okay, you two aren’t subtle. I’ve known you guys are the Duke and Prince since I met you because anyone who knows you in real life knows it’s ridiculously obvious.” He took a deep breath. “And - and - I have to report on you guys because it’s my job. It’s not a personal thing and no, Roman, it’s not because I’m gay for your brother, it’s not like I want to report on you two doing the same thing every time!” Damien chastised. “So, please, stop it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Damien sighed. “Thank you. Remus, I’ll see you later?” 

He nodded. “8 PM?” 

“Sounds good.” 

With that, Damien figured the conversation over and drove off, wishing that it was possible to just scream as loudly as possible on the highway and hope that no one heard him. Ugh. If Remus and Roman knew he knew who they were, that meant he couldn’t report on them unbiased anymore, and that was just great. 

When he got back to his and Logan’s apartment, he didn’t even bother to go to his room before he collapsed on the couch and started screaming into the pillow. 

Logan poked his head out of his room. “Damien, what are you doing?”

“Suffocating myself,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow. “Roman and Remus found out.” 

“About what? The superhero thing or the other thing?” 

Damien sat up and glared at him. “What other thing? There’s only one thing!” 

“I just meant…” Logan trailed off, giving him a curious look. “You don’t realize? Oh, that’s interesting. Anyway, I’m sorry about that. Are you sure they’ll act strange now that they realize it’s you that’s been reporting on them?”

“Yes! It’s what happened with you!” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Especially Remus. He’ll be super weird if he knows it’s me watching. Probably hurt Roman less. Which’ll especially suck because that’s like, the most enjoyable part of my job.” 

Logan shook his head. “You are really oblivious, you know that?” 

“I do, actually,” he replied, glancing at the time. “I’m leaving at 7:30, walking over to Remus’s place to hang out for a bit and awkwardly talk about what happened today before we get blackout drunk.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

He grinned. “Isn’t that the whole point, Logan?”

Damien lounged around the apartment for a bit, typing up the rest of his report and trying to figure out why the hell everyone was acting so weird about him and Remus lately. Logan was even doing that thing that Damien had told him when they moved in together he was Not Allowed To Do - which was to give him that look like “I know something you don’t.'' The rule was wholeheartedly ignored because Damien did it all the time, but it was just really annoying this time. 

Come 7:30, he grabbed his jacket and opened the door, only to be greeted with a smiling Patton. 

“Oh, hey Damien! I’m just -” 

“Hey, Patton, nice to see you too. I’ll be back around… eventually, don’t do it in my room.” 

He laughed and nodded, and Damien waved goodbye as he walked down the hallway towards the stairs. It was a long walk to Roman and Remus’s place, but he enjoyed the calm of it all once in a while, even if he’d never admit it.

When he reached their apartment, he knocked on the door and Roman opened it begrudgingly, and Damien went straight upstairs (stupid rich superheroes) to Remus’s bedroom. He threw his jacket on the chair and flopped down on the bed next to his best friend. “It has been too long of a day for anything other than your best wine, man.”

“I have, like, tequila and vodka too, you know,” he said, leaning back against the wall. 

“I have standards, Remus.” 

He laughed a bit. “Nothing is ever good enough for Damien May.” 

Damien pouted. “Not true. You’re good enough for me, why do you think I let you stick around?” 

“My impeccable fashion sense and weird sense of humor,” came Remus’s response, muffled by the fact that he was now halfway through a bottle of beer. 

“And your ass.” 

“I’m blushing.” This was meant to distract from the fact that he was, indeed, blushing. 

Damien rolled over and made himself comfortable in Remus’s lap, staring up at the ceiling. “So… are you mad that I knew that you and Roman were superheroes this whole time?”

“Number one rule of my bedroom is that my brother’s name does not enter this room. That stupid bitch ruins my whole vibe,” Remus said, eliciting a laugh from Damien. “Secondly, I’m not mad. I understand that it’s a problem and a conflict of interest or whatever and I’d rather you keep your internship.”

He reached up and patted Remus’s cheek. “So selfless. Ugh, I could kiss you. You’re the best.” 

“Mmm.”

Four glasses of wine later and Damien was practically straddling Remus as they talked about… something. Both boys were pretty damn drunk at this point so talking was pretty much off the table unless it was something that required few sounds and even less thinking. 

“Have I ever told you how hot you are, Remus?” 

“That’s the wine talking, Dami,” he responded quietly. 

Damien flopped backward onto the bed, taking his legs off Remus’s hips. “I would say that even if I wasn’t drunk. I already said I’d kiss you.” 

“Mmph. You were kidding.” 

He looked at Remus, aghast. “I have never told a lie in my life.”

“You lie all the time.” 

“Ah, wait, no, that’s right,” Damien said, giggling. “I wasn’t lying about wanting to kiss you though.” 

Remus sighed and crossed his legs. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll prove it.” He sat up straight, as sober as someone five glasses of Chardonnay in could be. “C’mere.”

“I’m not going to - “ his sentence was cut off by Damien grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him hard. God damn, this felt good. It wasn’t the best kiss Damien had ever had, because it was sloppy and messy and Remus was messing up his hair as he played with it but the best part for some reason was that he was kissing his best friend. 

His hands were on Remus’s face, on his waist, and then he was straddling him and they were still kissing and - 

“Holy shit, you two are making out,” came Roman’s voice. “Oh my god, I so regret opening this door.”

Remus broke the kiss and threw a nearby plastic cup at his brother. “Why, oh why, are you here?”

“I was going to tell you that I ordered pizza and you two assholes could have some, but apparently you guys are getting sexy up here so -” 

“I’m going to throw you out a window.” 

Roman stuck his tongue out at him. “Do it, I dare you.” 

He shut the door behind him after that, and Remus smiled sheepishly and sidled back up to Damien. “Should we pick up where we left off?”

There were a few seconds where all Damien wanted to do was grab Remus by the front of his stupid green shirt and kiss him senseless, but his fight or flight instinct kicked in and he pushed Remus away from him. “I - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t - I can’t -” he stuttered, getting off the bed and grabbing his jacket. “I shouldn’t have done this. I have to go.” 

“Holy hell, Dami, what are you doing -” 

“I’m leaving, Remus,” he said, running down the stairs as his best friend ran after him. 

Remus huffed. “You’re kidding.” 

“I don’t know what came over me, I - I’ve never felt like that around you before and I guess I was just drunk -” 

“Get out of my house, you fucking asshole!” he cried, tears in his eyes. He turned around and slammed his door, and Roman gave Damien the dirtiest look in his repertoire.

And so for the second time that day, Damien walked through the gardens on the way between his apartment and Remus’s. However, this time, his eyes stung with tears and he could only think about Remus, Remus, Remus…

He didn’t stop to say hello to Logan and Patton, who were watching a movie on the couch, as he stormed into his room and laid facedown on the pillow. He sobbed quietly, trying to make himself feel like his world didn’t just come crashing down on top of him and he didn’t just ruin the best thing in his whole life. 

Patton sat down on the edge of Damien’s bed. “Hey, kiddo, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I fucked it up,” he mumbled into his pillow. 

“Fucked what up?” Logan asked. 

Damien sat up, wiping his eyes. “So… we got drunk, as usual, and then we were flirting a bit, and I was probably straddling him, and then we started making out and when we stopped… I freaked out. I had never thought about Remus like that, and it felt like I was taking advantage of him. I just… I know I don’t like him…” he trailed off, creasing his eyebrows as Logan stifled a laugh behind his hand. “What?”

Patton patted his leg affectionately. “You seem a little lost, kiddo.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Congratulations, Dami, you’re officially the last person to know that you, oh magnificent journalist, are totally into Remus,” Logan deadpanned. 

Damien laughed, still wiping away tears. “I’m not.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, you are.” 

“I am not!” 

“You are!” Patton exclaimed. “You’ve seen every single one of his fights.” 

“It’s a work thing.”

Logan groaned. “If it was a work thing, you would have talked to them about it by now.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, “I can feel it, Damien. It’s one of those things that’s always buzzing in the background behind you, like right now, it’s right under the fact that you’re super angry with me -”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fine! So I like him a little. But now I’ve gone and screwed it up so it doesn’t even matter, and I’m here rambling to you two.”

“He likes you, Damien. He does. You need to apologize for freaking out.”

“I doubt Roman will even let me in the house.” Damien flopped back onto his bed. “I appreciate you two, but right now I want to sit here and cry about lost love until I have to go to Composition tomorrow.”

Patton and Logan relented and left him alone, and Damien laid back down and cried to his heart’s content (not that he would ever tell anyone that). 

The next day in Composition, Damien slid into the chair next to his kind-of-friend and slammed his head down on the table, groaning. 

Virgil chewed on the back of their pencil. “What’s up, Damien?” 

“Mrph,” was his response. 

“Dude, are you hungover or something?” 

He sighed, picking himself up off the table. “I wish I was just hungover. That would make my life so much easier right now.”

Virgil tilted their head, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“You ever make out with your best friend, then freak out on him and run out, then only later when you’re talking to your roommate’s boyfriend figure out that you’re probably in love with him and now he won’t talk to you and his brother is probably about to kill you, which he can do because he has super strength?” 

They chewed on their pencil some more. “No, but are you talking about Prince and Duke? Cause lemme tell you, they are massive pains in my ass,” Virgil said. 

“I don’t think I can tell you that,” Damien responded, laughing. “Anyways, now I can’t even talk to him.” 

“Mm. Did you analyze the essay from last week?” 

The rest of his day passed by like a blur until the gods at the Times decided it was time to punish Damien for his crimes. 

Boss Man Holt Dude 4:36 PM

Hello, Damien. We need you cover a battle that’s broken out between Empath and The Duke on 39th street. Final report due on my desk by this time tomorrow. Thanks, Charles Holt. 

Damien leaned back in the seat of his car and flip off the sky through his sunroof. “You see that, O God Who Hates Me? Fuck you.” 

He gripped the steering wheel and sighed long and hard, trying to exhale out all of his stress. Still mentally hitting his head against the wheel as hard as possible, he drove over to 39th and parked right next to where Patton was standing off against Remus. He tried to hide his car best as possible so he wouldn’t be noticed. 

It didn’t end up making a difference, because after about fifteen minutes of Patton fighting Remus, he noticed that Damien was parked a few meters away and after a bit of an argument with Patton, stormed off and left Patton to fix the mess he’d made by manipulating reality. Damien was half tempted to drive off, but since he’d missed most of the fight he was going to need to take Patton’s statement. 

He rolled down his window as his roommate’s boyfriend walked over. “Hello, Empath, I’m with the Times, could I take your statement on the fight today?” 

“Hi, sir, of course.” (Thank god at least one of his friends knew how to properly conduct themselves.) “The Duke was set on warping the reality of this neighborhood for no other reason than to cause chaos, and I was contacted by the police to slow him down. Luckily, he got spooked when he noticed that the guy he’s in love with that also crushed him completely was watching.” 

(He rescinds his earlier statement.)

“Patton!” 

He shrugged. "I'm not saying put it in your report, I'm just telling you that's what happened." 

"I came all the way here and now I'm being attacked by my roommate's boyfriend," Damien grumbled. 

Patton's face softened even more, if that was possible. "You can call me your friend, you know." 

Damien felt his face heat up. "Yeah, thanks." 

"You're welcome. Anyways, I'm all done here," he said with a snap of his fingers, clearing up the mess, "so you can go home and write up your report. Oh, and also you should apologize to Remus." 

He shot Patton an annoyed glare. "I'm going to." 

"When?" 

As it turns out, the answer to that question was a week later when Logan got sick of him moping around their apartment and kicked him out until he was able to talk to Logan with some inflection in his voice again. This led to him moping in the park. 

Thankfully (not for him, but for his friends and such that were so done with the moping) his cousin texted him at the point Damien was about to turn around and beg Logan to let him back into the apartment. The universe, it turns out, is also done with his moping. 

The Gay Cousin 10:27 PM

hey girl, do you have grandma’s phone number

Actual Mistake (Me) 10:28 PM

life is a curse. why do i exist 

Actual Mistake (Me) 10:28 PM

also yeah it’s [a totally real phone number]

The Gay Cousin 10:29 PM

u okay dami?

Actual Mistake (Me) 10:29 PM

no i’m having boy troubles 

The Gay Cousin 10:30 PM

well you came to the right cousin!!!! what seems to be the issue??

Damien recounted the events of last week to Remy, who was supportive, but also willing to call him out on his bullshit, which is the best balance a person can have. 

 The Gay Cousin 10:35 PM

you need to talk to him, dami. this isn’t something you can ignore and hope that it goes away after a while. if you really like this guy you need to set the record straight. 

 The Gay Cousin 10:35 PM

*gay

Actual Mistake (Me) 10:36 PM

i... yeah. i guess so. i’ll text you later, okay?

Damien turned off his phone and took a deep breath, standing up and steeling his nerves. “Guess I gotta get this over with,” he mumbled to himself. 

He knocked on the door of Remus’s apartment a couple times, only to be greeted with an irate Roman. “Damien, why are you here? It is 11 pm and I have class in the morning - “

“I need to talk to your brother.” 

Roman mouthed “oh” and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I was told you weren’t allowed in here. Remus wants you to, and I quote, ‘go jump up your own ass.’” 

“I get it, I fucked up, but I need to see him!” He rolled his eyes and looked down at the ground. “I wanted to apologize for leading him on or whatever.” 

“Really?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, well, as much as my brain is struggling between the desire to torment my brother and the hope that he’ll find someone that makes him happy someday, you can come in. I’ll go get Remus.” 

Damien bounced his leg up and down as he waited for Remus to come down the stairs. He knew he screwed up - he had been doing that a lot recently - but he was kind of certain that he might like Remus a little bit and that was messing with his whole thing. 

He heard footsteps coming downstairs and his head shot up, glancing at the stairs. The second Remus saw Damien waiting for him, he turned and went back upstairs, and Roman’s annoyed sigh was probably loud enough to hear all the way back in Damien and Logan’s apartment. 

Damien sat back down, putting his head in his hands. “Jesus, I am never going to fix this.”

Roman sighed and plopped down on the couch next to him. “I know I give you guys a lot of shit, but I’m rooting for you two. I want that weird little psychopath to be happy.” 

“You’re a good person, Roman,” he said. “This is really hard for me to say, but I’m really thankful you’re doing this.” 

“Mm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Now come on, just go sit outside of his door and talk to him. He’s been so depressed lately, and I know he’s liked you for a long time. If Remus knows you’re sorry… he’s going to forgive you.” 

Damien gave him a half-smile. “Thanks, Ro.”

He followed Roman’s advice, slowly walking up the stairs and sitting down in front of his best friend’s door. “Hey, Remus. Your brother told me I could come up here. I’m sorry I’m here right now, instead of the day after. I should have come right away.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, picking at his fingernails. “I think I do like you. I think I might love you, even. And I think that’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said. I’m sorry I freaked out on you, you deserve better than that. I’m sorry I blamed it all on the alcohol because yeah, I was drunk but kissing you was the soberest I’d been that whole night. It’s been a hell of a week without my best friend, Remus. And… you don’t have to love me, or even like me, but I at least want you to forgive me,” Damien said. “I just want you to know that I never meant to make you feel used, and I’m sorry I did. It was awful of me.”

There was a small thump against the door, and Damien whipped around to face it. “Remus? You there?”

“I - yeah. I’m here.” 

“Will you talk to me?”

The door creaked open. “I’ll talk to you,” he whispered. 

“I’m really sorry, Remus.”

“I know you are.” He sighed. “I just… I dunno. Something felt right but then you got into my head about it being just ‘cause we were drunk and then I was just angry as all hell with you.” 

Damien nodded. “And I deserve that.”

He bit his lip, which Damien only noticed because it was just adorable. “You drive me crazy, Dami. But it’s your best quality, how close you are to your friends. And if I could have just a little bit of that attention I think I’d be set for life.”

“Remus, I promise you’ve got all of it.” 

Remus smiled, turning to face Damien. “Then I forgive you.”  

He stopped his nervous fidgeting and glanced up at Remus. “You do?”

“Yes, I do, you dumb snake, it’s not like you killed my brother - though I think I’d forgive you for that too.” 

He giggled. “God, you’re amazing.” 

“Here, my turn,” Remus said, grabbing the front of Damien’s shirt and kissing him hard. 

Something switched on inside of him at that moment and Damien pushed him back into the room and slammed the door behind them. These kisses weren’t the fervent, messy ones they had shared when they were drunk, but they were slower, softer, and there was the knowledge behind them that this meant more than a makeout session, and that was good enough for both of them.