#Door is alarmed just sounds like the door itself is anxious to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lefaystrent · 10 days

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Me, Myself, and These Guys Who Kinda Look Like Me Ch. 7

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Thomas/The Sides

Summary: It starts with dreams. Then Thomas starts seeing the dream people in the waking world.

Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point.

AKA, Thomas has to acknowledge the six colorful characters in the room, much to their long-awaited delight.

Ao3 Link: click here

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

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"I believe you wanted a conversation? Let's talk."

And so they do.

Rules are established to assist with boundaries, and in the days that follow, they are adjusted as they adapt.

Rule number one: Thomas's bedroom is a sacred temple. When the door is shut, no one shall utilize incorporeal states of being to trespass. Anyone may knock as needed, but it's up to Thomas if he'd like company. Likewise, if the door is open, it is understood that company is welcome.

Seems simple enough, right?

Thomas wakes up to the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. He scrubs the sleep from his eyes, peering at the alarm clock to see he's been asleep all of three hours.

"Whass it?" Thomas mumbles and pushes up clumsily. He thinks something must be wrong, or that he must not have heard a knock. Maybe he's dreaming. Wouldn't be the first time that he thought he woke up in a dream.

The door practically slams closed.

"Eh?"

Is he...being spied on? What did they want? Who was it? Why did they have to wake him? Can he lay back down and go to sleep? Wow, that was loud. And rude. Or something's wrong. What's wrong? Was he having a nightmare? He thinks he was having a nightmare. There was a math test involved. Ew.

The door opens again, wider this time. Virgil hovers in the doorway, shoulders hiked up to his ears and shame-faced.

"I am so sorry," he blurts out. "I didn't mean to do that. Or wake you. I'll go."

"No, no, what's wrong?" Thomas calls back before the door can close. Sleep dust cakes his eyes, but he's got half a brain functioning. He can tell something's off.

"It's stupid," Virgil deflects, as if that is a compelling defense.

"S'not stupid. What's up, buttercup?"

Wow, Thomas really is only half awake. The only reason his head hasn't reacquainted itself with his pillow is because of his propped-up arm. His eyes don't get the memo. They droop down, closed.

Virgil doesn't answer.

Huh.

Thomas has a sneaking suspicion he'll have to open his eyes again.

"Virge?"

"I, uh, I was just checking on you. In case anyone was trying to break in. Or if you had fallen. Or if there was a gas leak. There could be a gas leak right now. You never know, ya know?"

"...eh?"

"Anyway, I'm dumb, go back to sleep dude. Sorry."

And the door shuts once more, more mindful this time.

If it had just been Virgil, Thomas thinks he could have puzzled through it. Clearly Virgil is the anxious sort. After the fire incident, Virgil has insisted on being present whenever cooking is involved. Even if he's not the one cooking, he wants to watch like a hawk. It's like his own personal lifeguard, but on land. In his house. This is a perfect analogy.

Thomas can hella relate to having anxiety. Most people, when they meet Thomas, mistake him for being an extrovert. And that can be an exhausting image to keep up, but Thomas is an actor after all. Regardless, he wants to cut Virgil some slack. With the installment of the new rules, he's having trouble adjusting, and that's okay. It's all part of the learning process.

Virgil confides that sometimes he would check on Thomas in the middle of the night (or day, curse Thomas's sleeping habits) to soothe his random bursts of paranoia. Thomas sympathizes, he does. If something happens to Thomas and he dies, what happens to the dream people? Where do they go?

It's not just Virgil though. Roman and Remus keep forgetting about the knocking rule.

Thomas dives headfirst back into work the first chance he gets. He sits at his desk in his bedroom, screen displaying a script. It's the final countdown so to speak, and Thomas is delaying the inevitable because the perfectionist in him tells him it's not good enough. There's something missing. It could be better. It can always be better.

"You should throw in a 'Mean Girls' reference there at the end."

Thomas glances towards the bottom of the script. He tilts his head. "Yeah, you're right, I could wear a pink shirt."

"Exactly."

It takes a moment, but Thomas frowns and looks to his right where Roman is reading the script happily over his shoulder.

"I thought I had my door closed..."

The faint smile on Roman's face freezes. His body tenses so hard Thomas can almost feel it vicariously. "Uh...yeaaah."

"Roman."

"...I may have forgotten you can see us."

"..."

"...how mad are you?"

Thomas isn't mad. He understands that it will take time. For years they've lived a certain way. He doesn't expect things to change overnight. However, this has to be corrected. In order to do that, Thomas has to be firm in the boundaries he's set.

Thomas takes one look at Roman's obvious dejection and caves hard.

"Do you want to help me edit the rest?" he asks.

Enforcing boundaries is difficult, okay?! Really, he has no one to blame but himself. He's a sucker. A big softie sucker.

When he discusses this with Logan, the man comforts him by parsing out the reasons behind why he struggles to say no.

"Give me an example," Logan instructs.

"Well, just last night I was laying in bed trying to go to sleep... okay I might have been scrolling on my phone. But anyway! I was in bed, and then the closet door opened."

"Remus?"

"Remus."

"He has a fascination with closets that baffles me beyond comprehension."

"I've noticed. It was kinda spooky at first, which I think was the point. But he ended up coming out and started talking to me."

"Was that all? Sorry, that sounded dismissive, let me rephrase. Is that the only actions he took?"

"Uh...pretty much? He sat beside my bed on the floor and just talked about random things. Like dolphins and Catholicism."

"He has a rather stream of consciousness mentality to the way he jumps from one topic to the other. I believe he only wished to engage you in conversation, albeit at an inopportune time."

"Yeah..."

"Based on the context of this conversation, I guess that you allowed that conversation to continue without interruption?"

Thomas did. He had put down his phone and it invigorated Remus to have Thomas's undivided attention. It's like he'd been saving up years' worth of ideas for this moment.

And Thomas... Thomas didn't want to take that away from him.

"Yeah, I did," Thomas admits meekly, as if he'd been in the wrong. Was it so wrong of him?

Janus sweeps by them on his way to peruse Thomas's book collection. Thomas would think it's an excuse to eavesdrop if Janus hadn't been spending the past few days with his nose in a book. At the very least, he may be taking his sweet time going about it, thumbing through the options.

Janus does indeed reveal he's been listening by commenting, "You're not going to offend him if you tell him to go away, if that's what you're worried about."

"That's not..." Thomas rubs his knuckles together. He squints his eyes as if that will reveal his feelings better. "I don't want to tell anyone to go away."

Janus shrugs and doesn't say anything further. His silence rattles Thomas more than what he could say. It leaves him thinking on it more.

Logan taps at his chin and Thomas waits for him to make sense of this for him. "Perhaps not to go away then. If it is reframed more politely as you saying, 'I am interested in this topic, but as I am busy at the moment, could we discuss this at a later time?' Would that be preferential?"

Still no. Thomas shakes his head.

"What do you believe would happen if you did say something along those lines?"

Thomas imagines it. He imagines cutting off Remus. How it would kill the light in his eyes. He thinks of pushing Roman out of his room. How he'd feel betrayed after Thomas promised to entertain his dreams. He pictures Virgil at his door, Thomas snapping at him to leave him alone. How Virgil would think he doesn't appreciate him.

"I don't want to make them feel bad," Thomas says at length. "And I don't want them to hate me."

Logan places a hand on his shoulder. It's solid and grounding, and for a moment Logan is almost distracted by the contact but pushes through it.

"Remember what we discussed the other day? And how Virgil verbalized a similar fear? That he was afraid you would hate us? You are jumping to a false conclusion and imagining the worst-case scenario. This is known as catastrophizing."

"Besides that," Janus adds, comparing two books in his hands, "if voicing what makes you uncomfortable makes someone upset, then they obviously only care about their own self-interests."

Logan nods in agreement. "For relationships to succeed, communication must take place in some form. If you struggle to verbalize your needs, I would like to propose an alternative."

The proposal is Thomas's stuffed bear Benjamin.

It's wonderfully simple, if a little silly. Whenever one of them has forgotten themselves and phase through a door or wall they should not have, Thomas hands them the bear. It's a wordless gesture that says, "I see you, I'm not mad at you, this is just a reminder." Surprisingly, everyone is supportive of the idea.

Maybe a little too supportive. They are so eager to not overstep into Thomas's life that they frequently overcompensate. As Benjamin becomes an accepted part of Thomas expressing his need for space, Thomas picks up on how much the others are reluctant to voice their need for space. Or their wants in general.

"You guys can come to me if you need anything," Thomas had told them during their heart-to-heart the other day. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

They said sure.

They didn't lie. They're just afraid.

The most Thomas has gotten out of them is Logan and Roman expressing interest in aiding Thomas with meal prep. It's okay now and then, but Thomas makes it clear that it's not necessary and that he absolutely should still be responsible in making his own meals occasionally or order takeout. Logan sketches out a weekly schedule to assist in everyone's expectations, and Roman lists all of the recipes he would like to try.

It's not that fair though. It's for Thomas. The others can't exactly eat.

Or....can they?

"I know you guys don't need to, but have you tried eating?" Thomas asks them. They're sitting at the dining table, a notebook between them.

"Many a time," Roman says. "Every time you eat cookies, Patton tries to steal some. And don't get me started on when you bring donuts home. Logan-"

Logan butts in, "Ahem, Thomas doesn't need that many details, thank you Roman," He fidgets with the pen in his hands, tapping it against the wired spirals of the notebook.

Roman jerks his head in Logan's direction while giving Thomas a look that screams Logan would very much like to try a donut.

Thomas holds back a grin. "But what about lately? Since you guys can touch things better now."

Logan shares a glance with Roman. "There's no need. We don't feel hunger. However..."

"Is it possible?" Roman ties into his thoughts.

"To what end? Do we have a working digestive tract? Could the food be converted to energy? Or would it phase through us at a certain point?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Thomas gets up to scrounge around his kitchen. He thinks he should really go grocery shopping soon; he's running low on quick snacks. He settles for some pretzel sticks and returns to the table.

"Who wants to go first?" he asks.

Logan gestures to the bag for Roman, showing he would rather observe. Roman plucks the pretzel bag from Thomas's hands and stares at the packaging curiously. Cautiously, he removes the clamp sealing it closed and pulls out a stick.

"Can you smell it?" Logan asks.

Roman's face pinches in minor disgust. "Why would I smell it? I'm supposed to taste it, Sub-astute Teacher."

"Smell is entwined with the ability to taste. Without it, perception of flavors would be extremely limited."

"Oh, well," Roman says and gives the stick a whiff. Then he gives it a bigger whiff.

"Anything?"

"I guess? It's different. I don't think pretzel sticks have a strong smell anyway, do they?"

"Go ahead and try it."

Roman nibbles the stick. They observe his jaw movements and listen to the muffled crunching of his teeth. He chews mechanically, much longer than anyone would need to. His brows raise just about to his hairline as he swallows.

"It's salty!" he announces excitedly. "I hate it! I can taste it! And I hate it!"

Roman tosses the rest of the stick in his mouth and plunders into the bag for more. Thomas and Logan watch incredulously as he polishes off the whole bag. Roman never stops telling them about how horrible they taste. He finishes the bag and smacks his mouth.

"Ugh, it's so dry!"

Thomas wordlessly retrieves Roman a cup of juice. Roman gleefully downs the glass in one go.

"That's so much better! What is this? It's so sweet!"

"Apple juice?"

"I love apple juice! Logan! I love apple juice!"

"Yes, I have gathered."

"I must tell all of my friends about this!"

That evening, they gather round the kitchen with everyone to taste test everything in Thomas's fridge and cabinets. If Thomas needed to go grocery shopping before, he certainly needs to after this. They have no limits to their stomach capacities. Patton eats a giant stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and claims he feels no fuller for the effort. Virgil scarfs down an entire tub of rocky road ice cream with such feral intensity that he's left abashed after.

"It was okay, I guess," Virgil says too nonchalantly.

"Who let this raccoon in here?" Janus comments, to which Virgil hisses.

"If we can eat things now, does that mean we'll need to shit?" Remus questions. He's found the pickle jar and is sharing with Logan. They seem to enjoy salty/sour flavors more. "Because then Virgil's gonna have the shits later."

"That was an intolerable amount of lactose," Logan agrees.

Roman whines in protest through a mouth full of pizza, "Must you speak of such crass things while we're eating?"

"It's not like we're real humans," Virgil says, but looks doubtfully at the empty ice cream container while holding his tummy.

Janus has discovered the beauty of wine and has been sipping religiously at a glass. "Real enough to eat."

"Are you feeling the effects of the alcohol?" Logan pauses to wonder.

"I don't think so, but I'm nothing if not determined."

"Spitters are quitters," Remus says, finding some kind of relevance with that train of thought to the current context. When Virgil smirks and says something about professionals gargling, Roman screeches like a banshee. Thomas thinks that is the point of Virgil's interference. He shares a fist bump with Remus.

"Anyway, back to our shit talking," Remus says peppily. Roman's face turns an impressive shade of red.

Janus snickers into his glass, "Oh I am here for shit talking. Who are we shit talking about?"

"Your mom!"

"How very original, Remus."

"Is it okay if I eat the rest of this peanut butter?" Patton asks Thomas. There's not much left in the jar anyway.

Thomas smiles. "Go for it, buddy."

Patton does a happy little shuffle dance and goes to town. The others go back to questioning if they will need to start using the bathroom now. Thomas asks what Patton thinks, since they're standing by each other and he hasn't been talking much.

Patton nods slowly, sagely. "Everybody poops."

As much as Roman is hilariously uncomfortable with the topic, everyone does share a curiosity to the limits of their corporealness. For the rest of the evening, they keep checking in with each other. "Need to poop yet?" "No, you?" "Nah, need to pee?" "Nah, but how would we know?" "It'd be instinctive." "You're instinctive." "Remus, please desist."

Thomas can confidentially say that he's never been a part of a more bizarre conversational topic.

For those at home wondering, none of them ever felt the urge to go. They are left to surmise that the food and drinks they ingest are entirely utilized with no leftover waste. Furthermore, alcohol has no affect, much to Janus's dismay. It doesn't stop him from trying.

Beyond food, Thomas tries to encourage the others to ask him for things they want. Something as simple as watching a movie is a challenge. If they sit down together to pick a movie, it always comes back to what does Thomas want to watch. And even when Thomas isn't watching TV or doing anything with his electronics, they will jump up from them as if electrocuted and ask him if he'd like the TV or computer.

Patton's the worst about it. Thomas nearly felt bad about telling him, "No, I'm good, you can keep watching whatever." It's like he can't believe he isn't monopolizing Thomas's belongings. So they get into "nice-offs" where they're trying to be courteous to each other. "No, you can." "No, you, I insist!" That sort of thing. There's an edge of panic to Patton when he does this.

If only this were as easy as handing him a stuffed bear.

After a few times, Thomas can't stand to see him this way and finally grabs the offered tv remote out of his hands. The brief relief that washes over Patton is replaced by confusion when Thomas sets the remote on the coffee table. Then confusion transforms into astonishment as Thomas grabs one of his hands in both of his.

"Patton, you're okay," Thomas tells him. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself. I don't always need the tv, and whenever I do want it, I promise I'll let you know."

Patton stares so hard at their joined hands that Thomas wonders if he can hear him. They haven't held hands since that day Patton cried. Haven't touched either. Thomas suspects...no, he knows it's a sore subject. He knows with Patton, and most of the others, maybe all of them? They've lacked human touch for so long that they don't know what to do with themselves whenever they receive it. They must crave it. Hell, Janus was brought to tears because Thomas touched his face.

It's another process though, another adjustment. It's a lot of responsibility placed on Thomas for these people he's just starting to know. He likes them, he does. He's caught off guard sometimes by how much he enjoys their company, the sparks they bring to his life as he learns more about them. It's not a bad thing by any means.

Thomas holds Patton's hand and hopes this is a good step. He caresses the top of Patton's hand with a thumb, and Patton's eyes flick, watching the movement.

"You're the priority though," Patton says softly, at a loss.

Thomas's heart breaks for them.

He leads Patton by the hand back to the couch. They sit together and Thomas gently nudges the remote into Patton's hand that he isn't holding.

"Sometimes, maybe. But right now? It's your time. What do you want to watch?"

With a subdued joy that Thomas hopes one day will have all the strength of a hurricane, Patton clicks through the apps and turns on 'Steven Universe'. Thomas sticks with him to watch. He's already seen it, but he'll watch it again any day. Plus, he doesn't want to take his hand away when Patton clutches so tightly.

They progress in paces of patience. Soon, Thomas will need to jump fully back into work now that he's recovered from his sickness. He's texted his team and he'll be meeting with them tomorrow.

The big question is, will his new roommates be able to interact with them?

"We should engage in preliminary testing," Logan suggests.

Roman cheers, "I concur! Why wait for tomorrow what you could do today?"

"Famous last words," Virgil quips.

"Then what do you suggest, Negative Nancy?"

"Why even try? If you never try, then you can never fail. If you never fail, then you won't be disappointed."

"Technically, he's not wrong," Logan admits.

"You're agreeing with him?!"

"I didn't say that. I am no defeatist. I don't fear failure. Indeed, I feel no sense of fear whatsoever."

"God I wish that were me," Thomas bemoans his introverted existence.

"How about I streak naked down the street?" Remus suggests. "That'll get some looks!"

Logan is not the only one who doesn't possess a sense of fear, apparently.

There's enough interest amongst the group to go forward with the testing today. Patton thanks Remus for his contribution but tries to let him down gently and say maybe another time. Roman supplies fanciful ideas of vigilante fighting. Even if bad guys can't see them, they can pretend Thomas has telekinesis powers and make him look cool by floating things at the enemy. Patton also thanks Roman for his contributions but tries to let him down gently as well.

"How about shopping?" Janus says. "I'm always a hoe for a shopping spree. Especially when it's someone else's money that's being spent."

"Thomas isn't some cash cow," Virgil reminds him with narrowed eyes.

"No, don't be silly, he's a cash man."

Before they can get into it, Thomas chimes in, "Sure, I can spare a bit. Where would you guys like to go?"

Predictably, Remus says a sex shop. For the first time, Thomas can kinda see how long-term exposure might render the others a little dismissive towards him. But it is a valid option! Thomas is a grown man, with grown man needs. He's just...not gonna be going to an adult store with people he just became friends with. That's like, level fifty in terms of friendship.

"How about a grocery store?" Logan says. "It would be a practical way to spend your money."

"That's his way of saying he wants more Crofters jam," Virgil translates. Logan doesn't spare him a glance and simply mutters, "Falsehood."

Thomas feels in a teasing mood, so he asks Virgil, "And what about you?"

"Me?" Virgil lifts a singular eyebrow. It's a thinner brow than Thomas's, as if he shapes them. Thomas can imagine him easily with an eyebrow piercing. It'd go great with his aesthetic.

Why is he thinking so much about Virgil's eyebrows?

Thomas inwardly shakes himself and plasters a smirk on his face. "Yeah, you. Do you want some more ice cream?"

Virgil gives a mixture of a scoff and a cough. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Spend your money however you want, Sanders."

"And that's Virgil's way of saying yes, he would love more ice cream," Janus translates.

Patton raises a hand. "Can we get more peanut butter?"

"And pickles?" Remus asks.

"Oh, how about pizza!" Roman says.

"Sure, anything you guys want," Thomas smiles, unable to hold himself back from wanting to indulge them.

Thomas hops in his car and drives to his local Walmart. Logan rides shotgun while Roman, Remus, and Patton squish together in the backseat. It's a twelve-minute ride that the three backseat passengers insist must be enjoyed with all the enthusiasm of an eight-hour road trip. They play car games to pass the time, and Thomas plays the radio for background noise. Logan points out a traffic light in disrepair before Thomas notices and reminds him to treat the intersection as a four-way stop.

They reach Walmart and it's not as dreadfully busy as it could be, but it's still Walmart. Thomas exits the car and trudges up to the store like a man going to war.

It takes him a bit to realize that the others have suddenly gone missing. Surrounded by strangers after spending over a week at home is a bit of a slap to the senses. Thomas is more troubled with securing a shopping cart and avoiding bumping into anyone. He surveys the store and debates where to start before heading towards the very back of the grocery section, intending to work his way up.

By the time he's grabbing a pack of butter, Thomas notices the immediate quiet. There's a chill that's not coming from the cooler beside him. He cranes his neck around to look over the buzzing masses. People pass this way and that. A lady with five kids getting milk. An old man perusing the discount baked goods rack. A couple heading towards the deli counter. More and more inconsequential bodies flit across his vision. And in the middle of the aisle, as if the rest of the world falls away and his eyes are drawn to him, there stands Virgil.

He stands alone, the brightness of his purple patches standing out amongst the crowd. Calmly, he watches people pass by him. No one looks his way, not even once. A teenager passes right through him on her way to catch up with her parents. Virgil's lips twitch up and he turns to meet Thomas's gaze.

Thomas is held captive in the moment. Virgil looks at him, and there's no guessing what's on his mind. Thomas knows. He knows it in his heart.

Virgil shrugs helplessly. They gave it a shot. This changes nothing. He'll tell himself he doesn't want to be perceived anyway while ignoring that little piece inside that pleads otherwise. That piece that's been waiting for so long for someone to just look and notice and not act like he isn't there, like he doesn't exist.

It's a lonely thing to watch the world go by and be told that you can't partake.

As much as it hurts, it's okay, because Thomas at least sees him for who he is. It's enough.

Yet again, Thomas thinks they deserve so much more.

***

The ride back to his apartment is significantly less noisy. Thomas catches glimpses of Virgil and Janus in the rearview mirror sitting in the backseat, neither talking, both looking out their respective windows. They disappear once Thomas parks the car, and Patton and Logan join him while he empties the trunk of its groceries. They're also far too quiet for comfort as they help carry bags inside.

The next day rolls by, Thomas meets with his team, and Roman lingers in the background, an unseen guest. Thomas can see his wistful smile as he watches Thomas interact with his friends. There's longing there to be included. When no one's looking, Thomas offers him a wave. It's enough of an acknowledgement that Roman perks up and swings his feet a bit where he sits on a table.

The meeting goes well. They've brainstormed some future video ideas and have a shooting schedule mapped out. Best of all, no one looks at Thomas like he's a walking hazard. They seem to be relieved that he's recovered and well rested and more responsive than he's been in a long time. Thomas returns home afterwards, and life goes on.

There's not much in the way of testing discussed after that, for a while at least. The previous lack of success is disheartening, and really though, what else is there to test? They are real people to Thomas only.

And Thomas would be a liar if he doesn't admit that he occasionally speculates if this makes him clinically insane. As real as they are to him, no one else can see or interact with them. Doesn't that check the boxes on a lot of psych evaluation tests?

If it's a form of insanity, it's a relatively mild one in terms of negative impact. It could be a lot worse. He's sure Logan could grant him some neat facts to put it all in perspective. That would involve telling Logan about his concerns revolving whether they are real or not. He doesn't want him to think he's invalidating his existence.

Isn't he though? By just questioning this, isn't there a part of his mind that still can't wrap around this? What more can he do to prove to himself that they truly exist?

Without conversing to the others about it, Thomas discreetly slips out his phone and snaps a picture of Remus. He's just sitting on the living room floor, swaying back and forth absent-mindedly. You can see the corner of the entertainment center in the picture. It's not a remarkable picture by any means and doesn't have the best lighting, but Remus brings a sense of peculiarity with his dark prince outfit.

The picture is taken with none the wiser. Thomas purses his lips and stares at his phone screen. He taps his fingers on the back of the case.

Remus's figure never fades. It's definitely a picture of him. Now what does he do with it?

He can send it to someone. Just to see if they can see an image of the others. If not in person, maybe they can be viewed through technological means? But who should he send it to? Not his brothers. Or his parents. Hmm, he can't think of a friend he can send it to without garnering a series of questions for an explanation. Well, he can possibly play it off. But what if he can't?

He scrolls through his contact list before spying his godson's name. Gavin sends him random stuff all the time. Thomas can just tell him it's a meme trend or something.

Trying not to overthink it, Thomas sends the pic along with a question, What do you see in this picture?

A few very nail-biting minutes later, Gavin responds. Is that ur house?

That isn't...the worst response.

Yeah lol

Ur tv cord? Idk is something I'm missing?

Yeah, the invisible man. You can't see him?

Nah, he invisible.

Darn, I told him to turn off that setting before I took the pic. Maybe next time.

Gavin sends back a laughing emoji.

That settles that. If Gavin could see Remus, he would have said something about his outfit or ask who he is or why he's at Thomas's apartment. The kid asks a lot of questions, and to be fair, Remus is very questionable in general.

Thomas doesn't let the others know of his discovery. What they don't know can't hurt them, right?

It turns out to be truer than Thomas can imagine. Curiosity killed the cat. Ignorance is bliss. Be careful what you wish for.

While no one has spoken of the discoveries from the Walmart outing, it doesn't mean it hasn't been on their minds. In fact, Logan in particular has taken notes to record the aspects of their existence. He approaches Thomas and shows him some of his theories and hypothesis.

"I would like to attempt a new test, if you would be so inclined," Logan says, and while he holds his posture well, Thomas senses an underlying nervousness to him.

Thomas doesn't want to deny him this, not when they've struggled with learning how to reach out to him.

"What do you have in mind?" Thomas asks.

They relocate to the backyard. Everyone else joins them. They probably would have anyway, but Logan specifically requests that everyone convene together.

"Are we finally running into oncoming traffic?" Remus asks excitedly, bouncing on his heels.

"Not today, Remus. I have devised an experiment to test the boundaries of our physical attachment to Thomas. Prior to Thomas's illness, we could not stray beyond roughly eighty feet from Thomas. When arriving to this distance, we experience a tethering sensation, as if we cannot walk any further. With the increase to our corporeal prowess, I suggest we ascertain whether this distance remains or if it has increased."

"So you just want us to go for a walk?" Patton asks.

"Oh, why didn't you just say that, Isaac Nerdton?" Roman scoffs.

Logan adjusts his glasses. "Because I wanted all parties to know precisely what– okay, fine. We are going for a walk. But!" He claps his hands to accentuate his point. "This will be regulated so that we can account for all variables. I suggest we test one subject at a time to calculate if there are any differences between distance amongst us."

Thomas raises his hand and waits for Logan to call on him. "So what do I do?"

"You just stand there."

"Cool, I can do that. I'm good at standing."

"Who's gonna go first?" Virgil asks. He shifts his gaze between everyone to see if someone will volunteer.

Patton shrugs. "I could, I guess?"

"What would this prove anyway?" Janus comments, snide in the way he checks his nails through his glove. It would be a funny image if he didn't sound genuinely dismissive of the whole affair. "This won't change anything. Even if we miraculously can wander off to new horizons, Thomas is still the only person who can see us."

"We could break into people's houses and steal their stuff," Remus says.

"Let's not take other people's things," Patton says. "We wouldn't want people to come steal from Thomas, would we? It's not right."

"Morality only matters to those who have a place in society. Last I checked, we don't."

Patton deflates and looks at Janus with a pained expression. "I think it still matters how you treat people..."

"Good for you," Janus says, sickly sweet.

Virgil steps between the two of them. "Okay, what crawled in your ass and died?"

"Cynicism? Disillusionment? A reality check? Take your pick."

Virgil growls and looks at Logan. "You know what? I'll go."

"Wait, wait, let's not start things off angry," Thomas urges. Virgil has begun walking, so Thomas skitters up behind him, grasping on to his jacket. Virgil halts but doesn't turn around.

"This is merely for educational purposes. I did not expect this to warrant a strong emotional reaction."

Roman claps a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Not your fault, Specs. Someone must have pissed in Janus's cheerios this morning."

Janus crosses his arms and puts on an unaffected tone, "Do whatever you wish. Don't let me stop you."

Thomas shares a look with Logan. "I'd like to go through with the test because it's important to Logan. Whether what we discover is any different than what you guys are used to, it doesn't matter. What matters is that it's important to Logan to find out."

There's a brief softening of the eyes behind Logan's glasses. He shuffles quickly with his notebook and pen and then unceremoniously dumps them into Roman's arms.

Roman sputters, "What–?"

"I'll do it," Logan announces. "After all, this is my hypothesis. I will take the initiative and be the first to go."

Logan gestures for Thomas to step aside to the "starting point". Thomas lets go of Virgil hesitantly, but Virgil doesn't protest or turn to look. Thomas shuffles over to the side in the grass and holds still while Logan stands beside him.

"I will count my steps as I go along to measure the distance. Once I reach a point I can no longer move forward, I'll return."

"Okay, easy peasy," Thomas says with false cheer.

Janus doesn't debate any more. Patton offers no assurances. Remus doesn't interrupt. Roman holds the notebook stiffly. And Virgil's head only moves as Logan walks by him. He watches as Logan treks across the grass behind the apartment complex.

Logan keeps his head bowed, watching his steps with careful attentiveness. He crosses the road and carries on through more grass. He rapidly approaches the tree line that begins there on the other side.

"Anyone wanna make bets?" Remus asks. The suggestion falls on deaf ears, but Patton does come over to stand beside him and hold his hand. It must not be a frequent occurrence because Remus glances down at him in surprise but doesn't discourage it.

For Thomas's part, his eyes are glued to Logan's back. His form is getting smaller, more distant.

"That's more than eighty feet," Virgil murmurs, loud in the quiet. His hand scratches at his neck, and when that doesn't seem to do anything for him, he shakes out his hands. Then he shakes out his hands again.

Roman turns to gauge Virgil. He frowns at what he sees, though Thomas can't see Virgil's face from this angle. "You good, Virge?"

"I don't like this," Virgil admits. His foot begins tapping a mad dance into the ground.

"I don't either," Patton drones, morose. Perhaps he's sensitive from Janus's remarks.

Logan treads into the woods. They can see his black polo and blue jeans through the spindly tree trunks. At first, he's there, but quickly he's swallowed into the vegetation.

Virgil runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a stream of air. "What if he gets lost?"

Roman laughs, "Get lost? He's going in a straight line, Virge."

"What if something happens to him? What if– what if– I don't like this."

"I thought you were on board with this."

Virgil doesn't answer. He starts pacing back and forth, and Thomas can see his expression now in his peripheral. His brows are knotted, eyes too wide. His pacing becomes erratic.

"Hey, hey, don't do that. You're just gonna work yourself up," Roman calls to him, coming over to stop him. Virgil tries to walk around him, but Roman blocks his path.

"Why didn't one of us go with him? We should have gone with him!"

"Virgil, please, it'll be alright. Pat, may I have an emergency dose of positivity over here?"

"I don't like this," Patton repeats, and his tone is even more dejected. He holds onto Remus's arm with both hands. He leans into him, shaking at the arm insistently. "I don't like this."

"...Patton?" Remus hums in confusion. He looks around to the others to see if they're witnessing how close to crying Patton seems, but Thomas's eyes can't leave the tree line where Logan vanished.

"We have to go get him. Please, we have to–"

"Stormcloud, please," Roman soothes, and Virgil clings to the front of his tunic like a drowning man. His breaths are coming shorter and shorter, his words jumbling amongst the gasps. Roman stands there, dumbfounded. "Uh, Remus?"

"Kinda busy with Pat," Remus says, watching as Patton unravels. Tears cascade down his face and the first whimper of a sob comes out. "Okay, what the fuck is going on?"

"He's gonna die, he's gonna die-" Virgil rants over and over and he launches into a full-blown panic attack. "Janus, Janus, help!"

"Please!" Patton wails and falls to his knees. Remus barely manages to catch him and guide him down safely.

Thomas's feet move without intention. He takes one heavy step, then another, movements sluggish and wooden.

Janus is there suddenly, hand at his elbow to stop his forward momentum. Thomas is barely conscious of the peering eyes, one human and one snake. Janus glances between a hysterical Virgil and a sobbing Patton and turns to Thomas.

"Thomas, can you hear me?" he asks.

Thomas can, but it's like he's under water. He tries to step forward again, but Janus won't let him. Thomas feels the resistance as if steel cables are latching onto him with grappling hooks. Serrated edges sink into his flesh. No, no, it's not from outside. It's inside. There's a pull inside him, and it tugs.

"Janus!" Virgil begs.

"Please!" Patton cries.

"What the hell is wrong with them?!"

"I don't know! It's not like this has ever happened before!"

"Janus, what is Thomas doing?"

The words drift over Thomas, like seafoam floating by in a vast sea. There are more important matters to attend, like how he can't see Logan. If Logan is gone, then that means–

"Thomas, listen to me," someone says, and there are hands cupping his face. Thomas can't feel them, yet he knows they're there. "You have to shut this down. You have to stop this. Now."

But Logan is gone. He's gone, and Thomas is left bereft without him. The earth beneath his feet tremors, and the sky splits open in a downpour. The sun will fall and set the world ablaze. And Thomas feels the ache building up in his chest with mind-numbing certainty.

"Thomas!" the voice yells at him, hands shaking him. Thomas looks up into a face that he knows. He knows that face. He knows, he knows, he knows. How could he not? That's why it's so familiar. Why couldn't he see it before?

"I'm sorry," Thomas whispers.

His chest splinters in agony. Fear bleeds out abundant. Grief ravages his heart.

Thomas falls to the ground screaming.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #writing #fanfiction #me myself and these guys who kinda look like me #angst #hurt/comfort #panic attacks #comedy #humor #everyone needs a hug

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thetinygentledoggy · 2 years

Text

Rose Thorn In His Side

A/N Hey! This is gonna be my first fanfic ever, and kind of long so bare with me as I world-build. I get nervous thinking about posting this but my maladaptive daydreams just come up with the best material I have to type it out. This is gonna have some key points that I've entirely made up and doesn't exist in the TLW universe but hey, anything to make the story flow yeah? Lastly, this is Fem!Rabbit (medium-sized)(Y/N Ramirez)x Death(Lobo)

conejita = bunny (fem)

if there are spelling errors feel free to alert me! enjoy ☆

_________________________________

Chapter One: Table 7a.

'I am definitely a morning person.'

You thought to yourself as the sunlight from your bedroom window basically blinded you. You sighed, it must be 10am. You always woke up at 10am. No alarm needed, somehow your body knew what awaited it and got itself up without much help.

'I am absolutely a morning person.'

You tried to convince yourself as you stretched and felt all of the stiffness from sleep crackled and popped itself away. You finally summoned the energy to stand and immediately a shiver shot up from your feet to your head. The floor was ice cold, making you want to jump back into the sunny warmth of your bed. But instead, with a heavy sigh you treaded forward into your bathroom. You splashed warm water on your face and when you did you realized your face was cold as well, and the water felt nice. You let the water form a shallow pool in your hands and gently placed your face there.

'Maybe you really are a morning person.'

The thought crossed your mind only to be quickly interrupted by the sound of loud knocking on your front door.

You hastily patted your face dry and rushed to the door to see your long-time friend, Mateo standing there, looking more guilty than a murderer in Church.

"Don't be mad-" he started before you cut him off with a whiny retort.

"Noo Mateo don't do this to me pleasee." You begged, trying to avoid the inevitable B.S you knew was gonna come out of Mateo's mouth.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but Diego got hammered last night and he's really sick this morning, I even went over to check, just to make sure he wasn't lying and the poor kid is throwing up chunks. There's no way he can work, can you pleaaase work a double, por favorrr."

You sighed, knowing that you were definitely going to cover for him, but you were absolutely going to complain to yourself about it all morning.

"I am NOT a morning person, Mateo...but fine. I will come in, give me an hour and I'll be there and before you ask, sí, you do owe me, as well as Diego."

"Wait what, I'm just the messeng-" Mateo blurted before being interrupted with a playful "Adíos" and the door being shut in his face.

While getting ready to start your work day hours earlier than usual you cursed everything under the sun.

Curse your anxiety for making it so you would work at the same bar for 6 years, too afraid of new settings and people to ever try and get another job.

Curse Deigo for not knowing his drinking limits, forcing you to come in early instead of following your usual morning routine that you clung to so tightly.

Curse your need for control over your life, making you feel so overwhelmed and anxious when simple things like covering for a coworker occurs unexpectantly.

Curse life for being so difficult all the time.

Curse death too because if you were immortal you wouldn't have to worry about any of this at all.

You chuckled at your mini rant in your head before heading off to work at the bar that's been somewhat of a second home to you.

When you arrived at the bar, you took your usual position behind the counter, setting up your work area with clean glasses and making sure your kegs were ready. Your boss, Maria, placed a hand on your shoulder making you jump.

"Hola Y/N! Sorry to call you in like this, I know you already were gonna work the night shift but idiot one, Mateo, spent the after hours taking shots with idiot two, Diego, knowing he's a lightweight so, here we are, your lunch is on me today okay?" She gave you a reassuring smile before zipping away to take care of her duties.

You caught Mateo cleaning a table across the room and you shot him the coldest dirty look you could muster. No wonder he looked so nervous this morning, he was the main culprit. Mateo mouthed a pitiful "Sorry...love you!" while making a heart shape with his hands before running away out of your view into a backroom.

You sighed, and decided that you were going to try and make today a good day. At least at work you can escape your head. No room to overthink when you have to think about orders and drink making and cleaning tables.

Looking at a wall clock that read 11:34am, you decided to get lost in your work.

To your appreciation, the earlier work day went by fast. You saw the usual customers with their usual tales and problems and met a few newcomers who were just happy to see the bottom of a glass.

Checking the time again, it read 1:39am.

'Last call is at 2am, if I go fast I can be outta here by 3am.' You thought to yourself while drying some shot glasses.

Most of your coworkers bid you goodnight a while ago, they were lucky enough to only have one shift. You were left with Gabriella, a nice girl with good street smarts, and Maria, your ever so loving boss.

Gabriella bumped her hip into yours with a tired but happy smile on her face. She was always a bit of a space invader but she also was the first person to check in on you most times as well as defending you from customers who got a bit belligerent after too many drinks. So, you didn't mind her touchiness.

"Hanging in there Y/N? We're almost done! I'm ready for a nice hot bath tonight." she said while she picked up a few glasses, helping you get them clean.

"I'm definitely tired. When I see Mateo and Diego again they're never gonna hear the end of it....like...ever. I will haunt them in the afterlife, just watch Gabi, just watch."

Gabriella laughed before greeting Maria who then came behind the counter and got very close to you and Gabriella.

"Alright ladies, mira mira, table 7a.-"

You glanced up at the table that sat in the back corner of the bar, there sat a hooded figure, so tall they looked like they would tower over you even while sitting. You couldn't make out much of the figures face, except for a nose and mouth that definitely belongs to a wolf.

You were a little unsettled by them, afterall, if they wanted a late night drink, shouldn't they have approached the bar? Why sit in the dark, and why not speak to the bartender..? Are they looking for trouble?

Your thoughts were interrupted with the rest of Maria's sentence.

"He called me over, said he wants a Black Russian, I've got to count the drawers for the night so you two handle that..and be extra kind to him..seems like he's in a bad mood..."

Maria looks up at you both with a hint of concern in her eyes.

"If he causes trouble..call the coppers first...then me..kay'?"

Both you and Gabriella were a bit taken aback by Maria's request.

'Did he really give her that bad of a vibe?' you thought before returning your glance to the hooded figure. He now was looking up, and straight at all three of you. He had piercing red eyes that seemed illuminated no matter the lighting. You could swear you saw a small sinister grin on his face as he stared intently. You suddenly felt so uneasy, and unsafe. Your heart quickened its pace so you forced yourself to look away. Maria had apparently already left and you turned your head to see Gabriella caught in the same petrified state you were in.

"Gabi-" you started only to be cut off by her somewhat shaky voice. She snapped her head to look you in the eyes.

"Y/N, I'll wash the dishes, wipe the tables, sweep the floors and even prepare the kegs for tomorrow. But I'm not serving him."

"Gabi, you don't have to do all tha-"

Gabriella took another glance at the hooded figure and whatever she saw made her have visible goosebumps.

"I'll start now." She chirped quickly before dashing into the backroom.

You looked back at table 7a, and now there was no mistaking it. He was smiling. A bit wider than he was before as well. He found something funny, and for some reason, that gave you the same goosebumps Gabriella had.

You didn't want to trigger an anxiety attack, which were at times unfortunately frequent for you, so you figured you would just make his drink, the quicker you can get this stranger out of here, the better.

His drink...

.......

His drink....

'What the hell did he order again???'

You cursed yourself for forgetting what Maria said he wanted. You cursed this strangers intense gaze for erasing all of the thoughts from your head. Maria kept her office locked while counting money, and there was no way Gabriella remembered since she never had the intention of serving him anyway.

You were gonna have to ask him.

'Shit.'

You grabbed your little notebook and pen from behind the counter before hesitantly making your way to table 7a.

You tried to keep your eyes down at the floor but you did glance up while making your way over and confirmed your suspicion that this wolf was staring you down all the way to his table. It left this ball of uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. You took a big but quiet breath in as you approached his table.

"Hola señor, I'll be serving you tonight, could you please remind me what your order was again?" You prayed your unease didn't show in your tone as you put on your best customer serving voice.

The wolf said nothing for a few seconds, staring at you with a smile that maybe would seem friendly on anyone else but him. Those seconds felt like an eternity as you took the time to see his face up close. His fur was white, with a dark mask like pattering over his eyes leading all the way down his snout. Despite the ghastly hood that might have suggested otherwise, his fur looked soft. You admittedly thought about what it would feel like to touch it. You concluded that on closer inspection, he was a bit handsome.

"A Black Russian." His voice interrupted your shameless thoughts. His voice was deep, smooth and cold and had the inflection like he thought something was just a bit comical.

"Of course, coming right up." You quickly spun yourself around and sped walked away back to the safety of the counter.

In practically no time, the Black Russian was made. This time while walking back to the table you made sure to keep your eyes down. You wondered when the last time someone even ordered a Black Russian was.

When you reached his table, you desperately didn't want to meet his eyes again, they made you feel like you were frozen in place, staring hopelessly at something that looked like it kinda wanted to eat you. So instead you focused your sight on your hand placing the drink on the table, trying again to hide your uneasiness.

All the while, Death, unbeknownst to you, was having a bit of a fun time watching you. The way you had tapped your pen nervously on your notepad, the way you bounced from one foot to the other, biting your lower lip and desperately trying to avoid eye contact. And he especially took notice of the way your tail twitched now and again. He knew he made you unbelievably unnerved and you wanted nothing more than to escape the situation. And yet there you were, taking his order with the shakiest smile ever. You could've cowardly escaped to the backroom like your friend but you didn't. You endured his unsettling gaze and he admittedly loved every moment of it.

"Will that be all..it's the last call so.." Your voice finally gave in and you couldn't hide your uncomfortability towards the end of your sentence.

He decided he was having more fun than he planned to, and he wasn't finished torturing you yet. He licked his lips, and you took a shameful amount of interest in the size of his teeth and the way his tongue rolled over them.

"Actually, I meant to order a White Russian. Would you mind.." He looked up at you, giving a smirk that didn't hide his devious amusement.

It took you a second to find your train of thought.

"Right, a White Russian..so cream then, I'll be right back." you chirped before retreating once again to your counter.

While fetching the cream needed for his drink, Maria finally left the safety of the office, she had her coat on, so you guessed she was ready to leave. She glanced over to the wolf, before turning her gaze back onto you.

"Any trouble out of that one?"

Truthfully, despite feeling as though you wanted to run for the hills during your entire interaction with him, and having a hunch that you will never forget those daggers he has for eyes. He wasn't actually guilty of anything other than looking like serial killer. You couldn't truthfully claim he did anything worth being labeled trouble.

"No, he um, just wanted a White Russian instead." you stated while motioning with the small pitcher of cream in your hand. Maria breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's good, well Gabi seemed a little sick when I saw her last in the back so I sent her home, she didn't get to wipe the tables so that and locking up are your final tasks for the night. It's raining pretty hard so try and find a spare umbrella in the back. Night Y/N." Maria then made her way out of the back exit. Leaving you and the wolf in the bar alone.

. . .

Oh right, his White Russian.

You spun around to see him tapping his claw on the table. Guess you took too long, he no longer seemed as amused.

You zipped to his table, while simultaneously trying not to spill any cream. When you approached him he immediately startled you with his voice.

"Any longer and the ice would've melted..and I thought rabbits were meant to be fast." He gave a deep half chuckle.

You were almost offended at his comment, there wasn't a need for stereotypes, after all you could say a lot about him being a big scary wolf. Suddenly, you had newly sprung courage bubble up in you. You poured the cream carefully and decided to speak up.

"If you had ordered the right drink the first go around you wouldn't have to wait Señor Lobo. We all can't be perfect."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you desperately wanted to swallow them back up. Hesitantly, you peeked up at the wolf. For a second you thought you might've saw a surprised expression on his face before quickly being replaced by one of devious amusement once again. He gave a deep hearty laugh before downing his drink and licking his lips. You cursed yourself for focusing on his mouth so much.

He then abruptly stuck out his paw with a grin.

You hesitantly placed your hand in his and gave a small shake.

"Death." he spoke as he tilted his head slightly, not letting go of your hand.

"What? Wait like, that's your name or..are you wishing it on me?" You asked giving a fake chuckle, hoping that he wasn't actually wishing death on you.

"That's my name. And yours is?" He still held your hand, it was strangely cold for someone who was covered in so much fur.

"Y/N..Ramirez." You gave a small smile before gently trying to pull your hand back only for him to hold it tighter for a second longer before letting go.

You hadn't really thought too deeply into his name, you've met a lot of folks with all sorts of unique names, some they were given, others they came up with themselves. If anything, his name suited him well. You couldn't imagine if he had a name like..José or Luis.

"Well, Death..the bar is now closed and I've just got these tables to clean before locking up. It was..nice meeting you and I hope you come again." You gave him the same spiel you gave every new customer.

"Of course, enjoy the rest of your evening, Y/N," He said smoothly. You nodded and reached into your servers belt to fish out his receipt.

However, when you looked up to give it to him, he was gone, and on the table was a pile of gold coins that were worth more than what one lousy White Russian would cost.

You looked around in confusion as you didn't comprehend how he could've gotten past you without making a sound. Or how he could've left through the front doors without ringing the bells at the top. You shook your head as you realized how tired you were. You scooped up the coins and left them on Maria's desk for tomorrow, after that you wiped the tables down and let your mind wander as you locked all the doors and windows of the bar.

You initially thought that Death's encounter with you would leave you with nightmarish memories of his red eyes and chilling demeanor. Instead, however, you kept thinking about all the wrong things.

You thought about how you liked his fur, and how soft it looked.

You like his scent, it reminded you of how it smells right after it rains.

You liked the way he talked, deep, smooth, and confident.

You liked the way his tongue glossed over his large teeth..and the way your hand felt in his..

You forcefully ejected yourself from your embarrassing thoughts as you locked the front door and stepped into the hard rain.

'Right. Maria did say it was raining and I did not grab an umbrella. What a damn idiot am I.'

You sighed deeply, preparing yourself for the 15 minute soaking wet walk you were gonna have to take home. You only got a couple paces in the direction of your home before you stopped in your tracks.

'Ah, I was right. I didn't forget those eyes.'

You thought to yourself as you immediately recognized Death's illuminated red eyes in the shadow of a tree not too far from where you stood. Hesitantly, you called out to him.

"...Death?"

Instantly, he emerged from the shadows, chuckling to himself as he approached you.

"Bien, conejita, muy bien. You have good awareness."

For some reason, you made a mental note to remember his compliment to you.

"Were you out here waiting for me?" you asked as he finally got within a few feet of you. It was then you truly realized how big he was. You weren't as small as other rabbits in your family, in fact you kinda considered yourself tall for a rabbit and yet, your head only came up to his chest, forcing you to lift your head up to look at him.

"Sí, it's raining hard and you have no umbrella. So I'll be a gentleman and lend you this."

Suddenly the hard pellets of rain no longer battered down on you, you blinked and realized, Death no longer had on his poncho, instead, it was on you.

You felt your cheeks and ears burn red with embarrassment.

"Ah, gracías.." You focused your sight on the ground as you found it too hard to face him in that moment.

"No problem, though of course you can't keep it..we are strangers after all, sí?"

'Oh right. Well then he'll have to take it back...after I get home.....Oh.'

You then realized what he was implying. He was gonna walk you home, you felt your cheeks and ears burn even hotter, and for a second you wanted to feel the rain on your face to cool you down.

"Right, well just this way then.." you trailed off as you began picking your pace back up in the correct direction.

While you focused your gaze on the ground out of shyness, Death focused his gaze on you.

He admittedly wasn't entirely sure why he was out here, walking some bunny to her home in the rain. He only meant to stop in for a quick drink after a long day. He mentally flipped through reasons that led him to be here, chauffeuring a little rabbit home.

He found you interesting, he liked the effect he had on you, specifically.

He had a strong effect on practically everyone. The running, screaming, pleading, fighting back kind of effect.

But on you, there was a push and pull. He noticed the way you couldn't be still under his gaze, how when given the chance you practically scattered to the comfort of the counter away from his table...but he also noticed the way you had unconsciously grazed your thumb over his paw when you shook hands... and the way your breath hitched when he leaned in too close. He chalked up his interest to wanting answers for this strange behavior and figured a quick chat on the way to your home would be all he needed to satisfy his curiosity.

....Plus, he enjoyed the way you had to keep pulling up his poncho because it was much too big for you. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

"It's just past this uphill, not too far." You interrupted his thoughts. Your voice shaky, but this time not from uneasiness, instead, you found yourself very, very cold. Despite his poncho covering most of your body, it wasn't thick enough to not be eventually soaked in the relentless rain.

The shivering as well as the now slippery uphill walk slowed your pace greatly. Death, who was already making an effort to not speed past you with his naturally longer strides now had to come almost to a complete stop. He watched you helplessly attempt to conquer a small hill.

He didn't want to spend this much time on this little side quest of his. Shaking his head, he decided there was no other option.

He swiftly got close behind you and scooped you up bridal style into his arms. You screamed out in surprise as you found yourself suddenly looking up at Death, and the cloudy night sky, with rain more gently now, hitting your face. Death looked annoyed as he moved his mouth dangerously close to your ear.

"Hush now, conejita, you're starting to become more of a burden than you're worth." he whispered in your ear.

Offended, you scowled and looked away from him.

'It wasn't like I asked you to walk me home.' You thought to yourself as you begrudgingly let Death carry you in his arms, wishing you were home already in your warm bed.

Death looked down at you, seeing your hurt expression made him upset. He truthfully didn't mean to come across as rude as he did. The whole reason he's even here right now was to talk to you. Strangely for him, he regretted his comment and tried to change the subject.

"How long have you worked at the bar?" He asked plainly.

"Six and a half years, 17 days and 14 hours but hey who's counting." You grinned at your joke. You honestly did love working at the bar, despite all of the challenges it can present you.

Death nodded before carrying on.

"So then, you've seen many different kinds of people. What do you think of them?"

You gave your answer thought before speaking, humming while you did so.

"Ahh, most people are fun. They just want to let loose and chat everyone's head off. That, or they are looking for some comfort in drinking. Either way, I've had no real problems with most of the customers. I just do my best to give them what they need."

The rain has now come to a light sprinkle, the cold air pushed against you, making you want to retreat into the fur of this large wolf, but you refrained, not wanting to cross a line.

Death hummed in response and then there was a silence. You closed your eyes and focused on the crunch of the leaves under Death's feet as he carried you to home.

You could faintly hear his breathing, calm and steady despite just overcoming the uphill in the rain. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest combined with the sway of the walk was just the break you needed after such a long day.

Death's voice broke the silence.

"And what do you make of me."

Although it was a question, Death said it like he it was more of a thought to himself, as if he already knew the answer and was just thinking out loud.

You took even longer to answer this time.

"I think you must have it hard, with your appearance being so...unnerving. But you're a good guy I think. Plus, when you get a good look, you look kinda handsome. So cheer up, and don't be so down, you don't have to be the big bad wolf, you can be whatever you want."

You decided to answer honestly as you saw your cottage not too far away. And it's not like you'll ever see this guy again, so who cares if you say something just a bit embarrassing.

Suddenly, Death placed you gently onto your feet and removed his poncho from you.

You turned to look at him, hoping your honesty didn't tick him off. Death stared off at something else. This time he was the one avoiding eye contact.

"You're home, rabbit." He said as he put his poncho back on himself, seemingly unbothered by how cold and wet it was.

You turned to see your cottage just a few paces ahead of you.

"Ah thank you, be safe on your travels."

He paused, still glaring into the void.

"You too conejita, I don't want to see you too soon."

Before you could ask him what that last part meant, you blinked and he vanished. And somehow, with his departure, the air felt warmer.

That night, after a much needed shower and dinner, you laid in your bed with your head full of nothing but the wolf from the bar.

You wished on every star you could see from your window that he wasn't just a passersby.

That you might get to see Death again.

You drifted off to sleep, with dreams of Death filling your head.

.....

Not far from your home, Death sat against a tree. Your words replaying in his mind. He ruffled the fur on the top of his head with a heavy sigh.

He knew he couldn't leave you alone after that.

End of chapter one.

#puss in boots #death x reader #death puss in boots #pib death #puss in boots the last wish #lobo x reader #puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots the wolf #wolf x reader

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cinnapuppymilk · 2 years

Text

Rose Thorn in His Side

A/N: Hi!!! if you think you are seeing this post AGAIN, yes, yes you are! I had to switch accounts so I'm reposting this here and all following chapters will be posted to this account. I pinky promise to write extra spicy scenes to make up for it! Mwah!! xoxo

Original A/N Hey! This is gonna be my first fanfic ever, and kind of long so bare with me as I world-build. I get nervous thinking about posting this but my maladaptive daydreams just come up with the best material I have to type it out. This is gonna have some key points that I've entirely made up and doesn't exist in the TLW universe but hey, anything to make the story flow yeah? Lastly, this is Fem!Rabbit (medium-sized)(Y/N Ramirez)x Death(Lobo)