#if the world is against dlampr i am against the world

[fossilizedhysterics]

cw for suggestive humor🙏 . . . . . . . . . .

today, i bring you more funnies. tomorrow? who knows.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tell the Truth

Prompts: aaaa the way you write angst is just *chefs kiss* wonderful. I’ve been really enjoying the butterfly project series, it has made me cry multiple times. May I request some fluff to balance the angst? - anon

Excuse me while I sob over Redemption Never Came and politely grabby hand for more angst with a happy ending (Roman angst my beloved) (Also you are an amazing fanfic artist :D) - anon

This is so heartbreaking and whumpy but so soft in the end and I would devour a second part about everyone trying to help undo all the negative patterns they've all instilled in Roman and just showing him affection and everyone's hearts breaking a little more each time he's surprised they actually want to be around him. - LadyofhteWoods

And now a part of me wants to see all those scenarios again, only this time Roman gets loved- walk in the kitchen, get a hug. Sit on the couch? Cuddle pile. Go on a quest? Bring friends, if hurt, patch up and movies. Crying in bed because you had a bad time and your brain is screaming that you suck and a wave of depression has rippled through you and you feel horrible? Have some tea… cry it out…. We’re here. - A_tiny_star_prince

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecating thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 7688

Roman lies. A lot. Maybe it's time they did something about it.

Roman’s lies don’t vanish overnight. How could they? When he’s so used to repeating them, over and over, in a horrific little mantra before he goes to sleep, how can he be expected to get rid of them in only one night?

That doesn’t make them less difficult to hear.

Janus is downstairs, helping Virgil fold up one of the blankets strewn about the living room, when he winces and hisses.

“J? You okay?”

Janus nods, jerking his head upward. Virgil follows his gaze and winces too.

“…Princey?”

“I think so.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s Roman.

“I got this,” Virgil says quietly, taking the blanket from Janus, “you go. He seems to let you help more than he lets us.”

He never really had the choice to let me.

Janus swallows heavily as he appears outside Roman’s door. The lies aren’t nearly as poisonous as they were a few days ago, but they’re strong enough to curl his tongue at the bitterness in his throat. He raises a hand to knock on the door.

The lies falter for a moment before another one floats through.

Don’t come in.

He smirks, gently pushing the door open to meet a darkened room.

“Impressive,” he says softly, making his way over to the figure in the bed and perching on the end, “that could’ve been one of mine.”

He’s rewarded with the quietest of huffs before a head shyly peeks out at him from the covers. Janus smiles and tilts his head.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Roman shuffles a little. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was summoning you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Janus glances around the room. His computer is off and shut. The bathroom light and fan are off. He looks back. “Can I help, sweetie?”

A shuffling of the blankets that’s probably supposed to be a shrug.

“Let me come find you, then,” he murmurs, standing and moving to where the head was a moment ago, “how did you get this many blankets on top of you?”

He slowly starts to move them out of the way, peeling back layer after layer, only briefly wondering whether or not Roman can breathe properly under these. It’s a careful act, one he treats with the same reverence as cleaning his gloves or his scales, creating a little cocoon of blankets as he gets further and further into the covers.

The last one puffs just the slightest amount, up and down.

So you can breathe, good.

Janus doesn’t move this one all the way out of the way, just lifts it up enough to peer inside. Roman’s little face peers back at him, partially covered by another blanket clutched tight to his chest. He looks so…child-like.

The realization makes something warm turn in Janus’s chest.

“Knock knock,” he says softly, “anyone home?”

Roman blinks. “Mm.”

“May I come in, sweetie?”

“Mm.” Roman jerks his chin toward Janus’s clothes. “Lose the sharp bits.”

Janus snaps his fingers, transforming his usual clothes into a soft yellow shirt and sleep pants. “Better?”

“Mm.”

“How did you manage to get so many blankets balanced on your bed,” Janus asks as he slips beside Roman, “mine always fall off after three.”

“Practice.” Roman shifts to make room.

Janus frowns. “Come here, sweetie, let me cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The frown deepens. “Sweetie?”

Roman buries his face a little deeper into the blanket. “You don’t like cuddling. Virgil an’ Remus said so.”

Oh, Roman…

“Come, sweetie,” he insists, tugging Roman gently into a proper hug, “there.”

“But—but—“

“I may not be as big a fan of cuddling as you and Patton,” Janus says firmly, cupping Roman’s face, “and I’m certainly the type that enjoys being tackled by Remus—“

Roman snorts.

“—but you’re upset,” he finishes gently, “and I want to help.”

Burden.

Needy.

Don’t understand boundaries.

Don’t deserve help.

Janus hisses. Roman sighs.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he assures, still cradling Roman’s face as he pulls him close, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“I know, and I—I don’t want you to leave, but—“ Roman swallows— “I just—I still don’t believe you’re here.”

Janus wraps a pair of arms around Roman’s waist and squeezes. “I’m real, I’m here.”

“I just—“

There’s another lie swirling in Roman’s brain, too nebulous to make it all the way to Janus, but present enough that it makes his mouth tingle. He leans down to kiss Roman’s forehead.

“…you said it was your job to protect the Ego.”

“That’s right, sweetie, it is.”

“I guess I…I just…”

Janus gives Roman another encouraging squeeze. Roman brings the blanket further up his face.

“…I guess I figured that if you—if you could h-hate me that much or h-hurt me that badly and not—not care, then you…maybe you…”

Janus’s heart clenches as the lie finally makes itself known.

Not worth protecting.

He pulls away, shushing the heartbroken whine that Roman makes, taking off his gloves and wrapping every arm around the poor thing. He presses another kiss to his forehead, letting the hiss out into his hair.

“That’s not true, sweetie,” he promises, “and you’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you and letting it get this far.”

And the poor thing is so tired, so weary that he goes limp in Janus’s arms, save for the blanket clutched tightly to his face. Janus frowns, opening his mouth to say that might be a little uncomfortable, what with Roman’s arms tucked between them, when he starts putting the pieces together.

Roman is still wearing a fair amount of clothing, he’s got something pressed up against his face, under his chin, and he’s got so many blankets piled on top of him that even Janus feels warm.

“And here I thought I couldn’t feel more rotten,” he whispers, carding one hand through Roman’s hair, another scratching gently between his shoulder blades, “but you must be in agony.”

A questioning hum is let out against his throat.

“You’re still touch starved, sweetie,” he says in way of answering, squeezing a little tighter, “are you still cold?”

There’s a soft rush of breath as Janus cups the back of his neck and then a noise is just about torn from his throat as he uses it to pull Roman close.

“Oh, shh, shh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “I’m right here, sweetie, I won’t leave you.”

They lie there for a while longer, Roman’s arms slowly lowering the blanket until he shyly puts his arms around Janus in return.

“There you go, sweetie,” he encourages, “hold onto me, that’s it.”

“Why—why are you letting me hug you?”

“Because it seems like you’d like to hug me.” Janus squeezes him again. “You don’t need to have a reason, sweetie, if you need a cuddle, you can have one.”

I need a reason. I need an excuse. I need an argument. I have to convince you.

Another hiss. “You can always ask for hugs, sweetie, you don’t need to convince me to hug you.”

“…really?”

Oh, Roman… “Yes, sweetie, you can ask any of us.”

The wave of disbelief that hits him makes him grit his teeth.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise.” Another kiss to his forehead. “You’re not unwanted, you’re not a burden.”

The silence he gets implies that Roman may not want to prove that—or disprove it—for himself right now.

“…can we just stay here for a bit?”

“For as long as you need, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, settling them in for some rest, “for as long as you want.”

——————————

Patton is in the kitchen, the first one downstairs this morning. There’s already a pot of coffee brewing and he sets the kettle up on the counter. He reaches up to pull the mugs for everyone. The plain black one for Logan, the Nightmare Before Christmas one for Virgil, the sparkly one for Remus, and the blue puppy one for himself. He frowns.

Roman used to keep his mug down here too. This really big red one with a golden crown on the side. He hasn’t seen it in ages.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He turns and sees Roman walk into the kitchen, smiling brightly as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, not a seam or stitch of his prince costume out of place. He strides into the room like he owns it, as if he’s just come down the stairs in his resplendent palace to a crown of adoring onlookers.

“Ah! Patton!” Goodness, he speaks like it too. “Good morning!”

“Roman!” Patton rushes forward and wraps him in a hug.

This is where everything goes wrong.

Roman tenses. Not in a way that means he wants out, but out of sheer surprise. Patton waits for Roman’s arms to wrap around him but instead, there’s just a very, very soft touch to his shoulder.

“Patton,” he asks quietly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great, kiddo, why?”

“W-well, you’re…you’re hugging me.”

“Sure am.”

“…why?”

Suddenly Patton feels very cold.

He pulls back, not enough to let Roman go completely, but enough to look up and see a truly heartbreaking look of confusion on his face. He can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his mouth as he raises one hand to his face.

“Are you asking why I’m hugging you?” Roman nods. “I want to hug you, kiddo. You’re hug-shaped.”

“I’m…what?”

“Hug-shaped,” Patton repeats, tugging him a little closer with the arm still around his waist, “you’re worth hugging, I like hugging you.”

“O-oh.”

And Patton has to watch as every scrap of confidence falls from Roman’s expression, his shoulders slump, and he looks like he loses some of his height, even. The shift is so drastic that it almost springs tears to his eyes at how much Prince Roman suddenly looks like a lost child, swimming in a costume too big and too heavy for him. Roman face contorts as he looks at a spot on the counter, furrowing his brow as if it’ll explain everything to him if he just glares hard enough.

There’s something fragile about the way Roman leans into Patton’s hand, something breakable about how warm he is right now. Patton shifts his weight to his other leg and there’s a flash of panic in Roman’s eyes, quickly stifled but there.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling Roman back in for a proper hug, “I’m right here, it’s okay. You just let it out, okay?”

Roman’s breathe shudders a little into Patton’s shoulder. Then he starts pushing Patton away.

Patton listens, confused, until he watches Roman shake himself and put the mask of the prince right back on.

“Terribly sorry,” he says in the awful, awful cheerful voice as he rakes a hand through his hair, “don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t,” Patton blurts before he can stop himself, “don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do what, Padre?”

“Don’t pretend,” he says, reaching out for Roman again, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Or that you don’t want something.”

“I don’t like being needy, Patton,” Roman says in a soft voice that’s just this side of wobbly, “and you don’t like me needy.”

And doesn’t that just feel hot and guilty in Patton’s throat?

“I like you, sweetheart,” he says instead, “and you’re not being needy if you want comfort or even just a touch. You’re allowed to want something, Roman, you are.”

Roman huffs in disbelief and turns.

“No, Roman—“ Patton hurries to get in front of him— “you are.”

Something flickers across Roman’s expression. Patton doesn’t even need Janus to tell him that Roman thinks he’s walking into a trap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Patton says quietly, “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I? I’ve made you think that your job is wrong, that you—that you’re wrong and you’re not, kiddo. You’re not wrong. You’re not awful. I promise.”

Roman’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Patton coos, wrapping him back in a hug, and finally, finally Roman’s arms come up to wrap around him too, before he’s being squeezed so tight it borders on painful.

Patton doesn’t care.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” He rocks them back and forth a little as Roman buries his face in his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, I know we will.”

They stay like that until the kettle goes off and Roman startles, jumping back a little bit. Patton soothes away the last of the jitters and smiles, watching Roman look like…Roman. Not the Prince, not the horribly lost child, just…just Roman.

“I think that’s my cue to make you the biggest mug of hot chocolate you’ve had since Christmas,” he says quietly, “now what mug would you like?”

Roman glances at the cabinet. “Anyone is fine.”

“Then why don’t you go grab one while I get the hot chocolate?”

Patton busies himself with the box, purposely letting Roman have his privacy as he picks out a mug, trying not to make his smile too blinding when he turns and sees Roman shyly hold out a big red mug with a sparkly crown.

“Good choice,” he says softly as he takes it from him, “I missed this mug.”

Judging by the way Roman’s mouth curls up in a little smile, he knows what Patton meant.

——————————

Virgil walks into the room and sees Roman sprawled out across the chair. He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s got to give it to Janus; even though he knows he can hear lies, he’s not sure he would’ve believed that they were actually coming from Roman. Because Roman looks the fucking picture of relaxed right now. It looks like he saw Patton and Logan on the couch and decided there wasn’t enough room for him to take up as much space as he wants. It looks like he’s occupying the entire fucking corner and not just the chair. It looks like he’s every bit the arrogant prince they used to think he was.

Then he sees how tight his jaw is and the slight tremble of his hands.

The room isn’t warm, there’s no reason for Princey to be shivering. There’s certainly no reason for him to be so tense as he sits in the chair, tapping a pen against his cheek in a fabulous impression of mindless thinking but is actually a carefully controlled way of preventing himself from moving any further.

He’s gotta hand it to him. Princey’s good.

Virgil walks up to Roman and shoves his hands into his pockets as Roman looks up.

“Dark and Stormy,” he says in a perfected casual lilt, “is there something I can do for you?”

And wow, okay, if this is what Janus hears all the time then Virgil has no idea how he fucking does it.

Janus hears lies, Virgil hears fears.

Please don’t make me leave.

If you want the chair I’l give it to you, I’ll move, I’ll sit on the floor, I’ll be quiet, but please don’t make me go. I want to stay, please, can I—can I stay? Is that okay?

Virgil tilts his head. “Move the book.”

Roman furrows his brow. “What?”

“The book.” Virgil nods to the notebook in Roman’s lap. “Move it. Move your arm.”

Confused, Roman does as he asks only to squeak in surprise when Virgil pronounces it perfect and plonks himself in Roman’s lap.

“Virgil!”

“Yeah?” Virgil pulls out his phone and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“You—you’re—“ Roman still doesn’t move— “you’re in my lap.”

“Sure am.” Virgil looks up at him and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No?”

Roman’s voice drops too. “What?”

Virgil indicates his weight. “No? This okay?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine, I just—what?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Virgil reaches behind him to take Roman’s free hand and pull it close, tucking it under his chin and clutching it there. Roman’s hand trembles. He finds himself absentmindedly running his thumb over the knuckles, the palm, the fingers. He keeps his eyes on Roman’s face.

Roman’s other arm lowers, gingerly resting on Virgil’s legs. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Princey,” he whispers, “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Roman’s face twitches. “…so have I.”

“What, been awful to me or awful to you?”

For a moment, he thinks Roman’s just going to say that he’s been awful to Virgil. Which, yes, he was in the past, but not like Virgil’s been. But instead, Roman opens his mouth and shakily whispers: ‘both.’

“I know, Princey.” Virgil squeezes his hand again. “You’re all good with me, and we can…if you want, I can help with the second part too.”

Roman’s eyes widen and godfuckingdamnit that hurts.

“I gotcha, Roman,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together, “and ‘m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently.”

Roman swallows, Virgil’s eyes drawn to the roll of his throat. “You…you want to help me?”

Roman, you’re gonna ruin my reputation of not having a heart by smashing it into fucking pieces.

“Yeah, Roman,” he reassures, “I wanna help you. You’re important.”

“I am?”

“Sure are, Princey.” He lightly knocks his head against Roman’s. “And if it ever feels like I don’t believe that, call me out on my bullshit. ‘Cause that’s bullshit.”

“What are you two muttering about over there?” Patton shakes his head fondly when Virgil decides to just turn his head upside down instead of turning around. “Virgil, that’s not good for your spine.”

“We’re metaphysical, Pop-star, who cares?”

“When you start complaining about neck pain,” Logan says wryly, “me.”

He glances up too and Virgil hides a smirk at how his face softens when he spots Roman’s expression.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Roman says hurriedly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s Hug Roman time,” Virgil says immediately after, “so I’m hugging Roman.”

“I think that’s less of a hug than you sitting on his lap,” Logan says, standing, “but we’ll never fit all of us on that chair.”

Virgil feels more than hears Roman’s inhale as Logan and Patton start moving the couch cushions to the floor. He sits back upright just in time to see Roman’s hopeful face and butts his head against his again.

“Come on, Princey, let’s go.”

“…are you going to stand up, or…?”

“Or you could carry me.”

“Virgil,” he hears Patton chide.

“No, no,” Roman says, “it’s fine, I can carry him if he wants to be carried. I will need my hand back, though.”

Okay, yes, Virgil does enjoy Roman carrying him a bit too much for altruistic purposes but it’s worth it when Roman goes to gently set him down and the other two pull him down instead.

“There,” Logan says softly as Roman’s head comes to rest against the base of the couch, “much better.”

Roman opens his mouth to say something when Logan’s hand tangles in his hair and it turns into a slightly strangled sound. Patton chuckles, wrapping his arms around Roman and sighing softly.

“Hey, who wants to play a game?”

Remus’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“We’re already playing a game,” Virgil says, “it’s called Cuddle Roman, now get your butt down here.”

Remus gasps. “My favorite!”

“Okay good,” Virgil mutters as he moves out of Roman’s lap to make room for Remus, “I totally thought he was talking about butts.”

“I have a feeling, my dear,” Janus sighs, striding from the shadows and totally not making Virgil jump, “that it’s both.”

Remus just cackles. Janus takes a seat, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands in his. Roman frowns at him slightly, his head still spinning from the amount of people around him.

“What—is there something wrong?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s Hug Roman hours. So I’m here.”

Vigil chuckles at the blush on Roman’s face. “So this is becoming a regular thing, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“Yay!”

Remus just holds his brother tighter.

——————————

“…come in.”

“If you’d like to reschedule, Roman, it’s no trouble, I’m happy to…”

Logan trails off as he walks into the room, Roman’s back to him as he hunches over a table near the door to the Imagination. He shuts the door quietly behind him and tucks the notebook under his arm.

“Roman?” He takes a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“Never better, Specs,” Roman says cheerily, too cheerily, “just give me one moment and I’m all yours.”

Logan frowns. “If you’d like to reschedule, Roman,” he repeats, softer this time, “I can assure you, it’s fine.”

“No, no, that’d be rude.” Something crinkles in Roman’s hands. “Just—just one moment.”

There’s a heavy clunk and a barely contained hiss.

“Roman—“ he starts forward— “are you hurt?”

“Not hurt.” Another clunk. “Just…incredibly clumsy, it seems.”

“Can I help?”

If he weren’t paying attention, he would miss the way Roman’s shoulders tense with disbelief.

“N-no, that’s alright,” Roman says, the first time his voice has slipped, “I’m just…no, it’s alright.”

He jerks his head toward the desk, being very careful not to let Logan see his face.

“It’s over there, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Logan looks, then walks over to the desk and carefully sets down his notebook. He glances up at Roman and can’t stop the soft noise at seeing Roman’s hands shake and fumble with a large bottle.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “Roman, please.”

Roman freezes.

“…please what?”

“Let me help you,” he says, walking over, “let me help you with this.”

Roman shudders and tries to laugh again. “You don’t need to busy yourself with inane and worthless tasks, Logan.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“You’re not inane or worthless, Roman,” he says firmly, “nor are you a task.”

Roman’s shoulder is cold under his hand. He cups it nonetheless and leans closer, mindful to keep his gaze down and away.

“Please?”

Under his hand, Roman sighs. “…if that’s what you want.”

He’s not prepared for when Roman turns around, a bottle of micellar water in one hand and cotton ovals in the other. His makeup—done so wonderfully this morning—is smeared and wearing away, his nose bright red under the concealer. Logan lets out another soft noise, taking the proffered items and gently pushing Roman to sit on the table.

He takes one of the cotton ovals and gets it damp, cupping Roman’s chin in one hand.

“Let me know if anything starts to sting or hurt,” he instructs softly and starts to clean the smudges from his face. Roman sits perfectly still, his gaze down at Logan’s tie. His hands fold neatly in his lap and he looks every bit the cooperative ideal.

Except for the way he looks terrified every time Logan so much as shifts his hand.

“You are not worthless,” Logan says quietly as he works, swapping out the cotton ovals when needed, “you are not annoying me. You are someone I care about very deeply and someone I enjoy helping.”

Roman’s chin wobbles.

“I am always impressed by the ideas you create,” he continues after quietly bidding Roman to turn slightly, “and you never cease to amaze me with your creativity.”

Roman’s throat works against his hand as he swallows. “Remus—“

“Remus is Remus,” Logan interrupts gently, “turn—yes, there you go—and you are Roman. You are clever, you are kind, and you are wonderful, and I care about you very much.”

He takes a new cotton oval and takes Roman’s chin again, tapping gently until Roman makes eye contact.

“Close your eyes,” he bids, “and let me know if they start to sting at any point.”

Roman closes his eyes and Logan carefully, carefully starts to clean off the eyeshadow. The golden sparkles are stubborn, clinging to the skin, but he works patiently until the last of them come off. He realizes after that the oval is wetter than it was when he began.

“Oh, little star,” he breathes, glancing around and summoning a soft washcloth to clean Roman’s face the rest of the way, “it’s alright, you can cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

“It’s stupid,” Roman mutters, raising a hand to swipe angrily at the tears, “it’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, it’s not stupid.” Logan gently but firmly places Roman’s hands on his own shoulders and replaces them with the cloth. “Tell me?”

“I—it’s not even a quest.” Roman’s voice cracks horribly on the last word. “It’s just—I was making something and it broke and I—I worked really hard on it and now it’s ruined.”

Logan lets out a soft noise. “I’m sorry.”

His chest aches when the apology makes Roman shake himself. “It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t want to just dump that on you.”

“I asked you to tell me what was wrong,” Logan chides, patting his cheek dry, “you’re not dumping anything on me.”

He sets the cloth aside and cups Roman’s face with his hands.

“And I am also sorry,” he whispers, “that I have made you believe that I do not worry about you the same way I worry about Thomas.”

Roman’s eyes fly open. “You—you what?”

“I care about you very deeply, Roman,” Logan says, “you’re very important to me. So yes, of course, I worry about you. You’re upset, and I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me. I…I have not behaved well toward you. And I will remedy that.”

A new wave of tears meets Logan’s thumbs carefully swiping them away.

“Bonk?”

Roman leans forward and lets Logan rest their foreheads together. After a moment, his hands move to give Roman a proper hug, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“What were you making, if I may ask?”

“…just a house.” Roman sniffles. “It got destroyed in the last brainstorm.”

“Would you like help?”

“…don’t we have to work on the ideas?”

Logan smiles, resting their foreheads together once more. “This feels more important, doesn’t it?”

Roman’s small but warm smile is more than worth the extra hours they’ll have to spend working on the videos.

——————————

Somehow they forgot.

Somehow they forgot that Roman was scared of the dark.

It wasn’t common that thunderstorms plagued the Imagination, simply because—well, Thomas didn’t need literal brainstorms when he’s got Logan working with him. Sure, sometimes Remus decides he’s going to make his entrance extra cliché and arrive in a literal flash of lightning. Or Roman will create a field of flowers larger than the eye can see and soft bruised purple clouds will roll across the sky, quiet thunder and light rain that feels like a cushion.

But it’s never enough to cause a blackout.

For a moment, they’re all just confused. Thomas’s apartment is fine, Thomas is fine, so they don’t understand what’s happened. Then Remus points out that they, uh, maybe didn’t close the door to the Imagination as tightly as they should have.

He gets smacked upside the head for that.

So they’re here, in the middle of the dark, trying frantically to figure out how to not run into everything. Well, three of them are fine. Virgil can see in the dark. Janus can see in the dark. Remus can see in the dark.

“Is that because you’re the Dark Sides,” Patton mumbles as he puts his glasses back on for the fifth time in the past minute, “or do you each have some kind of ability?”

Remus smiles, even if Patton can’t see it. “It’s more fun!”

“That doesn’t—“ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose— “that doesn’t even answer the question, Remus.”

“I think you’ll find that’s his justification for most things,” Janus says wryly, taking Patton carefully by the arm and guiding him to sit on the couch, safely out of harm’s way.

Virgil elbows Remus to get him to put down the Morningstar, please, and sits down next to Patton. “How long is this going to take to go away?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Probably won’t be that long. We all just gotta sit tight.”

Janus raises a hand to his mouth—not that Logan can truly appreciate his expression—and mock gasps. “Remus, suggesting that we don’t do anything?”

“Oh, fuck off, Snakey.”

“Language!”

Remus blows a fat raspberry. “Even I know it’s a bad idea to try and do something right now. I mean ask Roman—“

It takes a moment for them to realize that Roman isn’t sitting there.

“We should go get him,” Logan says after a moment, “just to make sure we’re all in the same place.”

And with that, Remus is off, stomping up the stairs and conveniently forgetting that two Sides can’t see past the little pinpricks of light at the bottom of the windows. Virgil rolls his eyes and makes to stand, only to frown.

“Virgil?” Logan touches his elbow when he notices him pause. “Are you alright?”

“Feels like I’m being summoned.” He rubs his chest absentmindedly. “But not really.”

“Well, let’s just keep an eye on—hey!”

Virgil doesn’t even hear the end of Logan’s sentence before he’s yanked into another room.

He blinks, disoriented, shaking his head to figure out where he is. Only when Remus bursts up the stairs and pouts that how dare Virgil sink out to beat him here does he realize why he’s here.

Judging by the way Remus’s face falls a second later, he does too.

Remus knocks lightly on the door. After a moment, he curses and goes to knock louder.

“Don’t,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Remus’s arm, “you’re gonna freak him out more.”

“Well, I can’t just blow the fucking door open,” he growls, shaking him off, “that’s gonna make it worse.”

He opens his mouth but another sharp tug from his chest makes him wince. “Okay, then don’t bust it down. Just—oh, god, we gotta get in there.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Remus doesn’t rear back and kick the door open, which says something about how concerned he is. They can’t see much of anything except for—

—oh.

Oh, no.

Roman notices immediately when the blackout happens. How could he not? He’d been in the middle of trying to sort out his journal for the day when suddenly he was drowning.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Within an instant, his chest seizes. He can’t see. He can’t see. There’s something—

No. No, it’s fine. He’s in his room. Everything is fine. Because he’s safe. He’s in his room, he knows where everything is, he knows what everything is in here, he’s fine.

There’s nothing here to be scared of. There’s nothing here to be scared of.

So why is Roman so scared?

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. He’s a prince, for Disney’s sake, he’s the protector of the Mindscape, he’s—he’s—

He’s Prince Roman. Not some newly minted squire crying because he’s away from home for the first time and it’s all dark and scary and he can’t see anything because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t tell where anything is and he swears he can see things moving in the shadows and—and—and—

Roman shoves his fist in his mouth before he can whimper.

No. No. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

…besides, what would the others say?

He’s a prince. He’s Roman. He’s not some scared weak thing. He’s just—he’s just—it’s—it’s—

They can’t see him like this. He’s supposed to be strong. He’ll never be taken seriously if they don’t see that he can be strong. They don’t take him seriously already, do they? Let alone if they could see him in the dark, alone, hyperventilating, terrified.

But he is.

He’s—he—

Something moves.

Oh, god, something moved.

He freezes, goes absolutely still, tries frantically to still his heaving chest, be small, be unnoticeable, his pride doesn’t matter right now, it doesn’t, he’s not gonna be hurt if he can’t be seen—

“Ro-Bro?”

His next inhale is a whine.

No, no, not Remus—he can’t—not Remus, Remus is strong, Remus will laugh at him, Remus loves the dark, he can’t cry in front of Remus, not for this—

“Oh, Ro-Bro,” he hears through the haze, “Ro-Bro, I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot, hey—hey—“

He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry.

“Hey,” Remus calls, tugging carefully at the hand clapped over his mouth, “hey, don’t do that, Roro, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop it, it’s gonna fucking hurt if you do that, you know that—“

The sob that tears itself out of his throat as Remus pries his hand away hurts his ears.

“Hey, Roro,” Remus soothes, taking his hands and squeezing them firmly, “hey, you gotta just be here for me, you focus on me, okay?”

“Re—“

“Come here, Ro.”

Remus scoops him up into his lap. To hell with whatever is twisting around in the shadows, Remus is holding him in his lap, rocking him back and forth and Remus is of the dark.

A rush of shame through his stomach and the first real sob into Remus’s shoulder hurts.

“Nuh-uh, Ro,” comes the mutter over his head, “don’t hold it in.”

The shame only grows. Then Remus tightens his grip until it’s all he can feel.

“I’m right here, Ro, I’m right here. It’s okay. You can be scared.”

“N-not scared.”

A gentle hiss in his ear as something—someone presses against his back and more arms than he can count wrap around his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Remus murmurs as he starts, “it’s just Janny.”

“Boo,” Janus whispers as he presses a kiss on his shoulder. Why—why is he here—did he—did he lie too much? He’s not scared, he’s not scared—

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers as Roman starts to flinch, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, sweetie, stop that. We’ve got you.”

“You’re scared, bud.” Is that—is that Virgil? “Hey, hey, buddy, we got you. I’m sorry, Roman, I forgot you were so scared of the dark.”

Can’t be scared, can’t be scared—

“Shh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “stop that. You’re allowed to be scared, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Virgil presses closer, nudging Janus’s head out of the way and replacing it with his own. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Roman’s neck, finding the place his collar digs into his neck and loosening it. Curse him. Curse him.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no—“

Janus hisses gently in his ear again.

“No—“ Roman’s breath hitches— “no, no, no—“

“Roman,” comes Logan’s warm voice from somewhere above him, and no—

“Give him to me,” he hears again after a moment, and when he feels Remus’s arms begin to loosen and Janus pulls away he mewls—

“Hush, little one,” Logan says softly, gathering the poor prince into his lap, “you’re safe, you’re right here, it’s just a blackout.”

“You’ll—“ Roman hiccups, his hands still pushing Logan away from him— “you’ll laugh—“

“Never,” comes the chorus, Logan’s arms firmly around his waist. Then another pair of hands covers his and pulls them away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, gently but firmly placing his arms around Logan’s neck so Logan can cuddle him properly, “sorry it took us a little longer to get here, we had to take it slow up the stairs.”

“Pat—Pat—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, crouching down to run a hand through his hair as Logan tucks him into the crook of his neck and Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, “we’re all here, it’s okay.”

“Stupid—st—stupid,” Roman mumbles, “I’m stupid—“

Another hiss, followed by a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Stop lying, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “stop it. You’re not stupid.”

“I’m a prince afraid of the dark,” Roman spits out, disgusted, “of course I’m stupid.”

“Falsehood,” Logan murmurs with more tenderness than Roman can remember, “you’re not stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m crying because I’m afraid of the dark,” he spits again, “I’m af-fraid of the dark—I’m afraid of the dark, I’m—I’m afraid—“

He’s afraid of the dark.

Patton presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t like the dark either, sweetheart.”

“You’re—you’re not—you’re not crying—“

“No, I’m not.” Another kiss. “But you are, Roman, and that’s okay.”

“Come on, Princey.” Virgil butts his head gently against Roman’s. “You just gotta breathe first, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus calls from somewhere over his shoulder—what has he been doing? Where’s he been?— “come on, I got all the pillows.”

“Re?”

“Come on, Ro-Bro,” Remus murmurs, appearing at his other shoulder, “close your eyes.”

“It’s already d-dark, Re.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna get the blanket in your eyes.” Suddenly, there’s a swath of fabric hitting him in the face. “It’s just for a moment, Roro.”

“Ready?” Logan scoops him up. “Up we go.”

“H-how can you see?”

“He can’t,” Janus says, suddenly appearing behind him, “but I can. Come now, my prince, we’re just over here, come on…”

Roman lets out a soft noise of surprise when his back hits something soft.

“Snap yourself into something more comfortable, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’re all just going to stay here for a while.”

Patton takes his hand and kisses the back of it as Logan helps tug down the t-shirt he’s poofed himself into.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, “I’m sorry I’m so scared.”

“None of that now, sweetheart,” Patton chides, cuddling into his side—oh, Patton’s in soft things too now— “you’re gonna be taken care of now. We’re right here.”

“I’m right here, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, promptly flopping down over Roman’s legs, “and no one else is going anywhere.”

Virgil huffs, curling around his head and ruffling his hair. “He’s right, Princey. Just relax for a little.”

“H-how long is the blackout going to last?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Janus says, snuggling into his other side, taking his hand between two of his, “but we’ll be here the whole time. Now please, sweetie, breathe.”

He tries. But it’s still dark and even though he knows the others are here, he can still feel the darkness pressing in on top of him. He can still see things moving in the shadows. He can feel it. He can see it. It hurts.

“Roman,” comes Logan’s voice, warm in the dark, “Roman, listen to me.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, dear,” he says, “it’s alright. Virgil is by your head, and he can see in the dark.”

Virgil gives his hair a little tug. “Right here, Princey. I’ve got you.”

“Patton is on your left. He won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses his cheek. “I won’t leave you.”

“Janus is on your right. He can also see in the dark, and it’s his job to protect you.”

Janus leans down to kiss his temple and squeezes his hand. “My prince,” he murmurs tenderly, “my sweetie.”

“And Remus…”

“Nothing’s laying a fucking finger on you, Ro-Bro,” Remus growls from down by his feet, “they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

Logan chuckles. “See?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, little star,” he says softly, “what do you need?”

“W—where are you?” Roman’s hands tense in Patton’s and Janus’s. “Where—I—I can’t—“

“Hush now,” Logan says, so softly, so softly, as a hand cups his cheek to brush away his tears, “I’m right here, I know you can’t see me. I’m sorry. I know it’s dark. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay, my dear, shh.”

Roman tries to reach out for him only to be thwarted by the grip on his hands.

“Hush, Roman, it’s alright, what can I do?”

“S-stay, please, stay—I want you to stay—“

“I’m right here, can I—“

“Please—“

He almost sobs again with relief when Logan lies down, his head tucked over his shoulder, curling his arms about his waist.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses the back of his hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, Princey.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Roro.”

It takes another half an hour for the storm to end and the lights to flicker back on. Roman stays tucked up in their arms, their soft words in his ear, gentle hands wiping away his tears, until he can blink up at all of them and murmur ‘thank you.’

“Of course, sweetie.”

“We’re here for you, Roman.”

“It’s no problem, Princey.”

“We’ve got you, kiddo.”

“All you gotta do is ask, Roro.”

——————————

Remus knocks on the door, the present in his hands. Roman opens the door and tilts his head.

“Re?”

“Can I come in, Ro-Bro?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Roman shuts the door. “What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Remus says, holding out the box.

“Oh—Remus, I didn’t—I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t miss anything, Ro,” Remus says quickly, “and I’m not expecting anything in return. Just wanted to give you something.”

He shuffles.

“And I, uh, I also haven’t really apologized for the shit I’ve done to you, so…it’s that too.”

“O-oh.” Roman clutches the box. “Thank you, Remus. Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He watches as Roman carefully opens the box and pulls out the stuffed octopus.

“Oh, Re, this is so cute!” He holds it up, looking at the little face. “I love it, thank you.”

He turns it over.

“Wait, what’s…”

“It’s a mood toy,” Remus says quietly, “if you flip it this way, it’s happy.”

The cream side of the octopus has a little smiley face.

“And if you turn it inside out—“ Roman flips the plush so that a red face frowns at him— “it’s sad.”

Roman’s eyes widen and he looks up at Remus.

“I know you find it hard to ask for things,” Remus says, edging a bit closer, “so I thought this could…help.”

“Re…”

“And I—oof!” Remus lets out a grunt as Roman tackles him onto the bed. He chuckles, his arms wrapping tightly around his brother. “I’m glad you like it Roro, just promise me you’ll use it?”

He gets his request a few days later.

It’s been quiet, Thomas is taking a break, and they’re all in various corners of the living room. Janus and Virgil are lazing about in the patch of sun by the window, Patton is in the kitchen, Logan is working on something on his laptop, and Remus is toying with the grip on his Morningstar.

Roman walks down the stairs and he’s clutching a little red octopus.

“Hey, Ro,” Remus says quietly, hopping up and scurrying over to meet him as he comes down the stairs, “you wanna go be alone?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing gingerly into the living room. Remus turns to see everyone paying attention to them, including Janus, who’s sat up fully and is reaching out to Roman.

“Come here, sweetie,” he calls, “is your brain being a bastard?”

Distantly, Remus hears Patton huff at the language but no one says a word as Janus gathers Roman into his chest, bending to murmur softly in his ear. Virgil scoots closer, acting as the guardian, letting Roman relax with the knowledge that nothing will surprise him right now. A gentle tap on Remus’s shoulder and he turns to see Logan, who bends closer.

“What do we do to help?”

“Help me make a mattress big enough for all of us?”

Under Logan’s guidance, Remus manages to make a normal mattress with lots of comfy blankets and pillows. Patton comes from the kitchen with a glass of water set on the table near the three on the floor. He pauses as he turns and quickly sets a cup of tea next to it.

Roman’s grip on the octopus doesn’t lighten up, even after he’s been in Janus’s arms for a while, even after Logan’s gone over and helped Virgil walk him through coming out of the spiral. Janus walks over to Remus and Patton and quietly tells them they should try and get them all to eat something. Nothing too straining for Roman’s system, but something.

Patton brings out a few bowls of snack food and sets them at the foot of the mattress. Then he goes and gently cards his hands through Roman’s hair.

“Come on, kiddos,” he says softly, “let’s move to the mattress.”

Logan scoops Roman into his arms, depositing him safely in the center of the mattress, little red octopus in tow. The rest of them cuddle around him, some Disney movie playing on the TV. Roman eats, then lays his head on Remus’s shoulder. Logan takes Roman’s free hand into his lap and cradles it there, stroking it with his thumb.

About halfway through the movie, Roman turns the octopus so that the cream side smiles at the screen too.

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “christmas baubles” rating: T warnings: platonic dlampr, some violent humor, food, christmas genre: fluff (tiny bit of angst) description: Virgil spends Christmas with everyone. It goes surprisingly well. (this is written for @potatopriestlord for @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! happy holidays ♡)

It's Christmas time.

It's Christmas time, and Virgil doesn't know how to feel. This year, Patton's invited Janus and Remus. "A new beginning," he claimed, and who is Virgil to argue? He wants a new beginning. He does, but he just-

Well, it's not quite the same. He's used to Christmas with Janus and Remus and he's slowly becoming used to Christmas with Logan, Roman, and Patton, but- Combining them?

His heart stutters at the thought.

Don't be such a dummy, he tells himself as he carries in one last box of Christmas finery for the tree. The lights have already been strewn, in white and gold. Multi-colored tinsel is densely packed in one box, ready to be flung over evergreen branches in a rainbow tapestry. All that's left, really, are the ornaments.

Virgil isn't sure he's ready for the ornaments.

They aren't regular ornaments, you see. They aren't shiny glass baubles or childish popsicle stick and Elmer's glue contraptions. They're memories.

And he's painfully aware of every memory destined to fit on the tree.

"You ready, Virge?" Roman asks, a candy cane sticking out of his mouth. Virgil nods, swallowing his nerves back. It will be fine, he reminds himself. Just because Jan and Remus are coming this time doesn't mean anything will go wrong.

Roman hands him an ornament. It's a delicate reenactment of a cabin, snow falling down the windows in little drifts. Virgil grasps it with shaking fingers, his mind already drawn into the bauble's memory.

It's his first Christmas with the other sides since childhood. He doesn't want to intrude, but Patton insists. They don't even know his name yet, think he's nothing but a bother, but Virgil goes anyway because Patton gave him that look and he can't resist it.

They've transformed the commons into what looks like the inside of a cozy log cabin. Patton beams when he sees Virgil's hesitant tread down the stairs.

"You made it!" Patton says cheerfully. Logan gives him a cordial nod. Roman ignores him altogether, too focused on putting the last finishing touches on the tree. There are heaps of red and blue ornaments in various shades, but no purple, yellow, or green. Not that Virgil expected any.

"Uh, yeah," he says, shrinking into his hoodie. He feels like an imposition. Desperately wishing he could go back up the stairs and take refuge in his room, Patton instead takes his sleeve and tows him further in, handing him a mug of hot chocolate. It warms his perpetually chilled fingers and he can't help but awkwardly smile in thanks at the moral side.

"Thanks," he mumbles, his cheeks flaming like the sunset.

"Sorry," Roman apologizes, his face tinted red. "I um, I wasn't very princely that year."

"It's fine, Princey," Virgil says with a shrug. "The feeling was mutual, remember?" The next ornament is an old one. A fragile one. One that Virgil thought had been lost.

"Patton found that one," Roman tells him. "I haven't checked it out myself."

"Oh," Virgil says, feeling dazed. His fingertips brush the childish blobs of paint that stain the ornament's surface.

"Come on!" Creativity says impatiently, hopping down the stairs two at a time.

"You're gonna fall," Caution warns, flapping an oversized sweater sleeve. "Be careful."

"I am careful," Creativity retorts, but Caution notices that he takes the remaining steps a little slower. "Come on, Curiosity's already awake!"

"What 'bout Lies?" Caution asks. Creativity shrugs.

"Not sure," he says. "We gotta get Heart up, too. He's such a sleepyhead. Doesn't he know it's Christmas!?"

"I think the whole mind palace knows," Caution says dryly. Then he steps into the living room and gasps. An enormous Christmas tree squats proudly in the corner, decorated with strings of multi-colored lights and loads and loads of tinsel. Not a single ornament adorns its fluffy branches, causing Caution to give Creativity a curious look.

"It's not done," Creativity admits. "I thought- I thought the ornaments could hold memories! Of all the Christmasses we ever have together! Or like...other times, maybe, I don't know. Doesn't that sound cool?" He enthuses.

"Y-yeah," Caution stammers. "That- that sounds neat, Creativity."

"Show us how!" Curiosity exclaims, storming out of the kitchen. "I'll make the best memory ornament the world has ever seen!" Caution bursts into giggles, covering his mouth with one sleeve.

"Virgil?" Roman asks, touching his shoulder and drawing him out of the memory. "You okay?"

"Fine," Virgil says. "I'm fine. I just. Yeah." He sets the ornament down, as gently as if he cradled a snowflake, and hurried to his box. Dust still gathers, thick and cloying, on a few of the ornaments, buried in the back. The ones with Janus and Remus. He swallows hard, stretching out a hand to pluck the nearest one free.

"Remus, I swear to all that is holy if you have decided to replace the tinsel with tentacles again-" Janus threatens. Remus laughs, dancing backward around the tree as Janus chases him. Each evergreen branch is heavily laden with a wet and floppy tentacle, making Virgil scrunch his nose when he walks in.

"Again?" He complains mildly. Janus looks up, his face brightening.

"Virgil!" He exclaims. "You- you made it."

"Uh, yeah," Virgil says, his face flushed. "Um. I didn't- I didn't know that you uh, did anything? For Christmas?"

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing compared to the others," Janus dismisses, with one light wave of a gloved hand. "But Remus and I try our best. And now you! What tradition would you like to bring to the table, my dear Anxiety?"

Virgil blinks.

"Uh, what?" He asks, completely nonplussed. Remus grins and bounces forward, flapping his hands to make the ruffles on his sleeves move.

"Janus came up with it!" He explains. "We each get a Christmas tradition, just for us. Janus's is singing Christmas carols- only the funny ones- and mine is decorating the tree on December first. What do you want yours to be? It can be anything!"

"Anything?" Virgil asks. Janus looks like he regrets all his life choices, but he nods anyway.

"Anything," he confirms.

"Could- could it be making Christmas cookies?" He asks, hugging himself and remembering Patton's baking with a pang. Janus nods in agreement, though his own mismatched eyes look shadowed.

"Of course," Janus says. "To the kitchen!"

"To the kitchen!" Remus echoes in a howl, galloping toward the kitchen and nearly tripping over a stray tentacle.

Virgil's throat aches when he returns to himself. Their cookies had burned that time, because Remus forgot to set the timer, and truthfully, Virgil still isn't sure if Remus managed to add anything inedible to them, but the experience had been-

Well, the experience had been magical.

"Virgil," Janus greets him carefully. He has a dusty cardboard box held tightly in gloved hands, and his face is carefully neutral. He glances at the cookie-shaped ornament still clasped in Virgil's hands and the faintest dusting of pink brushes his cheekbones.

"Janus," Virgil greets just as carefully. Tension dissipates as Remus thumps his way between the two, lugging his own box.

"Virgey!" Remus exclaims. "Ice to see you!"

"It's nice-" Virgil starts, before realizing Remus is holding an icicle towards him. He recoils, setting the cookie ornament back down into the box, just as Remus laughs and dramatically stabs the icicle against his own heart. Nothing happens. Janus rolls his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips, as he watches Remus's antics.

"Janus, Remus!" Patton greets warmly. His words are only a little stilted when he realizes Remus is still holding a melting icicle, dripping all over the floor. Remus waves cheerily with it.

"This is a murder weapon!" He says, cheerful. Patton blanches.

"That's- that's nice," Patton says, recovering admirably. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Likewise," Janus drawls. He looks hesitantly down into his box of ornaments. Despite himself, Virgil cranes his neck to have a peek himself. He doesn't even have to touch it to be drawn into the first ornament's memory.

"Virgil, what do you want for Christmas?"

"Huh?" Virgil asks inelegantly, spinning around to see Janus leaning against the door of his bedroom, studying his glove with practiced casualness. He shoves his headphones down, curling around his neck, as he advances toward Janus.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Janus repeats. His snake eye gleams in the dim light. "It's a simple question, storm cloud."

"No, it isn't," he retorts, flustered. "There's so many things that are out there in the world, how could I possibly choose just one-"

"Who says it has to be one?" Janus's question stops him in his tracks.

"Be- because," he splutters. One side of Janus's mouth tips up in a crooked smile.

"We're figments of Thomas's imagination, we can have whatever we want," Janus says. Virgil doesn't point out that's not true, not really, doesn't mumble anything about wishing they could all have Christmas together for once. Instead, he stares at the ground and mutters something about new headphones.

"Well, that's easily done," Janus says lightly. "I'll ensure you get the prettiest lump of coal in your stocking, Virge. Unless Remus gets to it first." Virgil laughs despite himself and Janus's eyes light up, even as he saunters out the door.

The bauble, shaped like a pair of over-the-ear headphones, reluctantly lets Virgil free. He glances up to see Janus's own eyes, misty with memories.

"You kept it," Virgil mumbles. "You kept all of them."

"Of course I did," Janus says softly.

"Look at mine!" Remus exclaims, jostling his way between the two of them and shoving an ornament in Virgil's direction. It's shaped like a very misshapen pie and his startled fingers close around it, preventing it from clattering to the floor.

"Remus!" Virgil chases him around the kitchen, laughing only partly from frustration. Remus circles the kitchen island, cackling, holding the mixing bowl aloft.

"What's the matter, Fright Night?" Remus gleefully taunts.

"The matter is that batteries don't belong in pie crust and you know it!" Virgil exclaims, huffing out a breath and stirring his bangs.

"Sure they do," Remus says smugly. "They fit in here, didn't they?"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Virgil says, rolling his eyes. "A lot of things could fit in th- I mean-" Remus's eyes light up with a wicked gleam.

"A lot of things, you say?" He purrs. Virgil puts his face in his hands.

"Janus, how could you leave me with him?" He mutters into his palms.

"Because you can handle it," Janus retorts, appearing out of nowhere. He has a string of Christmas lights tangled around one arm. "Remus, put the bowl down."

"Yes, sir!" Remus says, saluting (thankfully with the hand not holding the bowl). The mixing bowl clatters to the counter.

"And help me with these lights for a minute, would you?" Janus implores. The wink he sends Virgil's way lets him know that he'll take charge of Remus, at least for a few minutes. Enough time for Virgil to fish out the batteries, if nothing else, and see if they need to start over.

"I remember that," Virgil mumbles. His cheeks feel like they're on fire. Remus beams at him.

"Good," he says. "Merry Christmas, Panic at the Emo."

"Likewise," Virgil mutters.

"Remus!" Roman shouts, startling all three of them. "Stop bothering Virgil and help me with these lights for the window."

"Same old, same old," Remus says, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and adding a little shoulder shimmy. He shoves his box of ornaments in Virgil's arms and dashes to his brother's rescue.

"Thanks," Virgil says dryly, looking after Remus's departing back.

"I can take them," Janus offers. Virgil sighs and shakes his head.

"It's fine," he says. "I wouldn't want you to drop anything."

"As if I would," Janus says, putting one hand to his chest in mock offense. It makes Virgil snicker. Janus smiles, a genuine expression of mirth that makes Virgil's heart twinge.

"Shall we?" He asks, motioning toward the tree with a jerk of his head.

"Ah, good," Logan says, adjusting his glasses with one hand. "I was wondering when you would appear, Janus. The twins are already hopelessly tangled in Christmas lights."

"Who put the ones on the tree?" Janus asks, looking amused. Logan smiles, a trifle smug.

"Me," he says. "Would you like to help with the tinsel?"

"Me?" Janus asks, clearly surprised. Logan nods.

"Is there some reason you shouldn't?" He asks.

"No," Virgil speaks on Janus's behalf, carefully setting down Remus's box of ornaments. "I'm gonna go see if Patton needs help," he adds and hurries away as Logan encourages Janus to set down his ornaments and pick up the first strand of tinsel.

"You're doing well," Patton murmurs, as Virgil stumbles into the kitchen. Red colors his cheeks like a candy cane.

"I guess," Virgil says, leaning against the counter top. "You uh, you need any help?"

"I think I've got it for now," Patton says. "But if you'd like to decorate cookies in a bit..."

"Sounds good to me, pop star," Virgil says, relieved. Patton rummages in a box on the table for a second, holding out an ornament.

"Remember this one?" Patton asks softly. Virgil's fingertips brush the smooth edges and he's helplessly drawn in.

"Caution?"

"Go away!"

"No," Heart insists, tiptoeing in the room and looking around. The spider curtains make him wrap his arms around himself and shiver. "You're upset. I can feel it. What's wrong?"

"Christmas," Caution mumbles. He's curled up on his bed, arms around his knees. "Christmas is what's wrong."

"What?!" Heart squawks. "What do you mean, Caution?"

"Thomas has so much stuff to do," Caution says. "How can he do all of them? It's just- I just-" His breathing speeds up. Alarmed, Heart crawls onto the bed, coming to a stop right beside him.

"Breathe," Heart directs, exaggerating his own breath into a gusty whoosh of air and making Caution's lips struggle not to form a smile. "Like this, 'kay? Follow how I sound."

It takes a few minutes for Caution to match his breathing, but he does. Both cheeks flush red as Heart smiles at him.

"Better?" Heart asks gently. Caution nods, playing with one of his sleeves.

"Will Thomas be okay?" Caution asks in a tiny voice. Heart doesn't even have to think about it for his next words to spill out, ringing with the sincerity of truth.

"Absolutely he will!"

Caution smiles, his hair flopping into his eyes. Heart reaches over and brushes it back, giving Caution an encouraging look.

"Wanna help me bake?" Heart asks. "I think I can make a pretty mean cookie!"

"Sure," Caution says, and laughs. "Why not?"

Virgil comes out of the memory slowly, his face flushed.

"I forgot about that," he mumbles, carefully setting aside the cookie-shaped bauble. Patton smiles gently.

"I never did," he admits, just as they hear a crash from the living room.

Virgil runs to the rescue, Patton hot on his heels. His mouth falls open at the scene of wanton destruction. The tree is still up (which is a miracle) and as far as he can tell, no ornament has been broken. But the tinsel lies in haphazard clumps all over the floor, and the same can be said for several strings of Christmas lights. A ladder sprawls on the ground, still holding a loudly protesting Roman.

"You didn't hold it steady!"

"Sure I did," Remus argues. His brows are scrunched tight in worry. "You overbalanced!"

"Well, it isn't like I did that on purpose," Roman says. Remus huffs.

"I never said it was on purpose!" Remus points out. Roman's face acquires a particularly rosy hue.

"Oh," he says weakly. Virgil snorts with barely suppressed laughter at the twins' banter, and all eyes turn to him and Patton.

"Roman fell off the ladder," Janus explains.

"Ouch," Roman tacks on. Virgil snorts.

"That would be an ouch," he says. "You better be okay, Princey."

"I will be," Roman promises. His expression turns irascible. "At least, I will when this bloody ladder is off me-"

"Oh, right," Remus says, his own face reddening. He reaches down and snags the ladder, carefully setting it upright. "There you go, bro."

"Thank you," Roman huffs. Logan gives him a hand and he cautiously makes it to his feet, breaking out in an enormous smile. "All is well on the Creativity train!"

"Please be careful," Patton implores, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

"I'm always careful, padre!" Roman exclaims, nearly slipping on a bushel of tinsel. Logan groans, snatching it up from the carpet.

"Ornament time," Patton says. "And then after that, I need help decorating some Christmas cookies!"

Virgil makes a beeline for his box, pulling out the ornament in the very back. Janus and Remus watch him as he delicately plucks it free, blowing away the dust.

"This one," he shyly requests. The memory plays, pulling them all in.

"Janus?"

Janus looks up from his idle place on the couch, a frown tugging at his face.

"Storm cloud? I thought you were in bed."

"I can't sleep," Virgil admits. He fidgets in the doorway to the living room, his eyes entranced by the Christmas tree (thankfully tentacle-free....for now).

"Come here," Janus coaxes, patting the couch next to him. Virgil shuffles over, his instincts screaming at him to go back to his room. Thankfully, he doesn't listen. He plops down on the sofa, and Janus tugs him closer, draping an arm around his shoulders. It should feel too tight and confining, but instead, it just feels...

Right.

"I can't sleep either!" Remus shouts from the hallway. Janus fondly rolls his eyes.

"Then come on out, Remus," Janus says. "I have two sides and six arms, you're more than welcome."

"Good," Remus says, but it's a subdued Creativity who finally slips out of the darkness and into the flickering colors of the Christmas lights. His eyes are red-rimmed. Virgil thinks he must have had a bad dream or something. He hardly ever cries otherwise.

"Bad dreams?" Janus asks, echoing Virgil's thoughts. Remus hesitates, then nods, as he crawls onto the couch on Janus's other side.

"Hark, hear the bells, sweet silver bells..." Janus sings lowly, elongating each phrase until the Christmas carol becomes nothing more than a lullaby, lulling both Virgil and Remus to sleep.

Virgil carefully hooks the ornament on the tree, front and center. He steps back, surrounded by old family and new, and nods to himself.

He's home.

[an-organized-confusion]

Mea Culpas & Revelations: The Play

And then the co-conspirator wrote some heartwarming/angsty Creativitwins/DLAMPR stuff (all cred to him here, basically a drabble he wrote on the fly):

Unknown Speaker: "What is the real reason you and Remus don't get along?"

Roman: unintelligible mumbling and forefingers pushing against each other.

Logan: "Speak up." Roman: "We both have to be at the center of attention. We get mad jealous of each other when the other gets more attention." Roman: "And then I chase him with a sword, and he attacks me with a spiked morningstar. It's just best if we're never in the same place at the same time..." Roman: "So we divided what we covered creatively..."

Logan: "And you agreed on this deal?" Roman: "YES, well... at first... But then when I noticed Thomas was disturbed by Remus I started working to push him to the side so that he'd pay more attention to me..." Roman: "And then I may have started a whisper campaign cause Janus told me that it was a good idea..." Remus: from a distance, "Whisper campaign, WHISPER CAMPAIGN. YOU MOTHER DUCKING ASSHAT. YOU STRAIGHT UP TOLD EVERYONE THAT I WAS GOING TO GET THOMAS MURDERED IF THEY DIDN'T LOCK ME OUT."

Logan: That... is partially on me. I apologize Remus, we were younger and the world was far more black and white than we see it now. Statistically speaking your suggestions were going to result in Thomas's death... If he always acted on them." Remus: "And how often did he act on them?!" Logan: pained, "Almost never. You could occasionally get him to lick things, or smell things that were clearly horrendously foul. But for the most part he's never acted on anything you suggested that could've killed him." Remus: "And so you all decided to lock me behind that door." Patton: "Not without misgivings." Virgil: "Not without feeling certain we were making a mistake.” Logan: "I made an error in judgement." Roman: silent

Virgil: "i was the first to volunteer to check on you..." Remus: sighing, "I know, Tickle-Me-Emo, I know. How did that work out for you?" Virgil: glaring at Logan and Roman, "They locked the door behind me." Logan: "I made a series of errors that year. I had deemed that you were the next greatest detriment to Thomas's ability to function. I allowed cognitive bias to cloud my eyes and disregarded the important things you did for Thomas in return for the things I deemed detrimental." Roman: still silent

Janus: "I'll admit, I went in after Virgil. I'm not sure who locked the door behind me." Patton: hanging head in shame, "I'm sorry Janus, that was me. I couldn't accept your existence at that point in Thomas's development. I was wrong, and Thomas didn't learn some of life's most important lessons until it happened the hard way." Remus: "And that's how we stayed, relatively muted to Thomas for oh so long." Janus: "You know there's just one thing that confuses me still." Virgil: glancing between them, "Why the door unlocked?" Janus: "Yes, that is the final question left to answer isn't it?"

Everyone looking between themselves.

Virgil: "You know I always sat nearest to the door. So imagine my surprise when suddenly I heard the lock click one day."

Everyone looks to Virgil.

Virgil: "So imagine my surprise when I turn the knob and the door opened back up." Remus: "Did you see who unlocked it?" Virgil: "No, looked like they did it from a distance using some string."

Virgil: "You've been awfully quiet for awhile now Roman." Roman: blushing, "Yea." Virgil: "Anything you want to contribute to this discussion?" Roman: "Um... I suck at apologies?" Virgil: "Yes, that is well known." Roman: "And admitting when I've been, or actively am wrong." Janus: "Yes, I spent years helping you deny that." Roman: "And I have a lot of feelings of Imposter Syndrome." Remus: "Well Imagine that, you tried claiming to be the entirety of Thomas's creativity." Roman: nods, but falls back into silence

Roman: faintly, "I did it" Remus: "Speak up brother, I know you're more than capable of projecting your voice to the audience." Roman: "I UNLOCKED THE DOOR." Janus: Jamming fingers in ears, "He said projecting to the audience, not deafening them." Virgil: "So the guy who insisted on starting this whole debacle is the one who ended it? I guess the next question is, why?" Roman: "I realized that I wasn't able to act that well without Janus's help to mask my own thoughts." Janus: nodding thoughtfully, "Surely that can't be the only reason." Roman: "I also realized that Virgil gave me the push I needed to write better material, cause I got complacent and coasted on past successes." Virgil: rolling his eyes, "Yes, yes you did. But, you had to have known we'd never have left Remus in that room." Roman: softly, "Was kind of counting on that." Remus: "Speak up brother, unless you want me to lend you my ear to speak into." Roman: chuckling, "I missed that."

Group does a double take.

Logan: "What?" Roman: "I missed my brothers sense of humor. Sure it's sometimes gross, or outright revolting. But he knew how to tell a good dirty joke." Remus: balling up his fists, "You let them out cause you wanted to hear me tell dirty jokes?!" Janus: placing a hand on Remus's shoulder, "No, look at his eye direction and movement as he's talking. I've studied his tells for years; He's lying." Roman: shouting, "BECAUSE I MISSED YOU. DO YOU THINK I FELT GOOD LOCKING MY OWN BROTHER AWAY?"

Roman: to himself, “You’re just as much an integral part of my identity as I am a part of yours. I’ve denied parts of myself all this time and it hurts Remus. It hurts far more than I ever thought it would. Not that I gave it much thought to begin with, I never was the type to give much forethought to harebrained schemes.”

Roman: "Yea, I've been impersonating both of us this whole time, and that felt great at first because Thomas only paid attention to me. But then I realized I don't enjoy always being in the spotlight. I'm not great at one man plays. I need co-stars, or perhaps just a brother. Sure we got jealous of each other when Thomas paid more attention to the other one of us, but we still had fun competing for that attention. It felt hollow without you, like this wasn't a victory."

Roman: "I'm just... tired. I needed a distraction from Thomas's gaze. Then I realized there were 3 perfectly good distractions locked behind a door." Virgil: murderous stare, "Distractions?!" Roman: holding hands up in a placating manner and in surrender, "At first, yes. But with each of you coming back out of that door I noticed that Thomas seemed... more alive. More... Himself, than he'd been since..." Remus: growling, "Since you had us locked behind the door." Roman: nodding regretfully, "I took a joke from Janus the wrong way. It was a moment of weakness when I realized that I could feasibly get away with it. Logan was far more literal back then." Janus: groaning, "Yea, remind me never to tell you a joke." Roman: chuckling in spite of himself, "Indeed, you're too good at telling them. Sounded like serious advice at the time." Virgil: "Yes, he's unfortunately a master of the deadpan face. I'm pretty sure only Remus can tell when he's joking." Remus: "Pshaw. I simply laughed at everything on the off chance he was joking. He couldn't tell if I was manic or appreciating his humor that way." Roman: "Anyways, Virgil you brought back that creative spark I'd been looking for all this time. At first I resented that you had it. But then over time I realized it's not that you had a spark, but that you were the spark I needed. Sure sometimes Logan unintentionally says something that sparks an idea, but you were always there pushing me to do better. Throwing out ideas that would make the audience laugh instead of boo because you were so conscious of their mood."

Virgil: "Or cheer. Plays can't be all laughter." Janus: "I believe comedies beg to differ." Virgil: "People can only laugh so much before they feel numb, and trust me; I'd know." Roman: "Then when Deceit finally decided to announce his presence, I felt like I was starting to get back into the groove of acting. The small things came back to me, like how to control my facial muscles to portray scenes better." Janus: "Those can be difficult to control without really focusing on them." Roman: "But the biggest thing was that I kept seeing signs of my brother all the time. He's in all of us in his own way. Logan's love of 'mad science', Virgil's love of 'horror' films, Janus's willingness to push the boundaries of what Thomas is comfortable with, and even some of Patton's.... Misunderstandings have been borne of Remus's influence."

Logan: looking at Patton, "Adultery, really?" Remus: giggling uncontrollably, "I still can't believe I taught him what that word meant before you got a chance to." Patton: blushing furiously, "I have said that to others sooooooo many times through Thomas. They must all think we're idiots." Virgil: rubbing his arms self consciously, "Pretty sure they don't. Logan is pretty good at damage control." Logan: surprised, "How did you know?" Virgil: "I sat closest to the door, the entire time. I was just waiting for someone to open it back up. It had a window, you know? We could still see things going on, and exert some influence on Thomas. But Janus and Remus mostly got bored and wandered away a lot." Logan: nodding, "I suppose that makes sense, and why Thomas always exhibited some degree of anxiety even after... I will never be able to say I'm sorry enough for the actions I've done. I can only hope to prove through my own actions and behavior from now on that I'm repentant for them." Virgil: "Aye, and I'll keep an eye on that myself. I'll damn well let you know if you're being an asshat again." Logan: chuckling, "Thanks, I need a good reminder that though the chance is infinitesimally small, I can make mistakes." Remus: growing bored, "That's great and all, but Roman still hasn't told us what I brought back to Thomas!"

Roman: looking at his brother as if it's obvious, "Seriously?" Remus: nodding fiercely, "I want to know!" Roman: embarrassed, "You brought color back to Thomas's world. The metaphorical paint palette has been lacking a good stark contrast. Plus we'd never be able to come up with something like Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus" without you to fill in the creative bits that I'm not good with." Patton: "He means that he sucks at them." Roman: looking at Patton shocked, "What?"

Patton: shrugging, "It's the truth Roman. I've sugar coated that knowledge all this time cause Remus wasn't around to demonstrate how to do it properly." Janus: in mock surprise, "Why Patton, did I just hear that you've been lying to not hurt Roman's feelings?" Patton: staring Janus straight in the eyes, "Yes, yes you did. You were absolutely right that there are times when it's not only appropriate, but necessary to lie. I realized that without Remus, Thomas had to have Roman around and functioning. He couldn't have a day off, so to speak. So I may have helped to inflate his ego to the point it's at to this day." Janus: nodding smugly, "Ok." Remus: "So what you're saying Roman. is that you couldn't:

♫ Ever hear the werewolf cry to the red blood moon Or asked the grinning cannibal why he grinned Can you sing with all the voices of the trash mountains Can you paint with all the colors of the foul wind?♫

Roman: scrunching face in disgust, "I loved that song." Remus: chuckling, "I know."

Roman: "But... Yes. I was wrong, you were all important parts of Thomas. I have stewed on that knowledge for awhile now and I've hated myself more by the day for that moment of selfish whim. *crying* I missed Virgil, Janus, but most importantly I missed my brother."

Janus: sharing a glance with Remus, "That's a sincere admission." Remus: nodding, "We'll never get along like we used to." Patton: "I think that's fine actually. We've all gotten older, and changed in one way or another. Nothing remains in stasis forever. Not the body, brain, or emotions." Logan: "I've learned a lot since then, and I've known for some time that I was wrong. I just... couldn't bring myself to confront my past." Virgil: "Yes, that's something I had to push you to do."

Janus: "Well, there's really only one thing left to discuss then." Remus: "Indeed." Patton: "You don't mean?" Logan: "I'm pretty sure they do." Roman: "Are we sure Thomas is ready?" Virgil: "Ready or not, he'll have to deal with it eventually. Best to treat it like a Band-aid and rip it off quick."

Faint tapping comes from a table in the distance.

Unknown Speaker: "So you expect me to show up?" Logan: "It is inevitable, you are an aspect of Thomas." Patton: "But not necessarily the final aspect of Thomas." Janus: "We all rely on you in one way or another." Roman: "Ditto." Remus: "My brother is emotionally overloaded, ignore him. I think you should come in like a wrecking ball when you make your appearance into his life. Just Kool-Aid man your way into the room." Patton: "I think that's a terrible idea. Do you know how much we'd have to pay in repair costs if he did that?" Unknown speaker: chuckling, "In time, perhaps."

Unknown speaker: "I believe we're done for this round table of the psyche?" Logan: "I've got nothing productive to add." Virgil: "I've certainly enjoyed having these again." Patton: "I feel like we made a lot of progress." Janus: "I feel like I'm gonna hurl if you keep up that always positive facade." Remus: "I CAN HURL ON COMMAND, DO YOU WANT TO SEE?" Everyone else: screaming, "NO!"

Unknown Speaker: "Very well then, I'm gonna head back to my mind palace. Thomas will meet me, eventually. If it's necessary."

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, The Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 2)

Summary: The adventure gets underway.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: None so far

Word Count: 2235

Read on AO3: here

Patton's eyes were huge. “The Narnia? With the talking animals and wholesome religious subtext?”

“That's the place,” said Roman. “I mean...I dialed back a little on the religious subtext, since that can be kind of a touchy subject. But Patton, there will be as many talking animals as you want.”

“So how is this going to work?” asked Virgil. “We're the main characters? Will you tell us what to do next?”

“I won't have to!” said Roman. “It's literally just the plot of the first book. All we have to do is go through the major story beats! We'll pick things up at the point where all four Pevensies go through the wardrobe together and meet up with the Beavers, and—”

“Whoa, slow down, Pagemaster. I hate to bust your bubble, but I don't actually remember much about the story.”

“Nor I,” said Logan. “It has been quite some time since Thomas either read the book or watched any of the film adaptations, and in the interim I have grown...” He trailed off, blinking, and then pulled a thin stack of index cards out of his jeans pocket and thumbed through them until he found the one he wanted. “...'fuzzy' on the details.”

“You needed a vocab card for 'fuzzy?'” asked Roman. “Never mind. Don't worry about not being fully up to speed—it's a pretty simple adventure story, and Patton and I can give—”

“Actually...” Patton said, sheepishly raising his hand like a schoolchild, “...I don't really remember much about the story either. I always get distracted by the talking animals and wholesome religious subtext.”

Roman stuck his tongue into his cheek for a moment, considering. Then he brightened. “Even better! This way I'll be able to surprise all three of you! And who knows—maybe it will all come back to you as we go along. So is everyone ready?”

They affirmed that they were.

“Oh. One more thing, before we go in. Stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own. You might find yourself having...odd impulses, ideas that you're not used to. That's the story, trying to nudge you in a particular direction. It's best to just go along with it. Remember that it's a story for kids, there will be a happy ending, and we're all friends.”

Virgil's eyes widened and he took a breath to speak, but Patton cut in: “I trust you, Roman.” Virgil let out the breath and bit back his protest.

Roman smiled. “Follow me, everyone. And try not to be too alarmed by anything we might encounter...”

They stepped into the wardrobe. Almost at once, a chilly breeze, tasting of snow and pine, fluttered past them and swirled around to tug the doors closed. “Don't worry, that was supposed to happen,” Roman said in a breathless half-whisper. “Head toward the light.” And indeed, as their eyes adjusted to the darkened, fur-lined interior of the wardrobe, they became able to perceive a cool light in the distance, opposite where they had entered. They went for it, pushing and stumbling through the rows of coats, gasping with startled...delight?...when the soft fur gave way to prickly conifer branches, and snow crunched underfoot, and finally blinking in the soft glow of a forest in deep winter.

Roman had gone all out. It was a world of white and blue-gray, the snow caked so thickly that only here and there was a hint of brown bark or green needle visible, and even these colors were muted. The only sounds, apart from the ones the Sides had brought with them, were the soughing of the breeze and the occasional patter of ice crystals from a distant tree branch. And it was cold—so much so that the first thing any of them did, apart from stare agape at the frozen landscape, was Virgil retreating a few yards into the grove they had emerged from and returning with four of the fur coats. He kept one and handed the rest to Patton for distribution.

“See, Virgil?” Roman said, his voice sounding oddly hollow as the snow and wind swallowed it. “You're getting the hang of this story already.”

“Less talk, more...whatever you have planned,” Virgil said, wrapping himself in black rabbit. “Let's get going before we all freeze our...toes off.”

“Hold up...where's Logan?” asked Patton.

“Over here,” came Logan's calm voice from a couple dozen yards away. He was starkly visible as a dark spot against the snow, standing perfectly motionless, huddled into himself and shivering slightly as he stared at the thing that had prompted him to drift away from the group.

“I remember this now,” he said as the others approached. “Come to think of it, it may be part of why I retained so little about the book in the first place. I mean...it's patently ridiculous. What fuels it? There are no gas lines in a wild forest.”

“If you must know...friendly spite,” said Roman.

“That warrants a fuller explanation,” said Logan, accepting a coat from Patton.

“Well,” Roman said, waving the group along, “C.S. Lewis, the author, was great friends with the almighty J.R.R. Tolkien, who told him in rather absolutist terms that you couldn't write about a fantasy world and put a lamppost in it. To which Lewis replied—I'm paraphrasing here—'Oh yeah, homes? Watch me'—and created this delightful world of Narnia, with that lamppost as a signature feature. True story. If nothing else, you have to admire his saucy rebel spirit.”

“I fail to see how that translates into a viable, inexhaustible fuel supply.”

“Aw, Logan!” Patton chirped. “It's a magic lamp in a magic forest! That's all it needs to glow forever!”

“See? Patton gets it!”

“Ease up a little on the noise, guys,” said Virgil. “Anything could be stalking us in this place. Roman, where are we even going?”

“It's not so much where we're going as what we're going to encounter. I condensed this part of the story somewhat and—”

“SHH!” Virgil hissed emphatically, pulling up short and throwing his arms out to the sides to stop the others as well. “I heard something in the bushes,” he muttered. “I told you we were being followed. Nobody move until we know what we're dealing with.”

There came a short whistling sound from a patch of shubbery, and a low, dark shape darted out, heading away from them through the brush, muttering in an almost human fashion as it went. Patton's eyes grew enormous. “Talking animal!” he cooed, and immediately gave chase. “Wait up, critter! We won't hurt you!”

“Patton, no!” Virgil called. He spun about and thrust a finger in Roman's face, eyes glittering with barely suppressed fury. “If anything happens to him, I will end you.” Then he followed, vaulting over low-growing bushes, somehow not slipping in the snow.

“I didn't make Patton run off,” Roman grumbled as he and Logan brought up the rear.

“Was this part of your plan?” asked Logan.

“The animal, yes, Patton's impulsiveness, no. Virgil's hostility...definitely no. This is supposed to be a fun excursion!”

“I am afraid I have no advice for you.”

They caught up to find Patton inching around and poking at a dense thicket, Virgil staying close but not interfering. “It's in here somewhere,” Patton said as a repeat of the whistle from earlier confirmed his claim, “but I can't find a spot for us to get through.”

“I keep telling him this is a bad idea,” Virgil said.

“Virgil, it's fine,” said Roman. “This is how the story is supposed to go. That's our guide in there.”

“You said these stories could, and I quote, 'take on a life of their own.' How do you know—”

“Aha!” Patton exclaimed with a touch of giggle. “Here we go!” He pulled aside a swath of branches, making an opening easily big enough for them to pass through if they stooped.

It was spacious inside the thicket, with a “roof” of branches low enough that a few twigs brushed the Sides' heads, and a “floor” of earth and dead leaves—the tangle overhead was thick enough to keep out the snow, which meant it also kept out most of the daylight. They could barely make out the form of the creature that had led them there, seeing only that it was stout and dark-furred, with a hunched posture and beady eyes that twinkled in the meager light.

“Aw, it's a beaver!” Patton said. “Heeeere, beaver, beaver, beaver!”

“Hush!” the beaver said, bounding across the space. “I brought you here for secrecy's sake, but if you start shouting you'll attract the wrong sort of attention anyway.”

“See, guys?” said Virgil. “We need to be more careful.”

“How are you able to speak?” asked Logan, bemused. “You appear to have completely normal morphology for a member of genus Castor. Your vocal tract should not be capable of forming such complex sounds, to say nothing of your brain structure.”

“Logan, you're doing it again,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth.

Mr. Beaver, for his part, ignored the nosy questions in favor of counting the Sides. “Four,” he said with deep satisfaction. “Four Sons of Adam. At last. Narnia has been waiting for you for a long time. I have so much to tell you...but not here. There's only so much privacy we can manage out-of-doors. Her spies are everywhere.”

“Her who?” Virgil said with a hint of a growl.

“Who else?” replied Mr. Beaver. He beckoned them all to lean in close, which in the Sides' case meant leaning over quite a bit. “The White Witch.”

“Oohhh yeeaahhh, I remember now,” said Patton. “She is one scary lady.”

“Understatement of the year,” Roman muttered.

“The White Witch has kept Narnia in thrall for a hundred years,” the beaver continued, “but now that you four have come, we shall finally see the end of her wicked reign. It has been prophesied.”

“Hang on, hang on,” said Virgil. “Is that the thing where four humans show up, kick the White Witch to the curb, and all settle down as kings of Narnia? Guys…are we actually down for that? I mean, I know Roman is, but…”

“If it’s part of the story, then I say we go for it,” Patton stated firmly.

“We did agree to follow through with the adventure,” said Logan.

“There is much to tell you,” said Mr. Beaver, as if the interruption hadn’t occurred, “but not here. I’ll take you to my place and fill you in on all the details. Now let’s hurry…it’ll be dark soon and you do not want to be caught in these woods after dark.”

They left the shelter of the thicket, and although the sky was overcast, it was indeed evident that the daylight was waning. The trip to the Beavers’ house was undertaken in near-silence, which gave Roman plenty of time to take stock of how the adventure was progressing.

His first thought was that it was going really well, actually. His fellow Sides were settling into their roles as fantasy protagonists, plus or minus a little snark (which was only to be expected). The scenery looked great, Mr. Beaver was following the loose “script” Roman had assigned him without any need for corrective nudging, and the adventure was shaping up just how he had imagined it.

As he thought more about the other Sides' reactions, he realized that they were even taking on rough approximations of the roles of the Pevensie children. Patton accepted everything with wide-eyed wonder, just like Lucy. Logan was being typically skeptical and sensible, much like Susan. And Virgil, in his drive to protect them all from danger, was acting almost like an eldest brother, a la Peter. That just left...

Roman stopped dead in his tracks as a chill that had nothing to do with the snow shot up and down his spine and forked down all his limbs.

I thought I was your hero...

Stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own...

He forced his legs to start working again before the rest of the party could notice anything was wrong, and pulled up the hood on his silver mink coat in order to hide the expression of dread that he could feel forming (and to potentially play it off as a sudden bout of chill if anyone did notice).

Anyway, he was destined to be far colder before the night was over.

He should have known. How could he have overlooked something so simple?

On their final approach to the Beavers' house, Roman turned his eyes northward, toward the twin hills where the story obviously wanted him to go. Could he already spot a hint of an icy spire?

He barely tasted the trout dinner the Beavers served the four of them, barely heard the conversation that ensued. He already knew how it went, after all. His only role in all of it was to duck out early (quack?) and take the relevant news to their enemy.

He had only wanted to be the hero, but someone had to be the villain, and the story had picked Roman. How could he refuse?

[im-actually-ok]

Fangs

Chapter three

First, Previous , Next

Masterlist

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Platonic DLAMPR, platonic Logince

Word Count: 1336

Genre: Hurt comfort, mostly fluff

Warnings: Fangs, very slight body horror(the fangs), food, eating (i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know so i can add it, thank you!!!)

-----

Roman stood there for a second before turning his back to the door and leaning against the door to slide down to the ground, unintentionally mirroring Logan on the other side.

“Are you ok?” he asked softly.

“Im… fine.”

“You didn’t sound fine downstairs,” he said with a small sigh, leaning his head back against the door, waiting for a reply that didn’t come.

“Listen…” he started, moving a hand up to rub his eyes, “I’m… I’m so sorry. Sorry for what happened downstairs and- and for how all of us acted, it wasn’t fair to you,” Once again, there was no reply from the logical side.

“I...I know you probably don’t want to talk about it but... we can tell something is wrong, Lo. We know you, we know when something is off, and we know sometimes you need time to yourself and….. Gosh- the point is… I know something is wrong. You don’t have to tell me, heck, I probably wouldn’t even tell me, but just know… I’m here for you, man. You’re, like, my favorite nerd and I love you, we all love you, we just want to help and so just know, if you ever do need someone to talk to… I'm here for you.”

 It was a good minute of silence but Roman didn’t dare say another word, then, out of the silence came a small, timid voice, “thankth Roman,” Logan said softly through the door.

Roman smiled, “anytime, pocket protector,” he said with a small smile, “so, you hungry? I didn’t see you eat anything.

Logan was super hungry, he hadn’t eaten in a while due to the fact that he couldn’t eat much but meat with the fangs and he would have to go downstairs to get it. “A little,”

“Want me to heat up that pasta for you?” he asked, moving to stand, “I won’t come in your room or anything, I’ll just bring it up to you, ok?”

Logan bit his lip as he thought, then his lip started bleeding so he stopped. “Could… Could you..” he stopped himself.

“Could I…?” Roman asked, “could I what, Lo?”

Logan took a breath, “Thith is going to thound really weird,” he warned.

Roman chuckled, “What could sound weirder than you with a lisp?” he joked, then heard a slight growl from the other side of the door and raised his hands in defence even though Logan couldn’t see, “Right, right, sorry, not funny,”

Logan stopped growling as soon as he realized that’s what he was doing and cleared his throat before he said, “Could you… go downthtairth and put the precut chunkth of bacon thliceth into the microwave whole and cook it then bring it up to me?... pleathe?...”

Roman blinked. He… didn’t know what he was expecting… but it certainly wasn’t /that/, “Oh… uh, Ok???” he said, confused, “Am I allowed to ask why?”

Logan briefly considered telling him, but he shook his head even though Roman couldn’t see it, “No,”

Roman sighed and nodded, “yeah, ok. I’ll be right back,” He said, moving and walking down the hall, briskly walking down the stairs.

Logan could hear Roman’s footsteps recede and he sighed, slumping against the door. “Thith thuckth,” he mumbled to himself.

Roman made his way into the kitchen, going into the fridge and fishing out the bacon package, cutting it open and deciding to just put the whole thing on the plate and throw it in the microwave for five minutes, the smell of cooking bacon filling the kitchen as he waited.

Patton just stared at Roman, so confused as to what was happening. Patton had been sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen and he just watched Roman walk in, open and throw a whole package of cold bacon in the microwave. “Roman, kiddo… what are you doing???” he asked.

Roman jumped, having not seen Patton and thinking he was alone, “OH! Uh, Padre, didn’t see ya there!’ he laughed nervously, but he couldn’t escape Patton’s confused gaze, “I was just- uh, I got hungry! We didn’t really eat at dinner so I thought I’d grab a snack is all

“So you made a slab of bacon…?”

“...yes…” he said, leaning against the counter, a completely unconvincing lie in the air.

“...Roman-” Patton started but Roman cut him off.

“Wait, sorry, I lied, I… I brought a new pet back from the imagination, please don’t get mad, I was just grabbing some dinner for her,” he said, lying much better now.

Patton’s confused expression melted into a smile, “Aw, Ro, you should have told me! I love animals, you know that, can I come meet her?”

“Uhh, not tonight, Padre, but at some point sure,” he said with a smile. Now he has to keep up this lie, but Logan trusted him so he would do anything he could do to keep that trust.

“Aw, shame, but I will pet her eventually, you just wait,” Patton laughed, “I’ll just leave ya to it then, have a good night, Kiddo,” he said, taking his cookies and leaving the kitchen, waving to Roman as he left.

Roman smiled and waved as he left and sighed in relief once he was gone. He waited for the timer to go off before pulling out the thick bacon mound on the plate and walking up the stairs, knocking on Logan’s door once more, “uh, I got it,” he said simply.

Logan perked up and gosh just the smell of it was making his mouth water, god he was so hungry. He opened the door slightly.

Roman moved and handed him the plate which Logan took quickly and closed it once again, “thankth, Roman,” he said with a small smile.

Roman smiled and nodded even though Roman couldn’t see it, “of course,” he rested a hand on the door, “Thanks for trusting me,”

Logan smiled, “Of courthe”

Roman laughed softly, “Ok, I’m gonna go to bed, I’ll come check on you in the morning, ok?”

“Ok”

“Night, Logan,”

“Night, Roman”

Roman smiled before taking his hand off the door, moving and walking down the hall and into his room.

Once Roman was gone Logan sat down on the floor and he wasn’t very proud of this but he picked up the bacon slab and tore into it, he ripped into the meat and it honestly tasted like the most amazing thing in the world. He devoured the whole thing in a matter of minutes and then for the first time in weeks he fell asleep almost instantly with a full stomach curled up on the floor. Tomorrow he would have to deal with more hassles and questions and everything but for right now, he would sleep.

----

I’ve been on a writing kick and now i’m invested in this plot so I will be finishing it!! Yay!! I was gonna post this tomorrow but I got excited so I’m posting it now I’m sorry

Fangs Au tag:

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me @aegis-the-ace @occasional-fander

[stubbornness-and-spite]

27 - “Sorry. You’re just…really adorable.” 18 - Someone’s birthday Maybe on Patton’s birthday? If you don’t want to write Logan-centric, I think this prompt also works well for Roman!

Oh, this is cute! I think I’m going to go with Logan because flustered Logan is the cutest thing ever. I also may or may not be using this to further my agenda of promoting the sides platonically kissing each other. Physical affection will be provided for all sides!

Notes: So I got a little carried away with making sure Patton got love from everybody and everybody got the Patton love, but I swear it does eventually get to Logan and the prompt. There’s just a healthy serving of fluff first. Also, whoops it’s a little logicality. 

Characters: Patton-centric, all sides

Relationships: platonic DLAMPR, vaguely romantic logicality

~

Patton wakes up on his birthday feeling light and prepared to take on the world. Of course, it wasn’t technically his birthday because they all shared Thomas’s birthday, but it was the day that their fans had picked out to celebrate him! According to Logan, all birthday celebrations were arbitrary and contrived anyway(or something like that) so they may as well go along with the ones that had been picked for them. 

Patton bounces down the stairs to the living room with so much energy that he sears he sees Virgil lunge to catch him like he’s falling, but when he asks later, Virgil denies it. 

“Good morning and a very happy birthday to you, our beloved father figure!” Roman declares the second he catches sight of Patton. Hearing Roman’s booming declaration, the other sides turn to see Patton and Patton’s heart melts. Janus has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hat abandoned on the counter, and his arms and gloves are covered in frosting. Remus has tape on his nose and ribbons in his hair and he’s standing by a stack of wrapped gifts. Virgil is putting out plates and napkins with dad jokes on them and Patton notices him laughing at a few. Roman is by the stove and is making an elaborate breakfast. And Logan... Logan is sitting in the armchair, reading a book, and not looking at Patton at all.

Oh. 

Before that train of thought can take Patton anywhere, Virgil is putting down the last plate and coming over to him.

“Morning, Popstar,” he says with a small smile. “Happy Birthday.”

Patton beams. “Thanks, Virge,” he says, opening his arms slightly but not forcefully. Virgil rolls his eyes but quickly buries himself in Patton’s chest. Patton wraps his arms around Virgil as tight as he can and kisses the top of his head. Virgil is bright red when he pulls away, but he leans and gives Patton a quick kiss on the cheek, so Patton counts it as a win.

Patton makes his way over to the kitchen, passing by Remus, who tackles him in a hug. Patton squeals as he grabs the counter to keep from tipping over and hugs Remus back. His head is tucked into Remus’s chest and his face is pressed against what he really hopes are sequins, but he relishes the hug that neither one of them would have felt comfortable with only a few months ago. As it is, Patton giggles against Remus until they both let go and Patton swoops in to kiss Remus’s cheek. Remus feigns surprise and grins, grabbing Patton’s face with both hands and planting a loud and sloppy kiss on Patton’s forehead, both of them ignoring the groans from the other sides. 

Patton slips into the kitchen to join Janus and Roman, who seem to have kicked the others out of what they claimed as their domain, Roman cooking breakfast and Janus preparing a cake. Patton reached over and tapped Janus on the shoulder.

“Too busy for a hug?” He asks, sliding his arms underneath Janus’s and around his waist and resting his chin on Janus’s shoulder.

Patton yelps as a second set of arms snakes out of Janus’s sides and wraps around Patton, Janus’s fingers locking together as he pulled Patton closer.

“No,” Janus murmurs. “Not too busy. Happy birthday, Patton.”

Patton’s grin threatens to split his face as he nuzzles closer to Janus and presses a light, giggly kiss onto the scales on his neck. Janus’s skin goes hot and Patton slowly pulls away. Janus turns around, his backward-facing arms not continuing to frost the cake behind his back and his frosting covered arms around Patton’s shoulders. Janus’s gloves feel cool on Patton’s neck as he pulls him down slightly and moves to kiss his forehead. He pauses suddenly and readjusts Patton’s head to press a kiss just to the left of where Remus had kissed him.

“Happy birthday,” he repeats, smirking as he turns back to the cake.

When Patton looks over, Roman is leaning against the counter, pans off the stove and the burners off. 

“Is it my turn for some Patton-ted Patton love?” he asks grinning.

Patton’s beams back at him. “Got it in one, kiddo!” he cries, launching himself across the kitchen to be caught in Roman’s waiting arms. Patton’s legs almost his Janus as Roman spins him in the air. Roman laughs and Patton feels like he’s on top of the world.

Roman eventually puts Patton down, but doesn’t let go and Patton leans in to kiss his cheek. 

“Love you, Ro,” he whispers.

Roman’s smile shakes and he pulls Patton in for a bone-crushing hug. “Love you too, Pat. Happy birthday,” he breathes out in between a flurry of kisses to Patton’s head.

Patton is pretty sure he’s already smiled more in this one morning than he did the entire year before when he falls back from Roman’s hug and leans on the counter, but something catches his eye and gives him pause. Logan still hasn’t looked at him once-No. No, Patton was not going to get hung up about what Logan was doing, not today. Not on a day that was already so very nearly perfect.

He smiles as bright as he can and says, “Well, I’m certainly ready to eat this delicious-smelling breakfast that our prince made, is anyone else?” and he keeps smiling as everyone(except Logan) agrees.

Janus and Roman give Patton a run for his money in a pun war and Patton doesn’t remember the last time he laughed so much. Virgil keeps smiling at him and it makes him feel all kinds of warm inside. Remus is laughing uproariously at the pun trio’s jokes regardless of how funny they are and Patton swears Remus sat beside him on purpose because there isn’t a moment when he isn’t squeezing Patton’s arm or nudging him gently or warping him in a half-hug. Logan is... eating. He’s talking some with the others, but Patton can’t help but notice that he hasn’t said a single word to him. Patton laughs at another of Roman’s puns, leans into Remus’s arm, and forgets about it.

~

It’s a long day and Patton couldn’t be more grateful for it and for his family. He looks at them, wrapped up in blankets and cuddled up with him on the couch watching a movie they’ve all seen a dozen times and his eyes start to well up.

“I love you all so much,” he says, his voice cracking. “I had a really great day. Thank you.”

The barrage of coos and ‘aww’s and ‘love you too’s that he gets back feels like an extra blanket and coming home.

The pinched look on Logan’s face as he quickly averts his eyes from Patton and focuses firmly on the movie feels like a dump truck to the stomach.

Patton leans closer to the sea of arms holding him and makes himself revel in that instead of wallowing in self-pity. Self-pity can wait until tomorrow.

~

The trickle off one by one, hugging Patton and wishing him a happy birthday one last time before they go, regardless of the fact that it’s well past midnight. Virgil goes first, his eyes having started to droop almost an hour before. Janus goes second, his hand covering up a yawn. Remus passes out on the couch and Roman lets out a long-suffering sigh, but hugs Patton and picks up Remus to carry him to bed. Then it’s just Patton and Logan, alone in the flickering light of the TV. Patton sighs and leans over to grab the remote. He mutes the movie and waits for Logan to look at him. It takes longer than he would have liked.

“Is something wrong, Patton?” Logan asks crisply.

Patton smiles softly. “You know, everyone else has gone to bed. You don’t need to be here anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and something flashes across his face, but he fixes a neutral expression back on his face before Patton can figure out what it is. 

“I am aware that there is no obligation for me to stay,” he says, turning his eyes back to the TV, regardless of the fact that there's no sound, Patton has no idea what movie is on and he’s pretty sure Logan doesn’t either.

Patton sighs. “Look, Logan. It was really nice of you to spend the day with us today. I could tell you didn’t want to. I’m grateful you did but now you can go be alone like you prefer.”

If Patton was feeling particularly generous he’d call the expression on Logan’s face horror. However, he wasn’t and so he labeled it mild distaste.

“Patton, I-” Logan sighs. “I was less than attentive today, which led you to believe that I would rather be elsewhere, correct?” Patton matches Logan’s neutrality with his nod. Logan takes a breath and his voice shakes, “Sorry,” he mutters, “You’re just... really adorable.”

“What?”

Logan smiles, the soft light drawing attention to the blush on his cheeks. “My book this morning: I was hiding my blush. My lack of eye contact: I was trying to remain in control of my words and expression. My lack of physical contact: I was trying to maintain professional boundaries so that I would not be seen as overly emotional.”

“Oh.”

Patton’s earlier smile slowly creeps back onto his face. “It’s just you and me now. There’s no one here to judge you.” he takes a breath and grins wryly. “Think I can get a hug?”

The speed at which Logan launches himself from the chair and into Patton’s waiting arms only speaks to the truth of his earlier embarrassment.

Patton presses all the soft giggly kisses he’d missed that day onto Logan’s head and cheeks while Logan holds him tight enough to bruise.

“I love you, Patton,” Logan whispers. “I hope you had a happy birthday.”

Patton squeezes Logan which elicits a soft kiss on the cheek from him and in turn makes Patton squeal. 

“I had a very happy birthday,” Patton assures him. “And it’s even better now.”

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

Patton kisses Logan lightly on the lips to put an end to any protests. “And it’s even better now,” he says firmly.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Snap Part 3

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Warnings: roman angst and everything that goes with it. self-esteem issues, self-hatred, insecurity. sympathetic everyone

Pairings: roceit, platonic DLAMPR

Word Count: 4446

Most things in life are flexible to some degree. You can push and pull and bend them in certain ways and, to some extent, they will comply with you. There are some things that you can bend and bend and bend. Creativity is one of these things. Creativity, imagination, dreams...they can be shaped and changed into whatever you want.

Bend...and bend...and bend...until they snap.

They’re in the living room. Everyone is doing…something. Remus isn’t paying a whole lot of attention to anything but rewrapping his grip on his morning star and the gentle press of Roman’s leg against his. Every now and then, Roman will reach over and lay his hand on Remus’s knee. Remus always reaches out to cover it.

 “Come on, Princey!”

 That gets Remus’s attention. He looks up to see Roman shaking his head, Patton staring at him with pleading eyes.

 “Just one?”

 “No thank you,” Roman says softly, “I...I’d rather not do it today.”

 “What isn’t happening today?” Logan closes his book.

 “Princey doesn’t want to do the brainstorm,” Virgil huffs crossing his arms.

 Logan frowns. “It has to be done soon,” he insists, “otherwise it will put Thomas behind schedule.”

 “We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Logan,” Roman mumbles, “it’s not like this is a normal thing.”

 “It is important to look after ourselves first,” Janus agrees with a quick glance at Roman, “especially now more than ever.”

 Virgil squints at him. “Why’re you suddenly so on board?”

 “It couldn’t be because I’m trying to maintain Thomas’s mental health.”

 Patton tilts his head. “I think Virgil’s right...is there another reason you don’t want to do this, Roman?”

 Roman glances at Janus and sighs. “Yes. I don’t want to.”

 “..is,” Logan says hesitantly, “is that it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Well, forgive me—“ Remus growls low in his throat— “but that sounds a little...selfish.”

 Remus growls again. These fucking idiots.

 “Yeah, kiddo,” Patton says, giving Roman a small smile, “it does.”

 “Didn’t we just establish that wasn’t inherently bad?” Roman buries his face in his hands and for a moment, Remus readies himself to chase the others out. Then Roman sits up.

 “I...I can’t do it. Not yet.”

 Virgil frowns. “What do you mean, ‘not yet?’”

 Roman gives Remus’s hand a quick squeeze. Then he stands up. “Not yet.”

 Remus can’t help the surge of pride that shoots through him as Roman sinks out.

 Virgil glances around. “Does anyone have any idea what the fuck just happened?”

 “I…” Patton hugs himself. “I don’t know.”

 “Perhaps something happened,” Logan says, “and Roman is upset by it.”

 “Why the fuck wouldn’t he just say that, then?” Virgil shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Princey’s being dramatic, but…”

 “He’d been doing so well,” Patton agrees, “I don’t know what happened.”

 Remus glares at Janus, daring him to say something. Janus just shifts in his chair. Fucking snake.

 “Remus?” What does Logan want with him? “Are you prepared to have the brainstorm session?”

 Are you fucking serious? “Shouldn’t we wait until Roman’s ready?”

 “Who knows how long that’ll be,” Virgil mutters.

 “We can at least get started,” Logan reasons, “and it’s not as if we’ve failed to perform with—“

 Remus raises an eyebrow when Logan cuts himself off. “No, no, please, finish your sentence.”

 “…one Creativity,” Logan mumbles, “my apologies, Remus.”

 Remus sits back, forcing himself to put down his morning star. “Why was it so easy for you to apologize to me?”

 Logan frowns. “Because I made an offensive comment. That warrants an apology.”

 “Mm.”

 Logan falters. God, these guys can be so slow.

 “Not yet,” he prompts, “why would Roman say that?”

 Remus looks around, sees a load of empty faces. “No? No takers? Come on, let’s give you some prompting.”

 It takes barely a flick of his hand to create suspenseful countdown music, gleeful fury rising as the other sides begin to panic, shifting around like they should say something but having absolutely no idea what. Remus pouts.

 “Aww, you’re outta time!”

 “Remus,” Logan huffs, “if you know, why don’t you just tell us?”

 “Because I shouldn’t fucking have to!”

 Remus growls, glaring at one Side after another. “I shouldn’t have to tell you why Roman’s upset. I shouldn’t have to tell you why he didn’t want to tell you. I shouldn’t have to because you should’ve paid attention.”

 “R-Remus?” Patton twists his hands together. “C-can you tell us anyway?”

 Patton shrinks under the glare that Remus gives him, Virgil stepping in front of him. “Fine. Just because nothing will get better unless I do.”

 “…thanks.”

 “What is Roman,” Remus asks, planting his hands on his hips, “what is he?”

 “C-creativity?”

 “What else?”

 Virgil frowns. “Thomas’s hopes and dreams?”

 “What else?”

 “Passion,” Logan tries, “romance?”

 Remus huffs, turning to stare at Janus. Janus hasn’t moved, his hands balled up in his lap, his head bowed.

 “The ego,” Janus mumbles, “Roman is the ego.”

 “Correct!”

 “Roman’s what?” Patton glances between Remus and Janus.

 “Makes sense,” Virgil mutters, only for Remus’s head to spin exorcist-style around to glare at him.

 “And why, Plain White V,” Remus says sweetly, “would that ‘make sense?’”

 Virgil shuffles.

 “Could it be because Roman is dramatic? Could it be that you see him as self-obsessed? Or maybe—“ Remus fake-gasps, covering his mouth— “it’s because an ego is a bad thing?”

 “Stop it,” Virgil mutters, “stop it, Remus.”

 “An ego isn’t a bad thing,” Logan says quickly, “it is a sense of self, especially when contrasted to another self or world. In psychology, the ego typically refers to your own image and opinions of yourself as the active mediator of trying to accomplish the wishes of your unconscious mind within the boundaries of the real world.”

 Logan freezes. “…oh.”

 “Yes,” Remus mutters, “oh.”

 “R-Roman needs a structure,” Logan says weakly, closing his eyes, “a—a role that he can play to do his job. He…he is shaped directly by what others think of him.”

 “Now you’re getting it.” Remus claps when Virgil goes even paler behind his foundation.

 “Thomas’s sense of self,” he mumbles, “R-Roman’s sense of self…”

 Remus stands victoriously in the middle of the room, watching the horror and realization dawn on their faces.

 “Roman doesn’t know who he is anymore,” Remus growls, “because everything he’s ever had has been ripped away from him. And it’s not like he has the strength to do anything about it.”

 “I truly hesitate to ask this,” Logan mumbles, “but…why not?”

 Remus looks at Janus and raises an eyebrow.

 “The ego is kept healthy by positive affirmations and care,” Janus says, still refusing to make eye contact.

 “And you’ve done such a fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” Remus tries not to delight in the way Janus flinches.

 “B-but—“ Oh. Patton’s crying. “—we love him.”

 Remus laughs. He throws his head back and lets the cackles ring around the room, not caring that they get so loud it doubles back and makes him want to split his own skull open.

 “Do you? Do you really?” Remus spreads his arms wide, gesturing at the Roman-less living room. “Do you even know the extent of what you’ve done to him?”

 He points an accusing finger at Patton. “You forced him into a role he never asked for, one that he’s long since forgotten how to stop playing. You scold him for daring to express an opinion different to yours and guilt-trip him into compliance.”

 He turns to Logan. “You tear him apart every chance you get. You think it’s hard not being listened to? You think it’s hard being silenced? Then you should know how it feels when someone dismisses you without hearing you out. Let alone telling them they don’t deserve to feel that way.”

 Virgil cowers when Remus looks at him. “Do you have any idea how many times you’ve insulted Roman? Any idea? At all? No? Here’s a better question. Do you know how many times Roman’s sniped back and he’s the only one who has to apologize? Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re the only one who doesn’t fucking apologize.”

 “And you.”

 Janus winces.

 “Look at me.”

 Aw, that’s cute. Janus is crying too. Too bad.

 Remus doesn’t bother to hide his contempt. “What is your job?”

 Janus mumbles something.

 “Louder.”

 “To protect the ego.”

 “And what,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, “have you been doing instead?”

 “I apologized,” Janus tries weakly.

 “What for?”

 “For calling Roman the evil twin. For comparing him to you.”

 Remus scoffs. “No wonder he said ‘not yet.’”

 The snake flinches.

 “You apologized—“ Remus takes a step forward— “for the last straw. And you let everything else get swept under the carpet. You set him up to take the fall no matter what happened in that courtroom—don’t pretend you didn’t, you put the gavel in his hand—you spent the whole time buttering him up, you made fun of his name first, and you strung him along like your favorite little puppet.”

 Remus bends down, forcing Janus to look right at him.

 “You knew exactly what you were doing,” he whispers, “and you didn’t care.”

 He turns to look at Patton again. “You love him? Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Whether or not you do, you still did this to him.”

 Remus takes a deep breath.

 “There is one reason you are all not currently splattered across the walls,” he says in a perfectly calm voice, “and that is because Roman does not want you hurt. That is the only reason I am being very calm right now.”

 “…what do we do,” Patton whispers, tears still running down his face, “what do we do?”

 “Here’s a thought,” Remus growls, “why don’t you think about what you make Roman do?”

 “Listen,” Logan says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

 Virgil fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “…apologize.”

 Patton shuffles and hugs himself. “Do better.”

 They all turn to look at Janus.

 Janus clenches his fists in his lap as he looks up, hot guilty tears standing on his cheeks. “Care.”

 “Good.” Remus takes one look at the rest of them. “Mess this up, and I won’t give you another chance.”

 He sinks out.

 Janus buries his face in his hands. He can hear the others muttering worriedly to each other, can hear Patton sniffling and Virgil zipping and unzipping his hoodie. There’s a horrible black pit in his stomach that won’t go away, the guilt simmering patiently at the back of his throat.

  Pathetic.

  Worthless.

  You’ll never be accepted now, you can’t ever have them, look what you’ve done.

 The words pile up, burning his ears, the guilt filling his head so much that it takes a moment for him to realize how bitter his mouth tastes. Then realizes he’s hearing another voice say those words too.

 The others startle a little when he stands up, jaw set.

 Remus was right. He knew exactly what he was doing because he knows Roman. For better or for worse, he knows him. And he’s been abusing that for as long as he can remember.

 Time to change that.

  By the time someone knocks on Roman’s door, Roman’s already worked himself in and out of at least three different freak-outs, trying his best to keep them as low as possible so he doesn’t accidentally summon Virgil.

 The knock comes.

 “Come in,” he says instantly, only to wince a moment later.

 “…second chance?”

  Janus.

 Roman falters. He doesn’t really want anyone in his room right now, he’s…he’s not ready to do the brainstorm session, but he craves the gentle affection Janus has been showing him recently. Especially after this morning.

 “…come in, please.”

 His door swings open, revealing Janus, fiddling with something in his hands. Roman stands up, wobbling slightly.

 “Don’t get up,” Janus says softly, shutting the door, “I’ll come to you.”

 Roman sits, watching Janus walk to stand in front of him, tucking the thing he’d been fiddling with into some mysterious pocket. Then he carefully reaches out, hand hovering in front of his head.

 “May I?”

 Roman nods only to positively melt the next second when Janus cards his hand through Roman’s hair, fingers scratching across his scalp. Distantly, he hears Janus chuckle, another hand joining the first.

 He must be losing it, or at least significantly more off his game than he normally is, because he thinks he hears Janus murmuring to him.

 “Aren’t you lovely,” he thinks he hears, “that’s it…relax, sweetie, let me hold your head.”

 Well…maybe?

 Roman warily lets his head droop, leaning further into the touch, only to have a second pair of hands cup his head. He takes a shuddering breath, letting the warm touches wash over him. It feels so warm.

 “J-Janus?”

 “Yes, sweetie?”

 “Can you…a l-little to the left?”

 “Here?”

 “Hhhh.”

 Janus chuckles, focusing on the spot just below the crown of Roman’s head. “Does that feel good, sweetie?”

 Roman hums, easily getting lost in the gentle touches, the soft voice.

 W-wait.

 “…stop.”

 The hands freeze. “What?”

  “Stop.”

 The hands are gone. Roman takes a deep breath, trying to fight off the wave of stopdon’tnocomeback that rushes through his chest before looking up at Janus. The worried look on his face is almost enough to get Roman to cave.

 Almost.

 “What are you doing?”

 Janus frowns. “I’m trying to look after you.”

 “Why?”

 The frown deepens and Janus reaches out for him again, stopping when Roman draws back. “Because I want to.”

 “What do you want?”

 “To take care of you, Roman, like I just…” Janus’s eyes widen. “…oh, honey, do you think I’m only taking care of you so you’ll do what I want?”

 Roman looks away. “You know the answer to that.”

 He closes his eyes, expecting Janus to scoff, to turn away, or to just tell him what it is that he actually wants. He hears the soft sounds of rustling fabric, then—

 “I’m sorry.”

  What?

 Roman stares, eyes wide. Janus finishes tucking his gloves into his pocket and nervously adjusts his hat. The scales on his hand glimmer in the faint light of Roman’s room.

 “…what?”

 “I’m sorry,” Janus repeats, “for everything. F-for using you. For manipulating you. For letting you think everything was your fault. And for not doing my job.”

 “Y-your what?”

 Janus reaches for him again, pleading, and Roman lets him gently cup his cheek. His scales are smooth, cold, and he shudders.

 “My job,” Janus repeats in a hoarse whisper, “is to protect you. To take care of you. And I have been failing miserably.”

 Is…is Janus’s hand…trembling?

 “I used your insecurities to manipulate you,” comes the whisper, “to…to isolate you and make you easier to control. I let the others constantly undermine you, convince you that you had no idea what was right and what was wrong, made you reliant on them.”

 Roman’s heart clenches at how horrified of himself Janus sounds, how the hand on his cheek touches him like he’s something precious, like Janus is afraid he’ll ruin him if he touches him wrong.

 “I have hurt you.” Janus’s thumb strokes lightly across his skin. “And I have never, ever, apologized for it. So I’m doing that now.”

 Janus presses his hand there for a moment longer, then pulls his hand away. Roman can’t stop the wounded noise that escapes his throat at the loss of contact, nor can Janus help flinching at the noise.

 Three long seconds pass, each wanting the other to reach out, do something, say something.

 “I…I am not asking you to forgive me,” Janus manages, “not now. Not right away. N-not ever, if you don’t want.”

  No…no—

 “But I am willing to do what it takes to earn it,” he finishes, clasping his hands in front of him and bowing his head, “both your forgiveness and your trust.”

 “…th..that’s what you want?”

 Janus peers up at him. “…yes, Roman. That’s all I want.”

 “…s-so…”

 Janus sighs. “If you wanted to, you could throw me out of your room right now. You could yell at me, scream at me, call me every awful name you can think of. I wouldn’t stop you.”

 “…do you want me to?”

 “It’s not like I don’t deserve it.”

 Roman frowns. “Second chance?”

 Janus’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. “W-what?”

 “Second chance?”

 “I—I…” Janus sighs again. “…I would prefer it if you didn’t. But this isn’t about what I want, Roman.”

 Roman swallows, still overwhelmed by Janus’s apology. It’s…it’s so much more than he ever expected to get. And yet…even hearing Janus say all the awful things he’s done, it doesn’t change the fact that Janus is the only one apart from Remus that makes Roman feel like it’s okay to want something.

 “I…” Janus looks at him intently. “I want…”

 “Say it,” Janus whispers when Roman hesitates, “go on, Roman, say it.”

 “…I want you to take care of me,” Roman whispers, shame burning his face, only to be chased away by cool scales against his skin.

 “May I—“

 “Please.”

 As soon as Roman chokes out the word, the hands are back. Tangling in his hair, stroking his face, holding his head securely. This time, Roman doesn’t fight it, sinking into Janus as much as he can, feeling the hands drift down to rub at his shoulders, drawing little patterns into his back. Janus keeps murmuring to him the whole time.

 “It’s okay, Roman,” he says, finding that spot on Roman’s head again, “I’m right here, I’m right here, I’m not going to hurt you…don’t fret, it’s alright, sweetie.”

 Roman reaches out and fists Janus’s cloak, tugging the other side closer.

 “I’m so proud of you, honey, you made me so proud today…you stood up for yourself and what you wanted, you did so well, you’ve been so strong…”

 “J-Janus?”

 “Yes, my prince, I’m right here, what can I do?”

 “It—it hurts.”

 “What hurts, honey, where does it hurt?”

 “Everything,” Roman cries, the dam finally shattering in the face of all of this, “everything hurts, I want—I want—“

 “Yes, honey, you’re allowed to want, come on now…”

 A sob chokes out of his throat and he’s gone.

 Janus holds him through it, never shushing him, letting him get every single drop out, murmuring soft encouragement that pulls it out of him like some terrible poison. Roman bawls into his chest, letting the prince, the performer, the actor, the good twin shatter, leaving Roman, just Roman, crying in the arms of someone he loves.

 When it’s over, when he can’t move, can hardly breathe from how much, when he sags into Janus’s arms, he feels…lighter.

 “You did so well, sweetie,” Janus says softly into his ear, “so well. That was a lot, wasn’t it?”

 Roman nods, his throat exhausted. “…there’s more.”

 “You get it all out then. I’m not going anywhere.”

 “…I…I…”

 “Talk to me,” Janus pleads, “you can talk to me, honey, I won’t tell a soul, let me care for you.”

 Roman tucks his head against Janus’s shoulder and breathes. Janus is slightly cool to the touch, his cloak is soft. He rubs his cheek against the fabric. His tired brain manages to come up with the word ‘safe.’

 “Of course you’re safe,” comes the instant murmur, “I’ll keep you safe.”

 Roman hates his traitorous brain for instantly flashing will you?

 It’s barely noticeable, a hitch that lasts scarcely more than half a second, but Roman, pressed right up against Janus with Janus’s chin on top of his head, notices.

 “S-sorry—“

 “Don’t,” Janus says immediately, a scaled hand tenderly cupping Roman’s cheek, “you needn’t apologize. I…haven’t exactly given you much reason to trust me.”

 Roman gently bonks his head against Janus’s. “This.”

 He feels more than sees Janus’s sad smile. “And that’s supposed to make everything better, is it?”

 He has a point.

  Doesn’t he always?

 Roman squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, slow breath. Then another. On the third one, he pulls away. Janus lets him go, lets him sit up, and scrub his hands over his face.

 “No,” he says finally, “it doesn’t make everything better.”

 Janus sits there quietly.

 “I’m angry,” Roman murmurs, “I’m so angry with you. With a-all of you, but especially you.”

 No response.

 “It’s like…it’s like I’m constantly watching myself in third person. I—I have to make sure I’m always playing the role right, that my voice is right, my words are right, because you don’t want me unless I’m always right, you won’t—“

 Roman’s voice chokes off. He swallows the lump in his throat.

 “…you won’t love me if I’m not right.”

 He bows his head, hair flopping in his face, twisting his hands together.

 “And I’m so mad right now because I have so many reasons to be mad at you and I am mad at you and I can’t fucking think of any of them because all I want to do is beg you to take care of me and never let me go.”

 He tangles his hands in his hair and pulls, despite Janus’s soft noise of protest.

 “I hate you,” Roman mumbles, “I hate you.”

 He pulls harder.

 “But not as much as I h-hate myself for loving you.”

 His eyes slip shut as yet more tears well up behind his lids. He squeezes them tighter, taking shuddering breath after shuddering breath.

 “I love you,” he says through the breaths, “I love you so much it hurts and it’s everything I know and I’m so angry that I can’t stay angry and I can’t—I can’t—“

 He rakes his nails down his face, leaving angry red lines.

 “Why can’t I stop,” he whispers, “why can’t I stop loving you?”

 “Hate and love aren’t opposites,” comes the hoarse murmur from beside him, “the opposite of love is indifference.”

 “I don’t want to be indifferent toward you.”

 He hears Janus shuffle around and keeps his eyes shut. If he looks…if he looks and sees Janus’s face he won’t get to say the things he needs to say.

 “Why did you change,” he asks suddenly, “what…what made you change?”

 “…you did, Roman.” Roman can’t stop the scoff. “I’m serious. You…that day. When you…snapped, it made me realize something.”

 “What?”

 “That you were far better at pretending than I thought.”

 Janus shifts on the bed.

 “…I thought your hurt would be loud. Brash. Uncompromising. I thought you were the type to sing it to the heavens, shout it from the rooftops. But it’s…it’s not. It’s quiet. It’s solemn. It’s…it’s resigned.” He takes a breath. “And you weren’t even that angry that day. You were just…exhausted.”

 The bed shifts.

 “And you were right.”

 Roman shakes his head slowly from side to side, feeling his hair swing back and forth. “I want to trust you. I do. A-and I’m trying to.”

 “Let me earn it,” Janus says immediately, “let me—let me show you.”

 “I want to,” he says, the vulnerable shake in Janus’s voice tugging on his heartstrings.

 “…second chance?”

 Roman sighs. “I do want to, Janus, but I…I don’t want to get hurt anymore. I—I don’t want to start trusting you again only to have everyone tell me it’s wrong.”

 “If it helps,” Janus says gently, “it’s highly unlikely.”

 “Don’t lie to me right now,” Roman says, “please.”

 “My gloves are off,” Janus reminds, “I’m not lying. And…I did just come from the others.”

 Roman opens his eyes, staring at Janus who smiles gently.

 “Remus…helped us understand,” he says, “how much we’ve hurt you.” He tilts his head. “He loves you, Roman.”

 “I love him too,” Roman mumbles.

 “We—we promised we’d do better,” Janus says, “not just for you, but for…for all of us. And we agreed that starts with making things right with you.”

 Roman can’t help the traitorous flutter of hope in his chest. The scar tissue around his heart burns, the hope pressing up against the damaged nerves, threatening to leave him breathless.

 “When you’re ready,” Janus continues softly, “the others want to apologize to you too. Logan wants to help you figure out what you want. Virgil wants to learn how to recognize when you need help. And I’m fairly certain Patton wants to cuddle you into next week.”

 “N-now?”

 “No.” Janus shakes his head. “Not now. Not if you don’t want to.”

 “…I don’t want to.”

 “Then you won’t.” He hesitates, then slowly reaches for Roman’s hand on the blanket. Roman lets him take it, feeling the subtle shake of Janus’s fingers. “…thank you, Roman.”

 Roman blinks. “For what?”

 “This,” Janus says, squeezing Roman’s hand lightly, “for trusting me with all of this.”

 Roman nods, only for his hair to flop in his face and completely ruin the moment. Janus chuckles as he tries to blow the offending clump away, only for it to resolutely stay exactly where it is. He huffs. Rude.

 “Here,” Janus says before he can reach up to move it away, “let me?”

 Roman nods, expecting Janus to reach up and move it himself, and maybe run his hand through his hair a few times, but Janus reaches into his pocket and takes out…a hairclip? Is that what he’d been fiddling with?

 Janus holds it up so he can see it and Roman’s breath catches in his throat. It’s…it’s a slender clip, in his signature red, with a tiny golden crown on the end. Janus lets him look, then slowly brushes Roman’s hair back, lifting the clip up and gently clipping Roman’s hair out of the way, brushing any lingering strands to the side.

 “There…” He looks back down at Roman’s face. “Now I can see you.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 “I know this doesn’t fix everything,” Janus murmurs, cupping Roman’s face in his hands again, “but…I hope it’s a start.”

 Roman swallows. “It’s a start.”

 Janus smiles. Then it fades as he slowly leans forward, resting his forehead against Roman’s, both of their eyes falling shut.

 “We love you,” Janus whispers, “I love you.”

 Roman should want to say it. But the scar tissue around his heart groans in protest. Still, he opens his mouth.

 “Don’t,” Janus says softly, resting his finger lightly against Roman’s lips, “not like this. Let me earn it.”

 “…I’ve already told you, though.”

 “You have,” Janus agrees, even though he doesn’t move his finger, “but let me earn it.”

 He presses his mouth to Roman’s forehead.

 “Let me earn you.”

 The soft brush of lips against his skin and the sincerity in Janus’s voice makes Roman’s head spin. “…earn me?”

 “Yes, my prince,” Janus murmurs, “let me show you. Let us show you.”

 Roman closes his eyes. He wants that. He wants Janus to show him. He wants Patton to cuddle him. He wants Logan to talk things through with him. He wants Virgil to know when he needs things. He wants.

 He wants.

 And for once, for once, when he wants, the voice in his ear doesn’t say he’s an awful person for wanting, that he’s pathetic, that he’s wrong for wanting.

 Instead, when Janus pulls away a little bit, and asks Roman if that’s alright, if that’s something he wants, Roman answers.

  Yes.

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