#logan is so incredibly sappy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whimsywillowwrites · 2 years

Text

Only Fools Rush In

Summary: Janus crushes on Logan from afar. He finally gathers the courage to ask him out on a date with some encouragement from his best friend, Remus. For @loceitweek2022! *:･ﾟ✧

Characters: Romantic Loceit and Remus as your friendly neighborhood hype man

Word Count: 2,934

Genre: College AU, Meet Cute, Library, Romance, Dating, Demisexual Character, Janus pining hardcore

Rated T for language and sensuality

Janus Moretti was pining.

It all started at the beginning of the semester. Janus normally didn't normally leave his apartment to do homework, but Remus had invited a few people from his rock band over, and it was hard to concentrate.

The student library was nice. It had three floors and there was a coffee shop inside. Optimal place for peace and caffeine.

Janus settled at a table and cracked open his laptop. Then, he saw him—a boy with fawn-colored hair and glasses, working inventory from a metal cart. He ran long lines down the spines of each book he came across with great care, as if understood how important and precious each one was before returning them to their rightful place on the shelves. One day, Janus caught a glance at his nametag—Logan.

And, well, that was it. Every single time Logan walked by, his heart squished in his chest. There was something about him that made Janus want to do incredibly sappy things, like press his fingertips between his eyebrows until the furrow melted away or buy him coffee.

Ugh. Feelings.

Disgusting.

Janus' eyes drifted across the room. Logan usually wore button downs, always tucked into a pair of tight jeans and paired with a necktie, but today he was wearing a sweater. It was cobalt and brought out just how bright blue his eyes were.

"Damn it," Janus muttered. "He's so hot."

"He looks like he has a stick up his ass if you ask me."

Janus thwacked Remus on the arm with The Art of War. "Don't bad mouth my crush!"

A slow smile stretched across Remus' face. He was sitting across from him and working on a neon green lollipop, shiny and round like a marble between his teeth. Several piercings dotted his ears, but he wore a dangly silver one shaped like a morning star that glittered whenever he moved.

"I'm just saying," Remus said, wagging the lollipop at him. "He looks uptight as fuck. Who the hell can stand to sit up straight all day like that? I've never seen him slouch once."

"So what? He has impeccable posture."

"Oh, so posture is hot, now?"

"Yes."

Remus rolled his eyes. "You have no clue what you're talking about."

"I have taste is what I have."

"Then do something about it. Go talk to him."

"It's not that easy."

"Yeah, it is. You just go up to him and open your mouth and say stuff."

Easy for Remus to say. He always spoke his mind without caring what other people thought. Sometimes, it was more of a case of brain to mouth filter, but other times, Janus really wished he had his confidence and his ability to bounce back so quickly when things didn't go according to plan.

"I don't even know if he's gay," Janus hedged.

"You'd find out if you asked him out."

"Oh, sure." Janus flicked his wrist. "Let's just gamble all of my dignity and pride. Toss it at the wind!"

"He's got an Apple watch," Remus pointed out.

"That means nothing."

"The wristband is a rainbow."

"That still means nothing."

"Listen, if you ask him out, I'll back you up. If it goes wrong, I'll create a diversion and pull the fire alarm or something. And if he's an asshole, I'll throw a book at his head."

"No," Janus said.

"A real big one. Full of manners and etiquette or some shit."

"Remus, you are not going to throw a book at him."

"Fine. I'll pull the stick out of his ass and beat him with it."

Janus gave a heavy eye roll.

It wasn't as if Janus was shy. He wasn't. He knew how to charm his teachers into accepting a late assignment, how to make someone blush and how to deliver a powerful speech that had everyone holding their breaths and leaning forward in their seats. He was good with people. Sociable. Smooth.

But this ... this was different. This was a like a grade school crush. Janus hadn't had one of those since, well, grade school. Sure, he dated before, but he only went out with men he met online or in class. It was easy to flirt when the person was clearly into him, but Logan was a complete stranger. Janus had no idea how to approach him.

"So," Remus said. "You gonna do it or not?"

"No. I'm too busy."

"Yeah, being a little chicken shit."

Janus kicked him in the shin without any malice. Remus cackled out a loud laugh.

"Excuse me."

Janus froze. Slowly, he turned his head to see Logan standing nearby with the book cart, his beautiful pink bow of a mouth twisted into a frown.

"Can you two please keep it down? We are in a library."

Janus' palms started to sweat. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard? Had he heard anything at all? Panic flared inside his chest, his tongue moving before his brain could fully process the situation and blurted out: "Yes, sir."

Remus lost it. He fell against the table and started shaking with laughter.

Janus closed his eyes. Fucking hell.

The innuendo was clearly lost on Logan because he looked sincerely confused. "You don't have to call me sir. I cannot be that much older than you."

"I, uh ...Yes. Apologies."

Logan shrugged. He sent Janus one last puzzled look before wheeling the cart away.

As soon as he was gone, Janus dropped his burning face into his hands and groaned. He wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor and die.

"Well," Remus said, still snickering. "That went well."

Janus swatted him with the book again.

***

A week later, Janus and Remus stood outside of the library and underneath an awning to get out of a storm. The rain was coming down hard, bouncing against the pavement like silver coins and drumming over their heads.

"If I had known it was going to rain today, I would have brought an umbrella," Janus complained. He was soaked and wanted nothing more than to slip into something warm and comfortable, but their apartment was quite a walk from here.

"I like it," Remus said. He reached out his hand to catch some of the raindrops like a little kid. He was soaked too, his black leather jacket slick with water and his violet eyeshadow smeared.

"Let's just go inside. We can get coffee and wait for it to let up."

"Good idea," Remus said. "Maybe your Pocket Protector boyfriend is there."

God, he hoped not. Janus would like to look at least halfway decent around his crush. They stepped inside of the library and a rush of warmth instantly seeped in Janus’ skin. He took off his beanie and ran a hand through his damp hair.

And of course, there he was—Logan, sitting at the front desk and reading a book. Everyone else on campus must have gotten the memo about the rain because there weren't too many students here today. His back was straight as a sword, brows furrowed in concentration and beautiful as always.

Remus beamed. "Well, well. Look who's here!"

Janus internally groaned. He hiked up the collar of his jacket and passed Logan as quickly as possible to get to the stairwell. Remus' combat boots echoed as he followed him down to the café. There was no line. The barista punched in their orders and brought them their coffee fairly quickly.

Hot liquid slid down Janus' throat and warmed his insides. He was still soaked. Water dripped off of his clothes and formed a puddle on the linoleum floor.

"Sooo?" Remus prompted. "What are you waiting for? He's clearly not busy."

"He's reading. That means he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"He's reading because he's probably bored out of his mind at work, you dumb ass. Maybe it'd make his day to have a cute boy hit on him. Ever think about that? Huh? Did ya?"

"Now you sound like your brother."

"Yeah? Well, you sound like a wuss. Wuss, wuss, wuss. Mr. Wussyman."

Janus rolled his eyes. "Oh, very mature of you."

"How about this? If you talk to him, I'll give you five dollars."

"Now you're bribing me to talk to my crush?" Janus tossed his head back. "Ha! Please. That'll never work." He took a long sip of his coffee. Swallowed it slowly. Then, "Make it ten."

"Fine. Anything to get you to move your ass already. I'm sick of your pining."

They shuffled back up the stairs. Janus stalled by following Remus to the horror section and browsing for a book to check out. Finally, he settled on The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and made his way to the front desk.

Janus cleared his throat. "Hello."

Logan startled. His eyes immediately glanced over the scar on the left side of Janus' face. It was silver now, a jagged line that slashed from his eyebrow down to his jaw. At a distance, it was hard to make out, but it was much clearer if you were standing next to him. The eye on that side was a bright gold, compared to the right, which was a solid walnut brown. They had never been this close to each other before, let alone talked, aside from the please be quiet incident. This was the first time Logan was really seeing him.

Logan set his book faced down on the desk—The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. "Apologies. How can I help you?"

Janus pushed his book at him. While Logan got to work on checking Janus out, Janus leaned over the desk, trying to appear casual. "So ..." he began.

Logan gave him a sideways glance. "You're dripping on Arthur Canon Doyle."

Janus jolted back. "Sorry." Another puddle was forming at his feet. He scuffed at it with his shoe. "Do you come here often?"

Logan frowned. "I work here."

"I know. It was a joke."

"Oh."

Awkward silence.

"Welp!" Janus snatched his book and forced a cheery grin. "Bye!"

He ran out the library with a bruised ego, internally kicking himself for trying such a cheesy pick up line. Remus paid him only twenty-five cents for such a poor attempt and boilsted up his confidence for when they returned a few days later.

It was another rainy April afternoon. Once again, Janus hadn't checked the weather before leaving his apartment and entered the library looking like he'd just walked off of an intense ride at Splash Mountain.

Janus hastily wiped water off his face. "Maybe he isn't here today."

"Check again," Remus said. He hooked his fingers under Janus' chin and forced him to turn his head. "Calculator Watch at twelve o'clock."

Logan was working inventory again. Outside, the rain hacked against the windowpanes and slid down the glass. Thunder roared, followed by an explosion of lighting, so intense, Janus could feel it in his bones. The lightning illuminated Logan's profile between the aisles, his hip pressed against the side of the book cart and reading the back of a novel, too absorbed in his own world to even acknowledge the storm.

Janus took in the pieces of him—his soft brown hair brushing over his eyebrows, his broad shoulders and long legs, and it felt as if he had been zapped. "Fuck."

"Not yet," Remus said. He gave him an encouraging little push in Logan's direction. "Go talk to him. I'll be hanging around. Moral support."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Gonna grab the biggest, fattest dictionary here. Best to be prepared, in case it goes awry."

Janus was too nervous to even make a comment on that. It took another push from Remus to get his legs moving in Logan's direction. He sucked in a deep breath, pushing down the butterflies in his stomach and plastered on his most charming, practiced smile.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi." Logan turned his head. "You are dripping on the books again."

Janus immediately stepped away from the cart. "Sorry."

Logan didn't respond. The button down he was wearing was well fitted and tucked into a pair of very tight, dark jeans that accentuated his waist and it was just—not fair. Not at fair all. He lifted on his toes to reach a higher shelf, his sleeve shifting down to reveal a stretch of pale skin.

Janus was surprised. "You have a tattoo?"

Logan whirled around and slapped his hand over his forearm. "Yes."

"Why are you hiding it?"

"I'm at work. It's inappropriate."

Janus snorted. "A tattoo doesn't make you less professional, in my opinion. I pointed it out because I thought it was cool, not to get you in trouble. What is it of?"

Logan hesitated.

Janus smiled in an attempt to be reassuring. "It wasn't a trick question."

The pink faded from Logan's cheeks. He slowly removed his hand to reveal a simple chemical formula in black ink. "It's acetylcholine," he explained. "It's a neurotransmitter that plays an essential role in attention, learning, and memory."

"That's interesting," Janus said, because it was. "Do you like science?"

"Yes. I am majoring in Neuroscience."

Holy shit. "That sounds really hard."

Logan shrugged. "Not really. I enjoy the classes."

Okay, okay, so he didn't just look smart, but he was smart. Double whammy in Janus' book.

"Hi, sweetie!" A blonde boy with curly hair stepped next to Logan. He wore a pair of light blue overalls and rounded glasses. A folded umbrella with frogs on it dripped at his side. "You forgot your lunch."

"Ah. Thank you, Patton."

The blonde, or Patton, apparently, smiled and handed him a lunch box. "I see you're busy with someone, so I'll get out of your hair. I'll see you later?"

"Yes," Logan said.

Patton beamed. He gave Janus a polite nod and disappeared.

Heavy disappointment sank in Janus' gut. Of course Logan had a boyfriend. Of course.

But well ... he supposed he couldn't know that ... for certain. At the same time, he wasn't quite sure how to ask. He supposed the only way was to be upfront but god, that was so awkward. Then again, this whole thing was already awkward enough. If he didn't say something then Remus was going to beat his ass, and Janus would always wonder what if. Besides, he had already committed to this stupid thing. If Janus further embarrassed himself then it wouldn't be the end of the world. He would just die in a hole somewhere, but he would be fine. All fine.

Janus crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf. "So was that your ..." He hesitated. "Boy ... friend?"

Logan gave him a strange look. "No. What gave you that impression?"

"He called you sweetie."

"He calls everyone sweetie."

"Ah," Janus said, trying to ignore the swell of hope blooming in his chest. "Nice. Very, uh. Good."

"I guess."

"Soooo, do you have one?"

"Have what?"

"A boyfriend."

"Oh. No."

Remus popped out around a bookshelf behind Logan and flashed a wide, goofy grin. He gave a thumbs up.

Janus shot him a very pointed look. Logan's brows twitched inward. He began to turn around to see whatever it was Janus was looking at, and Janus panicked, his mouth moving before his brain could kick in, blurting out, "Are you gay?"

Logan fwipped his head up. A faint blush seared his cheeks. "I don't see how that is any of your business."

God. This was going horribly.

"Apologies. You're right, it's not my business, I meant no offense. It's just—I am. Gay, I mean. Very gay. I was wondering if you were, too. You don't have to answer, I ... I'm sorry."

A long pause. Logan crossed his arms. "Fine. I'm gay."

This was going wonderfully! Remus popped out again and flashed another thumbs up. Instantly, Janus' confidence was back up.

"Excellent! Do you want to go to Lou Malnati's sometime?"

Logan frowned. "Are you making fun of me?"

"I—what? No! No, I'm asking you out."

Logan's frown deepened. "Why? You don't even know me."

Because you're cute and smart and have impeccable posture, but instead he said, "I know. That's the point. I want to get to know you."

"Because you think I'm attractive?"

"Uh, yes? Yes, definitely."

Logan took a second before responding. He shelved one of the books with a loud clunk-ing noise before turning to face him. "I need to make some things clear first before I give you my answer."

"Okay."

"If you are asking me out for sex, it is not going to happen."

Janus choked. The unscarred side of his face burned pink. Still, Logan pressed on.

"I also will not want to kiss you on the first date. Maybe not even the second or the third or even the tenth, if our courtship gets that far. If I eventually do feel a sexual attraction towards you, I may choose then to engage in sexual activity, but there is also a chance that I will never wish to engage in it, despite an emotional component on my part."

It took Janus' brain a second to catch up to all of that. "Okay, are you saying you're ... ace? Is that right?"

"Demisexual."

The word rolled around in Janus' head. He knew what that was. He'd just never met anyone who identified that way before. "Okay. Okay, cool."

Logan lifted his eyebrows. "Cool?"

"Yeah," Janus said, shrugging. "I still want to take you out. I know you don't know anything about me but ..."

"I don't even know your name."

"It's Janus."

"Janus," Logan repeated. "All right. As long as you are 'cool' with it, I accept your offer."

***

A/N: I wasn't going to post anything because this is unfinished, but I figured I could share this as a WIP. ^_^ This takes place in the same universe as my Prinxiety fic, A Lesson In Love and Romance, which you can read on AO3. Rating and details are subject to change after I complete the entire fic. There is a playlist which you can find here in the meantime, if you would like.

Thanks for reading!

#loceitweek2022 #loceitweek2022day5 #Janus Sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #tsfanfic #lociet #meetcute #romance #collegeau #whimsywillowwrites

35 notes · View notes

siren1song · 4 years

Text

For You

Summary: Logan and Roman are celebrating five years of marriage and get so incredibly distracted before they're even able to work on their plans for the day.

Warnings: None I can think of

Pairing: Logince

Word Count: 1,683

General Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @rose-gold-roman, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps

Notes: Birthday fic for @main-chive. Ren you’re an amazing person ilysm

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

There was so many things Logan loved about his husband. He could try to list them, but then he’d be stuck in bed with Roman’s arm thrown over his waist and head on his chest while Logan himself stared at the ceiling all day.

Well… he’d say the rest of the week but Logan wasn’t really one for exaggeration.

Maybe he’d list the top ten things and then get out of bed to make his love some breakfast? Learning to cook had been going well, and Logan didn’t want Roman to be the only one to make meals.

Alright, that sounded like a reasonable compromise. How to order this list though?

As Logan was trying to figure out if he wanted to go in descending or ascending order of some of his favorite things about Roman, his husband grunted in his sleep and shifted until his head was tucked just under Logan’s chin.

No particular order then.

“One,” he started, whispering softly as he removed his hand from behind his head to run his fingers through Roman’s hair, “incredibly adorable when sleeping.”

“Are you making lists while I’m trying to sleep again?” Roman mumbled, his voice hoarse but still full of amused affection at Logan’s actions.

“Yes, but this time the list centers around you. Surely that gives me a free pass?” he asked, unable to help the lift of the corners of his mouth, his heart metaphorically melting in his chest.

“Mmm, I suppose. The first one was calling me adorable?”

Logan chuckled, eyes tracking his husband as he shifted to supporting himself on his elbow so he could look down at Logan properly.

“Yes, when you’re sleeping you tend to get as close to me as possible and it makes me feel incredibly ‘mushy.’”

Another hum from Roman that turned into a yawn where he leaned back a little too far and landed on his back in the bed next to Logan.

“What’s the list then? All the features that make me the most attractive? You better not forget my love handles. Or the mole on my chin. They’re very important to how pretty I am.”

Gods above and below, Logan loved this man.

“And your surgery scars, and your crooked teeth, and your acne scars. Everything about you is beautiful, love. The list is some of the things I love bout you, in no particular order.”

Roman hummed (a little more successfully this time) with a little smile from Logan’s praise of his looks.

“No order this time? You usually try to at least go in ascending from least to most.”

Logan sat up, back pressed against the wall as he watched his husband with a soft smile.

“Yes well, pardon me for being unable to figure out any one thing about you I love more than anything else.”

Narrowing his eyes, Roman tilted his head in Logan’s direction, not doing much else to move.

“Are you buttering me up for something love?”

There was a snort, and Logan rolled his eyes.

“Have you forgotten it’s our anniversary we’re going to be going to the sunflower fields Janus has been taking care of?”

Roman shot up at the reminder, grin bright as his eyes locked on the closet.

“Oh, I can’t wait to wear the sun dress and sun hat I bought for this trip!”

Logan chuckled, mentally listed Roman’s enthusiasm for fashion at number two, and then prepared himself to leave the bed.

“Alright, you get dressed, I’ve got my own things to do to prepare.”

Roman waved him off, rolling out of the bed, slapping his chubby stomach in excitement a few times before going to the closet.

Gods above and below Logan loved that man.

At number three, Logan put Roman’s stimming with his own weight, and then he left the room to go take a shower before he got started on breakfast.

While he was getting dressed, Roman knocked on the bathroom door to get his attention.

“Yes dear?”

“Would you plug in the curling iron before you leave the bathroom? I want to be a little more feminine than usual today.”

Logan smiled, glancing towards Roman’s basket of hair products.

“Of course, love. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Thank you!”

When Logan was dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a blue tshirt he left the bathroom (having plugged in Roman’s curling iron and noting the closed bedroom door) and made his way to the kitchen.

He was going to do his best to make a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Hopefully nothing would burst into flames this time.

“Logan, love, what are you doing?” Roman asked, entering the kitchen dressed in a beautiful sun dress that really complimented his body and his sun hat in his hands.

Looking to the eggs Logan was currently trying to save, he sighed.

“I’m attempting to cook breakfast. I managed the sausage and bacon, but at one point the eggs started to burn and I’m not entirely sure how to fix it.”

Roman’s smile was amused, and Logan knew he was doing his best not to tease Logan’s lack of skill in the kitchen.

“I’m flattered by the attempt love, but it’s not my birthday, today is a day for both of us. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll remake the eggs.”

Logan sighed, giving Roman a grateful smile as he sat heavily in his usual chair.

When Roman pressed a kiss to the top of his head, Logan’s heart swelled with affection and he couldn’t resist bringing his husband down for a peck on the lips.

The giggle Roman responded with only made Logan want to kiss him again.

“If you distract me with kisses we’ll have to get take out for breakfast,” Roman said, another giggle escaping his throat.

“Alright, I suppose your right. I’ll distract you with kisses after breakfast. Janus will have to tolerate us being a little late.”

His husband snorted, moving over to the stove to work on fixing Logan’s mistakes.

“We’re always late to everything on our anniversaries. Can we be on time for once?”

Logan let out an offended gasp, taking his years of watching Roman being dramatic to heart to really sell the fact he’s not at all offended.

“You would rather we skip out on our tradition of loving kisses and you trying to get away from my attempts to tickle you?”

Roman looked over his shoulder from where he was getting the pan ready to soak to get the burnt egg off easier to give Logan a look of exasperated fondness.

“As much as I love your kisses, I would like to cut out the squirming away from you jabbing your fingers into my sides from our “anniversary traditions,” love.”

Logan hummed, resting his arm on the back of his chair and his chin on top of it.

“Alright then, I suppose. I have other ways I can get you to squeal in that adorable way of yours.”

His husband huffed loudly, but Logan saw his smile as he turned back to the sink and turned off the water.

“You live to embarrass me. Five years of marriage and you have no respect for the love of your life? Honestly, Logan.”

Logan was about to retort, but the number got stuck in his mind, distracting him while he watched Roman work.

Five years. He’d been married to the most wonderful enby he’d ever met for five years. What a thought that was.

“Love? Logan?”

Logan hummed, blinking a little to get his mind back to the present and to stop counting the years in moments of Roman making him absolutely fall.

“You spaced out a little bit. Are you still trying to finish that list from earlier?” Roman asked, glancing at Logan while doing his best to keep his attention on the food he was making.

“Ah, no, actually. I think I forgot to continue that list after number three,” was his answer, smiling sheepishly when Roman gave him his full attention for longer than a few seconds.

“You forgot to continue a list after only three items?”

Laughing at his husbands shock, Logan stood from his seat so he could wrap his arms around Roman’s waist and press a kiss to his temple.

“In my defense, there’s so much to love about you I couldn’t figure out what to put next. You’re amazing in so many ways.”

Roman leaned back against him, shifting the eggs in the pan.

“Not in every way?”

“I love you, but nothing can redeem your blanket hogging habits or your inability to not sing awfully whenever a “meme song” comes on.”

With a snort that Roman tried his best to hide, he looked up at Logan with a grin, kissing his cheek.

“I don’t sing awfully, I sing to irritate you. There’s a difference.”

“What would that difference be, love? To scream in varying pitches that do not work well together?” Logan asked, leaning back a bit to give Roman a disbelieving look.

Roman’s cheeky grin was soon taken from him as he looked back at what he was cooking.

“The difference is you like my singing normally. So I have to make myself sound as bad as possible in order for you to get irritated because you know just how exquisite I actually sound.”

“Ah yes, of course, how could I be so misinformed? Clearly singing awfully and irritating me are two entirely different things.”

“Exactly! Glad you’re open to learning from your mistakes.”

Logan laughed, stepping back from his husband and shaking his head as he sat back at the table.

“I would say your insufferable, but I agreed to suffer you for the rest of our lives five years ago. So I suppose that would be an inaccurate statement.”

“Yep!”

As Logan rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but think that he may not have been able to finish his list of things he loved about Roman, but he could tell that his favorite thing about his husband was Roman himself.

#casper writes #ts logan #ts roman #logince #nonbinary roman #yes he uses masculine titles and pronouns he is still nonbinary #logan is so incredibly sappy #they both are tbh #this was meant to have a different ending but then they started being really gay #i expected this from roman but logan? smh #anyway happy birthday ren!!!! i hope you like this :D

28 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Laugh

Prompt: Hi!! I really love your writing and always look forward to when you update, I can’t tell if your prompts are open (please ignore this if they aren’t!) but if they are I have a prompt for your (un)wanted series; each of the fae making Virgil laugh for the first time, at first he’s insecure/scared to laugh because of experiences in the village but he slowly learns to be ok/comfortable laughing thanks to the fae; again, if your prompts aren’t open I apologize and hope you have a nice day!! - anon

so uh

hey

did you guys know that this past Friday was the one year anniversary of the first chapter of (un)wanted

'cause wow

uhhhhhh I'm not good at speeches so have fluff

Read on Ao3 (Un)Wanted Masterlist

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, it’s found family nonsense

Word Count: 5419

Whether or not they agree on who made Virgil laugh first is irrelevant, the point is that they’ll find something to argue about sooner or later, and when they do, Virgil’s learned enough to curl up with Oliver and just watch. Preferably from the safety of the kraken’s head, a little bit away from the shore, where he’s close enough to hear the things they say but not close enough to be in the way.

It was Oliver’s idea to do that, actually. Virgil…hasn’t been the best at learning how to deal with anger. Other people’s anger, in particular, for completely understandable reasons.

It had been Logan who spotted it, coming over to his side when the twins were having an argument over what side of the lake they were each taking jurisdiction for that decade and Roman’s voice had risen, Remus’s voice had multiplied, and Logan had seen Virgil curl in on himself, clutching his tunic tightly around him and trying desperately to vanish into the wall.

Once the twins realized what was happening—namely, Virgil breathing heavily in Logan’s arms as he glared at the two of them for being so oblivious—they’d stopped right away, calming down and crouching to be smaller so that Virgil could see them, see them, not their anger, and apologize. Remus had tugged Virgil into his lap as part of his apology and Roman had ruffled his hair and promised that he’d never raise his voice around him again.

Logan had been quiet as Virgil clung to him, only later working up the courage to ask what was wrong with him.

“Nothing is wrong with you, little one, you’re experiencing symptoms of your trauma.” A cool hand had passed over his forehead, smoothing his hair back from his face. “Your experiences with human anger have not been good, it stands to reason that you react to it.”

“But—it’s stupid,” Virgil had spat, “I know—I should know you guys won’t—won’t—“

“Shh, shh, hush, now…that’s it. Come back here for a moment. There you go.” Logan’s chin had come to rest on top of Virgil��s head. “Knowing something theoretically and properly internalizing it are two different processes, little one. It’s going to take time.”

“But I’ve given it time.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. There’s no textbook on healing from trauma.”

“There should be.”

Logan had chuckled. “I don’t think even with our combined lifetimes we would be able to read it.”

But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t start trying to help Virgil work through it. It had been the twins who started taking the bigger steps; sometimes Roman or Remus would be spending time with Virgil and the other would bustle in, muttering about something or other gone wrong. A patch of kelp that kept getting infected, a herd of deer that insisted on trampling half of the garden, something. And as they talked, the other would coax Virgil into their lap, keeping him grounded. Their voices might raise, just a little, but they were very careful not to yell and the warm weight of arms around Virgil and a head on his shoulder kept him safe.

When someone couldn’t hold him, Oliver does. The kraken made no secret of how much he liked to hold Virgil—Remus muttered something about how he wasn’t jealous of a kraken, shut up, Roman—and had no reservations about extending an arm for Virgil to step into to wrap him up and carry him to safety. The others made sure not to yell, of course, but that meant that it manifested in other ways.

Logan’s hands turned blue.

Roman’s magic started to tingle from his fingers.

Remus’s tentacles came out.

Janus started hissing.

Patton’s chest glowed.

And sometimes, when he’s safely in someone else’s arms and high away on top of Oliver’s head, that was fine.

Virgil shuffles a little, careful to keep his weight squarely on top of Oliver, not shifting too much either side. Of course, that’s easy when Oliver is really fucking huge. And the kraken burbles every now and then, shifting slowly from side to side in the water, careful not to jostle him too much. He pats the spot next to him in thanks and the water thrums with Oliver’s purr.

Onshore, about twenty feet away, he makes eye contact with Logan. Logan rolls his eyes dramatically, the sheer exasperation on his face making Virgil snort. When he looks back, Logan’s face has softened considerably into such fondness that he can feel the tips of his ears flush.

“I don’t know why we’re still fucking arguing about this,” Remus says, drawing their attention, “I won! I got him to laugh first! So I win!”

“You have no proof of that,” Roman says immediately, “besides, you haven’t even told us what it is, how are we supposed to trust that?”

“Just because we’re not all Lolo with his meticulous journals and note-taking methods doesn’t mean I’m not right, you absolute—“

“Language!”

“Oh, I’ll show you fucking language—“

“How is it,” Virgil mumbles at Oliver, “that they’ve been arguing for so long and Remus hasn’t said what he thinks it is yet?”

The kraken just shrugs. Carefully, not moving Virgil, but he does shrug.

“Well, since you’re so adamant that you’re correct,” Janus drawls, effectively cutting off Remus and Patton’s tangent about swearing—which is something they never can quite put down—“why don’t you tell us what it is?”

“Roro and Pat were there,” Remus huffs, putting his hands on his hips, I don’t see what there is to argue about.”

“We were—oh goodness,” Patton sighs, “are you talking about the first time Virgil met Oliver?”

Remus beams. “Sure am!”

“Was that when I got absolutely covered in that voracious green slime that was determined to consume me?” Roman scoffs and wipes his sleeves at the memory of it. “Absolutely dreadful.”

Remus throws his head back and cackles.

“It was a wonder I was able to get clean,” Roman mutters, glaring at his brother, absolutely splitting his sides.

“Ah,” Remus sighs after a moment, wiping his eyes, “good times, good times.”

He points victoriously at Patton.

“See? You were there! You remember!”

Patton sighs. “I do…but that doesn’t count.”

“What?” Remus whirls around and gestures at Oliver, who stick up two tentacle tips and waves. “Are you discounting this magnificent, glorious beastie from our debate?”

“Technically that would be Oliver getting Virgil to laugh, not you.”

“Or,” Roman says, puffing his chest out, “it would be me. Since I was the one to get so egregiously wounded—“

“You were covered in slime,” Logan points out, “calm down.”

“—then it was me that sparked that reaction.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and pats Oliver’s head again. “You’re not just a beastie, you know that, right?”

Oliver rumbles under him.

“Okay, good.”

“Besides, that was barely a laugh.” Patton pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was…okay, yes, it’s one of my favorite memories since Virgil has come to stay with us—“

Remus turns and shoots Virgil a wink over his shoulder.

“—but a laugh?” Patton looks at Logan. “What’s the definition of a laugh, Lo?”

“Technically, it’s to express certain emotions, particularly mirth or delight, through a series of spontaneous and usually unarticulated sounds.” Logan crosses his arms. “Which means that as long as it wasn’t planned and it wasn’t articulated, anything counts as a laugh.”

“Thank you!”

“Alright, alright,” Patton huffs, “always with the technicalities.”

“You were the one who asked me for the definition.”

“So what do you think it is,” Janus asks, examining his gloves with feigned disinterest, “since you’re so insistent that you know the correct usage of the word ‘laugh?’”

Virgil can see Patton’s grin from Oliver’s head.

“Why, the bread day, of course!”

As if on cue, several groans go up around the clearing.

“Patton, none of us were there for that—“

“You can’t just keep insisting on that one, it’s not like—“

“You can stop rubbing it in, Pat—“

“Of course, you need—“

“It was wonderful,” Patton says, raising his voice just a little to speak over the others, “he looked so happy.”

Virgil does actually remember that one too. And yes, okay, maybe he’s glad that he’s far away from the others so they can’t see the small smile spreading over his face at the memory. The warm kitchen, the smell of the bread, the soft warmth of Patton’s presence next to him…

Yeah, that’s a good memory.

Oliver thrums under him and he pats the kraken’s head absentmindedly. Patton sighs over on the shore as the others mutter amongst themselves. Then he claps his hands.

“Well, I think that’s me winning, so—“

“Hold on,” Logan says, holding up his hand, “as we said, you are the only one who was there. I would argue that a laugh where all of us were present is much more significant.”

He glances up at Virgil and his gaze softens.

“Considering the incredible amount of work that Virgil has done since arriving to stay with us, I’d say that marks…quite an achievement.”

Of course, as soon as one of them starts to get all sappy, the rest quickly join in. Virgil is incredibly glad that he can use shifting on top of Oliver’s head to duck away from the blush he knows is spreading all over his face. Mostly so he doesn’t have to look at the fondness and pride on their faces. Partly because he knows Roman would immediately become insufferable.

“So,” Roman says after a while, which means it’s safe to look up again, “what exactly did you have in mind?”

Logan crosses his arms, using one hand to adjust his glasses on his face. “Do we all remember the first time Virgil began to experiment with his webs?”

Virgil’s breath catches in his throat. Oh, he knows what Logan’s talking about.

The seasons had been turning, fall creeping in through the tendrils of the forest. The leaves had begun to change, dislodging themselves from their branches and twisting down through the air to land in massive piles on the ground. Carpets of red, orange, purple, and brown had covered the paths they would walk, fruits growing heavy and ripe. Roman and Patton had spent hours out in the woods near the lake with him, plucking berries off the trees and eating them until their mouths and fingers were stained with the juice.

The trees around the clearing had lost their leaves a little quicker than the others, leaving their limbs bare, the naked wood gleaming in the sun. The light had warmed the leaves during the day, leaving them dry and crunchy as they walked over them. Something Virgil hadn’t minded at all during the day—he had gotten into more than a few playful encounters with Remus, crashing through the leaves just to hear them crunch—but when night had rolled around…

The thin limbs blowing in the breeze hadn’t been pleasant reminders that the seasons were changing. No, they were fingers tapping threateningly on the windows, or looming there to scratch him if he moved too much.

Logan had noticed him hovering just outside the clearing the next day, softly placing a hand on his shoulder after alerting him to his presence and asking, gently, what the matter was.

“The…the trees,” Virgil had muttered, balling his fists up in shame, “I, um…they…”

Logan had taken one look at the way the shadows fell around the clearing and nodded firmly. “I understand, little one.”

He’d tucked Virgil up in his arms when Virgil asked, rubbing his back gently.

“Would you like to talk about it, or be distracted from it?”

“Distraction, please.”

Logan had smiled. “Have you had a chance to practice with your webs yet?”

“No.”

“Would you like to try now?”

“Uh, sure. What do we do?”

Logan had started to walk them toward the center of the clearing, explaining how spiders use their webs as a part of their consciousness.

“Wait, they what?”

Logan had nodded. “There is a theory of mind known as ‘extended cognition.’ It states that whilst humans—and most sentient beings—use their minds as a great deal of their processing of thought and feeling, we rely on a lot of external structures outside of our minds to help us think. Sometimes outside of our own bodies as well.”

“Whoa…” Virgil had looked down at his hands. “What do you mean?”

“Think of the way you organize your room.” Logan had gestured to Virgil’s door. “It’s laid out in a way that helps you think, helps you process information. It informs your decision-making sometimes, does it not?”

At Virgil’s nod, Logan had asked softly for his hand, beginning to make small circles in the air as Virgil started to let his webs slip.

“The same is true of a spider’s web. Picture the web as something of a hub.”

“A hub?”

“Yes. Do you remember talking about how spiders use their webs?”

“Yeah, as like a sensory extension. They can feel the vibrations of different strands in order to track their food or sense what’s coming for them.”

Logan had smiled. “Very good memory, Virgil, that’s excellent. Yes, they can tell the difference between different types of vibrations too, from different types of prey to debris to predators.”

A small web starts to form between the gaps in Virgil’s fingers.

“But what else they do is fascinating.” He tugs very gently on one of the strands. “The spider isn’t idle when it sits in the middle of its web. Rather, it’s constantly moving, checking each individual strand. Pulling this one a little tighter, tugging that one.”

Virgil watches as the light gleams off of the strands. He moves his fingers a little to watch them. “What for?”

“Pulling a strand tighter makes it more sensitive to vibrations.” He reaches up to Virgil’s head. “Like cupping your hand around your ear to hear things more clearly.”

“Whoa, that’s cool.”

“Mm. An external way of filtering what information the spider receives in order to better process it.”

Virgil had looked up at Logan. Logan had smiled softly and stepped back, letting Virgil spin the web between his own hands.

“…you think this will help me too?”

“I think that my research has shown that taking a spider’s web away from them severely impairs their ability to function,” had come the quiet reply, “and that you haven’t had much of a chance to spin freely.”

Virgil had looked down at his hands. The web had looked so small, too small. He had looked back up at Logan, chewing on his lip.

“Can I…?”

Logan had smiled and folded his hands behind his back.

Virgil had closed his eyes and reached.

There was something strange, he had realized, about being in your body without being in your body. Something like a wall, sometimes thick, sometimes only static, between you and whatever you sense. Hiding somewhere in a corner of your mind where you were in the world, but not really with the world. As if you were existing but just…slightly to the left.

His body didn’t need to do anything spectacular, it just needed to exist. He was a shape. Just a shape. Nothing more, nothing less.

And that was okay.

Without even realizing it, his four legs had lifted him up, suspending him a few inches off the ground as his hands continued to spin. He had felt them taking the web produced and moving it from place to place, but he wasn’t thinking about it.

He had just…done it.

He had been the slight crack in his left finger as he wrapped his hands around and around the threads of the web.

He had been the very tip of his upper left leg as it took the web and tossed it into place.

He had been the last strand that decided to stick to somewhere and make that its home.

When he had opened his eyes, an unknown amount of time later, his mouth had dropped open in awe.

The clearing, previously empty save for the bare-limbed trees and scattered leaves, was draped and covered in spiderwebs.

Logan, who must’ve been standing there quietly, had looked up and around him, eyes wide with wonder. He had turned slowly, spotting Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, all staring around with wide eyes at the mass of webs that clung with gossamer elegance to the fabric of the world.

Virgil had hung there, suspended amidst the web, spinning slowly as he felt the world breathe.

Dusk had fallen, bathing the clearing in a soft light that reached gentle fingers out to paint thin blue shadows along the ground. The cool air had been weightless, blowing effortlessly through each strand and setting it to tingle. Everywhere a strand vibrated, a single drop of dew had formed, a single crystal in the half-dark.

A glittering hub.

And for the first time, Virgil had looked at something he’d made not with fear, not with anger, but with wonder.

And he’d laughed.

Giddy, child-like, bemused entirely by his creation and the way his body molded to the soft chimes of the web, spinning, spinning, unspun in the comfort of the mist.

Virgil’s legs twitch behind him at the memory of the first web, and as he looks down, he realizes he’s been idly toying with a web on top of Oliver. The kraken, of course, is more than delighted to realize he’s received a present, burbling happily as Logan finishes his quiet recounting of that evening. A lull hangs over the shore for a moment before Logan adjusts his tie.

“I believe I win.”

“Hold on,” Roman says, “let’s not be too hasty, here.”

“I do remember that,” Patton murmurs, glancing over at Virgil, “that web was so pretty.”

“Pretty enough for Logan to win?”

“Maybe not that pretty.” He sends a wink at Virgil.

Rude.

“Well,” Logan huffs, turning to Roman, “if you’re so certain, Roman, what on earth do you think it is?”

Virgil can hear the fucking smirk on his face from here.

“Have you all forgotten so quickly?” He spreads his arms. “Has the image of our sleepy little spider left your minds so soon after it happened?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Virgil knows exactly what Roman’s talking about.

Okay, in his defense—who is he kidding, he knows damn well he set himself up for this. But it had been such a long day! He’d been working with Logan, trying to get the garden set up properly and that was hard, okay? Trying to manage the three different notebooks, the planters, the pots, the tools, it was a lot, and he still wasn’t used to using his new legs so he kept bumping into things and it was a lot. Then he had to help Patton with clearing out another section of the kitchen to make room for all the new baking pans and they were so loud and hard to manage and get the things in all the right places took so long and ugh. And then to top it all off Janus had promised to go with him on a walk and—listen, okay, the day was long.

And Roman is really, really warm.

He’d been walking back from the portal, drained from the effort of keeping his magic under control on the other side of the garden, panting slightly as he rounded the corner. He’d looked up just in time to see Roman shutting his red door behind him.

“Ah,” he’d said, coming over with a smile, “there you are, little honeybee, I’ve been looking for you.”

He’d taken one look at Virgil’s demeanor, however, and quickly softened his voice, coming a little closer, hands at the ready to ensure he was alright.

“What’s happened, little honeybee, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, Roman, I just—oh—“

“Shh, easy, hey, come here…” Roman had leaned Virgil gently against the side of the house. “Too much?”

Virgil had nodded wearily. “Think I just…pushed it a little too hard today.”

“It happens.” He’d run his hand gently through Virgil’s hair. “Magic-wise or just existence-wise?”

“Bit of both?”

“My poor little honeybee, you must be exhausted.” Virgil’s eyes had slipped closed for a moment as Roman had carded his hand through his hair again. “Do you want to be left alone, or can I take care of you?”

Virgil had leaned into Roman’s touch and mumbled something. Roman had chuckled.

“Those aren’t words, little honeybee.”

“Mm.” Virgil had managed to crack one eye open. “C’n I come with you?”

“Of course, Virgil, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

Roman had guided him carefully through the red door, sitting him down and producing cloth and bottle out of seemingly nowhere. He had shushed any protests gently, saying that it didn’t matter that Virgil hadn’t been crying, he can still let Roman clean his face off. He’d cupped Virgil’s head and asked him quietly to look at him.

“I don’t want you to fall asleep here, little honeybee,” he’d murmured, “so try and stay awake until we can get you somewhere comfortable, alright?”

“I’m not that tired,” he’d protested, “I’ll be fine.”

Roman had just smiled.

And Virgil really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him be so tired that he’d tried really hard to keep his eyes open. Even when Roman’s hand under his chin had been so warm, so confident in holding his head right where it needed to be. Even when the soothing repetitive motions of the cloth had coaxed his gaze not to Roman’s face but to the way the fabric moved in and out of his vision. Even when Roman had to pause and rewet the cloth and he’d let his eyes drift shut for a moment, just a moment.

Only to realize later that Roman had stopped completely, and was watching him with a quietly smug smile.

“Stay awake for me, little honeybee,” he’d whispered, “I’m almost done.”

“‘M trying.”

“I know, I know,” Roman had soothed, finishing cleaning his face, “and you’re doing a wonderful job for me.”

Then, of course, everything had gone wrong.

Because just that one little word of praise had been enough for the very tips of Virgil’s ears to go read, and of course, Roman had spotted it.

“Little honeybee,” he’d murmured, tilting Virgil’s chin up just a little higher, “what’s got you so flustered?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm, nothing? Are you sure? Your ears look awful red.”

“It’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Roman had said lowly, still cleaning off Virgil’s face with gentle swipes of the cloth, “I’m sure it’s fine, little honeybee, I trust you completely, I’m simply worried. If I’m doing something wrong, then I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.”

He says, as he’d looked directly into Virgil’s eyes.

“Why,” Virgil had whined out as Roman had chuckled, watching him cover his face, “are you so mean?”

“Sorry, little honeybee,” Roman had murmured, not sounding very sorry at all as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, “I couldn’t resist, you’re too cute.”

“I am not!”

“Oh, little honeybee—“

“No,” Virgil had said—said, definitely, not pouted, “don’t respond to that.”

“If you insist.” Roman had given him another moment before reminding him that he still needs to finish. “I’m really almost done, I promise. It won’t take much longer.”

Of course, having someone hold your face when you were already flustered is not easy, and it was Roman, so…

“What happened,” he had asked as though he didn’t know damn well what had happened, “why aren’t you so sleepy anymore, little honeybee?”

Virgil had been quite impressed with the glare he’d managed to give Roman through the remaining blush on his cheeks. Roman had simply laughed.

“Alright, I deserve that.” He’d stroked a thumb carefully over Virgil’s clean cheek and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the other. “You did wonderfully, little honeybee, thank you. I’m all done now.”

Roman had turned away, putting the cloth and the bottle back into whatever aether he’d pulled them out of and offering his hand to Virgil.

“Come on, do you want to change into something else?”

The sleepy haze had returned by the time he’d managed to get into the softer clothes Roman had offered, all but stumbling into Roman’s arms as they retreated to the large mess of cushions and pillows. Roman had laid down first, Virgil on top of him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other scratching lightly at the center of his four legs.

“Shh, shh,” he’d coaxed when Virgil had started to whine, “none of that now, little honeybee, just relax.”

A soft knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“Roman, have you seen…” Logan had trailed off the instant he spotted them. “Ah. Nevermind.”

“Have I seen our little spider?” Roman had lightly knuckled Virgil’s jaw. “Yes, I believe I have. Did you need something?”

“Only to join you, if you’d allow me.” He’d glanced behind up. “Or rather, allow us.”

Virgil hadn’t been able to fully recognize the others coming in to join them around the mass of pillows, but he had registered the soft weight of Patton asking if he could dust him off a little and the soft gurgle of Remus as he settled in above them on the wall.

“My, my,” a voice had drawled, Virgil too tired to look over at Janus, “what a sleepy little spider.”

“Mm.” Virgil had felt Roman’s chest warm as the hand on his back continued to scratch gently. “Precious little spider.”

“Are you two just going to fuss at him until he falls asleep?”

“Why shouldn’t we?”

“Well, if you fluster him too badly he might not be able to sleep.”

“Why, Logan, I’m hurt. Surely you know we would never.”

Virgil still isn’t sure what it was, whether it was the drawl of Janus’s voice, Logan’s disbelieving scoff, or the very real memory of Roman enjoying driving him out of his mind a few minutes ago, but whatever it was, it bubbled up in the pit of his stomach and he started to giggle.

The room had gone quiet, just listening to Virgil lying on Roman’s chest, absolutely stunned.

“You’re so giggly, little spider,” Roman had teased, “so giggly, so adorable, I’ve never heard you giggle before. It’s so cute!”

“Giggle spider, is that a thing, Logan?”

“Well, it certainly is now.”

Roman had rubbed his back soothingly, still teasing, trying to lull Virgil back to sleep. Janus had reached over and tucked a blanket over the two of them, leaning down to kiss Virgil’s hair and murmur something about getting it out, little spider, it would be alright.

Virgil isn’t sure if that was the first time he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face, but it wasn’t the last.

“…yes, alright,” Logan concedes, “that was adorable.”

Roman throws his hands up in triumph. “See? Everyone’s favorite is our giggle spider.”

Yeah, Virgil’s really glad he’s not standing next to Roman right now, and that he’s far enough away that they can’t see his blush if he ducks his head. He still gets all giggly when he remembers it, no use in reminding everyone of that now.

“Janus? Are you going to try and compete, or…” Roman strikes a dramatic pose. “Shall we commence with my victory already?”

Janus is quiet for a minute. Then he raises his hand and lets a little bit of the golden glow of the Claim flicker up around his hand.

“Virgil,” he says softly—oh, he’s using it so he doesn’t have to raise his voice, that’s clever— “would you come over here, please?”

“Uh, sure.” He pats Oliver’s head and the kraken burbles, wrapping an arm tightly around Virgil’s waist to set him on the shore near Remus. Remus reaches out to steady him, make sure he’s alright. “I’m good, thanks. I’m here now.”

“Yes, thank you, little mouse.” Janus tilts his head. “Do you have a favorite?”

“…favorite?”

“A time you laughed,” comes the soft voice, “do you have one? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Virgil glances around the circle, expecting to see scoffs or playful challenges or maybe—just maybe—someone will whisper that he knows theirs is the correct choice. But he doesn’t.

All he sees are curious expressions, even a few encouraging smiles.

“Wait, really?”

Janus nods. “Anything? It doesn’t have to be much.”

Virgil thinks. Does he? He remembers meeting Oliver for the first time, remembers making bread with Patton, remembers spinning in the clearing, remembers falling asleep on Roman’s chest.

Something else…something else…

“I remember,” he starts nervously, “it was one of the first times I went for a walk at night by myself.”

He looks around, maybe he wasn’t supposed to do that, but no judgment meets his gaze. He swallows.

“It was dark outside but the moon was really bright. I could see perfectly, even with the trees, all the way to the lake.”

He glances behind him, at Oliver, playing in the reeds.

“Oliver was asleep. He—I think it was after you guys spent the day cleaning out the underbelly of the caverns down there, he was really tired. So the lake was, like, super flat.”

He remembers little ripples, just the barest touch of the breeze to the surface of the water.

“And I, um, I realized that I’d never actually seen anything be that…” He struggles for a moment for the right word. “…still before.”

He shifts a little.

“Everything was always moving. Even when it was quieter, the water was never completely flat. There were waves, there were—there was always something.”

But not that night. No, that night it felt like the lake was breathing, not like the wind was blowing across it. If he sat still enough, it was almost as if he could watch it inhale and exhale, at peace in the moonlight.

“And I…I dunno, I really liked the way the moon looked.” He looks down at his hands. “It, uh, reminded me of what the Claim looks like.”

He’d sat there for a while, just staring at his hands, wondering how the gold of the Claim would look bathed in silvery light. He’d rubbed them together, trying to see if he could feel it, only for something else to emerge entirely.

He hears the gasps of Roman and Patton as a purple orb begins to form in his hands.

“I, uh…made this for the first time that night,” he murmurs, watching it spin and dance in his hands, suspended there, floating like some great bubble, “and it looked…like me.”

He remembers staring into it and not seeing anything but energy. About looking at it the way he used to watch the moon, the stars, anything he could never understand but wanted to, so desperately.

Only to realize that he already understood it.

Gone were the gauntlets, gone were the strings, gone were the threats of torture and hurt and pain.

All that was left was this.

And feeling that relief, seeing this orb as a manifestation of the fact that it was free…

In that release, he’d laughed.

“It was…the first time I think I realized I was me.”

Virgil looks up at them. The orb fades back into nothingness, leaving his hands empty. After a pause, Janus reaches forward and gently draws him in.

“That,” he says softly, “that is my favorite.”

“You fucking sap.”

“He has gone soft.”

“Oh, like you haven’t?”

And just like that, the petty bickering is back, but filled with fondness and barely concealed amusement and it’s so perfect, it’s so right, that Virgil can’t help himself.

Virgil can’t help it, he laughs.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees @meltheromanstan

(Un)Wanted Taglist: @deafeningdeppresedvoidthing @myrandomfandoms12 @i-love-books-and-so-do-you @homodetector @cohesiveanxiety @extrageekytrashofthething @beyondthestacks @lizzy-lineart @imknittingahat @twilight--trix @/nofurtherquestions-smirk @ray-does-stuff @lunatatic @our-bloody-mari666 @what-aboutno

If you want to be added/taken off taglist(s), let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #fae sides #fic

74 notes · View notes

iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

Note

Hihihihi~ love how you write!

Mm this is for the holiday gift thing: Star + Loceit or Losleep

aaaa thank you!!! and ooh yes i love it!! human au with losleep, here you go!!

Remy flung open the door of the bedroom. “Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Ba—”

“What is it, dearest?” Logan asked with an amused sigh, looking up from his laptop, where he was editing the third chapter of his dissertation.

“What’s that website where you can name a star?” Remy asked, draping himself over the back of the armchair Logan was sitting in. “And get like a little certificate and shiz?”

“I don't recall.” Logan frowned. “Their claims are unrecognized by the scientific community and have little basis in reality.”

“That’s what I thought you'd say,” Remy said smugly. “C’mere.” He grabbed Logan’s hand and tugged, attempting to drag him upwards over the back of the chair.

Logan got to his feet instead. “What are we doing, again?” he inquired.

“Come here,” Remy insisted, dragging Logan all the way through their apartment and out onto the little balcony outside the kitchen. It was already dark, even at barely five in the evening. “Okay. Okay okay okay.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, looking very pleased with himself.

“It’s cold,” Logan observed.

“Shut up, we can cuddle and make out when we go inside and then you’ll be all warmed up. Lookit. I had an idea.”

“Do tell,” Logan prompted, intrigued in spite of himself. He rubbed his hands briskly up and down his arms to warm himself.

“Okay. So you said that website thing is all made up, yeah?”

“Yes.” Logan had no idea where this was going; Remy was all smugness and eager smiles.

“But like, it still means a lot to some people. Even without it being sciencey. Right?” Remy pressed.

“I—I suppose,” Logan admitted.

“Like, basically what they’re doing is just saying, ‘I love you so much I want to give you a whole entire star, so I decided this one is for you.’ It’s about sappy shit like that, right? And it literally only matters because they say it does?”

Logan considered this. “That’s rather sweet, actually. I suppose that is a fair interpretation. What does that have to do with—”

“Okay,” Remy interrupted, grinning, “now tell me your favorite star in the sky. I know you have one, you nerd. Point it out for me.”

Logan blinked, his cheeks flushing. “Well—” He hesitated, feeling almost shy, warm butterflies waking in his stomach.

“C’mon, sugar. Show me.” Remy wrapped his arm around Logan’s waist from behind him, hooking his chin over Logan’s shoulder and resting his other hand on the back of Logan’s own. “Which one?”

Very aware of Remy’s soft breath on his ear and neck, and face ablaze in a way that was somehow not unpleasant, Logan hesitantly raised his hand, searching the sky until he could pick it out. “Over there. Just—just above that tree, and then a little to the left. The second one. It—it doesn’t have any significance, but I—I just like it. Why?”

“Great,” Remy said happily. “I’m naming it after you.”

Logan choked on air, even though he had formed a vague idea of what direction this was probably going. “I—you—what?”

“I’m naming it after you,” Remy repeated, pressing a loud smack of a kiss to the side of Logan’s neck. “Me, here, right now. That’s the Logan star now. I don’t give a damn what anyone else says.”

Logan’s heart was doing funny little flips in his chest. “Oh,” he managed, his voice coming out incredibly flustered.

“Yeah.” Remy grinned and pressed another kiss to Logan’s cheek.

“It—it’s not the official name for it,” Logan said, just in case Remy had somehow forgotten this.

“I know. It’s the me name for it.” Remy grinned, spinning Logan around and catching him by the hands. “Cause I loooooove you. Enough to give you a whole star all to yourself.”

Logan found he was smiling uncontrollably. “Remy?”

“Yeah, babes?”

“That’s—you’re—I love you too,” Logan blurted. “More than stars.”

Remy’s face melted into an expression of pure delight. “Awww,” he cooed, hands moving to Logan’s waist and pulling him closer.

Logan leaned into the warmth of his boyfriend’s body, burying his face happily in the taller man’s shoulder. “You said something about making out,” he said into Remy’s neck.

“Hell yeah,” Remy agreed at once.

“I would like that, please,” Logan said. “But we should go inside first. Where it’s warm.”

“You got it, hot stuff.” Remy bent and without warning scooped Logan’s legs right out from under him, lifting him off his feet and laughing when Logan yelped and flung his arms around Remy’s shoulders for stability.

Remy carried Logan back into the apartment. “You know,” he said, setting Logan on his feet and shutting the balcony door, “you should finish your PhD faster.”

Logan let out a startled laugh, following Remy to the couch. “Why?” he asked as they sat and Remy tugged him into his lap.

“Cause then I’ll be able to say that kissing you is just what the doctor ordered,” Remy said matter of factly. He reached up to cup Logan’s face in his hand.

“Ah, I see.” Logan leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and smiling. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Hell yeah,” Remy said. He drew Logan down to rest their foreheads together. “You’re prettier than every star there ever was, you know,” he murmured.

Logan’s face split in a grin, and instead of bothering to answer, he pressed his lips to Remy’s, feeling splendidly warm inside and out.

[send me a prompt and get a small fic!]

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #losleep #logan sanders #ts logan #remy sanders #remy sleep #ts remy #peregrin said a thing #peregrin writes #ts fic #ts fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt #peregrin answers #peregrin plays a game #gabseliblack

49 notes · View notes

heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Clandestine: Chapter Thirteen

Fitting that this is chapter thirteen. It was destined to be unlucky. And it was also the hardest one to write by far. Thanks for being so patient with me. One last cliffhanger, yes? For old time’s sake.

@lumosinlove your characters continue to live in my head rent-free, so thank you!

@donttouchmycarrots is my dude, my pal, my babe, and the best proofreader ever

Special thanks to @wonder-womans-ex for providing what just might be my favorite line in this chapter

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: violence, gun violence, nightmares, anxiety, mentions of food, injuries

Logan woke up to Finn crying.

He was admittedly good at being quiet about it – he muffled any noise into his pillow, body turned towards the wall and curled up tight. It was the shaking that gave him away. Logan wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but his heart just about shattered when he realized. He rolled over to face Finn, pulling him gently into his arms and holding him close. His heart lurched as the redhead shuddered and buried his face in Logan’s chest, arms wrapping around him tightly as he sniffled. Logan screwed his eyes shut and breathed, nice and slow in an attempt to get Finn to match him. He wasn’t sure what was upsetting his partner, but he wanted nothing more than to fix it, to help however he could. Finn leaned further into him and stayed there for what felt like an eternity before he calmed down, breaths slowing and tears drying.

Logan could feel every swell of muscle, every gentle dip between his ribs, the eyelashes that were still wet and clumped together, the way his skin felt all clammy. He wished he could pull him even closer, hold him even tighter, even though there was physically no distance between them. Maybe Finn could find comfort in the confines of his arms, the way Logan had found safety in Finn’s.

“Want to talk about it?” he finally whispered, making Finn tense up again. He peered over Logan’s shoulder to look at their sleeping partner, then looked back down at Logan.

Sometimes Finn just took his breath away. Sure, his eyes were glassy and his nose was red from crying but he was still so beautiful, with muted light filtering through the curtains turning messy auburn hair into shiny copper, seeming to glitter in the sunlight. Big, brown doe eyes looking so incredibly soft as he stared down at Logan. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being looked at like that. Like he was something to be cherished, something to be adored.

Logan felt his breath hitch.

“Hallway?” Finn asked, glancing back at Leo. “Don’t want to wake him up.”

Logan smiled. He loved learning how all three of them showed love and how it varied depending on which partner they were interacting with. Finn was more teasing with Logan, always throwing jabs and chasing them with happy grins and lots of kisses. With Leo he – well, he still teased mercilessly, but it was softer around the edges. The kind of affection that made him get all squinty-eyed because he was smiling so much and too-tight hugs because he couldn’t possibly hold back. Leo didn’t act that different when it came down to it, but he picked up quickly on what the two of them liked – intertwining his fingers with Finn’s as often as he could, running his hand through Logan’s hair time and time again. The constant motion of his hands was directed at the two of them instead of the lock in his pocket more often than not, a new soothing habit forming quickly. It was adorable. Logan wasn’t really sure how he was different, but he knew he was softer with the two of them more than he’d been with anyone else. He could feel himself turning into a sappy romantic and he wanted to hate it, but he really couldn’t.

Finn scrambled up reluctantly and Logan followed him across the room, nervous and itching to pull Finn back into his arms. He reached for Finn as soon as the door closed completely. “Bad dream?” His stomach dropped when Finn just nodded, biting down on his lip hard as his eyes welled up with tears again.

“I don’t want to go back there.” Finn admitted, voice a soft whisper in the silence of the hallway. Logan sighed and pressed closer, standing on his tiptoes just a little to loop his arms around Finn’s neck. Logan didn’t want to go back, either, but it was different for Finn. He’d been there for longer, after all, and Logan still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened during that time. Finn refused to talk about it, and Logan was too afraid to ask, as selfish as that made him feel. To top it all off, Logan had no idea how to help. Usually bad dreams were only loosely based on reality – but Logan had a feeling these were a little too real. They’d lived it, after all. To wake up from a nightmare and realize it was basically reality…

How could you comfort someone who’s bad dreams were all true?

“I know,” he said simply, lacking the words for anything else and running his fingers through Finn’s messy bedhead soothingly.

“We won’t be there for too long.” Finn said after a while. He seemed to be trying to comfort Logan with the words, even though he was the one who had been crying about it earlier. Logan ached for the redhead. He had such a big heart, always putting others before himself even if he was in a bad place himself. Logan needed to pay more attention, to pinpoint that evasion tactic and not let him get away with it. Everyone needed solace, even the ones who primarily did the comforting.

Finn’s eyes had closed sometime earlier, his head tilted to lean into Logan’s hand, his breath tickling the inside of Logan’s wrist. Logan wiped away a stray tear tenderly and sighed. Finn didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Logan wasn’t going to force him to talk, but he was worried about what would happen if he didn’t talk about it with someone. Sometimes it was nice to talk to someone with an outside perspective – someone who wasn’t in the thick of it like Logan was. So Logan reluctantly let it go for now and tried the next best thing: cheering Finn up.

“And it’ll be nice to bash some heads in while we’re there.”

That earned a laugh from Finn, and Logan felt such stark relief at the sight – it left him a little breathless. It was sad that a genuine laugh from either of his partners was so rare now. Logan felt like he needed to cherish them when they happened.

How depressing was that?

“Bashing some heads in is now on the list, I guess.” Finn murmured, placing a lingering kiss to Logan’s temple, who hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

Finn was in the process of kissing Logan when he said that, which just turned into a laugh against Logan’s lips. “No, but you do.” Logan could hear the smile in his voice. “And that’s way hotter than it probably should be.”

Logan looked up at him nervously to make sure he wasn’t kidding, then relaxed at the honesty in those mischievous eyes. Even upset and stressed, Finn somehow knew what to say to soothe worries Logan hadn’t even told him about. Being in a job like his… well it was ugly. It was brutal and violent and messy and not many people would want to be involved with someone like that – someone with bloodstained hands, too many paranoid tics, and a heavy, guilty conscience.

Finn and Leo didn’t seem to mind all that much, thankfully.

The realization made Logan grin sharply and nip at Finn’s lower lip before delving into another deep, intoxicating kiss. It was too easy, getting lost when he kissed Finn. So much of their surroundings faded away until all he was aware of was the feel of slightly chapped lips against his and hands holding his hips in order to pull him closer. Finn seemed to have that effect on Logan – he always had, ever since that New Years party. He was the kind of person everyone naturally gravitated towards, pulled in without a second thought. It was part of what made him so damn good at his job.

Finn breathed in sharply before kissing him again, heady and sure of himself and making Logan weak in the knees. All five senses were overwhelmed with Finn, Finn, Finn. It thrummed along with his pulse in a steady, loud rhythm. And yet his mind still drifted back to the bedroom with Leo, the thought of joining him back in bed tugging at him just as Finn broke the kiss and pulled him back towards the door, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Sometimes I’m convinced you’re a mind reader.” Logan smiled and willingly let himself get drawn back into the quiet, sleepy warmth of the bedroom. Finn just shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

Leo was still sound asleep, sprawled out on his back with one leg sticking out from underneath the covers and hanging off the side of the bed at what looked like a very uncomfortable angle. Logan smiled at Finn’s affectionate snort, then followed him back to bed and crawled in the middle again. He curled up on his side, facing the blond as Finn pressed against his back and tangled their legs together. Leo’s hand moved up the bed, searching for Logan’s until he found it and then seemed to drift off to sleep again with a content sigh.

It scared Logan a little, how important the two of them had become in such a short amount of time. They were slowly invading more and more space in his head until his only thoughts seemed to be about them, all the time. Maybe it should be a little worrying, but Logan couldn’t find it in himself to be too concerned – not when the thoughts made his chest feel light as air and his stomach full of butterflies.

***

It was getting close to go-time, and everyone was on edge. The energy was palpable, like an electric current flowing through the group. Shoulders were tense, words were short and clipped, a sense of focus and determination in the air.

Leo had never been part of something like this. The only missions he’d been on were with Logan and Finn and that was it. Having a big group like this, all feeling the same things and wanting the same goal, it was intoxicating. It sucked you in and made you want to be a part of it, too.

But he couldn’t. He was stuck here, on the sidelines, left to wait aimlessly until everyone returned. That meant letting them go and resigning himself to a night of restlessness and worry.

Leo hated it.

He didn’t cling to his partners like he so desperately wanted to. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go again. He didn’t ask for empty promises of being careful, nor did he beg them to be safe. He couldn’t hold them to words they might not be able to keep. But he allowed himself to stare, just a bit. He let his eyes linger over Logan’s steady hands as he loaded his gun and methodically checked it three times, just like always. He watched Finn pull a clean shirt over his head and fiddle with the sleeves, seemingly lost in thought. Leo memorized what he could, just in case. The exact shade of Logan’s eyes, the freckle pattern across Finn’s cheeks and nose. He hated that his brain automatically jumped to worse-case scenario like that, but – well, considering the circumstances and what they’d already been through at the hands of the Snakes… could you blame him?

There was also this feeling in the pit of Leo’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if this was just the anxiety talking, but everything in that moment felt so decided, so final.

It felt like goodbye.

As if Finn knew exactly what was going on in his head, he drew Leo in for a hug and kissed his cheek, lingering for a second before leaning back to meet his eyes. They shared one of those looks – one that expressed a multitude of emotions without saying a single word. When Finn kissed him, it was deep and achingly slow. He was taking his time, wanting to make the moment last as long as he could. Leo knew the feeling. He fisted his hand in Finn’s shirt and pulled him impossibly closer, tilting his head for a better angle and softly running his tongue across the seam of his lips. A gentle rush, a quiet thrill, but still with a noticeable, tangible melancholy.

Leo could still count the number of kisses they’d shared on two hands. That wasn’t nearly enough for him. He wanted as many different types of kisses as he could think of – happy, teasing, soft, hard, tender, and everything in between. He wanted to lose count by the end of the week. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about his partners.

He just hoped they’d get that chance.

Logan pressed up against the two of them, slotting seamlessly into place. Transitioning from kissing Finn to kissing Logan was as easy as breathing – a simple turn of his head and a slight bend to accommodate for the height difference. It was the kind of kiss you were meant to remember. A whirlwind of sweet and passionate, deep and gentle, loving and regretful.

More than anything it just hurt.

Leo’s gut churned as he pulled back and looked at the two of them, lost for words. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this, after all? He didn’t think there was anything he could say to make this easier, or reassure them. Words didn’t seem like enough anymore – they just felt insincere and meaningless. Leo didn’t think he’d ever faced that problem before. Words usually came fairly easily to him, especially if something was important to him. But now they were failing him and it left him feeling even more lost, adrift in a raging sea that he had no idea how to navigate.

“Let’s do this,” Finn said finally, part resigned and part determined, before heading towards the bedroom door.

The rest seemed to happen all at once in a blinding flurry of activity. Goodbyes with the team were quick and rushed and then they were all loading up into cars, green and brown eyes meeting his every once in a while before the doors closed and the engines growled to life.

Leo watched the caravan of cars head down the driveway, then rushed across the wrap-around porch to keep them in his sights for as long as he could until they disappeared behind an outcropping of trees. He kept his eyes trained on the spot and clung to the wooden railing with a white-knuckled grip.

And that was where he would stay. If that was the last place he saw them, it would be the first place he would see them again. He didn’t care if he stood there all night until it bled into morning; he wasn’t moving an inch.

***

Sirius sat in the backseat next to Remus for the drive, which was silent and tense with rising adrenaline and battle plans running through everyone’s heads – especially Remus’. He could practically see his mind working. He’d been planning nonstop for the past two days to make sure that all the loose ends were tied up and that they were doing this the right way. Any illegal processes now could compromise the court trials that would come after putting the Snakes behind bars. Between that and coordinating between the other agencies that were helping them take down the Snakes, it was looking like a Herculean task. They could’ve pulled out the big guns and requested help from the FBI, but no one really wanted to do that. This was personal, after all – for pretty much everyone on the team. The feds could take over later, after everyone was apprehended.

Remus chewed at his lower lip, eyes trained on nothing in particular. The back of his head was highlighted in the headlights of the car behind them, illuminating in a startling contrast to the rest of the dark interior of the van. Sirius stared and stared until he just couldn’t help it. He reached over to turn Remus’ head towards him, then ran his thumb lightly over that abused lower lip until Remus let it go. Color seeped back into it, turning the pink a darker, cherry red. Again, Sirius stared. That mouth quirked into a teasing smile.

“You’re going to chew a hole in your lip if you keep that up.” He said and looked up into honey-colored eyes, slowly pulling his hand back. Remus just huffed under his breath – a short, nervous shadow of his normal laugh.

“Yeah. I could really go for some chapstick right now.”

Sirius smiled, pulling Remus towards him and kissing him gently, reverently. It still kind of blew his mind, how much things had changed in the past few months. Remus used to hate him. Well, maybe hate was a strong word, but they definitely weren’t friends. And now here they were, making out in the back of a van. Even though their mission was coming to an end and Sirius really wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Gryffindor any more, he could no longer fathom leaving. Remus played a huge part in that, of course, but Sirius also had friends now – real friends who didn’t try to use him constantly or only contacted him when they needed something. He had a home, as ridiculously cliché as that sounded. Nothing about Slytherin felt like this, and it made Sirius wonder if he’d ever actually had a place to call home before he found himself in Remus’ tiny apartment with the dying houseplant and the lumpy couch and an entire cabinet devoted solely to mugs.

The kiss turned softer until Sirius pulled back and just looked at him, an overwhelming rush of emotion in his chest. Remus wasn’t his home – one person couldn’t be all of that, Sirius knew that much – but he sure was a big part of it.

Remus licked his lips thoughtfully, tasting Sirius’ chapstick. “What flavor is that?”

“Pina colada.”

“Nice.”

That made Sirius smile again. “It’s going to be fine, Re.” Sirius reassured and tucked Remus against his side. It was an awkward squeeze in the back of a van, but neither of them cared.

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “We’ll be ok.”

They both flew out of their seats a little when the van hit a pothole, smushing them closer together. Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple, soft and lingering, before speaking up again. “Do you want to talk through the plan once more?”

Sirius always found that talking through things helped calm him down. Saying the facts out loud tended to get rid of the unnecessary fears going on inside his head, plus it made him feel more prepared. And he knew Remus was the same way, from all the times he’d helped the analyst plan missions.

This earned him a soft, thankful smile and then Remus was off, talking a mile a minute about strategies and backup plans and anything else he could think of. Sirius let his voice wash over him and tried to ignore the dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Leo didn’t know how long he stood there, gaze never once wavering from the treeline, when Hope joined him. She held out a mug for him, full of what looked like hot chocolate and a thick layer of whipped cream. Leo smiled faintly in thanks and took it before returning to his vigil. It was so quiet outside. No crickets like back home, no wind whistling through the trees, nothing. It set Leo on edge.

“So,” Hope mercifully interrupted the silence, “I heard you like to cook.”

Leo looked over at her, more than a little confused at the non sequitur. “Yeah. I do.”

She traced along the grain of the wooden railing, avoiding the chipping paint. “Those boys might be hungry when they get back, and that’s a whole lot of cooking to do by myself. Care to lend a hand?”

Leo snorted at the accidental pun and looked down at the hand trapped in a sling. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He could definitely use the distraction.

“That sounds perfect.” He said and followed her inside, only casting one glance over his shoulder at where the driveway disappeared and the woods began before he joined Hope in the warm glow of the kitchen. Lyall and Jules were there too; they had the refrigerator door thrown open and seemed to just be staring at the contents. They looked so alike, standing side by side like that. The same slightly-bowed legs and identical shades of brown hair. Lyall gave his son a mischievous look, reached for the can of whipped cream, and squirted some directly into his mouth while Jules watched on with his jaw nearly on the floor.

“I didn’t know we were allowed to do that!” he gasped and snatched the can from his dad. A few seconds later there was whipped cream in his mouth. And on his chin, cheeks, a little on his nose…

Hope sighed good-naturedly. “You’re teaching our son bad habits and making a mess.”

Lyall just bent over laughing, a snort escaping every once in a while.

Leo smiled as Jules tried to get all the whipped cream that missed his intended target with his tongue, eyes crossing in the process. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and leaned back against the kitchen counter as Lyall kept pointing to places on his face that Jules had missed. Hope shared a look with Leo and rolled her eyes in a “what can you do?” kind of gesture. It was all so lighthearted and affectionate and exactly what Leo needed in that moment.

He wondered if Hope somehow just knew these things – it was definitely possible. Mother’s intuition and all.

“So what are we making?” She asked, tying her hair up while Lyall threw an apron over his neck. Jules was still working on the whipped cream.

Leo shrugged his good shoulder. “What do you have in the pantry?”

“So much!” Jules exclaimed, deeming his face good enough and throwing the pantry door open. “We’ve got pancake mix, potato chips, poptarts, hot dog buns-”

***

The take-down mission was going about as well as expected.

Which meant that it was going well, but it was also a chaotic disaster at the same time. Fitting, right?

Agents were everywhere, it seemed, outnumbering the Snakes at least three-to-one. The Snakes were scattering, running for the exits and fighting tooth and nail to get out – whether that was with weapons they had or just their fists, they weren’t going down without a fight. But even if they made it out, they were met with another line of defense waiting for them in the form of the Durmstrang agents.

Remus really had the op planned out to the last contingency, it seemed.

Logan and Finn were headed down an unfamiliar hallway, looking for stragglers to round up and escort outside. Most Snakes had joined the main fight to get out, sequestered in the entryway. Logan was glad they were tasked with this, though. There were too many familiar faces back there – Greyback, Lestrange, Snape. Logan wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that just yet. Between that and the sound of gunshots echoing in his head… well, let’s just say it brought back bad memories. And even though it wasn’t the best utilization of his skillset, he hadn’t been separated from his partner. He’d learned from experience what a bad idea that was. When this was all over, he wasn’t letting the two of them out of his sight for at least a week.

God, he couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Movement caught his eye and his gun was instantly up and aimed at the person. Yellow eyes landed on them and Logan held his breath, every muscle tensing and adrenaline spiking.

Logan knew they had direct orders to bring the Snakes in alive, but it was much harder to think about that when he was staring Riddle down from the sights of his gun. He knew exactly where to aim – he’d seen it mapped out on Leo’s chest, memorized the angry red wound contrasting against the gentle slope of his collarbone. A shot not intended to kill, but to inflict unfathomable levels of pain – another thing Logan had branded into his memory. A shot that was intentional, designed to send a message. And Logan definitely wanted to send back a reply.

Riddle recognized them and got this smug gleam in his eyes. “Long time, no see.”

Logan’s finger twitched against the trigger.

“Trust me, we’re planning on never seeing you again.” Finn said, then sighed dramatically. “And it looks like that dream is going to become a reality, since we’ve got all the evidence we need to lock you up for – what do you think, Logan? Two life sentences?”

“I’m banking on three.”

“But it’s not really up to us, now is it?” Finn shrugged. “If it were, I think you’d be dead by now, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the judge says.”

Riddle still looked remarkably calm. And it was that ego, that sense of infallibility that ended up being his downfall. “All the evidence you have is circumstantial. Any decent lawyer can get those charges dismissed.”

“Sure.” Finn’s smile turned lethal, knowing he had Riddle right where he wanted him, ready to deliver the final blow and relish in the aftermath. “But I think all that detailed information on the flash drives can put you away for a long time. Why seven flash drives, by the way? Lucky number?”

Riddle’s smile faded in increments as the realization struck. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it’s very possible. You can thank the guy you shot for that.” Finn said darkly. They watched the gears turning in Riddle’s head, then the way his face turned from pale to a sickly green. His hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket where his flash drive used to be – where the fake one now was, switched when Riddle had pulled a bleeding, agonized Leo close to taunt Logan and Finn through his microphone.

Yeah. Karma was a real bitch sometimes.

Logan smiled, grim but glad to finally be putting this guy behind bars. “You’re coming with us.”

***

“Yo,” Pots said into a phone, a grin almost too wide on his face, “we got some stinky bastards over here. Can you come get them please and thank you?”

Remus snorted at his antics, no doubt talking to the FBI since processing criminals was in their jurisdiction now and not Gryffindor’s. He almost wished it was on speaker phone – he would’ve loved to hear their response.

Remus found Sirius waiting in the parking lot, watching all the Snakes get corralled into transport vehicles and taken to whichever prison they were being kept in until the trial. Some of their own agents were by the ambulance getting tended to, but there weren’t any serious injuries, thank god. Talker took a superficial gunshot to the thigh and Kuny’s arm got grazed by a bullet but everyone else was fine. The element of surprise and the backup by the other agencies really did wonders. That and the fact that they were all armed to the teeth and not even thinking about leaving this job unfinished. They had a pretty good reason to win this round, after all.

He couldn’t believe it was all over. This mission had taken months and lead to way too many problems, but they were finally done with it. They could finally move on. Remus was thinking of taking the next week off of work and spending it at the cabin, just him and Sirius. A much-needed vacation sounded like a dream right about now.

Sirius’ back was to him, but he heard Remus coming and didn’t flinch when long arms wrapped around him, tight and secure. He leaned back into the familiar warmth behind him and let himself be held. He’d been great in there. Remus had been a little worried about letting him come, afraid that taking down people he’d worked with for years would be too hard for him or – even worse – that his presence would be a bright red bullseye for the Snakes. Luckily, there had been so many other agents and so much chaos that most of them had only noticed Sirius and Regulus in the aftermath, when it was too late to do anything about it.

“We did it.” Remus murmured, letting go and stepping around to gauge Sirius’ reaction. The raven-haired ex-Snake smiled at him, a hint of something warring with the relief on his face.

“We did.” He finally said, eyes flitting from Remus to the action around them. He still looked a little uneasy, after everything. Remus couldn’t blame him – sometimes it took a while for the adrenaline to wear off and for reality to set in. “Doesn’t feel real just yet.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, letting the victorious feeling wash over him. “It’s real.”

“Sirius Black?” One of the other agents inquired, causing the man in question to turn around.

“Yes?”

The agent pulled out a pair of handcuffs, looking very bored of the current situation. “You’re under arrest for the crimes you committed with the Snakes organization. If you could put your hands behind your back-”

Remus stepped forward aggressively, staring the agent down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The agent didn’t flinch. “Following orders. Even if he quit the Snakes, he’s still got to answer for what he did during his time there.”

“But he’s helping us – he’s a consultant for our agency. He’s got immunity.” Remus looked between Sirius and the agent, running a hand agitatedly through his hair at the blasé attitude of the agent.

“Take it up with my boss.”

It was all happening so fast. Remus was still reeling from the mission, his brain struggling to keep up with the new situation. The agent started to lead Sirius away when Remus shouted, “Wait!” He hurried to stand in front of Sirius, caramel eyes hard and fierce and determined with an underlying blaze to them as they met silver. He didn’t care if he was making a scene; he didn’t care who was watching. The only thing that mattered was the man standing in front of him, eyes resigned and – unsurprised.

He knew this might happen. And he hadn’t said a word about it. He came on this mission willingly, knowing this was the way it could end.

Remus would have to come back to that.

“I’m going to fix this. Ok?” Remus met his gaze firmly, letting the honesty drip from his words.

The ex-Snake nodded quickly, trustingly. The sight was a little nauseating, because what if there was nothing Remus could do? Sirius was counting on him now; he couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down, not when he was looking at Remus like that – like Remus could fix anything, when Remus knew damn well that he couldn’t. His chest seized up and he held his breath, gritting his teeth resolutely. He’d find a way. He had to.

Sirius was loaded into the back of a car, his brother already cuffed and waiting in the seat beside him – no doubt being charged for the same thing. Their faces were stony masks, tense and unreadable.

From the next car over, Riddle watched with a smile.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: violence #cw: gun violence #cw: nightmares #cw: anxiety #cw: food #cw: injury

174 notes · View notes

averykedavra · 3 years

Text

i keep to myself (i want to break through)

Uh, hi! It’s been a while. Again. But I’m here to deliver content before vanishing once more! To get back in the writing groove, I brushed off an older story, one I started right after FWSA. I wrote the first few pages, dropped it for months, and now I’ve cobbled together an angsty mess from the remains. Yay! This is also my first time writing c!Thomas’ perspective, so I hope it turned out alright!

(Title is from Prom Dress by mxmtoon. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Logicality and also Thomas

Words: 9937 (i swear this was meant to be short)

Warnings: crying, a detailed description of a panic attack, overthinking and spiraling, anxiety, self-deprecation and self-esteem issues, identity crisis, maybe a bit of disassociation

Thomas should have been excited.

All afternoon, he’d been thrilled. He’d barely remembered to eat dinner. He’d composed sappy tweets and sang Can You Feel the Love Tonight? until his neighbors told him to stop. He’d smiled so much that his face hurt, flapped his hands until they ached, and danced around in dizzy disbelief.

Nico. Nico, who was a poet and who was funny and who had the nicest smile and wanted to meet up again.

Thomas was overjoyed. Thomas was ecstatic. Thomas couldn’t believe this was real, but after pinching himself five times, he’d confirmed it wasn’t a dream.

Nico.

He had a date.

Thomas should be excited.

And he was, and then very abruptly, he wasn’t.

He’d felt it approaching even before dinner. He’d sang louder to drown it out. He’d grinned almost forcibly, dragging his thoughts back on track, thinking this is a good thing until he could almost ignore the creeping numb clouds in the back of his mind.

And his happiness soured. He ran out of energy. He collapsed on the couch, turning on the Parks and Rec bloopers before a voice told him to watch something educational. He turned on a nature channel instead. Swans mated for life. Wild.

Thomas was feeling, slowly, more and more terrible.

He should do something to stop it. He should call a friend, eat some good food, focus on the positives. He could feel himself inching closer to a cliff, and there was still time to turn back, there was still time--

He got up to microwave some pizza. Maybe eating would make him feel better. He’d exercised today. It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Why did he feel so weird? This had been a good day. Maybe one of his best. He’d gone to that mall directionless, and now someone wanted to date him, a lovely someone who made him feel itty bitty butterflies in his chest and sunshine in his heart.

Except for now. Now the butterflies felt soaked in ice, and the sunshine burned through him and made his eyes prickle.

The microwave hummed away and he bounced back and forth waiting for it. Just a minute until pizza, and then pizza and nature channels and a long evening, maybe video games and soda and a friend on the phone. He’d give himself a self-care night. He deserved it.

Thomas waited for the pizza.

The microwave coughed, scraped, and whirred its way along.

It was dark in the kitchen. He ran a hand along the counter. It was so cold and smooth that it felt like he was touching nothing at all. The moon hung low outside the window, accompanied by the ugly yellow glow of streetlights. He’d forgotten to turn on a light in the kitchen.

Thomas shuffled towards the light switch, decided not to bother, and grabbed a plastic plate for the pizza instead. It was one of the bad plates that could reasonably be a frisbee. A chip and dent combo on the edge nicked his fingers. He winced. Maybe he should get another plate.

Nah, why bother? This plate was fine.

The pizza should be done by now, right? It’d been five minutes. Had it?

The TV was playing in the background. Thomas had forgotten to turn it off. That’d waste electricity--why did he always forget stuff, stupid--

Thomas took a deep shuddering breath.

In and out. This was fine. No matter that he could feel tears clustering at the edge of his vision, no matter that his breath struggled in his chest like a living thing, no matter that the kitchen was dark and still and quiet and made him feel like he was drowning.

There was no reason to be upset.

He should be excited.

Ding!

Thomas almost cried in relief, throwing open the microwave. He grabbed the pizza and opened the box.

Frost clustered on the edge of the crust. It needed more time in the microwave. He’d done the wrong amount of minutes.

Of course he had.

Thomas let the pizza fall, and a swell of tears rose up to meet him. He grabbed the plate and took it back to the couch, which accomplished nothing but he needed to do something, he couldn’t wait in that stupid kitchen for a second longer--

Thomas collapsed on the couch again, and tried to make himself very small in the corner, like his impending breakdown wouldn’t notice him if he hid.

He pressed a hand to his eyes.

“Come on,” he told himself, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. It wavered and was itchy and staticky, grating at his ears. “Come on, get it together, come on--”

His phone beeped.

Someone was texting him.

Oh, no. Now he had to open his eyes, get the phone, text them, be funny and nice when he texted them, help them if they needed help--too many things, and Thomas was frozen, because he’d meant to microwave the pizza, and the TV was still playing and casting shuddering light over his blanket, and the world was dark and there were too many things to do--

Panic.

He was panicking, wasn’t he?

Thomas took a deep breath. And realized he hadn’t done that for almost half a minute. The air was a relief, and he almost cried right then and there, sunk in one dark corner of the couch.

“Virgil,” he forced out. “Virgil, are you--”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t find the words. What would Virgil do, anyway? Virgil would just make this worse--that wasn’t nice--he couldn’t breathe--Virgil was clearly not okay, and--

And Thomas was going to cry, and there was no reason for that, and logically speaking he should be fine--

He was terrified.

Logically speaking, he was terrified, because logically speaking, he’d made a huge mistake.

Thomas choked on a sob. He sent out a summons--anyone, please, anyone, Logan or Patton or Virgil or De--Janus. Hell, he’d take Remus at this point, Remus could knock him out so he wouldn’t have to stay in this itchy dark room with a million things colliding and the TV still on and the pizza cold and the lights off and his phone probably blowing up with texts as everyone slowly started to hate him--

“Kiddo?”

Thomas jerked his head up and kicked wildly at the noise.

“Oh! Sorry,” Patton said, his voice soft. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Can you breathe for me, kiddo?”

Thomas took one deep breath.

“That’s great! I’m proud of you. Can you do it again?”

Another deep breath.

“Good job,” Patton said, and Thomas’ vision cleared enough to see tear tracks on his cheeks.

“You--” Thomas started. But he lost his sentence as soon as he found it.

“Shh, don’t try and talk just yet, okay?” Patton’s eyes were achingly sympathetic. “Can I touch you?”

Thomas thought about it. He nodded jerkily.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” Patton’s hand slipped into his, warm and soft, reminding Thomas oddly of his actual dad. “Keep breathing, kiddo. You’re doing amazing.”

A simple instruction. One thing. No other things, no other things around him and no past and no future and no friends or family or Nico. Just him. Just Patton. It was dark and still and Thomas had been told what to do.

Thomas kept breathing.

Patton smiled at him, and the snarled mass in Thomas’ chest lessened, bit by bit by bit. He tried not to think. He tried just to see, to see and hear and touch.

What was it Logan taught him?

Five things he could see.

The glow of the TV over the couch. The moon outside the pale window. The blanket over his legs. His hand in Patton’s. Patton’s face, streaked with tears and so incredibly soft.

Four things he could touch.

The couch. His blanket. His clothes. Patton’s hand.

Three things he could hear.

The murmur of the television--the channel had moved on to flamingos, apparently. The rustle of the blanket when he shifted. The hum of the fridge.

Two things he could smell.

That cold pizza. A vague smell of sweat which was probably him, thanks to all the running around from earlier.

One thing he could taste.

Dinner. Chicken pad thai.

Thomas closed his eyes, opened them, and found himself sitting on the couch, watching TV, with Patton holding his hand.

He was here.

He’d always been here.

“It’s okay,” Patton whispered, and Thomas realized he’d been talking this whole time, murmuring words of encouragement. “It’s okay, you’re doing amazing, just let it out.”

Thomas squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

Patton’s face lit up. “No biggie,” he said, “who would I be if I left you on your own?”

Reasonable, Thomas didn’t say. Normal.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “It means a lot.”

Patton gave him a long, unreadable look, before patting his hand and standing up. He looked around and clucked his tongue. “It’s so dark! Wait here, I’ll turn on the lights.”

“I can do it,” Thomas protested.

Patton didn’t roll his eyes, but he huffed a bit, and Thomas sank back into the couch with a sigh. Patton was right. Thomas’ limbs felt like jelly and if he tried to move, he’d probably fall right off the couch.

Patton milled about the room, turning on the kitchen light and the light by the stairway and the lamp behind the TV. When he saw the frozen pizza in the microwave, Thomas braced himself for a chiding. Patton was always critical of his cooking skills. Instead, Patton quietly closed the microwave and punched in several numbers. The microwave whirred to life.

Thomas looked down at the plate on the couch cushion. He picked it up and noticed his hands were shaking. “Do you--”

Patton glanced back. “I’m getting you some water, kiddo. Don’t worry, just get yourself cozy, okay?”

Thomas nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No need to thank me!” Patton sent Thomas a smile that was marred by the tear tracks on his cheek, the redness of his eyes, and--Thomas suddenly realized--the cat hoodie pulled tight around him. He couldn’t remember the last time Patton had worn the hoodie. It must have been when Logan had first given it to him. Right after--

“I’m a part of you,” Patton continued, his voice a softer version of his usual chipper one. “I want to help you, no matter what.”

Thomas leaned further into the couch and pressed on his eyes to stop the tears. Was he really so pathetic to cry over a part of himself wanting to help him? It was Patton’s job. It didn’t mean that Thomas was a good person, it didn’t mean anything, it just meant that his morality didn’t want him panicking in front of a documentary about flamingos.

“Here,” Patton said, and Thomas almost jumped. Patton had reappeared next to the couch. He handed Thomas a glass of water. Thomas tried not to drop it. When he took a sip, he realized his mouth was dry.

“You can sit down,” Thomas offered, after a few seconds of Patton silently standing nearby.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to--” The microwave dinged behind them, and Patton looked relieved. “Be back in a hop, skip, and a jump, kiddo!”

Thomas laughed a bit and continued drinking the water. Soon, Patton placed a warm plate of pizza on the couch next to Thomas. Thomas picked up a slice and caught the melting cheese with his tongue. It was perfectly cooked.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, for the third or fourth time. “This is great, Pat.”

“Aw, shucks, kiddo!” Patton looked proud of himself. “It’s just microwave pizza. And I think we know who’s the better cook--”

Thomas smiled and rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, spare me the lecture.”

For a second, Patton looked ashamed. Then he brushed off his shirt and looked around the room again. “Anything else I can get you, Thomas?”

Thomas inhaled the rest of the pizza slice before responding. Patton looked uncomfortable. Not like he didn’t want to be there--or at least, Thomas hoped not--but like he didn’t know what to do, now that the threat had subsided. Patton shifted from foot to foot, pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, and had been crying. He’d been upset. He’d helped Thomas anyway. Thomas had the feeling he wasn’t supposed to let this slide. That wasn’t what good people did.

Or maybe it was. Thomas wasn’t sure. He’d ask Patton, but Patton didn’t need another thing on his plate.

Thomas balanced the plate of pizza in one hand and let his tired, impulsive brain take over. “Sit with me?”

Patton looked surprised for a second, then strangely hesitant. “That’s what you want?”

“Of course.” Thomas nodded to the couch cushion next to him. “It wouldn’t be a party without my good old pop star, would it?”

“Yeah.” Patton nodded rapidly, as if trying to convince himself, and then sat tentatively on the couch. He balanced on the edge of it. Like he wanted a quick escape.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas said weakly, doubling back, like he always did. “You--you don’t have to do any of this, if it’s just to be nice.”

Patton smiled a bit. “Just to be nice? What’s just about that?”

“You don’t--” Thomas swallowed and tried to sort through the emotions in his chest. He still felt seconds from crying. Was that Patton’s influence? Virgil’s? Or should Thomas stop blaming his own failures on everyone else? “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Pat. You don’t have to--go out of your way to help someone, not if it makes you feel bad.”

“But you aren’t someone,” Patton said. “You’re Thomas. You’re my Thomas, and I’m your good old dad.”

Thomas opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know how to explain that Patton wasn’t obligated to be nice to him. He didn’t know how to say that he wasn’t the priority. He didn’t need to be. He could survive with parts of himself hating him--he was pretty sure a few already did.

“I’m your Morality,” Patton said quietly. “And--I know, I know I’ve messed up, I’ve messed things up so much--but please. This is what I can still do for you. This is what I know isn’t--isn’t hurting you.” Patton paused, and Thomas could hear that he was approaching tears, too. “Please let me help you. Please let me have this.”

Thomas bit off the end of a slice of pizza. Then he shoved the plate towards Patton. Patton looked down, took a slice, and nibbled at it. For a while, there was silence.

“Was it you?” Thomas finally asked, hating himself for it. “Did you get--upset? Is that why I--or was it Virgil?”

Patton sighed. “That’s a complicated question, kiddo.”

Thomas decided not to push it. If Patton wanted to talk, he would.

“We’re all parts of you,” Patton finally said. His voice was shaky, but kind, reminding Thomas of kindergarten teachers talking him through his ABCs. His teachers were lovely to him. But Thomas was only their student, and it was only their job. “We all affect what you do, in different degrees, but we also affect each other. We discuss, we collaborate, we--argue. If you combined all of us into one being, it would be you in a way, but it wouldn’t have the same interactions inside? Does that make sense?” Patton groaned. “Ugh, Logan’s such a better teacher.”

“I think I get it,” Thomas said, looking down at the pizza. “The whole is more than the sum of its parts?”

“Yeah!” Patton nodded. “We all work off each other, even when we don’t realize it. So--anything you go through, it’s not because of one of us. Maybe it started from a single side, but nothing’s isolated. Everything goes through all of us.”

“So...you all got upset?” Thomas asked. “Or was it mainly someone, or--”

“It’s complicated.” Patton swallowed. “Janus didn’t have a hand in it, I don’t think, despite all the ones he has. Roman is very excited about Nico, as is Remus, and I doubt they contributed too much.”

Thomas thought about Roman’s face as he watched Nico leave. Another chance at happiness squandered. “I’m not sure about that.”

Patton sunk into himself a bit. “Virgil--he probably added to the attack when it happened, but he didn’t cause it. He’s too happy about Nico.”

“So…” Thomas let the word hang in the air for a while. “Pat--”

“I’m fine,” Patton said.

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“I am!” Patton protested. His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. He didn’t seem to be even trying to hide it. “It--it wasn’t just me, it was--”

“You’re my emotions,” Thomas said. “If it wasn’t Virgil, it--”

“It’s more complicated than that.” True as that might be, Patton’s thin voice said otherwise. “I wouldn’t have done that. Everything’s fine. I know everything’s fine. I wouldn’t have made a fuss over nothing!”

Thomas tried to read between the lines. It was easy. Patton, in the end, was just a piece of Thomas--just a volatile, searing mass of emotions in his chest. “But if someone told you things weren’t fine--”

Patton didn’t say anything.

“Or someone…” Thomas swallowed. “Someone tried to convince you that things were.”

“Like I said,” Patton whispered. “It’s complicated.”

Thomas tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He could barely make it out in the darkness, save for the small pools of light from the lamps around the room. Was that a crack? Maybe so. He didn’t really know anything about ceilings, so he’d have to ask someone else.

“What do we want to do?” Thomas asked the ceiling, and Patton, and everyone else who had decided this was a mess they didn’t want to touch.

“I don’t know,” Patton said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas tried to think of what they should do. “I’m asking you. What should we be doing?”

“That’s a different question,” Patton pointed out. “And you really shouldn’t ask me for advice.”

Thomas covered his eyes with his hand. “I just want to know what to do next, Patton!”

“Why do we have to do anything?” Patton asked bracingly. “Relax. Watch TV. Get some sleep. You had a rough night, kiddo.”

“So did you!” Thomas snapped. “Why is everything always about me?”

A few beats of silence, just enough for Thomas to decide he was a terrible person and should dig a hole to hide in. Patton shifted, and Thomas saw he was running his hands across the hoodie again. Did it make him feel better to wear it? Did it remind him of Logan?

“Janus says it’s okay for stuff to be about you,” Patton said, sounding woefully unconvincing. “He says it’s fine for you to focus on yourself.”

“Janus also said you didn’t exist,” Thomas fired back. “He’s not my go-to person for trustworthy advice.”

The moment the words left his lips, Thomas regretted them.

“Janus is trying,” Patton said, a bit more convincingly. “And you shouldn’t--”

“I know!” Thomas tried to hold back his tears again. “I know I shouldn’t. There’s a million things I shouldn’t do, not least that I shouldn’t be upset right now.”

Patton sucked in a breath. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Don’t you hate lying?”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, and he sounded so much like a kicked puppy that Thomas somehow managed to feel even worse. “It--it is, Janus says so, and Virgil, and Lo-Logan--”

“And they’re right,” said Thomas wearily. “They’re right.”

“But you said--”

“Don’t listen to me,” Thomas said. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Patton was quiet again. Thomas wondered what it would take to get Patton to leave. He could probably ask and Patton would go. He could just ask. Patton never argued.

Thomas didn’t want Patton to leave. But he didn’t want to pretend that things were alright. And he didn’t want to make Patton feel bad, he didn’t want to feel bad--he knew a million things he didn’t want, a million things he shouldn’t want, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he did.

“We should talk about it,” Thomas said. “About what happened tonight, and--about everything, you know?”

“We should,” Patton agreed. He sounded miserable but resigned. “We can’t put it off.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Thomas made up for his lack of confidence with a confident wave of his pizza slice. “We need to talk this out. We don’t want it happening again.”

Patton nodded.

“So...what happened?”

Patton immediately stopped nodding.

“You said someone upset you,” Thomas continued. “Well, you didn’t say, but...someone did, right?”

“He didn’t mean to.” Patton’s voice was almost desperate. “He tried to help--and he’s right, there wasn’t any reason to be upset, I just overreacted--”

“Who?” Thomas asked.

Patton worried his lip between his teeth and said nothing.

Thomas looked at the TV, playing the nature channel, because he wanted to calm himself down, because it didn’t make sense to be upset.

“Oh.” Thomas almost winced. “Logan said something, didn’t he?”

Patton’s silence said enough.

“Of course,” Thomas said, trying to sound less bitter than he felt. “Of course he said something.”

“He can’t help it,” Patton said weakly. “He doesn’t get this stuff. Not really.”

“He does more than he lets himself.”

“He doesn’t want to get this stuff.” Patton sighed. “And like I said, he didn’t mean it, and he did try to calm me down--”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “By saying you shouldn’t even be upset?”

“I think he might have panicked a bit.” Patton giggled sheepishly. “I was crying and he didn’t really expect that.”

“Yeah.” Thomas didn’t even feel surprised. Logan was the smartest dude he knew, but he could be really stupid sometimes. “Have you talked it through with him?”

“No.” Patton poked at the remaining slices of pizza but didn’t pick one up. “I got really upset, and maybe I’d been upset for a while, and this was just what set it off, I guess? And then he got upset but he wouldn’t admit it, and then I felt you start panicking, so I had to go help you.”

Thomas frowned. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I wanted to.”

Thomas let out a long breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk it through later,” Patton said. “Sometimes the kiddos need time.”

Thomas opened his mouth to snap about the amount of time they spent just waiting for someone to say something. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, and the words that came out weren’t what he expected. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton blinked. “I--no, I don’t think so. He’s…”

Thomas motioned for Patton to continue.

“He was a bit annoyed when he found out about Nico,” Patton finished, seeming almost apologetic. Like Patton had a responsibility to keep anyone else from being upset. “I don’t think he really liked the idea of a--boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

“He’ll come around,” Patton quickly added. “He just needs time to adjust.”

“You keep saying that.” Thomas curled further into the couch and picked at a pizza crust. “If giving you all more time means this is going to keep happening, I’m not really sold.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quietly. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not what I--” Thomas groaned and tossed the crust onto the plate. “This is a huge mess, and honestly, I can’t see how this could possibly get worse. I feel like crap. A whole stick of crap, inside and out. And if finding out Logan’s deal will make me feel a bit less like crying, I’d rather get that over with.”

Patton watched him closely. The TV lights flashed off his glasses. “That makes sense. But I’m not sure if he wants that, kiddo.”

“Who cares what Logan wants?” Thomas was probably being a bit uncharitable, but he was too tired and emotional to care. “You said it yourself, he’s a part of me, he’s supposed to help. I’m not gonna have my logic griping about Nico all night, okay? I’m already stressed enough.”

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of the reason you’re stressed,” Patton argued, “which I just realized proves your point. Okay. If he wants, he can talk to you.”

“Thank you.” Finally, a side that actually listened to Thomas occasionally. “Logan?”

The house was silent.

“He might be asleep,” Patton said. “He’s very rigid in his sleep schedule.”

“Is that why I don’t have coherent thoughts past ten pm?”

Patton nodded. “Also, sleep deprivation.”

“It’s not that bad, I’m not up that late.” Thomas sighed. “Logan? Logan, are you gonna come out and talk, or will we just sit on the couch all night with no closure?”

“You don’t have to,” Patton added unhelpfully. Thomas glared at him. “What? He doesn’t!”

“Fine, fine, he doesn’t have to,” Thomas complained. “He can feel free to make you and me upset and then leave us hanging, without an explanation of why he doesn’t like Nico--I mean, how could anyone not like Nico?”

“I don’t think it’s about Nico specifically,” Patton said, as if that was supposed to explain things. “And if he’s not going to talk, we can’t push him.”

Thomas groaned and looked for a blanket to hide in. What was the point of having imaginary aspects of his personality, if he couldn’t actually talk to them when he wanted to? What was the problem--there was no logical reason to be upset, but Logan had made Patton upset, it didn’t make any sense--

“Logan?” Thomas called once more, feeling stupid to be yelling at an empty living room. “We could really use you, buddy.”

When there was no answer, Thomas sighed and sank back into the couch. He glanced over at Patton, who was pointedly watching the TV instead of Thomas--the nature channel was now talking about parakeets--and then the shadows seemed to shift at the other end of the couch.

“Um,” Thomas said, unable to see what exactly had happened.

Patton looked where Thomas was looking, made a soft oh noise, and turned on another light.

“What do you want?” Logan asked.

With the addition of the light, Thomas could vaguely make him out, but he was even more shadowy than Patton. His knees were tucked to his chest and a blanket covered him. He looked like he’d fallen asleep on the couch, just gotten shaken awake, and was irritated about it. His hair was mussed in the back.

“We wanted to talk,” Thomas said, when it became clear that Patton was just going to sit awkwardly between them and not say anything.

“About what?” Logan’s voice was quiet and a bit rough. Maybe from sleep, maybe from yelling, maybe from crying. “Be more specific, Thomas.”

“Logan,” Patton said, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

Patton didn’t respond. Thomas was already regretting this. Should they really try to talk things out while tired, grumpy, and piled on the couch watching nature documentaries?

“It wasn’t my fault what happened,” Logan said defensively, as if Thomas had interrogated him. “I simply pointed out logical facts, I don’t control anyone’s emotional reaction--”

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, if it was already going this far south. “Hey,” Thomas said before Logan could dig that hole deeper. “Calm down. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”

“Do you want me to apologize?” Logan asked.

Thomas blinked at the question. “Uh--do you want to?”

Logan made a noncommittal noise.

“Well, if you don’t have anything against it, I think you probably should.” Thomas motioned to Patton, who squeaked at being included. “You made him really upset, and I know you didn’t mean to, but that warrants an apology.”

“Hm.” Logan adjusted his glasses and sighed. “As you say. Patton, I--I said something that I didn’t realize was upsetting. Because it was a fact that you should be considering, but I am still responsible for my actions alone. So...I apologize.”

“Aw, Lo, I forgive you!” Patton seemed to brighten right away. “It’s okay, really! I know you didn’t mean it!”

“What did he say?” Thomas asked. “What’d you say, Logan?”

They both went very quiet.

“C’mon, do I have to try random bits of my internal monologue to see what it was?” Thomas sighed. “Look, whatever it was, I want to see what I can do to help you out. If you’re upset--”

“I’m not upset--”

“I want to help.” Thomas looked across the couch to Logan. “Let me help, okay?”

Logan sighed in annoyance and defeat.

“You don’t like Nico,” Thomas prompted, as Patton hopped up and went to the kitchen. Thomas didn’t know what Patton was supposed to be doing, since he was just opening and closing the fridge, but he decided to let the guy have his escape route. “Why don’t you like Nico?”

“I don’t like anyone,” Logan said. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

“So you don’t like Nico?”

“I don’t have an opinion on him.”

“Clearly you do,” Thomas said, biting back his defense of Nico. He could argue about how amazing and incredible Nico was, or he could get to the bottom of this without panicking again. “I just want to hear what you have to say, Logan.”

Logan blinked. Thomas wondered, briefly and guiltily, when he’d last said that.

“Nico is fine,” Logan said firmly. “He’s--fine.”

“I figured you’d like him,” Thomas said. He didn’t know what he was trying to do--convince Logan? Convince himself? “He’s--he’s a poet. You like poetry, right?”

There was a long pause. “Poetry is an effective way to convey ideas through a rhythmic and minimal structure.”

Thomas didn’t know how to take that. “Nico’s a good poet.”

Logan let out a breath and curled into his blanket. When Thomas looked closely, he thought he saw purple on it. Had it been a gift from Virgil? Why did that make him feel so crappy?

“You like Nico,” Logan said. He somehow managed to phrase it as a question.

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“You’ve known him for a day.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t like him!” Thomas said. “Love at first sight, Logan. Believe in it.”

Logan stared at him with disappointment. “No.”

“Fine, not love.” Thomas slumped. “But he’s so cute! And sweet! And smart, and funny, and--”

“I know.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Ugh.”

“I get it, you’re heartless, you don’t believe in love.” Thomas sighed. “I--I just thought you could be--happy for me?”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it. Behind them, Patton bustled around, and Thomas longed for him to return. He couldn’t do this on his own. He couldn’t handle this kind of emotional stuff, which made him sound like Logan.

“I am happy for you,” Logan said quietly. “Er--figuratively. I don’t have feelings. Still...I am--pleased. That you have found someone you feel compatible with. Human connection is important for people.”

Thomas smiled a bit, despite himself.

“And,” Logan added very quickly, “it’s doubtful that the relationship will last so it’s really pointless to object to such a quick fling--”

Patton made a wounded noise from the kitchen. Logan immediately stopped talking.

“Pointless?” Thomas repeated.

Logan pointedly began staring at the floor.

Thomas couldn’t keep the hurt from slipping into his voice. “Is that really what you think?”

“I--” Logan swallowed. “I don’t mean any harm by it, but--”

“Just--” Thomas braced himself. “Say what’s on your mind.”

Logan was silent for several moments. Thomas didn’t say anything. He shoved his hurt feelings as far down as he could, because this wasn’t about him right now. Logan was upset.

And--if Logan was upset about Nico, if Logic didn’t approve--

Thomas didn’t really want to think about that.

“It’s an outdated statistic,” Logan said, “that half of all marriages end in divorce.” He spoke slowly, quietly, way too quietly, and Thomas knew that he’d been the one to lessen Logan’s voice. Spare you my company. “However, the odds remain that relationships you pursue are--unlikely to come to fruition. Either you talk until marriage and/or copulation, living the rest of your lives together, or you separate.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s pointless,” Thomas said. “What, is life pointless because we die in the end?”

Logan paused for a second. “I don’t think so. Unless--”

“No, no, no existential crises tonight, I’m already having a breakdown.” Thomas waved his hands. “We’re gonna assume that my life does have value, okay? And we’re gonna assume that even if Nico and I--break up, which is unlikely--”

“Unlikely,” Logan repeated.

“It is unlikely,” Thomas said, deciding to dig his hole deeper. “He’s so cute!”

“You’re in the infatuation phase,” Logan said, almost pityingly. “You can’t possibly predict anything right now--”

“We get along,” Thomas said. “We barely argued! We have similar interests, he loves Paramore and Disney movies and cartoons--he thinks it’s cool that I sing, and he’s supportive of my career, and--”

“You’ve known him for one day.”

“He’s perfect!” Thomas paused. “Not--not perfect, he can’t be perfect, but he’s--really close! He doesn’t have any flaws, not that I know of.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Logan sighed. “Thomas, I understand that you are filled with emotions about this subject, but as your Logic it’s my duty to rain a bit on your figurative parade. You don’t know this man. You have met him only once, and you know him on nothing more than a superficial level.”

“He’s not a murderer!” Thomas said. “I can tell when someone’s a good person--”

“One, can you?” Logan asked. “Your judgments on morality are often--”

“Flawed,” Patton agreed from the kitchen. Both of them turned to look at him. “I’m not the best at this, kiddo. Nico seems like a good guy, but--” He leaned onto the counter. “I just don’t know.”

Thomas swallowed. He hadn’t expected Patton to take Logan’s side. “Virgil would--”

“Virgil is infatuated, just like you are.” Logan sighed. “I’m not saying Nico is secretly evil. I’m saying you might not be as compatible as you feel you are.”

“We--” Thomas could think of a million answers. But--did he trust himself to know? Did he trust himself to be in the right?

“What if he’s still working through a breakup, and you’re a rebound?” Logan suggested. “What if he doesn’t have a stable career, and has to rely on you? What if you have different financial priorities, or priorities for intimacy? What if you need to change your own career in order to be with him? What if your love languages don’t intersect, or one of you cheats--”

“I wouldn’t cheat!” Thomas protested.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Logan argued back without missing a beat. “You’re two adults. You have a million small, intricate parts of yourself and your life that you’ll need to fit together. It’s impossible for every aspect of your relationship to be perfect, and it’s unreasonable to expect that a man you met one day ago will be the man of your dreams.”

“We’ll communicate!” Thomas said. “We’ll--I want this, Logan. Are you telling me I can’t try?”

“I’m saying you need to consider every option, before you barrel into a situation you can’t control.” Logan spread his hands. “What if he hurts you? What if you hurt him? What if you aren’t ready for this, and by dragging him into a relationship, you’re only making the situation worse?”

Thomas tried to laugh and ignore the sting in his eyes. “Isn’t it Virgil’s job to overthink?”

Logan leaned back into the couch again. “I’m not trying to overthink. I’m trying to raise logical points.”

“Are you?” Thomas asked. “Dude, like you said, it’s been a day. I can’t control all these things that will happen in the future! I don’t need to worry about whether we’ll move in together, right?”

“Right,” Logan said reluctantly.

“Is...that what you said to Patton?” Thomas murmured. “Did you tell him--”

“That it wouldn’t work out.” Patton’s voice wavered. He was staring out the kitchen window into the dark backyard. “That we needed to--think this through. And, maybe...not go on the date.”

“Not--” Thomas looked between Patton, whose knuckles were white on the counter, to Logan, who looked ashamed. “Not go on the date?”

“If we go on the date, we’re agreeing to try this.” Logan sounded like he regretted each word that came out of his mouth. “If we go on the date, this is confirmed. He’s our boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” Thomas couldn’t help the way anxiety pitched his voice. “That’s the point?”

“Are we ready for that?”

Both Logan and Patton had spoken at once. Thomas felt like he’d been punched.

“You...you don’t think I’m ready,” Thomas said dully. “Do you.”

“I want to.” That was Patton, finally joining them again, sitting next to the TV and pulling his knees to his chest. “I really want to, kiddo. Nico is so nice, and sweet, and good--”

Something sour rose in Thomas’ mouth. “And--”

“And Logan has a point.” Patton rubbed circles into his pajama pants. “I’m not sure if we are ready for this.”

Thomas sighed and curled into his own little ball on the other end of the couch. Look at him, nearly crying with several aspects of his personality, way too late at night, as the TV told him about chameleons. Chameleons could disappear into trees with a change of their colors. Thomas wished he could do the same into the couch. Or on his date with Nico--he could change into exactly who the relationship would need him to be.

That was what relationships were about, right? Compromise?

Maybe people who cried over chameleons really weren’t relationship material.

“Why weren’t you there at the mall?” Thomas asked Patton, after a few minutes of silence. “I’d have figured that you’d want to help, being the heart and all.”

“Roman...seemed like he needed some time,” Patton said. “Without me.”

Thomas nodded.

“And, well, I was there, in a way! The whole time!” Patton shrugged. “You spoke from the heart, right? That was me!”

Thomas paused. “‘I don’t know when I’m going to know what I want again?’”

Patton looked down. “That was me.”

“I know what I want.” Thomas wondered if he could convince himself by saying it. That sounded like lying. But lying was good now, right? Or not? Maybe? Maybe he could summon Janus if he lied enough, and Janus could handle all of this. “I want to give Nico a try.”

“Roman does,” Logan said. “And Virgil does. And I don’t, and I don’t think Janus has an opinion--”

“He’s neutral,” Patton agreed. “And I’m--in the middle.”

“So only half of me wants to give Nico a try,” Thomas said. “Wonderful. It’d be really cool if, one day, my entire self decided to agree on something.”

Logan made an affirmative noise. Patton sighed.

“We didn’t have this much of a debate with my last boyfriend, did we?” Thomas blurted out. “We just went for it. And that turned out--”

“How did it turn out?” Logan asked, with a touch of something in his voice. Maybe it was anger. What was Logan angry about? “Tell me how it turned out.”

Thomas opened his mouth and the words stuck in his throat.

“We broke up,” Patton whispered, pulling at the sleeves of his cardigan. He looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor, but Thomas didn’t know how to invite him back to the sofa without forcing him into it. “We broke up with him, and it hurt.”

Thomas gave Patton a soft look. Patton didn’t seem to notice.

“It hurt, and it sucked,” Patton continued, the words coming faster and faster. “It was no fun. And I have all these good memories of him, of course I do, but--but it’s not the same, if they’re all tainted by the fact that he left. Was that--was that worth it? Good memories and a bad ending?”

The TV hummed. Logan mouthed along to the narration. An elephant was getting separated from its herd. It tried to follow the footprints of its mother, but it was going in the wrong direction, heading farther and farther into the desert.

“We don’t know that it’ll go the same way,” Thomas said weakly. “This is all speculation.”

“Fine, then, I’ll work from real data.” Logan gave Patton a look, but Patton didn’t stop him. “Thomas, you have just learned that you possess “dark sides” of your personality, that you don’t understand yourself and are doubtful of your career path, and that you’re not as much of a “good person” as you think you are. You suffer from anxiety and self-esteem issues, you have a tendency to catastrophize, and you have intrusive thoughts.”

Thomas raised a hand to object. Logan waved his hand back down.

“None of this means you are incapable of a healthy and fulfilling relationship,” Logan continued. “It certainly doesn’t mean you are ‘unlovable.’ However, it’s important to note that you are not in a good mental state right now. A relationship doesn’t fix that. Instead, it can lead to more issues.”

“My mental state is fine,” Thomas said. He didn’t even know why he bothered to say that.

Logan waved a hand at the living room, and the half-eaten pizza on the couch, and Patton sitting next to the TV as a voice droned on about wolf packs.

“It’s a trash bin,” Patton murmured. “And the waste keeps piling and piling up, until it inevitably--spills out into the rest of their life.” He looked up, his eyes sparkling with tears. “If--when that happens--do we want Nico to be a part of our life? Do we want to--”

“Ruin things for him,” Thomas finished. He felt resigned, worn out. Like this was the only way the conversation could have ended. “Because he’s--he’s so nice, and sweet, and--and good. And I’m...not.”

Patton muffled a sob.

“And I thought, maybe, he could turn things around.” Thomas rubbed at his arm. “I thought this could be the moment I got my life back on track. But--what if the train’s still barrelling down on us? Do I want to sacrifice his happiness for mine? Is that fair to him?”

Logan glanced between Thomas and Patton.

“Does he deserve me?” Thomas almost whispered. “Do I deserve him?”

The TV switched to an episode about seahorses. Abruptly, Logan grabbed the remote and turned it off. The sudden silence made Thomas itch. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and tried to take deep breaths, tried not to panic. Was he panicking? He couldn’t tell. He felt crappy, he felt unmoored, he felt like he was asleep and wide awake and floating somewhere outside his body. He was just another Side of himself, another small voice in his head, not a real person at all. Maybe he should go to bed. He’d see things clearly when he woke up.

Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he could barely remember how things were supposed to feel. He was wrong a lot. He was always wrong. How did he know what was right? How could he count on a single thing? He didn’t even know what he wanted. He didn’t even know who he was.

He couldn’t keep himself safe. He couldn’t follow his dreams. He couldn’t do the right thing. He couldn’t lie.

And he didn’t know anything.

And he was about to throw himself into a situation where he knew even less.

Was that the right thing to do?

Was that really what he wanted?

“Thomas,” Logan said. “You’re spiraling.”

“You’re the one making me spiral!” Thomas blurted out. When he looked at Logan, his vision was blurry. “We’re all spiraling, so stop pretending you’re above us! Stop giving us your oh-so-logical criticism and getting annoyed when it makes people upset!”

Logan huffed. “Well, why am I here if you don’t want to listen to me?”

“Stop!” Patton yelled. “Stop, both of you! Stop talking! If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!”

Logan folded his arms. Thomas pressed his eyes shut until he could see sparks behind them. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

Ask for--help? Ask for help. He wasn’t good at this.

“What…” Thomas’ voice trailed off. He steeled himself and tried again. “What do I do?”

“Right now?” Logan asked. “Or--”

“With--Nico.” Thomas let the words hang in the air. “What do I do now?”

Patton shifted next to the TV. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m asking you guys!” Thomas opened his eyes and looked around frantically. “I’m asking for you guys to help!”

“We’re parts of you.” Logan still blended into the couch. He didn’t move much, Thomas realized, when he didn’t want to. Did he breathe? Did he need to breathe before he talked, or did he just start talking abruptly, without the need to pause? “We don’t have any answers that you don’t have.”

“And--” Patton worried his bottom lip. “Thomas, you’re the best of us. You’re all of us together. You have the final say on anything, and you always will.”

“But I don’t know what to do!” Thomas burst out. “I don’t know what to say! I don’t--I have to drag you into every little dilemma because I don’t know how to figure things out on my own! And it’s stupid, and it’s selfish, and I can’t rely on you to solve all my problems, but--but I know you guys. I know who you are. What you want. I...I don’t know myself, guys, I really don’t.”

Logan made a sudden movement, and Thomas deliriously thought Logan was trying to reach for his hand. As quick as he started, though, Logan froze again, and pulled himself further away.

“I don’t know what I want,” Thomas said, the darkness spinning around him. “I don’t know who I want to be. I don’t know what’s good or what’s bad or what’s not--and I’ve got a cute boy who wants to take me out on a date, and I’m sitting here crying because--because--because I’m scared.”

Patton sucked in a breath.

“I’m scared,” Thomas realized. “I’m scared, aren’t I?”

“Elaborate upon those feelings,” Logan encouraged. “Why are you scared?”

“I--I’m scared--” Thomas stared at his hands. He’d shaken hands with Nico, and he’d wished he didn’t have to let go. “I’m scared of change. That’s always it, you know?” He laughed a bit. “I’m scared of--new possibilities. I know I have to take risks to dream big, but sometimes the risks seem outweigh the rewards. Sometimes it feels easier to avoid luxuries. Sometimes it’s--scary, to confront something I don’t know.”

Logan tugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“I’m excited,” Thomas said. “I should be excited, but I’m terrified, because there are so many chances for me to mess this up. I’ve already got so much on my plate. Do I really want to drag someone else into this? Do I really want to--watch him walk away?”

Patton looked up.

“Yeah, maybe I’m not as selfless as I thought.” Thomas laughed again. It sounded more like a sob. “Maybe I just don’t want to get something and lose it again. Maybe I’m tired of wanting things, if I never get what I want.”

“You’re allowed to want things,” Patton said softly.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No,” Patton admitted. “But I want to believe it. I really, really do.”

“And that’s the first step,” Logan said. “Isn’t it? Patton thinking that Thomas should be more selfless doesn’t erase the fact that he chose to say otherwise. Thoughts don’t equal actions. You can feel doubts about this, but that doesn’t have to affect the way you proceed.”

“Doesn’t it?” Thomas waved a hand at the ceiling. “It feels like I’m just strung along by my thoughts willy-nilly. You guys argue, and I get shoved around the food court and into the trash can.”

“Barring that--unorthodox example, I see your point.” Logan adjusted his glasses. The chance to explain something seemed to cheer him up a bit. “It is hard to separate thoughts from actions. However, it can be done. Think of it this way. When we convene to help you with an issue, we represent your thoughts. We give you different opinions based on our own goals, perspectives, and priorities.”

“And it’s loud,” Thomas said.

“And it’s loud,” Logan agreed. “It’s also a process. You listen to your thoughts, debate with them, and come to a conclusion. Yes, you can be influenced heavily by your thoughts, but the one who controls your actions is you.”

“That’s what makes you special,” Patton said, sounding like he was finally understanding. “We’re imaginary. We can’t affect the real world. But you can.”

“You make your own choices,” Logan said. “That’s what makes you your own person.”

Thomas swallowed. “Motivational speech, huh? What happened to ‘Nico is a terrible idea’?”

Logan winced. “I...still do think that, unfortunately.”

“Logan,” Patton said in a warning tone.

“But! But.” Logan sighed. “What you said about not knowing--about fearing the unknown--a lot of that is me.”

Thomas’ eyes widened.

“I’m the part of you that doesn’t want to take risks. I’m the part of you that wants to--to play it safe, because we only get one life.” Logan waved a hand. “If Virgil is the alarm clock that keeps you on your toes, I’m the person who sets the alarm clock. That means I don’t always understand the risks that you take, or the things that you do, and sometimes that’s...isolating. It feels--it seems like I’m unable to connect with you.”

“You do alright, Logan.” Thomas shook his head. “Better than alright. You keep my head on my shoulders, and I can always count on you. You’re better at this than you think.”

“I hope so,” Logan said.

“I know so.” Patton’s voice was firm. “You’re a great kiddo. You always make me feel better--well, not always, but you’re trying! You’re working on it!”

“Thank you,” Logan said, and sounded like he meant it. Patton smiled back.

“So what are you saying?” Thomas prompted.

“That...this is an area that I do not understand.” Logan twisted his fingers together. “Perhaps I felt--powerless, when you began to put such stock in your emotions. I could not help but focus on the negatives of the situation, in order to figuratively shove logic back into the conversation. But--there are conversations I’m not meant to be a part of.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Thomas said. “You just said you focused on the negatives--and you did raise some good points, ones I’m gonna have to think about! But if you focus on the positives, well, you could still contribute some interesting things. Right?”

Logan’s gaze flickered over to Thomas. Thomas gave him a smile.

“You are thirty-one years old,” Logan said. “The average lifespan of a male in the United States is about seventy-five years.”

“Great, way to give me a mid-life crisis,” Thomas teased.

“I’m attempting to say that you have time.” Logan spread his hands. “You have been away from college for less than ten years. Your personal identity is still changing, and there is still time for it to change.”

Was there?

“Yes,” Logan argued, looking more and more determined. “You don’t know everything this instant. However, nobody else does, either. What would be the point of scientific discovery if everyone knew the answers before they asked the questions? Life is about evolution. You have time to learn more about yourself.”

“But I’ve wasted so much time!” Thomas protested, and he almost felt like Logan, like Thomas was echoing everything Logan had ever told him. “I need to figure some stuff out, I can’t just stumble blindly through my life--”

“Except you haven’t,” Logan said. “What have you done with your life? You graduated college with a degree. You wanted to be a comedian, an internet personality, and you managed that. You wanted to be an actor, and you managed that. You’ve written a musical, you’ve befriended many talented people, you’ve discovered that you’re gay. I would hardly call that ‘stumbling blindly.’ You’re simply doing your best with the resources provided to you.”

Thomas let out a breath. “And your point is?”

“My point is that you don’t have much to lose,” Logan said. “This seems like an immediate dilemma in the moment. However, you don’t need to think through every possible option.” Logan squared his shoulders. “I don’t know what you should do. Neither do you. That’s--okay.”

Thomas found himself beginning to smile.

“That is okay, right?” Logan immediately looked at Patton. “I’m not completely off the mark, am I?”

“You did good,” Patton said.

Logan let out a breath.

“And you’re right.” Patton laughed. “Again! You’re right, again.” His face fell. “I--I don’t know what I want right now. But there’s time to figure that out. It’s not the end of anything, and you have a lot of choices to make. A lot of...chances.”

“A lot of choices,” Thomas echoed. “I guess it was kind of silly to think of it as ‘break up immediately or stay together forever.’ I’ve only known Nico for a day!”

Logan nodded. “In the future, you can make whatever choice works for you.”

“And we’ll be with you, kiddo.” Patton smiled. “Every step of the way.”

Thomas let out a long breath and the darkness settled around him. He was in his living room. He knew this house like the back of his hand. He was fine, he was safe, and it would be morning eventually.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, guys. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” Logan said. “It’s our job.”

“And our pleasure,” Patton corrected. “We’re happy to help.”

“I am not happy.” Logan paused and reluctantly inclined his head. “Still, Patton is correct. I--find it enjoyable when I can assist.”

“You both did great.” Thomas laughed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up with all this, I really shouldn’t have overthought it as much as I did.”

“We caused the overthinking,” Logan pointed out.

“We did,” Patton admitted. He shifted a bit and looked up, wiping his eyes. “I--I’m scared too, Thomas. I don’t want to...end up heartbroken again.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“But I think it might be worth it.” Patton balled his hands. “Those memories might hurt to look back on now, but they were nice while they happened, and they made us feel happy! The bad parts don’t necessarily erase the good parts. Nico is a good thing. A relationship with Nico, however it ends up, could be a good thing. You’re allowed--” Patton swallowed. “You’re allowed to want to be happy.”

Thomas fought back tears. “And--if it doesn’t work out?”

“We’ll live,” Patton said simply. “We did before, and we will again.”

“Okay.” Thomas’ voice came out like a croak, and he covered his face. “Okay, fine, just--just give me a second. Turns out I really needed to hear that.”

A warm hand hesitantly touched his shoulder. Thomas peeked between his hands to see Logan awkwardly patting his shoulder. Thomas gave him a watery smile.

“We can do this,” Patton said, sounding close to crying himself. “We’re allowed to want. It--it was never that we didn’t know, it was that we didn’t let ourselves, wasn’t it?”

“I want so much,” Thomas forced out. “I want to go on a date with Nico, I want my Sides to get along, I want to be famous and I want to be good and I want to know what I’m doing and I want--”

“It’s okay,” Logan said, barely above a whisper. “Breathe.”

Thomas breathed. In and out. In and out. He knew he could breathe. He had lungs and a heart and blood pumping through his veins and tears on his eyelashes. He knew that. He didn’t know who he was, but he knew pieces of himself, he knew his logic and his feelings and his dreams. He knew where he was and where he’d been. And he could figure things out from there.

“It’s okay,” Logan said again. “You will be okay.”

He would be okay.

No matter what, they would find a way to be okay.

Thomas wiped his eyes, uncurled his legs, and motioned for Patton to join them on the couch. Patton stood up and slipped between Logan and Thomas, making Logan’s arm fall around Patton’s shoulders. Logan started, but he didn’t remove it, and he let Patton lean into his side.

“Gosh, this was a mess, huh?” Patton giggled and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes again. “It’s already so late in the evening and I’m still such a mess of feelings.”

“We could all use a decompression activity,” Logan said. “May I…”

Thomas smiled. “Sure, buddy, go ahead and watch the nature documentaries.”

“Yes!” Logan looked triumphant. He turned on the TV and found one about birds. “Does this work?”

“Sure,” Thomas said. He paused. “So...what do we do?”

“Tonight?” Logan asked. “Watch TV, relax, and go to sleep.”

“And...tomorrow?”

“That’s tomorrow,” Patton said, punctuated by a yawn. “We’re still in today.”

Thomas smiled a bit. “Focus on tonight, huh?”

“Focus on the choices you can make right now.” Logan watched the TV begin to pan over a rainforest. “Sometimes you’re allowed to ignore your thoughts for a while.”

“Sometimes I’m allowed not to know things yet.” Thomas thought about it. “Thanks, Logan. Patton. I know this--can’t be easy for you guys.”

“It’s not,” Patton admitted. “But we’re working to be good people, right?”

“You’re working to be better,” Thomas corrected. “And you’re both doing amazing.”

Patton smiled. Logan hummed and pulled his blanket across Patton’s legs.

“Tonight we relax,” Thomas said, and smiled. “Yeah. I can work with that. I know we’ll figure stuff out soon.”

“You do?” Patton asked sleepily.

“I’ve got you guys in my corner, how could I not?”

Logan flushed before adjusting his glasses. “Likewise, we have you. As we are parts of you, you’re in your own corner.”

“Confusing,” Thomas remarked. “Let me guess--”

“It’s complicated,” Logan and Patton said.

“Thought so.”

But maybe he didn’t need to understand it. Maybe he didn’t need to know everything. He knew that Logan and Patton, and Roman, and Virgil--and Janus--were on his side. He knew they cared about him. He knew they’d help him be okay.

Maybe that could be all he needed. Maybe he just needed to trust in every part of himself.

Thomas looked down at his chest. Patton had slung an arm across it and was already half-asleep. Logan was intently watching the nature documentary. Somewhere in his head, Virgil and Roman were probably celebrating, or sleeping, if they were smart. Somewhere else, maybe Janus was smiling.

Thomas trusted every piece of himself that he knew.

Maybe he could learn to trust himself, too.

After all, he had enough time to make a million choices.

“Goodnight,” Thomas said as Patton began to snore. Logan murmured a response. “I--I love you guys, okay?”

“Love you too, kiddo,” Patton mumbled.

“I--” Logan breathed out. “I--hold you in the highest regard.”

“Love you too, nerd.” Thomas smiled. “You’re the best.”

He knew that he loved them. He loved every part of himself. And maybe, one day, he could get around to loving himself, too.

He knew that he wanted to. He knew that he wanted. He knew that he had the best possible backup, and a very cute possible boyfriend, and that he could get what he wanted, if he tried.

It was okay. It was fine. Things would figure themselves out.

Right now, Thomas was exactly where he needed to be.

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegenderqueermess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

@enby-ralsei

@remy-the-lemon-berry

@drarrymalecsolangelo

@riptide-123

@fander-fic-recs

@multi-fandoms-posts

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123 @idont-freaking-know @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @somehow-i-got-an-account @enby-ralsei @robinwritesshitposts @a-fandom-trashdump @kieraelieson @rainbowbowtie @10moonymhrivertam @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @awkwardjester @ollyollyoxinfree @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #platonic logicality #sanders sides fanfiction #back at it again with the lowercase parentheses titles #also i am rly sorry that i haven't written much #finals are coming up and yeah it's just been a wild ride #and i'm sorry this angsty mess is the first thing i post in weeks djhsgfshsjs #we're all friends here we know what to expect #tw anxiety #tw panic attack #averywrites

80 notes · View notes

little-kat07 · 3 years

Text

Enough

INCREDIBLY ANGSTY oneshot for Jan’s birthday because i’m out of ideas

TW: Mention of forgetting a birthday, two cuss words.

Pairings: None if you don’t want it to. It’s technically Dukeceit but it can be platonic too, just blink and you’ll miss the one romantic line.

Happy birthday Snek Boi!!

---

Janus laid in bed.

This was a normal thing for him to be doing, in fact, he did it a lot more than you might think. Just laying there, awake, his cape crumpled up on the side of his bed like that one blanket that you never use but you have just in case. He did this every day since he’d been accepted. And nobody cared.

Of course, Patton did, but the thing was he kind of HAD TO since he’s morality and upon seeing someone acting like a depressed bitch he bakes cookies.

So. many. cookies.

But Janus knows, he can see it in Patton’s eyes, they all just wish he wasn’t there.

So Janus pretended he wasn’t.

And today wasn’t REALLY different from the others. It was the same. There was no reason for him to be feeling extra abandoned today because the others didn’t care.

Remus cared.

Despite all his instincts, Deceit held onto that thought for dear life because it was the only good thing he could remember from all his years of living.

Remus NEVER forgot a birthday. Especially not Janus’s.

He vaguely remembered the first time Remus realized it was Janus’s birthday. He had tried to cook, and of course it ended in disaster but Remus had at least TRIED to do something sweet and that was enough for Janus to be happy.

The fifth time,he created a haunted house in the imagination for them to go through. Despite all Remus’s instincts, all the monsters were fake and couldn’t actually hurt them, which Janus was grateful for.

But Janus was accepted now. And with the lights. Remus wouldn’t care anymore. Remus was left behind, abandoned just like Janus was with Virgil. Remus probably hates him now.

The irony of what happened next is phenomenal.

Janus suddenly heard a commotion outside. Ignoring his better judgement, he decided to roll out of bed and see what was going on. When he peeked his head out of his door, his breath caught in his throat.

All the sides were in the living room. Patton stood against the kitchen counter with a spatula in his hand, Virgil stood on the stairs looking panicked, Logan peeked his head out of his room just looking mildly uninterested by it all, and Roman stood in the middle with his Katana held up to the throat of-

Remus.

Roman gritted his teeth. “What are you doing here? You aren’t welcome on this side of the mindpalace!”

Remus chuckled. “Relaaaax, little brother, I’m just here to bring-”

“Remus?” Janus winced. Because despite knowing this was a bad idea, very bad, this isn’t going to turn out well, he had stepped out of his room and said Remus’s name.

Suddenly, Remus’s eyes locked on to Janus’s. He grinned wide and pushed the sword away with ease (which he apparently could have done all along?) and flung his arms around Janus. “Deedee! I missed you.”

Janus was dumbfounded. “...I missed you too,” He choked out.

Remus pulled back with a grin and started rambling. “Jeez, Dee, you look like shit! You usually don’t have those bags under your eyes- Oh, did you know if you don’t sleep for three days there’s a possibility you can go completely insane?? Anyway, your scales are looking kind of dull so I guess it’s good that I brought you some moss because I know you shed, and there’s some moisturizer in here too-” He handed Janus a bag filled with many things. The other sides just looked too shocked to talk. “- Because I know your skin gets dry- OH and there’s lots of food in there, everything except cookies because I’m pretty sure Patton has been handling that pretty well. I had to summon it because you know what happens when I cook. There’s some psychology books in there because I know you love those, There’s some headphones because I figure you need some peace and quiet sometimes when you’re living with so many people, there’s a fidget cube- Oh, I forgot to ask, have the lights been okay to you? They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

Janus stuttered, “N-no, they’ve been nicer than I expected...” Which wasn’t actually a lie, they just passive aggressively tolerated him, which was better than openly hating him.

The other sides looked even more shocked at that statement. Remus just grinned that deranged, perfect grin. “Good! I wasn’t really worried because I don’t see why someone would try to hurt you, but just let me know if you need anything and-”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

Janus was practically trembling. “Why... did you do this?”

“What, you didn’t ACTUALLY think i’d ever forget your birthday, did you?”

Janus sniffed. “N-no, I mean- I LEFT you. Th-the same way Virgil left us- Don’t you hate me? How can you even look at me?”

Remus’s smile fell. “I- uh-” He cleared his throat. “Look, Dee, sappy shit isn’t what I do. But uh- to put it simply, I don’t? Hate you? I mean, I get that you wanted to be accepted whether it be because you need to help Thomas or to feel included with the lights- to be honest, I never hated Virgil either. Neither did you.”

It took EVERYTHING in Janus’s power not to drop the bag of gifts from how much he was shaking.

“Er... hug?”

And there goes the power.

Patton cooed at them while they hugged, just happy his kiddos were happy. Roman looked a bit conflicted on what he should do now, possibly rethinking why he hated Janus so much. Virgil looked a bit guilty... from a lot of things. Logan smirked at them in satisfaction.

Janus and Remus just hugged. Happy to be here now.

And that was enough.

78 notes · View notes

ladyinsertnamehere · 3 years

Text

Dukeceit week 2021, day 2: Green/Yellow

A soulmate au! @dukeceitweek

Warnings: swearing, Remus makes a suggestive joke

Background logince included

Janus Hellicate's favorite color was yellow. He lived in it. Half of his tee shirts, all of his backpacks throughout the years, and one skirt he bought once as a dare but liked too much to get rid of, were yellow. He got a job at a garden center to be able to see flowers and plants in all colors, but mostly sunflowers, daffodils, and marigolds. There was just one small problem working in a garden center. "Logan! Are these leaves starting to brown? I can't tell!" His coworker jogged over to him, muttering "I can't believe you got a job at a garden center when you can't fucking see green." Janus laughed - it's not like that irony hadn't crossed his mind before. "You fucken hypocrite," he joked, "You only started seeing colors a year ago!" Logan Berry was as sarcastic as he was brilliant. He typically tended to look well put together, and was much more honest than Janus could've ever dreamt of being. Maybe that was why Roman Prince was so drawn to him. Roman was eccentric, colorful and flamboyant. He was incredibly charismatic, but a little bit ditzy. He had poured his heart out into grand performances and paintings to distract himself from the fact he would never find a romantic partner. Or so he thought, until poor little fully-colorblind Logan stumbled into his life, and made both of theirs...better. Logan stands by his own statement that "the color red is a triumph". Janus had it significantly either than either of them, only not being able to see one color, and being confident in the fact that his soulmate was out there. He had always wondered what green would be like when he saw it. He knew what blue looked like, and he already adored yellow. But somehow he couldn't...mentally mix them together? He's tried and tried, but he's never been able to conceptualize it. "Oh, by the way, Roman's brother is coming by to pick me up after work," Logan offered. "Wanna lift?" "Yeah, sure," Janus agreed. "Great. Oh, and yeah, these leaves are starting to brown." "Thanks." Janus went back to trimming the plants to get them looking healthy again. Half an hour later, the two of them clocked out, and started waiting outside in the parking lot. Janus had finished up stitching the hole in his gardening gloves, and looked up to see a muddy gray pickup drive into the parking lot. Logan stood up to greet the driver - a pale-skinned man with a mustache, wearing a studded leather jacket and a torn-up beige t-shirt. The gauges in his ears were not too large, but still pretty noticeable. His black skinny jeans were ripped at the knees. He was arguably more extra than his brother. "Hey there, Remus," Logan greets him, "My coworker would like to take a ride as well." "Well, if he's takin' 'em, I'm givin' 'em!" Remus joked, before hopping out of the truck and extending his hand in greeting. "Hi, how are ya?" As soon as their palms made contact, Janus's world opened up. He started seeing lush green grass as it should be seen, and the plants and leaves sprang to life. Remus's t-shirt and truck were a glimmering emerald color, it was...unreal. Janus nearly found himself crying. It looked like Remus was feeling it, too. "Remus, unlock your - " Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw the two of them staring at each other. It didn't take long to connect the dots - "Oh! Remus's favorite color is green, and Janus's is - of course." "Hey - Janus, was it?" Remus remarked, "This place is incredible!" "Yeah," Janus smiled, beginning to see it too. "Alright, you sappy assholes," Logan hurried them along, "You can finish this later. Let's go!"

#ts janus #ts deceit #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #ts remus #ts the duke #duke sanders #remus sanders #ts intrusive thoughts #sympathetic remus #ts dukeceit

15 notes · View notes

whyiask · 3 years

Note

“That pet name was so gushy, but it was also so cute.” Prinxiety?

One happy fluffy Princxiety drabble coming right up! I think they're already in an established relationship at this point.

-----------------------

Virgil stretched out lazily on the couch. It had been an extremely trying day yesterday and the sides were all recovering in their own ways. Logan was reading, Patton was baking, Roman was sitting at the other end of the couch, singing softly under his breath and gazing at the wall, lost to his daydreams. Virgil was sleeping.

Well, not quite.

Virgil lay on the couch, not quite asleep, but not alert either. He stretched out, settling halfway on top of the prince. Roman jumped as Virgil plopped onto his chest, but recovered almost immediately, pulling the other side closer and adjusting his position.

Absent-mindedly, Roman ran his hands through Virgil's hair. He melted into the prince's touch and sighed with content. This was good, nice, simple, quiet. Completely silent except for the distant sounds of Patton clanging around the kitchen and the song Roman was humming under his breath. Virgil could feel the vibrations of Roman’s chest under his head. He listened for a moment.

“Tangled?” he guessed. Roman grew a little louder, and Virgil could make out the words clearly, confirming his theory.

“And it’s warm, and real and bright,” he sang lightly. Virgil drank in the prince’s warmth and strong arms holding him gently.

“And the world has somehow shifted.” His voice cracked purposefully into falsetto, breathier and lighter, scaling the highest notes with ease.

Virgil smirked softly. “That’s a bit unusual for you, Prince Charming.”

Roman rolled his eyes dramatically. “That’s a terrible nickname.”

“I may not be a damsel in distress, but as much as I hate to admit it, you are the most charming prince I’ve ever met.” Virgil grinned in victory as Roman flustered for a moment.

“All at once, everything is different.” Roman jumped back into the end of the song, before fading off again naturally. “That is the most sappy thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I can be sweet occasionally.”

“That was so incredibly mushy though.”

“You know you love me.”

Roman didn’t respond, instead pressing a kiss into Virgil’s hair. “Go to sleep, emo.” He continued playing with Virgil’s hair and he was drifting off into an actual sleep. He blinked awake, but Roman put a soothing hand on his chest. “It’s okay to sleep, I’ve got you.”

“Now that I see you.” The sweet tones of Roman’s head voice were intoxicating, and Virgil felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. It was peaceful. Roman riffed around on the line, delicate notes both incredibly Roman, and also not at the same time. Virgil could count on his fingers the number of times he had heard Roman sing sweetly and lightly, rather than belting.

Virgil smiled up at him.

That number was one.

“Now that I see you.”

The last note lingered in the air, and Virgil fell into a dreamless sleep on his prince’s chest.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #princxiety #sanders sides fic #sasi #sasi fic #ts roman #ts virgil #ty for the prompt caelum!!!!#❤️❤️❤️#okay also i just really wanted an excuse for Roman to sing I See the Light

42 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Note

Oh that’s the author that consistently puts so many important pieces of herself into her writing.

The author that goes above and beyond with her characterizations and dialogue.

The author that makes me want to produce better writing in my own stories.

The one that encourages other writers and artists to do what makes them happy.

The one that gave me Logan Delos in NYC.

The one that takes risks and writes to make herself happy.

(I could keep going but I won’t and I hope you are SLEEPING right now)

Rachael 🥺 you said so many nice things I’m just… I mean I’m… I’m not fine.

YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BE A BETTER WRITER. You’ve been making me a better writer for years now, and while our friendship has evolved way beyond being writing buddies, it’s still one of my favorite aspects of it. Thanks for always pushing me and helping me be better- in writing and in life.

(I’ve not slept more than that one hour 🤪 and as you can see it’s making me sappy 🥲)

I’ll always encourage people to do what makes them happy as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. Life is short, guys- like that thing no one else likes, write that totally indulgent story, dance in the grocery store because you like the song that’s playing. And if you’re doing something that brings you joy and won’t negatively impact others? Don’t let anyone shut you down.

I OWE NYC LOGAN ALL TO YOU AND @gollyderek SO THANK YOU BOTH FOR HIM… and he’s going to be back this holiday season (🍗🦃🏈&🎄❄️🎁)

Thank you so incredibly much for saying such kind things but more so for being such a kick ass friend. 🖤 I frickin love your guts.

#i am sitting here like this: 🥺🥺🥺#Rachael you made me cry #thank you #something tofightfor #:a shining gem of a person

6 notes · View notes

whataboutmyfries · 4 years

Text

Life is a highway (1)

AAAAAA so I’ve been working on this fic for a while now procrastination who? and I’ve finally finished!!! this is a two part fic (it got a little out of hand)

This one is for all the beautiful people on the SW discord :) thanks for being awesome!

Characters are the blessings bestowed on us by the incredible @lumosinlove I hope you like this one :)))

Part two here!!!

“Okay love, see you soon!”

Finn hung up, sighing. He looked over at Leo, his blonde hair falling onto his forehead and curling against the couch where he’d leaned his head on it. He was staring at the ceiling, toying with the snapback on his head.

“I miss him.”

Finn dropped his head onto the blond’s lap, sighing.

“Me too.”

Leo stroked his fingers through Finn’s hair, biting his lip. Logan was back home in Rimouski visiting and he’d already been gone a week. Surely that was waaay too long to be visiting family.

Right?

Leo was going out of his mind, and though he didn’t admit it, he knew Finn was too. They called at least twice every day but it just wasn’t enough. So they’d taken to wearing Logan’s clothes, Finn fitting almost perfectly into Logan’s hoodies while Leo had taken to wearing that goddamn snapback everywhere he went.

Finn sighed loudly, snapping Leo back into the present.

“I miss his face.”

Leo chuckled at that wishing he could just be there with his Tremzy. He knew it was stupid and clingy and sappy, but he’d been away too long.

But what if….he could? Leo grabbed for his phone, excitement making his eyes sparkle and his fingers shake. He barely even noticed as Finn swore in his lap.

“Shit, Nut! What the hell!”

Leo waved his hand, not even looking up from the screen as he gestured at Finn.

“I think….I might have the solution to our problem….”

Finn’s eyes widened as he looked over at Leo’s phone screen.

“Wait. Are you actually saying what I think you’re saying?”

Leo was grinning wide enough for it to hurt as he bounced in his seat, unable to control his excitement.

“ROAD TRIP!!!”

It took Leo all of an hour to plan it all and start packing their bags. It was an eleven-hour drive and if they started today, they could get there by tomorrow evening. Logan was staying at his family’s for another week, so they would return in another five days.

“Finn! Love, could you go down to the store and get us snacks for the road? We can stop along the way for meals but we’re gonna need a lot of snacks.”

Finn just smiled, dropping a kiss onto Leo’s hair before grabbing the keys.

By the time Finn returned, Leo had both their bags packed and stacked by the door.

“Nutty, can you give me a hand with the groceries please?”

Leo rushed into the living room and gaped at the redhead standing in the doorway. As it was, Finn had returned with two bags spilling over with apples and muffins and popcorn and protein bars. Leo chuckled, taking the bags from a very red-faced Finn, dumping them on top of their suitcases.

“Ready?”

Finn grinned, turning his cap backwards. “Let’s go see our boy.”

They decided to take shifts on driving so neither one would be too tired at the end of the day.

Leo took first shift, the two of them driving and laughing at nothing and everything, the roof down, the wind in their hair and music playing softly in the background. This was bliss.

Finn was halfway into a packet of chips when ‘Life is a highway’ started playing on the radio. Finn all but squealed, turning up the radio as far as it would go.

Leo whipped his head around, his hand already halfway to the volume button.

“Fish! The roof’s down!”

Finn beamed, pulling Leo’s hand away from the radio and lacing their fingers together.

Life is a highway

“Nut, the road’s completely empty! Sing with me!”

I wanna ride it all night long

Leo hesitated, but gave in, holding Finn’s hand tighter, tipping his head back laughing.

If you’re going my way, well, I wanna drive it all night long.

And as they laughed and sang and drove Leo’s heart clenched, his brain automatically memorising every second of the moment. The way Finn’s eyes crinkled when he sang, the way he danced in his seat, flaming red hair mussed up from the wind.

Through all these cities and all these towns

Leo raised their intertwined hands to his lips, pressing his lips to Finn’s fist, smiling against the warm skin.

It’s in my blood and it’s all around

Finn giggled, throwing his arms up in the air, tipping his head back to the dusky sky.

I love you now like I loved you then

You’re in my blood I’m not a lonely man.

Leo yawned, scrubbing a hand over his face as he pulled the car over, off the road into flat, rolling grassland.

He killed the engine, stretching his stiff muscles. He looked over to see Finn sleeping, his fingers lose around Leo’s

Leo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Finn’s brow, groaning when his back cracked like a stack of loose pebbles.

Leo extracted himself from the driver’s seat, pulling out the blankets and pillows from the boot as quietly as he could, pulling down the seats and making a nest for them to sleep in.

Leo looked around, satisfied with his handiwork, leaning back to wake Finn. He didn’t have to go far though, as he tried to duck out of the car his head hit the top of the car with a resounding thud, a barked stream of profanities following not long after.

“Huh? Wha— Leo?” Fin startled awake, his head whipping around to find the source of the noise.

“Hush, fishy, it’s just me. Sorry I woke you.” Leo winced a little, rubbing harder at his head. “I hit my head.”

Finn chuckled absentmindedly, rubbing at his eyes while he fumbled for the door handle.

“Nutty, wha—” Finn was barely coherent, stumbling a little when he walked to the back.

His jaw went slack when he took in the backseat. Leo had made it as comfortable as he could, blankets and pillows and clothes turning the car into the cosiest looking bedroom. In the soft, yellow light of the car, it looked downright magical. Leo had even gone so far as to bring Finn’s own pillow and blanket.

“Peanut…..I— thank you.” Finn’s eyes shone with love and adoration as he threw his arms around Leo, pulling him as close as he could.

Leo smiled, kissing the top of Finn’s head. “Anything for you mon petit poisson.”

Finn grumbled into his chest, shaking his head against Leo’s warm sweater. “Fucking french”

Leo just laughed, ruffling the shock of red hair.

They stood there for a good minute before Leo broke the silence.

“Harz, are you just doing this cause you’re cold?”

Finn pulled away, looking up at him sheepishly, his nose tinged red from the chill

“So cold.”

Leo tried and failed to hide his smile, shoving Finn playfully into the car before he walked over to their bags.

“Get in you overgrown baby. I’ll put these in the front and then we can go to bed.”

Finn chuckled from behind him. “Well, it was a little cause you did this for us too!”

Leo shook his head fondly, dumping the bags into the two front seats, making sure to carry their wallets with him to the back.

Finn had already settled himself into their little den, curled up in the corner with a pile of blankets on him, staring out of the sunroof in awe.

“Leo, babe, come look.”

Bewildered, Leo crawled into the car, closing the boot behind him. He snuggled up to Finn, head in his lap.

“Look at what fishy?”

Finn just pointed at the roof, his eyes bright with childlike wonder as he stared at the sky.

Leo followed Finn’s finger, a little gasp escaping him when he finally saw it. A glorious expanse of inky black, shot through with enormous clusters of stars. Deep grey clouds floated across the constellations, the occasional bat flapping across the black sky.

It was…..magic. That was all Leo could think to say. It was magic and wonder and cosmic magnificence and it made Leo feel insignificant yet so safe all at once. Leo curled an arm around Finn’s waist pressing a kiss to his palm.

“I love you mon cheri”

Finn smiled sweetly, silver lining his eyes as he leaned down to get closer to Leo, wrapping himself tightly around the blond.

Leo’s throat closed up, his chest filling up with an emotion he couldn’t quite describe. Finn’s arms around him were everything. It wasn’t anything special, but it felt like the only thing keeping him from floating into empty space.

So Leo pulled Finn close, kissing the top of his head while they fell asleep under the stars.

#lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #Finn O hara #logan tremblay #finn x leo #leo knut #leo x finn #leo x logan x finn #leo x logan #logan x finn #roadtrip fic #sweater weather #coast to coast #oknutzy #whataboutmyfries

131 notes · View notes

stardustanddaffodils · 3 years

Text

So Much More

Hey! So uh... I’m not super happy with this? Could be better. But it is what it is and I’m really done with trying to edit it and I know if I don’t post it now then I probably won’t ever, so... here you go! (And I do recognize that I’m probably being overly harsh on myself and objectively, this isn’t too bad.)

So! @roman-exe made this lovely post and my brain was like “okay we’re gonna try to do this” and this was the final product! Not sure how well it fits the prompt (? you’d call that a prompt, right-?), but it exists! Yay! During this process I learned that as someone who has never been attracted to anyone and has never flirted or done anything remotely like that, romance is hard to write (shocker, I know)! I also learned that I am Bad At Fluff :’). So uh... yay, learning....? Annnnyways, I’ll stop rambling now :)

Pairings: Logince, platonic LAMP

Word Count: 3666 (this was supposed to be short-)

Warnings: nightmares, crying, food, kissing, setting is pretty much nonexistent, overwhelming fluff, um... I don’t think there’s anything else, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Logan thinks he realizes it during a movie night. Patton is already asleep, glasses askew, and Virgil retreated to his room after they finished The Princess and the Frog. Logan and Roman are sitting next to each other on the couch, sharing a blanket because Virgil decided to take like five blankets, burying himself in the pile of cloth that is now rumpled and discarded on the other side of the sofa. The gentle sound of Mrs. Potts’ singing is floating through the room, and Logan’s eyes are beginning to grow heavy when he feels something warm fall against his shoulder.

A glance over reveals that Roman has fallen asleep, his head resting in the crook of Logan’s neck as he snores softly. Logan’s face feels warm, and he suddenly has an irrational urge to press a gentle kiss to Roman’s temple, and… oh.

Months of staring and blushing and previously unnamed feelings abruptly make sense. As the data would suggest, Logan has a crush on Roman.

(Can it even be called a crush, though? Because to Logan it is so much more. It is late nights of brainstorming and sleeping together after nightmares and sharing poetry. It is passionate debates and friendly banter and teasing insults that lack any real impact. It is gentle smiles and comfortable silence and infectious energy and cups of coffee brewed exactly how he likes it because “I saw you were up late again last night, Specs, and I figured you could use it.” It is knowing that Roman will always have his back, it is having someone who he can always rely on, it is being held while Roman whispers all the words he needs to hear even when he doesn’t know what he needs, it is comfort and safety and home and Roman, and it is so much more than a crush.)

Well. Regardless of sickeningly sappy sentiments, the fact remains that Logan is undeniably attracted to Roman. In retrospect, he really should have realized it sooner. He almost wonders if Virgil intended to force him and Roman into cuddling by taking so many blankets. While their friend is eccentric, that was a bit much, even for him, and Logan would hardly be surprised if Patton and Virgil had caught onto his (incredibly obvious, now that he thinks about it) crush. Curse his obliviousness and inability to understand emotion—Logan is an idiot.

At least he knows now. And the most logical course of action would be to inform Roman of his feelings. He definitely has reason to believe that Roman might return his affections, now that he’s actually thinking about it, and even if they aren’t, it’s Roman—a little crush won’t ruin their relationship.

However, Logan has to admit that the idea of confessing a crush without at least trying to figure out if the feelings are reciprocated or not sends him into a bit of a panic. Besides, he has spent many years with Roman, getting to know him and all of his quirks, and one thing that has never once changed throughout the course of their friendship is Roman’s ever-present desire for courtship and a romance like something out of a love story, perhaps, or a Disney movie.

Perhaps the most efficient course of action would be to tell Roman his feelings as soon as possible. But Logan thinks that the most appropriate choice—and the one that would make Roman happiest—might be attempting to romance Roman. (The words fill him with a slight burst of terror and apprehension, but he also feels strangely giddy at the thought, and Logan loves a challenge.) Perhaps it will be fun for Logan as well, like an experiment—he can figure out how to flirt and can gain more data as to whether or not Roman likes him back.

(He’s trying to approach things calmly and rationally but God, Logan really hopes Roman likes him back.)

Logan drifts asleep there, already brainstorming as his friend drools on his shoulder. When he wakes up the next morning, his glasses are dangling off of one ear and his head is resting on top of Roman’s, who is still asleep. From the kitchen, Patton winks at him. Logan pretends not to see and starts to get up, but Roman latches onto him with a sleepy mumble, and… well, it wouldn’t hurt if he stayed there for just a little longer, would it?

Besides, “a little longer” results in a very flustered Roman, who wakes up and turns bright pink when he realizes that he has been using Logan as his human teddy bear. Since Roman is usually quite put together, Logan enjoys any opportunity to see him flustered (and his bedhead is rather adorable—objectively!). Logan smiles gently at him. “Good morning.”

Roman repeats the greeting and hurries off to his room to get changed.

By the time he comes back downstairs, Logan has changed into a simple T-shirt and sweatpants—it’s the weekend, he’s not exactly trying to impress anyone—and is seated at the counter with a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes in front of him.

“I made you a plate,” he says, pushing the dish towards Roman as he takes a seat.

“Oh, thanks,” Roman replies, already beginning to drown his pancakes in syrup, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce.

“Your outfit looks really cute on you, by the way,” Logan comments offhandedly, surveying Roman’s jeans and top. Roman chokes on a bite of pancake. Logan just smirks to himself. So far, so good.

Breakfast is interspersed with puns flying between Patton and Roman (Logan groans quietly at each one, but he secretly thinks a few of them are rather clever) and little stories about their week, their plans for the day, and anything else. Roman’s face lights up as he talks about the latest shenanigans from theater rehearsal, and Logan melts a little as he nibbles delicately at his breakfast. In contrast, Roman wolfs down his decadent pancakes without abandon and gets told off by Patton multiple times for talking with his mouth full. By the time he’s done, his face is smeared with chocolate and whipped cream and whatever other sugary toppings he put on his pancakes. He smears most of it off with a napkin, but there are still several noticeable splotches of chocolate.

“Roman, you’ve got something right here…” Logan tells him. Roman swipes the napkin across his face again, but it does little to help. With an overexaggerated sigh, Logan leans over. “Here.” He takes the napkin and wipes the chocolate syrup off of Roman’s face.

Perhaps the sheer amount of satisfaction he fees from seeing Roman’s smile is unreasonable, but he relishes in it nonetheless.

After breakfast, Logan hightails it to Virgil’s room. His friend looks up. “What’s up?”

“Can you teach me how to flirt?”

(Virgil is admittedly not his first choice. Roman would be the best option, but considering Roman is the one that the flirting will be directed at, it seems illogical to go to him. Logan had considered going to Patton, but subtlety is not a skill that he possesses, and Logan would definitely prefer a quieter approach. So, Virgil it is.)

Logan comes out of his friend’s room a changed man, to say the least.

The rest of the day is rather mundane. Logan is writing an essay just for kicks—“Of course. Only you would write an essay for fun,” Roman had commented warmly—and Roman is holed up with the piano, working on the latest song he has been writing. At one point, Logan cautiously makes his way out of the safety of his room and heads to the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee and a much-needed break. As he sits at the counter, sipping the bitter drink, a few notes of piano float in from the other room, accompanied by a rich voice.

Logan closes his eyes and leans towards the direction of Roman’s singing. He cannot make out the words, but the general melody sends chills down his spine. Although he is seldom very open about expressing it and his commentary towards it is often downright disdainful, Logan adores the sound of Roman’s voice. (Really, though—did Roman expect Logan to praise him after being awoken at 6:30 am by the obnoxiously peppy tune of “Morning Person” from Shrek?)

Logan lets the indistinct sound of Roman’s voice fill his ears for a little longer before putting the dishes in the sink. In an almost spur-of-the-moment move, he grabs an apple, a glass of water, and a pack of crackers and makes his way over to the closed door that Roman’s voice is emanating from. He knocks brusquely. “Roman? I brought you a snack.”

The music cuts off. A moment later, the door swings open, revealing Roman’s smiling face. “Oh! Thank you!” he says gratefully, leaning in and wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist in a quick hug. Before Logan can process the action, Roman has withdrawn, taking the plate from his hands and smiling broadly.

“I overheard some of your song,” Logan comments before Roman can close the door. “It sounds amazing.”

“Oh, thanks,” Roman says. “Er… did you catch any of the lyrics?”

“No, I wasn’t able to make out the lyrics. But the tune is quite pleasant.”

Roman relaxes visibly. “Thanks, Pocket Protector.”

Logan wonders what that was about, but he knows better than to pry. Roman can be quite protective of his work, especially when it’s still in progress, and Logan would be a horrible friend if he hadn’t learned to respect that by now.

After a moment of staring dumbly at each other—Roman’s eyes are so pretty, have they always been that pretty?—and wondering what to say, Logan settles on a succinct, “I’ll be going now. Best of luck in your endeavors.”

Roman nods. “Same to you, nerd,” he teases before closing the door. Logan smiles softly, still staring at the door, before remembering himself and hurrying back up to his room. He wants to finish the essay this weekend.

When Logan resurfaces from the depths of research and his room, Roman is in the kitchen. He’s drawing something while listening to music, one of those revoltingly romantic songs. For once, Logan knows the lyrics pretty well.

Logan smiles at the sight, feeling strangely light. Today has been a really good day. He’s quite proud of his essay, nothing bad has happened, and he and Roman now have the house to themselves because Patton went to volunteer at the nearby animal shelter and dragged Virgil with him. (Not that Logan doesn’t enjoy their company, of course, but he also cherishes any and all alone time spent with Roman… even if they’re in completely different rooms doing completely different things.)

He can only blame what happens next on his unreasonably good mood. Logan quietly sneaks up behind Roman, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and begins to sing.

Unlike Roman, Logan is rather self conscious of his voice. He supposes he’s a decent singer, but he doesn’t sing often. But today is a good day, and Roman loves the sound of his voice, so Logan begins to sing along to the music as he nudges Roman out of his seat.

“Dance with me,” he invites as Roman stares at him, face rosy pink and eyes wide.

“What’s gotten into you?” he murmurs, accepting Logan’s invitation and beginning to twirl around the kitchen.

Logan grins, making weird jerky movements that barely pass as dancing. “Nothing. Just a good day, is all.”

The two of them continue to boogie around the room, singing and beaming and giggling like fools, until the sound of the door opening breaks the moment and Logan hastily sits down, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t just dancing around like a lunatic.

Judging from Patton’s overly large smile, Virgil’s little smirk, and the way that his face still feels like it’s burning, he doesn’t think he succeeded.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Logan blinks groggily, turning on his bedside lamp. “Come in?”

Creak. The door is eased open and Roman comes into his room, standing uncomfortably by the foot of his bed. Logan sits up.

“Roman?” he greets hoarsely, feeling around on his nightstand until he finds his glasses. “What are you doing here at”—he squints at the clock—“two thirty in the morning?”

“Nightmare,” Roman mumbles, and Logan notices his tearstained face and quivering lips for the first time. Immediately more alert, he scoots over and gestures for Roman to come sit next to him. When Roman obliges, Logan wraps an arm around him and lets him rest his head on Logan’s shoulder.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Roman shakes his head, causing his mussed hair to tickle Logan’s neck.

“Would you like to sleep here for the rest of the night?”

A barely perceptible nod.

“Is there anything else that you need?”

Roman buries his face even deeper in the crook of Logan’s neck, mumbling something indecipherable.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What was that?”

“Could you… do you think you could sing to me?” Roman forces out, sounding almost sheepish.

It’s an unusual request, but Logan watches Roman cling to him, trusting him with his vulnerability, relying on him for comfort, and Logan is nodding before he’s fully processed the statement.

Logan hums a melancholy lullaby until he feels Roman’s body go limp, his breaths deepening. Logan shuts off the lights, lies down with Roman still passed out on top of him, and falls asleep to the soothing rhythm of Roman’s breathing.

(“Logan? Patton wants you to know that breakfast is ready—” Virgil starts to say the next morning, but he cuts himself off as he nudges the door open and sees Logan and Roman, still cuddled up together. He smirks quietly to himself as Patton comes up behind him.

“Awww!” Patton coos softly.

“Maybe we should leave them alone for now.” Virgil eases the door shut and heads back downstairs. It’s about time, he thinks to himself.)

Logan wakes up and groans softly, snuggling into the warmth next to him. Something presses uncomfortably against his face, and he reluctantly opens his eyes. That something turns out to be his glasses. Memories of last night begin to knit themselves together, and as Logan blearily blinks, he realizes that the warmth he is cuddling into is, in fact, Roman, who is beginning to stir.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispers tenderly as Roman opens his eyes. The sentiment is so out of character for him that he almost feels a bit uncomfortable, but the soft look in Roman’s eyes makes him decide that it was definitely worth it.

For someone so proficient in the romance department, Roman is quite easily flustered.

“Feeling better?” Logan prompts gently.

“Hmm?” Roman seems confused, gaze still sleepy and unfocused, but as last night’s impromptu slumber party seems to come back to him, his expression clears. “Oh. Yeah, um… yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Logan wipes his glasses on the T-shirt he wore to bed and puts them back on. “I’m going to go get ready?”

After Roman leaves his room, Logan makes a few notes in his notebook. As fun (and fruitful) as flirting with Roman is, it is still an experiment of sorts, and Logan can hardly call himself a scientist if he doesn’t record the data. (Besides, he gets an irrational thrill from noting down Roman’s reactions to his attempts at courtship, although it pains him to admit it—he sounds like a significantly more robotic version of a stereotypical teenage girl in love.)

Logan stares in the mirror until he successfully manages to wipe the stupidly sappy smile off of his face.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on!” For once, Logan isn’t bothering with decorum. His face is alight with an excited blush and a massive smile. Roman laughs as Logan grabs his hand and impatiently tugs him along.

They’ve just parked the car. Logan was absolutely giddy throughout the entire ride, and his energy has hardly dissipated—quite the opposite, actually. He grabs Roman’s hand, lacing their fingers together without so much as a second thought, and drags him towards the planetarium like an overly exuberant child.

They make their way in and Logan is practically bouncing the entire time. He’s sure he’s getting some weird looks but he can’t quite bring himself to care because he’s finally convinced Roman to go with him to the planetarium! (Granted, it didn’t take too much convincing, and then the only thing holding them back was a mess of scheduling issues, but still!)

They take their seats and Logan beams at Roman, who returns the smile. It is then that Logan realizes that he never let go of Roman’s hand and their fingers are still twined together. Logan would bring attention to it, but he doesn’t quite want to let go. (Operation See-How-Long-It-Takes-Roman-To-Realize-They’re-Holding-Hands, commence!)

Soon, the room is dimming and images of the night sky are being projected over the dome. Logan gasps sharply and squeezes Roman’s hand because it’s just so beautiful and he can see the images of the stars and he loves it. He quickly pinpoints a few constellations as the worker begins to talk about the position of the stars and how it rotates with the seasons, as well as other phenomenons. Logan listens intently and is quite glad that the room is dark—if Roman could see his face, he’d never stop teasing him about just how excited he looks.

Logan cranes his head so far back that by the time they leave, it’s started hurting a bit.

“You know,” Logan tells Roman as they walk outside, “When I was little I wanted to be an astronaut so I could go to space and be among the stars. Now, I think I’m happy to just be beneath them.”

Logan then proceeds to lecture his friend about everything that they just learned in the planetarium. Roman indulges him, and Logan is immensely grateful for it. It’s one of the things that he loves about Roman—sure, he’ll make a few teasing comments here and there, but in the end he’ll let you tell him about your passions for hours, even if he couldn’t care less about the subject.

Love. Logan hasn’t really let himself use that word yet (and if he has, it’s been in an incredibly platonic sense). But really, nothing else seems to fit. No other word comes close to describing the way his heart flutters when Roman looks at him, or the sheer warmth and exhilaration that he feels when they’re together. Roman is his home, his heart, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning, his friend, but Roman is so much more than that as well. Really, Logan can’t think of another word that could possibly come close to describing their relationship and all of its complexities.

Shrugging off the epiphany, Logan continues to ramble to Roman until the words just don’t seem sufficient anymore, at which point he breaks off, smiling broadly and excitedly waving his hands a little.

Roman smiles softly at him and murmurs under his breath, “Sono innamorata di te*.” His voice is so quiet Logan almost misses it, and Roman doesn’t seem aware that he’s spoken.

“What was that?” Logan asks, and Roman goes beet red.

“Oh, uh, nothing.”

“Oh. Okay.” Then, with an almost victorious smile, Logan adds, “Quoque amō te**.”

“What?”

Logan smiles. “Latin and Italian are incredibly similar. I thought you’d have realized that by now.”

“What did you say?”

Logan smirks. “I said ‘I love you too,’ idiot.”

“I—what?” Logan makes a mental note to tease Roman about just how much he’s blushing later.

“I love you too. Has that not been clear? I thought that the incredibly obvious attempts at flirting would’ve given it away.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, well. Would you like to go out for lunch? I believe we saw a restaurant nearby that looked pretty good.”

“Like, as a date?”

Logan grins. “Only if you want it to be.”

“I—yes. I’d like that very much.”

“It’s a date, then.”

As they walk in the direction of the restaurant, Logan slips his hand into Roman’s. Roman gives it a squeeze.

“You beat me to it,” Roma abruptly says.

“What do you mean?”

“Asking me out, I mean. I was writing you a song and when it was done I was going to play it for you as a confession of my love.”

“Ah. That does sound like exactly the sort of hopelessly romantic, dramatic thing you would do. Is that why you were being so secretive when I brought you those snacks earlier this week?”

“Guilty as charged.”

Logan smiles and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. A slight breeze rustles through, and Logan tugs Roman closer—purely for purposes of warmth, of course.

He catches Roman’s eye. He’s staring at him with that peculiarly blushy, tender expression.

Screw it.

Logan grabs the collar of Roman’s shirt, squeezes his eyes shut, and jams their lips together before he can overthink it.

It’s not magical or anything like that. It’s pretty clumsy—Logan has never done this before. But it feels strangely familiar, and when their lips meet, Logan almost feels like he is coming home.

As they continue walking—on their first date!—Roman smiles at him with the smile that Logan realizes is and has always been just for him, and before he can stop himself Logan is smiling back, expression clouded with love. (Thank goodness Patton isn’t here, or Logan will never hear the end of it). Roman squeezes his hand, the same besotted expression on his face, and Logan thinks that while perfection is a social construct, this might just be it.

Then again, can it even be called perfect? Because to Logan, it is love and light and music and vulnerability and stars and dreams and hope and poetry and Roman, and really, it is so much more.

Edit 2/21/21: I forgot to add the translations!

* Italian for “I am in love with you” (I think)

** Latin for “I love you too” (or “I also love you”)

#sanders sides #logince #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #tw nightmare #kissing #tw crying #tw food #ask to tag #written in the stars #so much more #thought puddles

24 notes · View notes