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noblest-roman-of-them-all · 3 months ago

Text

Creative Block

Thomas learns the hard way just how literally idioms and turns of phase can be taken, and unfortunately, it's at Roman's expense.

Thomas pulled his lips thoughtfully to one side and started at the blinking cursor on the laptop screen.

It was mocking him, he was sure of it.

He scrolled up and read a bit of what was already typed out across the screen and scowled when it all came to an abrupt end. He shook his head, unable to seem to connect back to the story idea he'd had the night before.

It was frustrating to say the least.

Roman had been so excited about too- The frustrated scowl shifted into a frown. He'd seen hide nor hair of his Creative Side all day.

It wasn't necessarily uncommon to not interact with each of the Sides directly in a day, but it wasn't exactly normal either. Roman might not manifest fully for every creative project, but he always seemed to weigh in on things internally, and thinking about it, he hadn't noticed any input from Roman at all that day.

He tilted his head back and to one side as if glancing at the ceiling. "Hey, Roman?" he asked both aloud and sending the question into the Mind Palace.

He was met with silence.

Again, it wasnt necessarily uncommon, but it wasn't exactly normal either.

Thomas set aside the laptop and closed his eyes as he leaned into the couch and let out a slow breath, easing himself into the Mind Palace. He intentionally rose up just outside the grand door to the Prince's room and knocked.

"Roman?" he called as he knocked. He waited a beat before decided to open the door and stuck his head inside. "Hey, Princey-" He stopped. An instict that something was wrong began to form a knot in his gut. He entered the room, closing the door behind him, and moved to stand in the center of the room, turning in a slow circle as if looking around for where Roman might hide.

His eyes landed a large, ornately carved wardrobe.

He didn't have any better ideas so he decided to cross the room and open it.

Roman came spilling out in an unconscious heap, catching Thomas wildly off guard and knocking them both to the floor.

Thomas yelped in surprise then hit the floor with a grunt, and barely managed to keep Roman from falling face first into the floor. He swore under his breath and scrambled to get Roman flat on his back.

"Logan!" he shouted at the door with enough force to make Embodiment of Logic rise up with start through the center the floor.

"Ow! Thomas, what-" he froze when he saw Roman motionless on the floor. He turned and rushed toward a door opposite of where the wardrobe stood and pushed it inward. "Get in here, now!" he ordered before rushing back to where Thomas knelt next to the motionless Prince.

"Let me see," Remus ordered as he rushed forward. Thomas jumped at the unexpected voice and skittered backward leaving Remus to kneel down in his place.

He watched in confusion as Remus gently took Roman's face in both his hands and checked Roman's eyes.

"That's not really a good tell for concussions," Logan commented.

"That's why it works for us," Remus answered curtly. "Most people don't know that, it's more of a trope than anything. How did you find him?"

"I just opened the wardrobe and he fell out," Thomas replied. "Is he okay?"

Remus's face was stern as he took each of Roman's hands in turn and carefully examined them. "What were you doing before that?"

"I was writing. Or trying to. Roman had a new idea last night and we got a few paragraphs in before I fell asleep. I was going to see if we could make some more progress on it this morning. But it was like..." Thomas shook his head.

"Like thinking at a brick wall?"

"I mean, yeah, kind of. I couldn't think of anything. I thought maybe talking to Roman directly might help, but he didn't answer so I decided to go look for him. That's when I found him in the wardrobe."

Remus nodded and shooed Logan back then stepped over his twin. He started to scoop Roman off the floor and pointed at the bed. "Go pull the blanket back."

"Remus," Thomas cut in, catching the Duke by the shoulder. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Let me get him to bed, then I'll explain."

Thomas nodded and let him go. He watched once more in confusion as Remus gently transfered Roman from the floor to the bed, even taking care to remove his boots, sash, and tunic.

"Thomas."

He glanced up at his name and found Logan standing over him and offering a hand. He grabbed Logan's hand and let him pull him to his feet.

"Can you use the potion?" Logan asked once Remus seemed satisfied that Roman was well taken care of.

Thomas frowned. "Potion? What potion?"

"Roman recreated the potion from the Chronicals of Narnia," Logan explained. "He uses it to heal injuries sustained in the Imagination."

"Wh- How often are you guys getting hurt?" Thomas demanded.

Remus glanced away then shook his head. "Not important. But it won't work for this."

"Why not?" Logan asked curiously.

Remus sighed and held his hand toward the floor, a morning star seemed drop from behind him. He walked straight toward the wardrobe and Thomas, a look of determination hard on his face.

Thomas all but jumped put his path and the Duke yanked the door open. Then he went still. His chest heaved slightly as he stood before the rack of warm looking fur coats. He pushed the door toward Thomas.

"Don't let that close behind me."

Thomas stepped forward and took the door with one hand.

Remus gave an unamused look and caught Thomas's other wrist and moved his hand to the door, then pointed at him sternly, before stepping inside.

He paused just inside, near enough that the heels of his boots nearly hung over the edge. "If you shut the door behind me, I'm gonna give you nightmares for a week on purpose."

Thomas rolled his eyes and stepped in front of the door. "Better?"

Remus swallowed. "Not really." He pushed forward, morning star held in a tight grip before him. He disappeared quickly into the shadows of the wardrobe, swallowed up by the thick garments that hung there and the faint smell of mothballs. His footsteps seemed to fade and Thomas thought about the Pevensie pushing and shoving one another till they fell through the back of the wardrobe into the snowy wood.

The curiosity was almost enough to make him follow behind Remus. But tension in Remus's body and the threat of nightmares was enough to hold him off.

A thud cut off his thoughts.

After moment there was another. Then another. And after a moment Remus emerged. He nodded as he took the door from Thomas and carefully closed it behind himself.

"The potion won't work because Roman never made it into the Imagination," he said flatly.

Logan's face fell. "How long was he in there?"

Remus shrugged and glanced at Thomas. "What time did you fall asleep?"

Thomas's eyes went wide."He hasn't been in there the whole time has he? It's noon! That was almost twelve hours ago!"

"He'll be okay. He just needs to sleep. It happens sometimes. The brain can take 'creative block' a little too literally. Usually it just means we can't access the Imagination, sometimes we get stuck in the Imagination. And every once in a while..." he shrugged. "Usually we can tell when things are getting hard and we'll check the wardrobes together. But sometimes he gets over excited. Runs in without checking first. Gets himself stuck."

Thomas sank onto the foot of the bed with and let out a heavy breath. "Is there anything I can do to help him?"

Remus shrugged. "The wardrobe is weird. It's still more Imagination than Mind Palace, not enough that the potion works, but enough that tropes do. He'll sleep for a day or two and then be fine."

"Have you ever been stuck before?"

A dark look passed over Remus's face and he nodded. "For Roman, it's the 'hero over exerts then passes out and sleep for a few days' type trope. He'll still be a little tired when he wakes up, but it won't take him long to bounce back."

"Is that why he looks like he was in a fight?" Logan asked.

Remus shook his head.

Something tingled in the back of Thomas's head. Like a pin point at the just above the base of his skull that crackled with the same sensation as his leg falling asleep.

"He was trying to get out. Wasn't he?"

Remus didn't answer.

"What trope does it play on you?"

"I think you left the toaster on. The kitchen's probably on fire. I think I can even hear the smoke alarm. You better go check that."

Half hearted as it was, the thought was enough to send Thomas leaping off the couch, convinced he could smell smoke, or at the least had heard the fire alarm going off.

Before he could even fullly process what he was doing, Thomas found himself racing into the kitchen.

He swore under his breath as he remembered he hadn't even used the toaster that day. He stood leaned on the counter by one hand and the other on his hip. "Remus, I wanna help," he called out loud, glancing at the ceiling. He was met with silence.

Once Thomas was gone Remus strode quickly back toward his own room.

"Remus-" Logan tried to reach out to him, but he dodged the touch and dropped immediately through the floor instead, leaving Logan alone with the sleeping Prince.

---

Thomas sat in the plush writing chair, his elbows rested on his knees. He glanced up and for a moment watched the steady fall of Roman's chest. He had to admit this was very much how he'd imagined it would be to be on this side of the comatose friend trope.

He snorted.

How he imagined it would be.

He let out a faint sigh. At least the bruising on Roman's face and hands was getting better already. Thomas started when the door swung open. Remus stared with wide eyes, apparently equally caught off guard, and immediately turned to leave again.

"Remus, wait!" Thomas called and came to his feet, reaching out for him. The Duke went still and kept his gaze averted. "Do you want to come sit with me?" Thomas offered awkwardly after a moment's pause.

Remus shook his head. "I was just coming to check on him. He's fine if you're here."

"Will you come sit with me?"

Remus let out a defeated sigh and nodded. He snatched his own desk chair and dragged it into the room. He set it nearer the door and dropped into it gracelessly.

Thomas sat much more calmly and glanced at Remus from the corner of his eye, then looked back to Roman, and finally to the floor. "Remus, are you okay?" he asked.

The Duke didn't answer.

"Remus-"

"I'm fine."

Thomas nodded and for a long moment they sat in tense silence.

"I, um, I tried reading some of my bookmarked fics," Thomas broke the silence. "I remembered this quote about how being creative is like breathing. Creating things is breathing out, and consuming stories is breathing in. We have to take in stories in order to be able to create them. I thought it might help-" he glanced briefly at Roman, who lay still as ever on his bed, and worked his jaw "-I don't know if it did. It didn't really inspire me to create anything else. I don't know how this works though. I don't know if I have to create something to help wake him up or if I have to wait for him to wake up first. I was...honestly kinda thinking it might be like a Sleeping Beauty thing. Inspiration to create being like true love's kiss or something. I dunno." He sat back and ran a hand over his legs. "Maybe it was stupid of me."

"Reading can help us," Remus replied quietly. "But. Sometimes Creativity needs to rest. Sometimes...we're forced to rest."

"Is it always like this?"

Remus shook his head. "Sometimes it's just in the room, sometimes it's in the Imagination. It's only the wardrobe when it's bad."

"Why didn't I notice before?"

Remus shrugged. "Janus is really at his job."

Thomas arched a brow. "He's literally been caught every times he's shown up for a conversation."

"Didn't catch him the last time," Remus reminded pointedly. "And it took how long to catch him the first time?"

"That's true," Thomas admitted.

"He probably would've gotten away with it if he hadn't changed his voice."

"Virgil was suspicious the whole time," Thomas pointed out. "And Logan seemed to know what was going on. At least at the end."

"Uh-huh. And what got them saying anything about it?"

"Janus changing his voice," Thomas conceded with a nod. "I guess that makes sense with having to give everyone else permission to tell me." His brow furrowed suddenly. "Does that- Remus, does that mean Janus wanted to get caught?"

Remus shrugged. "Doesn't make much sense for him to want to continue impersonating someone he plans on calling to the witness stand, does it?"

Thomas nodded slowly, trying to process. "No, I guess it doesn't," he muttered. His head snapped up when Roman cried out suddenly in his sleep.

He jumped to the Roman's side and caught his hand as he writhed, chest heaving, beneath the heavy blankets.

"Easy, Roman," he tried to sooth. "It's alright, Princey, I gotcha, buddy. Remus-" Thomas turned to find the Duke gone and let out a frustrated breath. That would figure. He turned his attention back to Roman; the Prince now crying and muttering in his sleep.

Thomas sat dutifully at his side, gently stroking his temple, at a complete loss for what to say or do. He found himself whispering reassurances of safety and security over and over again. Promising Roman he wasn't alone, that he would take care of him no matter what, that he was safe, that he was loved. Seconds seemed to drag on for minutes and by the time Roman calmed and turned on his side, Thomas was almost convinced it'd at least been an hour.

"Has he calmed down?"

Thomas jumped at Remus's sudden voice.

"Where'd you go?" he questioned.

Remus shrugged. "Sometimes they go by faster if I leave." He walked to Roman's beside and tucked a dark green dragon in his arms, which the Prince took and hugged to his chest. "It's good he's dreaming though, it means he's coming out of it. Probably by tomorrow at the latest."

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked, noting the flat expression on Remus's face.

The Duke only nodded.

Thomas stood and wrapped his arms over Remus’s shoulders causing the Duke to freeze.

"Uhh. What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a hug. I get it, you have a reputation to up hold, I won't tell anyone."

Remus sighed and let himself relax somewhat into the hug. "Thanks."

Thomas smirked faintly. "I mean, you are a part of me, so I know you can't actually be all bad," he teased.

"You'll regret that," Remus shot back with no real heat.

"I know, that's okay." Thomas squeezed him tighter for a moment.

---

Roman groaned as consciousness seeped slowly into his aching head. Now that he thought about it, there was very little of his body that did not ache. He groaned petulantly at the realization.

"Hey, Princey," a voice softly assured him. He leaned into the hand that cuped his cheek and lightly stroked his temple. It was a comforting feeling and he didn't want to open his eyes and risk it being pulled away. The speaker picked up his hand and lightly kissed his knuckles then pressed it to their chest, he could feel the beat of their heart against his hand. "Roman, can you open your eyes for me, buddy?"

He sighed and managed to get his eyes to flutter open. "Thomas?" He frowned in confusion. "What are you doing in here?" he asked as he tried to sit up.

Thomas moved his hand to Roman's chest and gently pushed him back down. "I've been helping Remus keep an eye on you after you got stuck in the wardrobe."

Roman's eyes went wide, the memory flooding back in a sudden rush. The click of the door behind him, the hard word under his hand when there should have been open air, the way his voice seemed to fall immediately to the ground when he screamed, begging to be let out, stifled by the fur coats that surrounded him. The complete and utter lack of light.

"It's okay." Thomas's voice brought him back to the present. "It's okay, you're safe now, Roman."

"How long-" Roman cleared his throat, trying to make himself sound calmer than he felt. "How long was I in there?"

"About 12 hours, we think. You slept for about two days afterward."

"How did I get out?"

"I came to check on you when I noticed I couldn't get a hold of you to help me with the story idea we'd thought up the night before. I was just...kinda drawn to the wardrobe and when I opened it, you fell out. I barely managed to keep you from hitting your head on the floor."

"Thank for rescuing me, I supose," Roman chuckled nervously.

Thomas smiled kindly and kissed his knuckles. "You're welcome, Princey. How are you feeling?"

Roman swallowed. "Tired."

"Remus said you probably would be," Thomas nodded.

"Thomas-"

"It's okay, Roman. I know I still have a lot to learn but...I know Remus is a part of us. He's a part of you. And it wouldn't be very fair of me to hold you interacting with him against you. He's still your brother after all."

Roman out a heavy sigh and nodded. "Thank you."

Thomas smiled and ran his hand through Roman's hair. "Believe me, if anyone's going to understand how complicated brothers can be, it's gonna be me!" he teased.

Roman gave a small laugh. "I suppose so."

"You want me to get him for you?"

"I-in a minute. I...wanna enjoy this first."

"How 'bout this." Thomas laid beside Roman, tucking an arm under his neck.

Roman smiled as he turned onto his side to nuzzle against his Whole. "Thanks," he said softly.

Thomas smiled and kissed his forehead. "You're welcome, Princey."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #c!thomas #sanders sides fic

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nb-octopus-writes · 9 months ago

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

[Masterpost]

Chapter 4: Second Morning

wordcount: 1.9K

~~~~

The next morning, Virgil wakes not to birdsong, but to the sound of his alarm.

Blech, mornings. Morning jobs are evil and should be abolished.

Virgil reaches for his phone, but it isn't on the nightstand where it's supposed to be. The nightstand isn't on the floor where it's supposed to be. Virgil reaches out further, searching, and overbalances.

He falls.

This is going to hurt.

Virgil lands, and the floor is a lot closer than it's supposed to be, and also a lot cleaner. The wind is still knocked out of him, but he didn’t land on anything but carpet. It's carpet that was recently vacuumed, even, judging by the lack of dusty smell.

Too many things are not how they are supposed to be. Virgil opens his eyes and looks around.

This isn't his bedroom.

The alarm is still going off. Virgil spots his phone on the floor near him, and he turns off the alarm.

This isn't his bedroom. Virgil yawns. He'd been sleeping on a couch, but it wasn't his couch, either.

Oh, yeah. He'd fallen asleep at Remus's brother's house again. Oops.

…

He has work.

He hadn't meant to still be here right now. He's supposed to be in his own bed, in his own tiny apartment, sleepily snoozing his alarm. Not here.

He'll have to figure out a different bus route. Does the bus even go by here? He's pulling up the bus schedule when his phone informs him that it has been way too long since he plugged it in, and fucking dies.

“Fuck,” Virgil whispers, with feeling, and then again, a little louder, “Fuck!”

He scrambles off the floor, trying to think. An adrenaline spike does wonders for chasing the sleep-fog out of his brain, but it doesn't usher in logic.

Deep breath. Okay. What does he need?

He needs to get to work on time.

Breathe.

What are his obstacles, and what can he do about them?

Problem: He's not home to catch the bus. Solution: Catch the bus from here. Problem: He doesn't know if the bus goes by here or which one or when or what connections he'd need to make. Solution: Look it up. Problem: His phone is dead. Solution: Plug it in. Problem: No charger. Solution: …

Solution: …

Solution: Ask for fucking help.

Virgil spins and leaves the room. They might not have a charger that'll fit his phone, and it would take too long to get it to a level where he can actually look anything up anyway, but they can at least tell him if there's a bus stop nearby. They might even be willing to look up connections for him.

Luckily for Virgil, his hosts are all in the dining room when he bursts in.

“Good morning,” Calico says, already looking concerned. “What's wrong?”

“Is there a bus?” Virgil asks.

“A what?”

“A bus,” Virgil repeats. “A bus, does a bus go by here? I have work, I'm going to be late, and I can't look up the bus schedule because my phone is dead!”

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Calico says soothingly, and Virgil wants to scream because it is not okay, he's going to be late for work. He doesn't scream, because that would not be helpful and Calico is just trying to be nice, but he wants to. “Roman can drive you. Right, Roman?”

“Absolutely,” says Princey, whose name is apparently Roman, and gets up. “I'll get my keys.”

Calico portions out some omelette from the pan in the middle of the table, and gives it to Virgil. “Here, eat,” he insists. “You slept through dinner, you shouldn't miss breakfast too.”

Virgil scarfs it mechanically. If Princey is going to drive him, he probably has enough time to eat, but the lingering edges of panic tell him not to waste any time savoring the flavors.

“Do you have any things you need to gather before you go?” Nerdbot asks. Virgil shakes his head.

Well. “My pool noodles I guess,” he says. He probably shouldn't just leave those here for them to clean up. Nerdbot nods and leaves the table as well.

Roman comes back as Virgil finishes the plate of omelette. “Ready to go?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Nerdbot hands Virgil the pool noodles, and Calico hands him a buttered bagel. “Eat it on the way,” he says. Princey leads Virgil out to the garage, and they get in his car.

It's red, and fancy-shaped, with a swoopy silhouette instead of what Virgil considers the car default.

Roman hands Virgil his phone once he's buckled, open to the map app, and starts to back out of the garage.

Virgil hesitates. “Can we stop at my place first?” he asks. “I could really use a change of clothes.” He'd really rather not go to work in a Halloween costume he's been wearing for over thirty-six hours.

“Sure,” Princey says. “Which way?”

Virgil puts in his address, and the phone gives him directions. “Left,” he says, the tight band of anxiety finally loosing from around his lungs. It's not entirely gone yet, and won't be until he clocks in, but he's doing better. Princey pulls out of the driveway, and they're off.

Soon, they're pulling up in front of Virgil’s apartment. He'd managed to eat the bagel and navigate at the same time, and they've arrived a bit before Virgil is usually out the door. He really might make it to work on time.

“I'll wait here while you run up and get changed,” Roman says, and Virgil nods. He shifts the pool noodles so he's holding them with the same arm as the phone, and uses his other hand to open the car door.

He dashes up the stairs, unlocks his door at the speed of fright, and dumps his armload on his bed. Virgil strips quickly, and grabs his apron and the first set of clean clothes he sees. He wishes there was time for a shower, but there really isn't. Even if there was, he isn't about to make Princey wait that long for him.

He smears some black eyeshadow on to hide the tired bags under his eyes, grabs his necessities from his previous pockets, and he's back out the door.

“Very fast,” Princey compliments as Virgil rejoins him. “I saw a bus go by.”

“Yeah, that was my usual ride to work,” Virgil says, buckling up. “We can take a more direct route and beat them there. Head out the way you came in, and then take a right at the light.”

They do, in fact, beat the bus there. Virgil heaves a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, man,” he says. “I owe you my life. Do you want some coffee? I can give you my employee discount.”

Roman smiles at him. “I would love some coffee,” he says, and turns off the engine.

There aren't any other customers in line when they go in, just Jayden behind the register.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he greets. Virgil rolls his eyes and comes round to clock in.

“Oh my gosh I love your hair,” Roman enthuses. “That is absolutely gorgeous, did you do it yourself?”

Jay's hair is gorgeous. It's mostly dyed in deep shades of blue, with a few streaks of greens and purples and the natural black. He has it in at least fifty slender box braids, which today are tied back in a loose plait running down his back.

“Oh, no, my friends and I had a styling party,” he answers, which is the short version of the truth he uses for casual conversation with customers—especially white customers. Virgil happens to know that said styling party had been stretched out over more than a week, working their hair in increments so as not to damage it. Virgil had been invited to a few of the sessions, and is responsible for several of Jayden's braids, and some of the color.

“That is a fabulous idea; I should arrange one the next time I dye my hair,” Princey exclaims. “I've been planning to do it in every color of the rainbow!”

“Nice,” Virgil says. Princey's ear-length hair is currently what appears to be a natural brown, with reddish tips. “Stripes running front to back or side to side?”

“You know, I hadn't considered that part,” Princey says, and Virgil laughs. “What do you think?”

Virgil shrugs, and Jay considers Roman.

“Front to back, with the red on top and purple over your ears,” he says. “Perhaps with the red a bit off-center so the stripes are different sizes. That way if it’s not perfect it'll look intentional.”

Roman grins. “I like you,” he declares. “Do you want to come to my styling party?”

Jayden grins back. “Let me know when you plan it and I'll check my calendar.”

“Have you ever dyed your hair?” Roman asks Virgil, whose hair is in fact currently dyed.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, then admits, “I'm actually blond.”

“You're blond!?” Princey cries. “Oh, that is unfair, Gerard Gay! Please trade with me, I beg of you!”

“Why?” Virgil asks.

“Because then I wouldn't have to bleach!” Roman says. “I could redye my hair as soon as the roots grew out, rather than having to wait until enough has grown that I can bleach it without touching the last dye job!”

“Well, unfortunately I don't know how to trade hair colors,” Virgil says. “I think it's genetic.”

Roman groans dramatically, slumping against the counter. “The world is against me,” he complains into the glass. “You wouldn't even miss it, you dye it black! Brown is as easy to make black as blond! Easier, probably!”

Virgil reaches over and pats him sarcastically on the shoulder. “There, there,” he says. “Would coffee make you feel better?” That is why they'd come in here, after all.

“No,” Roman says grumpily, but he straightens and looks at the menu.

“Give him my discount,” Virgil says to Jayden while Roman decides. Jay flashes him a thumbs-up.

“Are the chocolate croissants good?” Roman asks.

“Not as good as what you're served at home, but yeah.”

“Hmmm.” He considers a bit longer, then orders a croissant and, with a decent amount of dithering over flavors, three coffees to go.

Jayden tells him the total and Roman pays, dropping his change and some extra bills into the tip jar. Virgil passes him the croissant, and he eats it while Virgil finishes making the coffee.

“You want a carrier for these?” Virgil asks, already putting them in one. Roman's only got two hands, after all.

“Probably best,” Roman agrees, and Virgil slides the coffee over to him. “Do you need a ride home after work?”

“Nah, I'll take the bus,” Virgil reassures him.

“Alright, if you're sure. See you later!” Princey balances the coffees in one hand so he can wave with the other, and he's off.

“So,” Jay says once the door closes behind him. “Where'd you get the suave edition of your trash rat?”

“Two-for-one special,” Virgil says. “Met him at a Halloween party Remus dragged me to.”

“Well, keep him.” Jayden nods toward the door. “Man just tipped us double what I charged him.”

~~~~

Chapter 5: The Most Accidental of Thefts

#nb octopus writes #sanders sides #accidental polycule infiltration fic #4 #polyamory #polysanders #LMP #multichapter

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