#oh shit my name is Janus... Does that mean-? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

this cup of yours tastes holy (this lie is dead)

“I think you might have missed the part where I said that you almost died,” Logan says, and his voice is steady, but his hands are not, trembling where they have balled into fists on his lap.

He blinks, at a loss.

Janus attempts to save Logan from being poisoned. In the moment, switching out their glasses seems like a perfectly rational idea.

It is not, in fact, a perfectly rational idea.

Content Warnings: poisoning, mentioned blood, mentioned death (no actual death though), mentioned violence

Word Count: 5,772

Pairings: Loceit, background Prinxiety

Written for Whumptober2020 theme no 22. "Do these tacos taste funny to you?" with the more specific prompt: poisoned.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The banquet hall is bright, noisy, and crowded, full of laughter and music and talking, and Janus is almost certain that the ambassador from Halledrin has just slipped poison into Logan’s wine.

No one else seems to have noticed. Janus can’t say he’s surprised. The formal dinner is over; now is the time for mingling, and everyone is deeply involved in their own conversations, their own social circles. Roman knows how to throw a good celebration, if nothing else, and now that the pressure is off of him to preside over all the little details, Janus spots him off to one side, shamelessly chatting up Virgil, who seems… exasperated, if not entirely displeased. He spares them a glance before turning back to Logan, who seems to be doing his level best to escape the conversation, but the ambassador— and just what is his name? Janus has entirely forgotten— is persistent, and Janus would think it no more than an annoyance if he weren’t fairly certain that he saw the man brush one hand against Logan’s wine glass while gesturing broadly with the other.

Which, no. That is absolutely not permitted.

He makes his way across the floor, snagging a glass of his own on the way.

“If I might cut in?” he says, as soon as he’s close enough. “I’m afraid I have a pressing matter to discuss with our illustrious court sorcerer.”

Logan inclines his head toward him, and Janus doesn’t think he mistakes the relief that flashes in his eyes. The ambassador stammers a bit, trying to come up with an excuse to stay, but a pointed look takes care of that, and the man retreats sullenly. Janus smiles at him, thin and knife-sharp, and then takes Logan by the elbow, escorting him to the other side of the banquet hall.

“Was there actually something you needed to discuss, or was that a rescue?” Logan asks dryly, and Janus laughs.

“Oh, you seemed like you were having so much fun,” he replies. “Here, switch with me.” And he presses his wine into Logan’s hand, taking Logan’s for himself. Logan frowns at him, but Janus shakes his head. Not here, that means, and Logan can read him well enough to understand it, little though he likes being unable to ask for clarification. In any case, as soon as the potentially-poisoned glass leaves Logan’s grasp, Janus finds himself able to relax.

“I’ll admit, the man is… long-winded,” Logan says. Janus sniffs at the wine as surreptitiously as he can. He can’t smell anything, but there are plenty of odorless poisons out there. “And yes, I am aware of how that sounds coming from me.”

“You’re not that bad,” he says, trying to keep track of the ambassador out of the corner of his eye. He’s positioned himself at the edge of the room, now, and he is staring at Logan, not even bothering to hide it. “At least you actually know what you’re talking about.”

“I would hope so,” Logan says, and then narrows his eyes. “Just what is Roman doing over there?”

Janus turns his head in that direction, but he’s too preoccupied to pay much attention. The problem with this is that he’s only about eighty percent sure that the drink has been tampered with, and the remaining twenty percent is enough unsurety to prevent him from being able to confront the perpetrator brazenly. Not that that would be his style anyway, but it also means he can’t go to anyone else with it; if he told Roman his suspicions, for instance, his sword would be drawn in an instant. And on the off chance that the drink isn’t poisoned after all, that would irreparably damage relations with Halledrin, and they can’t afford that.

So, he’ll have to be careful with this. Keep hold of the cup for the rest of the night and have it tested for toxins as soon as he can. Take the results, and move from there.

“Oh, dear Fates,” Logan groans, and Janus snaps his attention back to the present. It doesn’t take long to figure out what has Logan annoyed.

Roman’s climbed on the table. And as king, he can do what he wants, of course. But generally speaking, he’s supposed to keep the table-climbing to a minimum.

“My dear guests!” he calls out, his voice rich and booming. He doesn’t sound as drunk as Janus would expect from this kind of behavior. “If I may have your attention, I would like to propose a toast! To my dearest friend—”

“Oh my gods, Roman, stop,” Virgil groans.

“—Virgil of the Western Isles, who single-handedly—”

“Roman.”

“—rescued me from the clutches of the dread Dragon-Witch Alcara, thus saving this kingdom from utter disaster and ruin, and once again proving himself to be a man of the highest courage and determination, yes, courage, stop glaring at me like that, and also, did I mention he did this all by himself?” Roman raises his glass high, cheeks flushed red. Virgil has stopped protesting verbally in favor of trying to strike Roman down with his eyes alone, it appears. “So! To one of the best heroes this land has ever known! To Virgil!”

The crowd echoes the call, most of them smiling good-naturedly, a few laughing at the antics; if nothing else, Roman knows how to play to an audience.

“Not one of his best speeches,” Logan mutters.

Janus shrugs, and finally manages to catch Virgil’s gaze from across the room. He smirks, sardonically saluting him with his glass, and Virgil turns the full force of his glare onto him, mouthing something that is either I’m going to kill you or I’m rowing to mill two; really, Janus can’t tell which.

And then, he realizes that he has a problem.

It’s a toast. Everyone is bringing their drinks to his lips, taking sips, swallowing. Obviously, he can’t do any of this, as he rather likes being alive and unpoisoned. But the ambassador is still watching Logan intently, and Logan is sipping from Janus’ old glass; if the ambassador is expecting something to happen, and nothing does, he will turn his attention to the people around Logan, trying to figure out what went wrong. If that happens, there is a chance that he will notice if Janus doesn’t drink. From there, he will be able to suppose that Janus has caught onto his plans, has caught onto him, and from there, he will become more desperate.

Janus doesn’t want that. A desperate man becomes unpredictable, uncontrollable. A desperate man might act as though he has nothing to lose.

His mind racing, he brings the goblet up to his lips. It shouldn’t be too hard to feign a sip. He’s overthinking this.

He tilts the glass back, stopping just short of letting the wine touch his lips. He swallows a bit of his own saliva for realism. And then, it’s done, and he can relax again.

“Really, he should know better then to put Virgil in the limelight,” he says, keeping the ambassador in the corner of his vision. “He’s going to make him pay for that later.”

“If he would stop being so reckless, he wouldn’t be captured by his enemies so often, and Virgil wouldn’t have to hare off after him at all,” Logan sighs. “I will never understand their intricate courting rituals. Why don’t they just say they have feelings for each other and have done with it?”

The longer Logan goes without succumbing to some kind of terrible sickness, the paler the ambassador’s face grows. Janus is almost enjoying watching him.

“Some people are incapable of saying what they mean,” he says, and Logan looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that the case?” he says, pointed, and Janus grins.

“Why, my dear master sorcerer, you can’t possibly be implying that I—”

His left arm goes numb. Suddenly, all at once, and he cuts himself off, trying to shake feeling back into it. But it’s not like pins and needles, and as the seconds pass— only a few, surely, but the quick, rabbit-beating of his heart makes it seem otherwise— the sensation spreads, creeping toward his chest.

“Janus?” Logan asks. “Is something wrong?”

He sounds worried, very concerned, and Janus would be flattered, but he’s a bit busy being concerned himself.

“I don’t,” he starts, “I’m not—”

And then, his lungs are set on fire, and the rest of his sentence is lost to a wheezing scream as he doubles over, hands flying up to his chest, the wine glass clattering against the floor, half of it shattering and drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity, but he can’t care about that because he’s trying to force his lungs to inflate, but he’s burning up from the inside out and he can’t—

“Janus!”

There are arms, around him, steadying him. He looks up to meet Logan’s face, painted with fear and blurry, strangely blurry, and he doesn’t think that he’s crying so why is Logan blurry? But he is blurry, and the rest of Janus’ limbs have gone numb, and standing is becoming increasingly difficult, and the fire is there, growing hotter with each moment, and he opens his mouth to say something but all that escapes is a gasp, and then a strangled squeaking sound, as if the sounds are being wrung from him along with the last of his air.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

It’s almost funny, Logan swearing. He’s usually far too collected for that.

His center of gravity tips. Everything spins, and then, he feels himself being lowered to the ground. The floor is cold against his back, soothing, though it doesn’t help much after the momentary relief.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Virgil, now, hovering over him, frantic.

“I don’t know,” Logan says, and he sounds scared, and that’s wrong. Logan is never scared. “I don’t know, poison, I’d imagine, but I don’t know what—”

“Well can you figure it out?”

Roman’s here too.

“I’m trying,” Logan snaps. “If you’ll give me a bit of room—”

The pain rises to a crescendo, like it’s eating his flesh away, and he lets out a whimper. An honest-to-gods whimper, and no. Absolutely not. He has more dignity than this. He has faced worse than this and come out alive, and he trusts Logan to do all that he can. So he breathes, shuddering breaths, breaths that twist and hurt and seem to move in places that they shouldn’t, and he wrests his mind back under control.

“The wine,” he gasps out, and his voice sounds absolutely wrecked. “I saw— the ambassador from Halledrin— he put it in the wine—”

“So you switched them,” Logan says, and scratch fear. This is fury. “How could you possibly have been so stupid?”

“I didn’t drink it!” he cries, and the exclamation is ripped from him, too harsh, and the exertion sends the pain flaring up, the flames licking at his heart, and he chokes on air. “I didn’t— I faked it, I didn’t drink, I don’t know—”

“Well, how the fuck did you get poisoned, then?” Virgil shrieks, and then, Logan fills his field of vision. He’s chanting something in the Old Tongue, and then slapping his hands on his chest, and just like that, the pain fades as magic rushes through him, warm and sparkling and steady and very, very Logan, and his head clears enough to think properly.

“The Halledrinian ambassador?” Roman snarls, and in that moment, he looks exactly like his brother. “I’ll be back.” And then he’s stalking through the crowd, and Janus wishes he didn’t feel so drained; he’d love to watch Roman make the man sweat, but he can barely muster up the energy to raise his head to look at Logan.

“I was going to keep it until I could get it looked at,” he says. His mouth is dry, painfully so. “I faked a sip, for the toast, but I didn’t take one. I didn’t touch it.”

The magic is still buzzing through him, lending him strength. He’ll ride it for what it’s worth.

Gods above and below, this is embarrassing.

“Are you sure it was the wine?” Logan asks. “It couldn’t have been anything else?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he says. “I’m sorry, I probably should have—”

“Told me?” Logan cuts in. “I should think so. Honestly, why would you think keeping it from me was a good idea?”

The magic is still buzzing through him. It feels more intense now, almost uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want him to think that I knew anything,” he says. “I didn’t want to risk him trying something else.”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re too clever for your own good, do you know that?” he says, and he sounds completely exasperated, but the anger is fading, and Janus is glad of it. He doesn’t regret what he did, just how it turned out, and he never likes it when Logan is annoyed with him, because somehow, Logan has the ability to make him feel like a child, chastised for trying to sneak dessert out of the kitchen.

“I think I’m just clever enough,” he retorts, and then frowns. “Out of curiosity, what spell did you use?”

“A general cleansing incantation,” Logan tells him, “though at twice the power I would usually put into it. I’m just glad the poison wasn’t more specialized. Some toxins are resistant to magic, you know.”

Janus does know, and under any other circumstance, he would be more than willing to listen to Logan going on about the subject for days. But the buzzing of the magic in his system, Logan’s magic, has graduated from relieving to uncomfortable to something approaching pain, and it’s been a long time since he had to be healed with a spell, but he doesn’t think this is right.

He opens his mouth to tell Logan about it, about the way it feels as though there are ants crawling under his skin, but then—

then—

his body—

seizes—

and rational thought flies out the window as his muscles lock and pain tears through him, biting and sharp and ripping and buzzing, and his limbs jerk and this is a seizure, he’s having a seizure, and his head slams against the ground hard and white lights flash across his vision and he can hear shouting, and something soft is shoved underneath his head to soften the impact as it hits against the floor again and again and again and he can’t speak, can’t breath, and there is blood bubbling in the back of his throat, so much that he fears he’ll choke on it, and all the while there is the buzzing, curling in him and forcing his bones from their sockets, it feels like, scrambling his innards, and it feels like there is something inside of him, something eating him, and perhaps he’s eating himself, has turned into the serpent that consumes its own tail—

He doesn’t know.

There are still voices, panicked and loud, and he should know them, too, but he can’t. Not now.

He just knows that it hurts, in waves, each one worst than the last, and it won’t stop. A strangled scream is ripped from his throat, high and thick, forcing its way past the blood that’s gathered in his mouth, and someone is cursing, swearing up a blue streak, and the people around him sound scared, and he thinks that he is too.

Each wave worse than the last. Once he screams once, he can’t stop.

Unconsciousness, when it comes, is a blessing.

-------------

Awareness comes and goes in flashes.

He wakes, his body thrashing, trying to escape. Pain like red hot pokers pressing up against him and into him. He wheezes, and there is someone holding him, trying to restrain him, and he’s too weak to push them away.

“Please,” he tries to say, but the word comes out garbled and mangled beyond all recognition.

“Remus,” the person growls, and it must be Virgil, but he can’t pry his eyes open to see, “knock him out.”

“On it,” says someone else, and there is a hand on his forehead, blessedly cool, and then nothing.

Then, again: his entire body on fire, but lacking the energy to so much as lift a finger. He gasps for breath, each inhalation a struggle, and past the white noise in his ears, he thinks he hears someone speaking. Muttering. Praying? He wrests his eyes open, and his surroundings are a blur, but it is Patton sitting at his bedside. Holding his hand, too, he thinks, but he can’t feel it.

He didn’t even know Patton had returned to the castle.

He tries to say something, anything, but he doesn’t have the air to spend on speech. So he lies there, panting, and finally, Patton looks up, and Janus can’t make out his face but he hears his gasp.

“Oh, gods,” Patton says, and leans in closer. “Jan, can you hear me?”

He can’t respond. Can’t so much as nod.

“You hold on,” Patton says, and he sounds like he’s fighting tears. “You hear me? You don’t die from this. You hang in there, and everything’s gonna be a-okay. You got it?”

It’s a sweet lie, a pretty lie, and Janus can’t begrudge him for it.

Darkness again.

And then:

“—cking be giving up!”

“Of course I’m not giving up!”

Logan’s voice, sharp and angry and lined with despair, and his heart skips a beat. Or perhaps it’s not the sound of his voice that does it at all, but the poison, wrapping around his heart and squeezing. He still hurts, every inch of him, but it’s distant, far away, and it should worry him, he thinks, because that probably means that he’s far past the point of pain that his body can actually handle. But his mind is too fuzzy, everything indistinct.

“I’m not going to give up. I would rather die. But without knowing what the poison was, or better yet, having a sample of it, I’m left to flounder, and attempting to use magic has done more harm than good.”

Gods. He sounds so broken.

“Roman said he was gonna try and get answers out of the shithead.” That’s Remus, uncharacteristically serious. “No luck so far, apparently.” A bang, like a fist against a table. “He should let me at him. I’d rip it right out of him, reach my hand down his throat and pull out his fucking vocal chords—”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to shut up right the fuck now—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too much for your delicate sensibilities—”

“Enough, both of you!”

Logan again, desperate and exhausted, and with a labored, stuttering breath, Janus pries his eyes open. A wave of dizziness assaults him, and the light is far too bright, but he holds out, turning his head to the side in a motion that takes more effort than it should.

His vision is swimming, coming in and out of focus. But it’s Virgil, Remus, and Logan, all standing and arguing with each other.

And it hits him, then: Oh. I’m dying.

“The fact remains that we’re all in the dark here. I’m in the dark. Without knowing what the poison was or how he ingested it, I can’t deconstruct it to find a cure. All efforts to use a spell to detect the toxin have failed, and all efforts to use a spell to heal him have only aggravated his condition.” Logan makes a sharp motion; Janus isn’t sure, but he thinks he’s scrubbing his hand down his face. “It makes sense,” he continues, more subdued. “I was the original target. So of course the poison would be undetectable by magic. Of course it would—”

He breaks off, and Virgil reaches out to him.

“This isn’t your fault,” he says lowly. “Janus made his dumb fucking decision himself.”

“He wasn’t trying to get poisoned,” Remus interjects, sharp. “So how about you take your dumb fucking decision and shove it up your—”

His mind is whirling. Something about the description of the poison, the fact that magic cannot be used to combat it, seems familiar, but his mind refuses to dredge up any memory that he might have of a poison that fits those qualities.

He doesn’t know. Or, worse, he might know, but the poison that is killing him is preventing him from coming up with the information that could save him.

But there’s something else. Something just beyond his reach, something that flits from his grasp when he tries to think about it.

“And there was nothing in the wine,” Virgil says. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing that the chemists could find.”

“And I checked it for good measure!” Remus says. “Nadda. Zip. Fucking nothing. So how we got here is beyond me.”

That’s it.

He didn’t drink the wine. It wouldn’t have mattered if the wine was poisoned. He didn’t have any.

But he remembers swallowing. His own saliva, just to make it realistic.

There’s only one place the poison could have been.

He tries to speak. But his throat feels full of razor wire, and the effort is enough to bring the rest of the pain back into focus. What starts out as something that might, possibly, be a word devolves into a high, keening whimper, and he can’t muster up the energy to be embarrassed about it, because gods. His back arches, and his fists clench into the bedsheets as he tries to ride it out, but there is no riding it out, because it just won’t stop.

“Janus!”

Suddenly, they’re all very close.

“Shit, shit, you’re gonna be okay, just give us a second,” Virgil says. “Remus, you—”

“Right—”

And no, because Remus is going to knock him out again, but he can’t, not before he tells them what he just figured out, because if he goes under again he’s scared that he won’t get another chance.

“No,” he gasps, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, and speaking hurts, but— “No, don’t. I need—”

He breaks off with a ragged gasp, his throat refusing to cooperate with him, and he could scream with frustration, really would scream, if his voice was working. But then, Logan is there, his face close to his and his eyes very blue.

“What do you need, Janus?” he asks, his voice low and urgent, and Janus gathers his breath, and try again.

“Test the rim,” he says. “It wasn’t— wasn’t in the wine, and it wasn’t a spell. But I—” His words strangle themselves, but he can see the light dawning in Logan’s eyes.

“You put your lips to the rim of the glass,” he finished. “It was on the—” He turns to Virgil, the motion whipcord sharp. “Virgil, go find the glass and have it sent to my— no, actually, bring it here. Time is of the essence.”

Virgil is off like a shot almost before Logan is finished speaking.

“And Remus,” he continues, “I’ll need—”

“You’ve got it, specs,” Remus says. “Whatever support I can give.”

Logan nods, and meets Janus’ eyes again. At least, he thinks he does. His vision is growing dark, shadows curling around the edges like fire-blackened paper, eating away everything he can see. The pain is distant again, and even his own heartbeat seems to be slowing. Logan’s voice sounds as if it’s coming to him through deep water.

“You can rest now, Janus,” he says. “You’ve done well. I’m going to cure you, I swear. This will all be over soon.”

One way or another, he agrees, but doesn’t say it out loud. Even if he could, he thinks it would upset Logan to say something like that. Would upset him to remind him of the very real possibility that this will not end well, that it is already too late. Because his vision is blackening and his heartbeat is slowing, and everything feels so very, very far away, and he doesn’t want to die but he might not have a choice in the matter.

Logan’s face is still hovering above his, and he thinks that if this is the last sight he will ever have, it’s the best one he could have asked for.

-----------------

He wakes to a pressure against his side and a bone-deep exhaustion, and he takes a moment to simply breathe, staring at the ceiling and reveling in the ease of it. He is so very tired, but his lungs inflate and deflate without pain, without anything catching and setting him to coughing, without having to fight his own body to get the air he needs.

Then, he turns his head.

Logan is asleep on a chair next to his bed, slumped forward so that his head is resting against his side, effectively trapping one arm. He is pale and drawn, his brows furrowed and hair sticking out in all directions, as if he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly. His glasses are still on his face, terribly askew, and on instinct, Janus reaches across his body, trying to correct them, perhaps, or to take them off entirely. But at the movement, slight though it is, Logan startles awake, eyes blinking wide open, lips parted as if to call out.

Then, his eyes meet Janus’.

“You’re awake,” he breathes, and it sounds uncomfortably like a revelation, like the answer to every prayer Logan has ever offered— and Logan isn’t religious, Janus knows, has never seen much point in worshiping distant gods. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he offers, wincing at the sandpaper-quality of his own voice. It’s the truth, though; he feels drained, mentally and physically, and he aches terribly, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was. “I assume you figured it out.”

Logan pushes his glasses back into position on his face, a little more aggressively than the motion should require. “Barely,” he says. “If you had consumed any more than you did, or if I had been even ten minutes slower, you would have died.”

He hums. “I certainly felt like it,” he murmurs, glancing away. “Thank you for saving me.”

For once, he means exactly what he says, but Logan’s expression darkens. “I shouldn’t have had to,” he says, sharp. “That poison—” He breaks off, sucking in a breath, looking away. He vigorously jabs at his glasses, pushing them even farther up his nose. “That poison was meant to target magic in a person’s system, and because you don’t have magic inherently, it turned to attacking your internal organs instead. Every attempt to heal you only fueled its effects. Do you know how I—”

He breaks off again, but Janus is stuck on something else, is stuck on targeting magic, and he has always been good at reading between the lines, so he knows exactly what Logan isn’t saying. Logan lives off magic, breathes it, practically is magic in every sense of the word. Had Logan taken a poison that destroyed magic, it would have destroyed him.

The Halledrinian ambassador chose his toxin well.

“In that case,” he says, “I suppose that this turned out as well as it could have. Obviously, getting poisoned myself was far from ideal, but better me than you, in this scenario.”

He knows immediately that this is the wrong thing to say; usually, he would have realized that before the words left his mouth at all, but his mind is still sluggish, his mouth looser. Logan’s face twists, becomes something thunderous and angry, and the warm candlelight that fills the room— his room, he notices, though he’s fairly certain he was in Remus’ infirmary before— flickers and dances as the air stirs, a slight wind buffeting the bedsheets.

“I think you might have missed the part where I said that you almost died,” Logan says, and his voice is steady, but his hands are not, trembling where they have balled into fists on his lap.

He blinks, at a loss. Were he in better form, he would know what to say here, how to soothe Logan’s worry and wash the past few— well. He has no idea how long it’s been. But he would be able to turn it all around, put the event behind them, if the words would only come, but they don’t, so here he lies, feeling powerless and a bit stupid.

“I didn’t,” he points out, and knows that the rebuttal is weak, that this won’t help. “Clearly.”

“The point is that you could have!”

It’s a shout, and Logan pauses, seemingly surprised at his own volume. He deflates, then, his shoulders slumping, all the fight flowing from him like water from a sieve. He hunches in on himself just slightly, his expression fading from fury to something much more tired, much more worn.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Janus can only watch as he scrubs at his eyes, almost viciously, and then stares at his hands. “I just— you nearly died. From poison that was meant for me.”

He sounds wrecked, as if that is the worst possibility he could imagine, and— oh.

“I would have died,” Logan murmurs. “It would have decimated my magic before I could do a thing about it, and me along with it.” He looks up, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and Janus wants nothing more than to wipe them away. He would try, he thinks, if he felt as though he could move enough to do so, if he thought Logan would allow him the liberty. “But instead of me, it was you. And I had to watch as you died in my place. If you hadn’t been able to communicate how you’d ingested it, I would have been helpless. I would have—” He breaks off suddenly, closing his eyes. “I would have lost you.”

Oh.

He wrenches himself into a sitting position, ignoring the way his muscles scream in protest, ignoring Logan’s startled exclamation. He pushes himself up, reaches out, and snags Logan’s hands in one of his. Too late, he realizes that somewhere along the line, he was divested of his gloves, and his bare skin makes contact with Logan’s. It’s like a bolt of lightning shooting up his arm, and he struggles not to show his shock on his face; he is no stranger to touch, but not like this, never like this, with his bare hand. And from the way Logan is staring, from the way Logan’s lips have parted, just slightly, he knows it too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, as fierce, as vehement as he can manage. “And call me selfish, but I am infinitely glad that I didn’t have to lose you.”

He meets Logan’s eyes. As difficult as this level of honesty, this level of vulnerability is for him, it needs to be said. He needs Logan to know, needs him to understand, needs him to realize that he cannot possibly regret this, if the alternative was watching Logan choke on his own blood.

Logan makes a sound, soft and wounded, and turns his hand so that he’s grasping at Janus’ just as tightly as Janus is grasping him. And then, he leans in close, bumping their foreheads together and then staying there, and Janus doesn’t dare to move. He can feel Logan’s breath on his skin, ghosting across his lips; an inch or two closer, and they would be kissing.

With one hand, Logan continues to hold his. The other curls around the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

“Never,” Logan says, “do that to me again.”

“I assure you,” he replies, “I don’t plan on it.”

For a moment they stay like that, foreheads touching, breathing together, and Janus’ eyes slip closed. Like this, he can almost forget that anything happened, can forget the pain, can forget how weak he feels. He’s here, and Logan’s here, and nothing else matters.

And then, the door slams open. He jerks back, startled, and Logan’s hand slips away from his neck.

Remus is standing there, gaping.

“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re awake.” He turns to call to someone down the hall— “He’s awake!—” and then, he’s rushing into the room, and Janus doesn’t have any time to prepare before he’s jumped onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him like a particularly clingy octopus, and he’s chanting a litany of words under his breath, things like, “You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay holy shit,” and other words that he can’t quite make out, and the hug is a bit too tight to be comfortable, but he accepts it anyway. He’s still holding one of Logan’s hands, and he is loathe to let go, but he wraps his free arm around Remus’ back.

“Everyone’s been very worried about you,” Logan says quietly. “Patton returned from the coast in the middle of it all, and he was quite distraught. And that’s not to mention how… irate Roman has been, and Virgil—”

“Speak for yourself,” Virgil says, leaning in the doorway. He crosses his arms, but the relief on his face is poorly disguised, and he must have truly been in a bad way if Virgil was that concerned. “Roman and Patton are on their way up, I think. They were talking to the asshole. The ambassador,” he adds when Janus tilts his head in a silent question. “Piece of shit admitted to everything. He’s not even the real ambassador; he killed the real one and took his clothes, tried to go after Logan to spark war between us and Halledrin.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Remus says. “Roman said I could, if I wanted to. He was real mad so I dunno if he meant it, but he said it, so it counts. I’m gonna stick a knife in his guts and pull out his intestines and feed them to him and—”

“That’s more than enough, I think,” Logan interjects, and Janus is glad of it. He’s used to Remus’ gory tangents, can deal with them well, normally, but he’s exhausted, and he thinks that consciousness will slip away from him any moment now. He can feel his eyelids beginning to droop, his body leaning against Remus’ more and more, and he highly doubts that he will make it to see Roman and Patton.

But that’s alright. He’ll wake up again and see them then. For now, he has Virgil here, and Remus, and he is still holding Logan’s hand, and he is tired and he aches, but he’s alright.

He meets Logan’s eyes, squeezes his hand, and smiles. And Logan smiles back.

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Janus Fic Taglist: @idkanameatall

717 notes · View notes

sanderssideswriting · 3 years

Text

ship: prinxiety, background intrulogical

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing, like one sexual innuendo, very breif mention of murder (as a joke, this is fluff after all)

summary: Radio AU where Virgil runs the 11-1 am radio on his college and every night someone calls to complain about his music selections and request disney, and Virgil never plays disney.

Virgil sat in his swivel chair and put on the headphones “sup bitches I’m back and this time with like three monsters because finals are a bitch and sleep can suck my dick. The first song of the night is Lotta True Crime by Peneople Scott. Why? Because I say it is that’s why.” Virgil put the song on and worked on his final project as the songs played.

The phone rang and Virgil groaned and checked the number. This dick again. He picked up and put it on air since people seemed to love listening to him and disney guy argue.

“listen asshole if you want to listen to Disney so fucking badly then apply for a spot and stop calling me.”

there’s a laugh “how about you just play some disney then? if you do I’ll stop calling. Because your music taste sucks.”

Virgil rolls his eyes “bitch apply for an opening and have a disney hour. And let me listen to my music, because not everyone loves fucking disney.”

“Well many people do so why not play one song.”

Virgil snorts “first no, and second if I had to I’d make everyone regret it and play let it go.”

“Let it go is great!”

“bye bye Princey, stop calling”

Virgil hung up “and since Princey called you know what we’re playing? MCR because I know he hates it. So this one’s for you princey, up next after this ad because this place needs money. By the way if you’re not a broke bitch donate because this job is like kinda decent and I like making you all listen to the music I like. Blood by MCR is up next” Virgil played the ad and leaned back in his chair.

“Why do you take his calls if you know he’ll just be annoying?” Janus asks in class.

Virgil shrugs “since it started I get more listeners which is good for the station.”

“I think it’s funny, cause you two have cute pet names for each other, princey and emo nightmare” Remus says.

Virgil elbows him “they’re not pet names.”

“they are,” Janus says, moving so Virgil couldn’t elbow him.

Roman waits to dial the number, he had to admit he sort of enjoyed his and emo nightmare’s conversations, who refused to reveal his name or grade.

At first they’d been annoying and he’d genuinely complained about all the emo music and asking to play disney but it’d soon become a nightly ritual, that had very quickly ruined Roman’s sleep schedule.

He dialed the number “seriously, why all the emo music, emo nightmare?”

“you just answered your own question princey, why the obsession with disney songs princey? See? Sounds fucking stupid.”

Roman sighs dramatically “you wound me emo nightmare. But seriously what’ll it take to get you to play ONE disney song?”

“a hundred grand, that’s how much the station needs to keep running, do that and I’ll play ONE disney song.”

“four.”

“Three songs and a hundred and fifty grand, fifty grand per song. final offer. and I get to pick the songs.’

Roman nods “deal,”

“oh and, you have until the end of finals to get the money donated, and I’ll make the gofundme, not you.”

That’s like a month and a half away Roman thinks I’ll have enough time. “sure thing emo nightmare.”

Roman’s emo hung up. He smiles like an idiot.

“Why not ask him out? it’s clear you’re fond of him” Roman’s roommate Logan says from his side of the room.

“ask out a guy I don’t even know the name of? yeah sure” Roman snorts.

“what? Scared you’ll be rejected? I cannot believe I’m saying this, but Roman I am getting more dick then you have been ever since you started talking to your radio boy.” Logan says in an even tone.

Roman pretends to gag “you don’t need to tell me how much you and my brother have done it Logan, you two being together is enough for me to want to bleach my eyes.”

“you’re no better whenever you’re going out with someone, or even hooked up with a slightly above average guy.”

Remus barged in “Loooo I need help studying.”

Roman stood up “that’s my queue to leave.”

Remus watches Roman go “so what where you two talking about?”

“oh you know, he’s still calling the campus radio station to ask for disney songs” Logan says.

“Wait, Roman is Princey?” Remus asks, he starts laughing

“Yes? You didn’t know?”

Remus cackles “no! oh this is great! My best friend Virgil does the 11 to 1 radio, he’s Emo Nightmare and Roman is his Princey”

“We could set them up, Roam is so lovesick, I swear he’s head over heels for him and he hasn’t even met Virgil” Logan says.

Remus gasps “this is why I love you! Of course we’re going to set them up.”

Logan and Remus came up with a plan, they’d invite Roman and Virgil to a study session and then never showed up, leaving Virgil and Roman to wait.

Virgil puts on his headphones and starts loudly playing panic at the disco and reading over his shitty notes.

Someone taps him on the shoulder “hey can you turn the emo shit down, I’m trying to study and it’s really loud.”

Virgil turns it down a bit “that good?”

he nods “yeah, where you also ghosted for a study session?”

“Yeah I was, my best friend and his nerdy boyfriend where supposed to help me study, they probably forgot all about me.” Virgil says.

“Logan And Remus? Remus is my brother and Logan’s my roommate” Roman says.

“Yeah, well since we’re both here we could study together if you want” please say no please say no.

“Sounds good!” Roman says.

Fuck.

Virgil and Roman studied for awhile and Virgil very slowly started warming up to Roman. “ah shit I have to go, see you round I guess” Virgil says packing up his stuff, he wanted to have some alone time before his shift.

“ok Bye Virgil,” Roman says packing up, he had to go do his own thing, which would probably end up becoming a quick nap before his emo nightmare started his turn being the radio host.

Virgil sat in the chair “what up bitches, so far the goal has 10k, so no disney tonight, or ever because this is on a time crunch and 150k is a fuck ton of money for broke college students. And now onto Fuck you by Lily Allen. Why? Because she’s underrated and because I said so.” Virgil played the song.

Virgil got the call around 12:30 “you’re calling later then usual princey, and no, no disney tonight.”

“Oh I was just about to ask. And also I was asking how to find the gofundme.”

“It’s on the UCLA radio website, can’t miss it. Now let me do my fucking job” Virgil hung up and played MCR as was tradition.

What he didn’t know was Roman recorded the phone call and posted it everywhere he could anonymously and waited.

Virgil checked the go fund me in the morning “it has fifty k already?! What the fuck? Princey what did you do?”

Virgil waited for the nightly call “Hey what the fuck how is the goal at sixty k? How the fuck princey?”

He laughed “I asked the internet for help, I think most of it’s from tiktok, you’re going to have to play disney emo nightmare”

“fuck you princey and your stupid obsession with disney.”

“you have an obsession with my chemical romance and Brendon Urie”

“name three other artists I play on here then bitch.”

“Mother Mother, Lily Allen and as of late Derivakat” Roman says without hesitation.

Virgil was speechless for a second, then hung up. “fucking bitch, you guys know what time it is” he played Teenagers.

A week and a half passed and the funds had slowly been going up, and Virgil and Roman’s calls continued nightly as usual.

Virgil and Roman met up a few times to study for finals, sometimes with Remus and Logan, sometimes without.

the goal just barely missed the end of finals. Virgil smirked “No disney today, or ever because you people missed the goal byyyyy” Virgil checked the go fund me “three thousand dollars. I’d say better luck next time but there won’t be a next time.” he chuckled. The phone rang and Virgil picked up, knowing it was Princey.

“oooh too late princey no disney songs during my shift.”

“you might want to check the gofundme one last time my dear emo nightmare.”

Virgil refreshes the page “first of all, I’m not yours bitch second- what the fuck, how?” the goal had been met.

Roman laughs “play the disney emo. Play. The fucking. Disney.”

Virgil could tell he was gonna gloat so he hung up.

Virgil grumbles and gets the disney queued “ok fine the goal was met, so time for my suffering, I have queued Fixer Upper from Frozen because it’s a shitty song with a shitty message. Make a man out of you because I like Mulan and for everyone’s inconvenience I have How Far I’ll Go so have fun with that stuck in your head.”

Roman was a bit insulted when Emo nightmare hung up on him, so he called him back once the songs had ended “wasn’t so hard was it?”

“for you maybe, it was for me,” Virgil hung up and blocked the number.

Over the Summer both Virgil and Roman found themselves missing their talks. Roman so much so he applied for one of the newly opened spots for the next semester from 2-5 pm.

Virgil drove onto campus at 4, putting on campus radio and was met with disney. the song ended and the new host spoke “and I hope everyone liked that, up now is a short commercial break.”

Virgil nearly swerved off the road and pulled over and called the station.

Roman picked up. “Hey what the actual FUCK?” Virgil says as soon as he does.

Roman laughs “oh how the tables have turned Emo Nightmare”

“I hate you, I fucking hate you what the actual fuck princey”

he laughed more “You yourself said that working here is nice, and there was an opening, so I took it. You should be happy, I mean now I won’t brother you about playing disney.”

Virgil frowned “yeah yeah, whatever princey have fun with that.”

“oh I will emo nightmare, I absolutely will.” Roman hung up feeling happy in a way he hadn’t felt all summer.

Virgil unpacked his stuff in his new dorm, he was a little pissed but also excited. Maybe he and princey would finally meet face to face. Why am I excited about that? I hate him, at the least he annoyed me every day for months, but he did raise a bunch of money. Even if his disney obessed ass is super annoying.

Roman walked in at 6 “hey Virgil, I’m guessing you’re going to be my roommate?”

Virgil looked up from his laptop “I guess, don’t take my monsters from the fridge and we’ll be golden, or blast disney 24/7″

Roman chuckled “what do you have against disney?”

“Micky Mouse killed my parents in front of me after I said that Merida was my favorite princess.” Virgil said dryly.

Roman chuckled “that’s why I dedicated my life to the mouse.”

“That’s why I swore to get my revenge on the mouse.”

“I won’t blast disney 24/7 but you can’t blast your emo music.” Roman says

Virgil snorted “dude I have the worst anxiety I don’t even own a speaker. so you don’t blast your music, I won’t blast mine and we’ll be fine.”

“Deal,”

Roman called that night like always and Virgil was ready “aww Princey, did you miss me that much?”

“not really, but I’m still trying to get you to willingly play a disney song.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “you know what, it’s a new year, time for a new leaf, I’ll humor you princey and play a disney song.”

“wait really?”

Virgil queued up Mad At Disney “no.” he hung up and the song started.

Virgil and Roman went back to their usual routine of lowkey flirting with each other during Virgil’s shift, and sometimes during Roman’s.

They where getting along well as roomates but hadn’t figured out that they where each other’s Princey and emo nightmare.

Somehow he and Princey had gotten into an argument about if Cruella would be a good or bad movie. Roman had hope it would be, Virgil wasn’t so convinced.

“Princey, she is a completely evil character, she can’t be redeemable, she shouldn’t be. She wanted to make puppies into a coat, that’s fucked up. There’s no black and white she’s bad and that’s that.”

“Maybe if you gave the movie a chance!”

“fuck no! did you not hear what I just fucking said?”

“then how about we see it then we can see who’s right?”

“fine, I’m free at three this Satuday.” Virgil said, way too caught up in the moment.

“same, see you then emo nightmare, I’ll be by the doors waiting.”

“fine, but I’m going to be right.”

“then it’s a date!”

“I guess it is!” Virgil hung up.

he didn’t realize he’d said yes to going out on a date with a guy he didn’t even know until the next day.

The whole campus was freaking out about it since the station had blown up quite a bit because of Virgil and Roman’s nightly arguments.

Roman left early, he’d dressed up a bit, and had a disney shirt with a little crown logo on it, it wasn’t that obvious but he figured it’d be telling enough.

Virgil put on a bit more eyeliner then usual and fishnets under his ripped jeans but that was about it, he chose to be petty and waited until about 3:20 to go to the doors where Roman wait waiting.

Virgil walked passed him at first. Roman saw him “emo nightmare?”

Virgil stopped “are you fucking kidding me?” he got a few glares from parents. “You’re princey? my fucking roommate?”

“I did not plan that, but yeah I am, and you’re my emo nightmare.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “still not yours princey, come on the movies about to start.”

They exited the movie and Virgil grinned “I fucking told you it’d be bad, I told you!”

“yeah yeah, you did it was bad. Want to get some coffee?”

“sure, I’ll pay,” Virgil said casually.

Roman grinned “I’ll win you over one day my emo nightmare.”

“stop begging me to play disney music and maybe you will.”

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sander sides #prinxiety #roman x virgil #roman sanders x virgil sanders

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years

Text

These Unprecedented Times

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Chapter Three: Intrusive Thoughts

Introducing Roman next had absolutely been the right move. Janus hadn’t seen either him or Thomas that happy or excited in a long time. He hadn’t felt that positive for a while himself, either. Things seem to have improved in the Mindscape too. Virgil was glad Thomas had finally brushed his teeth, as he’d been worried about cavities. Patton liked the idea of using their next video to help others, and Logan appreciated that Thomas was at least beginning to take care of himself. And Remus, for once, had moved on from disease and death, albeit in a Remus way.

“And we should definitely tell all of the viewers how soap is bad for you,” he said with a nod during their attempted movie night. “And that they should never shower ever again. And how deodorant is delicious and so if they want to eat it—”

“Remus,” Janus cut him off, and Remus looked at him. Janus paused the movie. “Would you like to come to the brainstorming session tomorrow?”

Remus started grinning. “Really?”

Janus nodded. “So long as you at least try to stay on the video topic, I see no reason not to have you there. You are Creativity too, after all.”

Remus gave a cry of delight and bounced up off the couch, springing onto the wall, and down onto the floor, and then on top of the table. “I get to meet Thomas!” he screeched.

“You couldn’t have sent me out of the room for that?” Virgil grumbled, covering his ears.

“I’m not sure it would have made that much of a difference,” Janus said, as the other three sides showed up in the doorway.

“What in the world is going on?” Patton called.

“I invited Remus to the brainstorm tomorrow,” Janus called, trying to make himself heard over Remus, which was a task all its own.

Patton’s immediate discomfort was obvious, but he wasn’t really the one Janus was worried about. “Is that alright with you, Roman?” he called.

Roman looked unsure. “You sure he’s not just going to start talking about death again?” he asked.

“I can’t rule out that possibility entirely, he is Remus,” Janus said, as Remus leapt down off the ceiling and landed on the couch again. “But he seems to like the video idea you’ve come up with. And I think he could have things to add.”

Roman still didn’t look fully comfortable with the idea, but after a minute he sighed. “Alright,” he said. “I suppose it’s not really fair to keep him exiled from brainstorms.”

Remus started vibrating in excitement again. “We get to brainstorm together Ro-ro!” he called, leaping up and running over to pull Roman into a hug. The level of excitement he was currently at meant that Roman was beginning to be shaken up and down.

“Okay let go of me!” Roman yelled, though Remus naturally did no such thing.

“He’s really excited, huh?” Virgil said from Janus’ other side, and he was starting to smile.

“Well, how would you react if you got to meet Thomas?” Janus asked.

“I’d start panicking.”

“Right, yeah, that does sound more like you,” Janus admitted.

“Hey, Jan?”

Janus turned to face Virgil more. “Yes?”

“You really think this is a good idea?”

Janus looked back to Remus starting to swing Roman back and forth in between flipping him upside down over his head. “I do.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, though he still sounded unsure. “I trust you.”

“I appreciate it,” Janus said. “I imagine I’ll get a different reaction from Logan and Patton.”

“Yep. Good luck,” Virgil said, patting him on the back. Janus shoved him halfheartedly, and prepared himself for the conversation he’d definitely be having with a couple other sides later. Either way, this was a good idea.

Most likely.

…

“But do you really think—”

“Yes, Patton, I really, really, really think this is a good idea. Really,” Janus said, trying to avoid the impulse to look up at the ceiling. To his surprise, Logan hadn’t seemed to have much of an issue with introducing Remus, but that didn’t mean Janus was spared from the moral side, who had pulled him into the Mindscape kitchen right before he went to go meet Thomas.

“He’s just… he’s not exactly the best side we have around,” Patton muttered, rubbing at his arm.

“No, but I don’t really think any of us are the ‘best side’ in the way you mean,” Janus said coolly. “Thomas needs all of us, Patton.”

“I know that,” Patton said. “I just… Remus?”

“Remus,” Janus agreed. “He’s making an effort to stay on the video topic, and that’s asking a lot of him. And he’s Creativity too. It’s not fair to let Roman do all of the work in that department. To Remus or Roman.”

“Roman’s managed alright without him so far,” Patton said quietly.

Janus drew himself further upright. “No,” he said. “Roman has been having a breakdown about the fact that he doesn’t think he’s good enough. He really hasn’t been managing alright, and shutting Thomas off from an entire side of his Creativity is in no way a good idea. The three of them need to learn to work together. And that’s not such a terrible idea for you to be considering, either,” Janus said, crossing his arms.

Patton narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think it’s a little unfair for you to be talking about working together when you’re only letting sides through to Thomas when you want to?”

“Maybe,” Janus said. “Or maybe if you were making more of an effort to work together I’d be more willing to let you talk to Thomas. We could have this argument all day. I need to go introduce Thomas to Remus.” Janus turned and headed for the door.

“What if he doesn’t like him?” Patton asked, and Janus stopped. He turned back around.

“How do you know how Thomas will react to Remus?” he asked.

“You want to start working together? Fine. Thomas doesn’t like the kinds of things Remus comes up with. I can’t imagine why he’d like Remus in spite of that. Just…” Patton sighed. “Look. I can’t honestly say that I want Thomas to dislike Remus. It wouldn’t be fun for Remus, and I don’t want that for him. I’m just saying you should prepare yourselves for the possibility.” Patton looked hesitant for a moment. “Maybe… maybe you should prepare Thomas for the possibility. Maybe that would help?”

Janus was about to snap back a reply when he considered the statement for a moment longer. “You know…” he said. “That’s actually not a terrible idea.” He looked up at Patton and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Oh. Um, you’re welcome kiddo.”

Janus disregarded the kiddo comment and sunk out to see Thomas, without Remus or Roman for the moment.

…

Thomas was surprised when Self-Interest showed up alone again. “No Escapism today?” he asked, setting down the notebook he’d been getting ready to use to brainstorm.

“He’ll be here in a moment,” Self-Interest said. “I just thought it would be fair to give you a heads up that the other half of your creativity will be coming today too.”

“Oh,” Thomas said. “Didn’t you say that was my Intrusive Thoughts? I thought I wasn’t ready to meet him.”

“He’s been calmer as of late. You have noticed, haven’t you?” Self-Interest asked.

Thomas paused, and realized after a moment that he had noticed less invasive thoughts about death and disease lately.

“I told him he could join if he tried to stay on topic. But a forewarning, he’s… not very good at that. It just might be a lot, and I wanted to give you a chance to prepare yourself to be a little overwhelmed.”

Thomas nodded uneasily.

“He cares quite a bit,” Self-Interest said. “In his own way. He’s just… a lot sometimes.”

Thomas crossed his arms, feeling a little unsettled. “It sounds like you don’t think I’ll like him.”

“Well, he’s the creative thoughts you don’t want for a reason,” Self-Interest muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… don’t want you to be expecting another Escapism and be disappointed. Because he’s really excited for this, and if you end up acting disappointed, I just…”

“Hey,” Thomas cut him off by reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Does he mean a lot to you?”

Self-Interest looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“It sounds like he means a lot to you.”

“I… I practically raised him,” Self-Interest admitted.

“Okay. Then it’ll be fine. I’m not going to be rude to someone who matters that much to you. I know to expect someone a little eccentric. It’ll be okay.”

“A little eccentric is putting it mildly,” Self-Interest muttered. “But alright. I’ll go get them both.”

Thomas nodded, and Self-Interest sank back down again. Thomas prepared himself for getting overwhelmed or maybe screamed at, and not a moment too soon, because after a second there appeared in front of him someone who looked similar to Escapism, though with a black and green outfit and a much crazier grin on his face.

“Thomathy!” the side exclaimed. “Wow, you look exactly like I thought you would!”

“Like… you?” Thomas asked in confusion.

“Like shit! You really should try some eyeshadow, I can show you how I do mine!”

“I think I’m okay,” Thomas said, making note of the purple eyeshadow smeared all around the side’s face in a way that didn’t look exactly flattering.

“You didn’t let me finish,” said Self-Interest, as he rose up with Escapism, the latter of whom looked nervous and the former of whom looked weary.

“You said I could go see Thomas,” Intrusive Thoughts said, turning and bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “So I did!”

“I said, ‘Yes, you can go, but.’ There was more coming.”

“Wait, I missed a butthole? Was it juicy?”

Thomas couldn’t help the startled laugh that came out of him, and Intrusive Thoughts grinned back over at him. “Hi,” Thomas said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi! I’m your Intrusive Thoughts, but that’s kind of a mouthful, so you can just call me Remus!”

Thomas blinked. “Uh… okay?”

“Wait, how come he gets to tell him his name first?” Escapism asked, sounding offended.

“Wait,” Thomas said. “You all have names?”

“No one was stopping you from telling him your name,” Remus said, grinning back at Escapism. “I just got here first. I win, fucker!”

“What— that’s not even— Remus is a terrible name anyway!”

Remus gave a long and clearly not actually offended gasp. “Bold words coming from someone named Stinky Poo Poo Side The Third.”

“That… that’s not actually your name, is it?” Thomas asked in concern, glancing back at Escapism. “Because if you want to pick a different one—”

“Roman,” the side groaned, burying his head in his hands. “He’s Remus, I’m Roman.”

“Oh,” Thomas said. “Okay.” He glanced over at Self-Interest, who was massaging his temple and looking very done with the whole situation.

“Why did I think it was a good idea to send you both here together?” Self-Interest muttered.

“Well, you did, no take backsies!” Remus called. “Anyway!” he swung back around and plopped himself down on the couch next to Thomas. “I have some thoughts on this video idea of yours!”

“I figured,” Thomas admitted. “You are my creativity too, aren’t you?”

“I am! So! Let’s you and me talk about the wonderful world of soap allergies.”

Roman joined them after another moment, and after a little bit of a bumpy start, he and Remus started to work off of each other well. Roman seemed to be very good at picking out what ideas from Remus’ ramblings would actually be helpful, and then they could start working on how to use them. By the end of the brainstorming session, Thomas had a section planned in the video about how to stop hyperfocusing on world event stuff, brought up by Remus admitting that even he had been starting to get a little bored with all of it.

And by the time they all called it quits for a while and Thomas got ready to go make some dinner, he wasn’t sure what Self-Interest had ever been worried about. He liked Remus just fine.

Self-Interest stuck around after Roman and Remus both headed back to what they called the Mindscape (Thomas made a mental note to ask about that later), and followed Thomas into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Thomas said, looking at him. “You alright? You look nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Self-Interest scoffed. “I’m… just curious.”

“About?”

“What you thought about Remus,” Self-Interest said, looking down casually at the gloves on his hands, as if this was merely a fleeting curiosity he wanted satisfied.

Thomas melted a little inside. “Oh, you really love him, don’t you?” he asked.

“Wha— I— of course not,” Self-Interest said, crossing his arms and looking indignantly up towards the ceiling. “I simply want to know if I have to spend the night consoling him. It will take such a large chunk out of my self care time, so I’d rather avoid it if I could.”

Thomas chuckled and shook his head. “You don’t need to worry,” he said, getting out a pot to make mac and cheese in. “I definitely don’t dislike him. I don’t see how I could, to be honest. He’s like a big excitable puppy.”

Self-Interest laughed. “That’s a pretty fair comparison,” he admitted. “You really do like him?”

“I really do,” Thomas said, smiling amusedly back over his shoulder. He saw Self-Interest’s shoulders slump slightly in relief and felt a little bad the next second. Had Thomas been unintentionally mean to Remus in the past? Or well, to his function, he supposed. He didn’t want to make any of his sides think he wouldn’t like them. Especially when every one of them so far had seemed to adore him so completely. He was a little awed by how much, if he was being honest.

“Okay,” Self-Interest said. “Good. In that case, I have things I should really—”

“Come sit and have dinner with me,” Thomas cut him off, surprising Self-Interest into silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Come sit with me while I have dinner,” Thomas said. “If you’d like to, of course.”

“I… really? You want me to stick around?”

Yeah, Thomas decided he didn’t like that tone being in any side’s voice. He was going to do his best to get rid of it from all the ones he met. “I rather appreciate your company,” he said, and went to go get the box of mac and cheese noodles to put in the water.

“I… alright then,” Self-Interest said, moving to lean tentatively against the counter. “I suppose I could spare an hour or so.”

“Good,” Thomas said. “It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to.” And with that, he started preparing the rest of the ingredients while chatting pleasantly with Self-Interest as he did.

Chapter Four

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #my fic

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #agoraphobia #tw agoraphobia #fic

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dramaticsnakes · 4 years

Text

It starts with love and it ends with you

Hello! I wrote this for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! This is my gift for @doing-my-demibest (I can’t @ him properly for some reason but I’ll send it too). You wanted to get some moxiety (any dynamic), a high school au, or a soulmate au. All of which are things I’ve never written before. Thus, I decided to do all of them ajlkfdjslkg. I really hope you’ll enjoy Benji!

Thank you so much to @anxiously-creating @rainbowbutterfrosting and @larrymalecsolangelo for all reading through the fic at different times and help me fix it up! I took the title from Meteor Shower by Cavetown because I honestly wasn’t entirely sure what to call it akfldsklghl.

Pairing: Ambiguous Moxiety (Could be considered queerplatonic)

Word count: 6757

TW: Cursing, and references to feeling unwanted. I think that’s it though. Please tell me if I missed anything.

Summary: Virgil never wanted a soulmate. The concept was frightening to him. That however, did not stop Patton Morales from showing up in his life.

Virgil Capule didn’t like the idea of soulmates.

He had tried to like the idea once. Tried to imagine being with someone who cared for him unconditionally. He tried to imagine someone touching him, a colorful mark appearing on his skin. A mark that proved that this was someone he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. And there was nothing that could be done about it.

Shit, there was nothing he could do about it.

It was a definite factor in Virgil’s life, however, it was a factor that was entirely out of his control. Virgil didn’t like it when things were out of his control. It filled him with a lingering sort of dread, that made his heart beat faster in an unpleasant way.

It was absolutely terrifying to him, that one day, he might encounter someone, who he would essentially be forced to spend the rest of his life with in one way or another. Who’d be forced to spend the rest of their life with him?

Virgil didn’t like being touched anyway. It made him feel uneasy. He wasn’t sure what his excuse was for that anymore. He didn’t really need one, but often he felt as if he did. As if he needed a reason to take a step back whenever someone got a little too close.

The soulmate one was alright for now, and that was probably part of it. There was no reason to touch any stranger he came by, even for a brief moment, because it would change his entire day, his entire life, if a mark appeared.

And Virgil couldn’t imagine a single time in his life, where he’d be mentally prepared for that.

So when he could avoid it, he did so, and when he couldn’t he always inhaled sharply, never quite daring to look down at his hand or any other spot that might’ve grazed someone else's skin on accident. It helped to wear hoodies, he’d learned, which was great, because he never wore anything else anyway.

Virgil lived his life as an irrelevant sophomore, sitting in the corner by himself, because he was never quite sure how to get the hang of talking to anyone. Miraculously, he had managed to befriend two seniors, Janus and Remus, who he hung out with during the lunch breaks. They had essentially ‘adopted’ him one day, and Virgil had initially thought it was a joke or a prank of sorts when they asked if he wanted to eat with them. He’d become more and more doubtful of that over time, however. Both of them were quite unique individuals, and neither of them seemed to have too many friends in their respective classes, but they always had each other. And Virgil too, because they didn’t mind his presence, and Virgil often found that he enjoyed theirs too. The fact that they were seniors however, could of course prove to be a problem later on, because it meant that he would be pretty much friend-less once they left.

But it was okay, he told himself. It was all going to be okay.

Virgil was content with being like that. Well, content was a big word. Virgil never thought he could consider himself content per se. He was always a little on guard. A little too reserved and defensive. But Virgil was okay. Concerned out of his mind of course. Terrified of being alone.

That was of course before Patton Morales came into his life.

Virgil didn’t remember exactly what day of the week it was, because honestly, who kept track of that? And it wasn’t as if it mattered to him at first anyhow.

He’d showed up one day, while Virgil was in his English class, clearly a new student, and Virgil hadn’t thought much of it. He’d been listening to music on his headphones, and was too caught up in the lyrics of a My Chemical Romance song to notice that someone was about to sit down right next to him, for whichever reason.

Virgil had glanced up, and moved a bit to the side to avoid getting in the way. The second Virgil had removed his headphones to get ready for the lesson, Patton had turned to him almost immediately with a big smile on his face. There was some awkwardness visible in it too of course, as most first encounters had. “Hi!” he said.

Already then, Virgil was quite surprised, because he couldn’t quite remember a time where someone had greeted him like that recently. Virgil muttered, “Hi…”

“What’s your name?” Patton asked.

“Virgil.” he replied, “Uh, you?”

“Patton.” he said, and reached out with his hand to greet Virgil. Virgil’s eyes widened, and he tapped the table with his fingers.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” he said, his heart beating as he awaited either a question or a strange resigned expression.

Patton merely made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth, and placed his hand on the table again. He smiled. “Same to you!”

And that was all their encounter really encompassed at first. Class started, and Virgil did his best to pay attention to the teacher. He succeeded more than he did in most classes. He quite liked English class, and he remembered getting quite a few positive comments on his work in it when he was younger. He’d never say too much about that out loud of course. He used to read quite a lot, and he always liked some of the classics, as well as poetry. That was a bit dorky though, and he wasn’t sure if anyone would really care about that. In high school, no one really seemed to receive that many compliments on schoolwork, at least Virgil didn’t. Though he did his best anyway. Something had to keep his grade up after all.

Virgil’s second conversation with Patton had been in that same class the next day. They were all asked to individually analyze a poem, and Patton was tapping his pen against the paper, chewing on his lip.

“Uh, you could comment on the semantics.” Virgil muttered awkwardly, which made Patton turn his head. “There are some words related to storms. It contrasts the ones about light and safety later on.”

“Oh!” Patton said, looking at the poem again, “I see. And lightning sort of uh… Ties the two together?”

“Yeah.” Virgil said with a nod and a hesitant smile. He turned to his own work once again, and Patton started to write.

The lesson continued, and once it was done, Virgil stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “I like your hair!” Patton said and Virgil looked up suddenly. He hadn’t quite expected the comment. “The purple suits you well.”

“Uh, thanks!” Virgil said, giving a friendly nod. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself for a few moments, before he hurried along to get out of the class. He quickly realized that that might’ve appeared rude, but he hadn’t been sure how else to react.

He thought about that quite a lot the time that followed, because Virgil didn’t like messing up. It made him think too much, and it made him groan at himself. He’d messed up his encounter, and now Patton was going to hate him forever.

Of course, Virgil knew that wasn’t objectively true, but his mind was pretty damn convinced and wouldn’t shut up about it at all.

A single class later, Virgil was sitting at his usual lunch table next to a grinning Remus and a Janus who was well into a rant about either society or his philosophy class. Virgil realized he hadn’t quite listened too much at first, his thoughts drifting to all sorts of places.

“And then that bitch had the audacity to suggest that lying was inherently a bad thing! Of course I brought up numerous examples of philosophers who said otherwise, but it turns out that this guy has his own collection of philosophical terms.” Janus spat, “You know, while he has some annoying views, he does seem… Reasonably knowledgeable about it all. Even if he forgot the names of all the philosophers he was talking about.”

“Awh, what’s wrong JanJan? You scared you’re not gonna be the favorite student anymore.” Remus teased.

“I am not the favorite student!” Janus said, “I am the most dreaded student, and excuse me if I’m a little annoyed that this unintimidating ray of sunshine Patton Morales is trying to draw attention away from how much I should be dreaded.” he smirked slightly, “Not that I mind a small challenge for once.”

Virgil looked up suddenly, his mouth gaping slightly. “Did you say Patton Morales?”

Janus laughed in the honey-coated way he sometimes did. “Well look who is awake all of a sudden.” he smiled, “Indeed I did. It’s a new student in my philosophy class.” he leaned forward slightly, “And where do you know him, Stormcloud?”

“We share an english class.” Virgil just said, “He sat next to me the last two times. I don’t know much about him.”

Janus nodded. “I see, I see…” there was a slight sparkling in Janus’ eyes, as if Janus knew something Virgil didn’t. Janus always had a tendency to look like that though, so Virgil didn’t bother questioning it too much. “Has he attempted to strike up a conversation with you?”

“I mean… I mean maybe?” Virgil said.

“Ooh you should start flirting with him, emo! I bet he thinks you’re real hot.” Remus exclaimed.

Virgil rolled his eyes, placing a hand firmly on the table. “Cause flirting with some guy I’ve barely talked to because he may or may not have tried to start a conversation with me to be polite is a great idea.” he said sarcastically, in a way that he was sure Janus gave him a small grin for.

“Well, he seems quite cheerful.” Janus said, licking his bottom lip thoughtfully as he crossed his arms, “He seems like he attempts to get along with most people. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d try his luck with you.”

“Huh.” Virgil said, “He’ll probably give up on that soon enough.”

Patton did, as a matter of fact, not give up.

The next day, Virgil didn’t even have a class with Patton, but somehow he managed to enter his day anyway.

Virgil noticed him down the hall, talking to someone from a different class. One of the theater kids, though Virgil couldn’t quite remember his name. Virgil walked by, looking down as he had grown so used to. Patton turned his head. “Hi Virgil!” he said, with the same sort of joy he had the other day.

There was something interesting about that joy. Something honest and genuine, that Virgil wasn’t used to from obligatory greetings, though maybe he was just reading too much into it.

“Uh, hey Patton.” he said with a quick and awkward salute. He stopped walking though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Was the logical next step to keep walking or to stand still? It was too late now to re-evaluate his choice with any purpose.

“Thanks for the help with English yesterday. It’s not really my strongest subject.” Patton said with a laugh.

Virgil bit lip, mustered a little smile that appeared to come with a little less difficulty than he expected and looked at Patton. “Oh, no or well… I think you were kinda good at it actually.”

“Oh.” Patton said, looking a bit surprised. “Thank you!”

“Uh, yeah you’re… You’re good. Sometimes it's just the wording of the tasks.” he rubbed the side of his neck with his hand.

Patton chuckled, and Virgil realized that he quite liked the sound of that, but he wasn’t sure if that was a weird thought to have. “I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with us?” he prompted. He gestured to the boy next to him. “Roman and I were going to go do that.”

Virgil was very surprised at that request. His first thought was his unspoken agreement to eat lunch with Remus and Janus, but he’d missed that before a few times, if he was working on assignments. “Oh. Sure!” he said.

That was new. People didn’t usually ask him to hang out with them.

“Yay!” Patton said, “Let’s go.”

The other boy, Roman turned to him, and tilted his head curiously to the side. “Hold on a minute… Aren’t you that boy who usually eats lunch with Remus?”

Virgil’s posture became more cautious. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Nothing. He’s just my brother is all.” he chuckled, “Has he given you a headache yet?”

“Oh, multiple.” Virgil said, chuckling back, “But in the good sort of way I guess. He’s fun.”

Roman hummed, “He talks about you sometimes.”

The three found a little secluded spot near the library, where they ate lunch and talked. It was strange. Virgil wasn’t used to being around anyone else during the lunch break, but it wasn’t that bad at all. He kept an eye on Patton.

It was that day, Virgil noted that Patton liked puns, and made a lot of them. They were stupid of course, but Virgil liked them. They were terrible and stupid in the funny sort of way.

After lunch, Virgil was added to a group chat with Patton Morales, Roman and someone Virgil hadn’t talked to before, named Logan.

Patton had made friends quickly. After a few days at the school, he’d already made two. Or… Three perhaps? Did Virgil count as a friend? Not yet, probably.

For a moment though, the thought passed through Virgil’s mind, that maybe he kind of wanted to be.

The next day in english class, they were even more familiar with one another. They laughed and talked a bit right before class started, and Virgil didn’t hesitate to help Patton when he once again struggled with his work. Virgil had a hard time withholding a laugh when Patton doodled a little alligator in a vest in the corner of his sheet, and wrote the word in-vest-igator right above it.

Virgil was filled with an instinctual dread when the teacher brought up a group project. Virgil knew how this went. People would turn to one another and make groups, and he would be forced to be in a group with people who didn’t want him there. He wasn’t the type of person who took charge, but maybe he would end up doing all the work anyhow. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. His heart beat faster.

“Wanna work together?” Patton asked gently, turning towards Virgil.

“Huh?” he said, he shook the surprise off him, “Oh yeah, that’d be cool I guess.”

His body became less tense, and Patton smiled at him.

It made sense of course, because Patton was new, so Patton hadn’t had the time to make any friends in the class. Turning to Virgil was the only natural option.

The two of them worked on the project throughout the class, and Patton did his best throughout. It didn’t take that much explaining and reading before Patton understood the concepts they had to analyze in the story they’d received, and it was the first time in a while Virgil felt like the work was evenly distributed. It was the first time in a while Virgil felt like he was wanted and useful at the same time.

They didn’t finish the project in the class, which meant homework, which meant stress, which was unfortunate.

“Do you think it’d be easier to finish if we were together? We could do it after school tomorrow maybe?” Patton asked.

Virgil nodded. “Oh yeah. I can do that!”

Virgil didn’t usually like the idea of staying after school. It was a tiring place to be, and frankly it stressed him out a bit to be there more than absolutely necessary. But he needed to get the group project done, and for some reason it didn’t feel quite as dull if Patton was there.

It was strange how easily they clicked.

Before Virgil knew it they were staying after school to complete the work, and it took them a while to finish it, but not because it was difficult or tiring to do.

In fact, Virgil found that the secluded spot they’d found at the school was quite pleasant. They laughed and talked in between each bit of the assignment. Somehow the assignment turned into them talking about which species of duck would be the better baker, and Virgil felt a nice feeling inside. He was having fun, and so was Patton.

Patton seemed to glow, Virgil noticed. A nice and warm glow, that kept Virgil staring for a little.

Virgil went home later than he was used to that day, but he wasn’t quite as exhausted as he expected to be.

Patton became an increasingly bigger part of Virgil’s life, and Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what he thought of it at first.

Patton was… Nice. It became clear as day even if you only had the chance to spend a short amount of time with him. He always seemed to look out for other’s needs and boundaries, and Virgil really appreciated that. He felt less and less guilty about taking a step back when he needed to, the more time they spent together.

Patton always smiled, and Virgil liked his smiles he decided. Except on some days, when they seemed a little less real. A little less genuine. On those days, Virgil had an urge to ask what was going on, but he never quite had the courage to do so.

Patton was smart too, even if he didn’t always seem to think so himself. He knew a lot about a lot of things, and gave Janus a headache in philosophy class, which was really funny to hear about.

One day, Virgil got a text he hadn’t expected to get at all. It was a simple text. A request that Virgil should possibly have expected.

Do you wanna hang out this weekend? <3 It’s okay if you don’t, no pressure!

Virgil stared at the text for a few moments, all sorts of thoughts darting through his head and tangling themselves up in each other, and Virgil couldn’t quite get a grip on why Patton would ask him that.

Because he wanted to hang out with Virgil, was the logical response of course.

So why did his mind insist on giving him a million other ideas why?

What if Patton wanted to hang out with him out of pity? Because Virgil was all alone.

What if Patton planned on playing a prank on Virgil or something? Because Virgil was a loser and a loner and an easy target.

What if Patton wanted to murder him?

Okay maybe that last one was a bit too aggressive.

Virgil took a deep breath, trying to collect as much logic as his mind allowed him to gather, and replied. He had to delete the final piece of punctuation a couple of times, as he didn’t want it to be interpreted in the wrong way. Not too desperate, but not too bored either.

Sure thing!

And so they did.

Virgil was welcomed into Patton’s home with open arms, Patton’s mums greeting him with kind words and smiles.

Most of the visit was spent in Patton’s room, which was somehow everything Virgil expected it to be, yet not quite.

The room wasn’t too big. The bed took up a fourth of the room. The bed was a nice and calming blue color, which Virgil for some reason already associated with Patton. A nice and peaceful color, that felt welcoming, and the perfect combination of cold and warm.

The walls were plastered with posters and pictures, some looking slightly torn. Most of them depicted cute puppies or other animals that suited Patton quite well. Virgil’s favorite was that of a tapir, that hung in the top right corner. There was something kindhearted about it.

There was some old wallpaper, hanging on the walls. The edges were a bit tainted, and there were a few cat paw prints on it.

“Do you like cats?” Virgil had asked.

“Oh yeah! I love them!” Patton exclaimed excitedly, “I’m allergic though.” he added. Virgil snorted at it.

They sat on Patton’s bed for hours. They started out by watching a movie on the old tv, that Virgil suspected used to be in the living room of the house. They watched a couple of episodes of Avatar the last airbender too, which Patton fortunately had on dvd. Virgil hadn’t watched it before, and Patton, while looking nervous about it at first, thought that was a crime.

Virgil enjoyed sitting next to Patton as they watched, because Patton’s reactions to everything happening were always quite clear and emotional, and Virgil couldn’t help but join in on the vivid expressions at times.

Virgil stayed there until the evening, and their conversation had become more and more serious throughout the night. Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation like that with someone. A genuine one.

“What was your old school like?” Virgil had asked. He wasn’t sure why Patton didn’t attend it anymore, because as far as Virgil knew, he lived a bit closer to that. Virgil didn’t think prying was needed though. Virgil understood keeping things to oneself.

“I wasn’t really… I wasn’t really happy at my old school.” Patton confessed. He didn’t look at Virgil as he spoke, “I felt sort of out of place.”

“How?” Virgil asked, hoping that came out the way he wanted it to.

“People… Didn’t really like me much…” Patton said quietly, “They talked behind people’s backs a lot, and sometimes you overheard what they were saying it wasn’t…” he clenched his fist, looking down, “It wasn’t very nice.”

For the first time in a while, Virgil sort of wanted to reach out for Patton, to place a comforting arm on his shoulder or something like that. Of course, a much more apparent instinct kept him from doing that, keeping his potentially treacherous arms at bay with a million uncomfortable what-ifs. “They were missing out.” was all Virgil said. ‘

Patton smiled a little at that. “Thanks kiddo.”

Despite himself Virgil couldn’t keep a sudden laugh away. “What the hell did you just call me.” he placed his hand in front of his mouth, “Sorry that sounded rude, it wasn’t bad or anything.”

Patton chuckled back. “I don’t know, it seemed fitting I suppose.”

Patton was about to gently punch Virgil, but Virgil instinctively pulled away. Patton looked surprised for about a millisecond before his smile was back to normal again.

“It’s nothing personal.” Virgil said suddenly, “That I don’t like being touched that is.”

“Oh, no I figured.” Patton said, smiling, “There’s nothing wrong with not liking that.”

Virgil’s mouth gaped slightly at those words. Virgil knew that of course, that nothing was wrong with it, but it felt different to hear someone say that. “Thank you.” he said, a little quieter than he would’ve liked to. “Maybe… Maybe I’m just scared of finding a soulmate. Or maybe it’s something else, I don’t know.”

“You don’t need an excuse or anything.” Patton said, tilting his head and giving Virgil a certain caring and attentive look, that only Patton seemed to be able to give. He took a deep breath. “Why are you scared of finding a soulmate?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know.” Virgil said, “I don’t want… I don’t like big changes I guess.”

Patton nodded, “I get that, I think. Not wanting things to change.” he looked distant for a moment, and then he looked into Virgil’s eyes, “But I think if you found a soulmate it would be different. A soulmate would understand you, and if you didn’t want any changes I am sure they’d understand that too.”

Virgil took a deep breath nodding, looking down at the floor for a moment, “I… I just don’t know… I don’t want to want things to change, but what if I do? What if things are never the same again.”

Patton chuckled slightly at that, but it was the sympathetic kind of chuckle, that didn’t make Virgil feel singled out or uncomfortable. “Well darn, I don’t know.” Patton said, “I don’t know that much, but I think a soulmate feels simpler than that. I hope so anyway.”

“Have you found a soulmate?” Virgil hesitantly asked, but he wasn’t sure why.

Patton shook his head. “No.”

“Huh.” Virgil said. he wasn’t sure what he expected, but Patton liked to hug people and give them encouraging little Patton pats, so it seemed sort of strange to Virgil that no mark had appeared. “Guess we’re both free for the time being.”

Patton giggled. “You’re the first one who has ever described me not having a mark yet that way. Usually people just look like they feel bad.”

Virgil exhaled suddenly at that. “Oh fuck, I know that feeling.”

“Language.” Patton said, jokingly.

Virgil rolled his eyes, though the smile didn’t leave his face.

Virgil went home that night feeling… Something. He wasn’t sure what, but it was pleasant. Understood maybe. he felt understood.

Soon, Patton and Virgil were hanging out frequently. It was the first time Virgil had ever allowed this much free time to be taken up by someone else.

“He cares about you.” Janus said one day at lunch. Virgil still hung out with Janus and Remus at lunch every once in a while. His other group didn’t always meet up, and he didn’t wanna lose Janus and Remus, even if they insisted it was alright. “He thinks about you a lot.”

“How do you know that?” Virgil asked confusedly.

“He wouldn’t make this much time for you if he didn’t.” Janus said, calmly. “And he matters to you too, I can tell.” he smirked. “I haven’t seen you this happy before.”

Virgil realized that he was blushing. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with him.” he said, despite himself, “I mean it’s stupid anyway.”

“Is it romantic or platonic I wonder?” Janus said, as if he was talking to himself.

Virgil had asked himself that question many times, and he wasn’t sure what the answer was. Patton was amazing, but Virgil wasn’t sure if it was in the romantic sort of way. “I don’t know.” he said quickly, quietly.

Janus hummed. “Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. Either can be equally meaningful.”

“Yeah…” Virgil said, biting the inside of his cheek, “Yeah I guess you’re right.”

Virgil wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret any of this. Maybe he was desperate for a friend, maybe something else was at play, but regardless he found himself enjoying Patton’s friendship more and more. It made him happy to think about Patton, and whenever Patton messaged him, he couldn’t help but drop everything he was doing to see what Patton was saying to him.

It kept going. The two of them kept talking, kept hanging out on weekends, stayed at school for longer than they needed to, and that was definitely new. Virgil didn’t usually do that. It stayed like that for months, them talking as if nothing else mattered.

One day though, a particular event that Virgil would never forget snuck into their day. The two of them were standing right outside school grounds, and Patton had asked Virgil if he could show him something.

Patton looked at Virgil with a somewhat excited and somewhat nervous expression. “I uhm… I made you something!” he said, his typical bubbly energy shining through.

Virgil felt something inside him twirling. “Really? What is it?”

Patton reached into his schoolbag, taking out something that was wrapped in pastel purple paper. Virgil wasn’t sure what to expect. Patton carefully reached out and let Virgil take the object himself (to make sure there was no unwanted physical contact involved, Virgil noted) and Virgil accepted the object accordingly. He removed the paper carefully, revealing a little bracelet.

The bracelet was obviously homemade with purple and light blue string wrapped around one another as the thread, and a stormcloud bead attached to one side of it, and the rest having various other beads, in different shapes but very similar colors. Virgil turned it around in his hand for a little to get a proper look at it, his mouth gaping as he did so. It looked nice. Personal. “What-”

“It’s a uhm… It’s a friendship bracelet!” Patton said, taking out a similar bracelet from his bag. The thread was the same combination of blue and purple as Virgil’s though the bead was a heart, and the rest of the beads similar shades of light blue. It was quite nice to the touch.

And what the bracelets meant made Virgil feel nice and happy inside in a way he didn’t quite remember feeling before. Except when he was around Patton, he realized. Nice, happy, content, and with Patton being an almost constant thought in his mind.

What did that mean?

“This is so co- I mean I… I like it or… Or whatever. It’s cool.” he tried his best not to sound like a fool as he spoke, but Patton looked incredibly happy even at the hesitantly positive words.

Virgil looked from Patton’s bracelet to his own. It was too small to slip on, so he started fiddling with the clasp. “Uhm…” Shit shit, he was already messing this up.

“Oh! Here let me help.” Patton took a step closer and hesitated before he touched the bracelet. “If you don’t mind of course.”

Virgil inhaled sharply. He shook his head. “No no, no problem.”

Virgil could’ve ended up regretting that decision. Patton took the bracelet, carefully opening it, and almost absentmindedly he was about to gently put it around Virgil’s wrist.

He did it carefully, to avoid touching Virgil, and that was nice and considerate of him, but for a brief moment, Virgil almost wanted Patton to touch him anyway. Patton’s breath felt warm, as he was nice and close, and Virgil felt something fluttering inside him. He stood there for a moment, looking into Patton’s eyes to make sure it was okay.

And then Virgil did something he didn’t remember ever doing on his own accord before.

He pulled Patton into an embrace.

It was quick and sudden, desperate perhaps. Like lightning searching for a place to strike. A comforting and familiar place. His hand grazed the side of Patton’s arm, as he pulled him closer.

Virgil felt warm and safe, but some sort of adrenaline was still pumping through him. He quickly pulled back. “Sorry, I…” he looked at his hands.

And his world was suddenly shattered into a million shiny and colorful pieces.

The part of his hand that had grazed Patton’s arm had become a beautiful and familiar light blue and Virgil froze on the spot.

It didn’t take long for Patton to catch on too. In a millisecond, his expression had turned from unfiltered happiness to something cautious. Shocked. His mouth was gaping.

Virgil started breathing faster, but he wasn’t running, as he expected he would whenever this happened.

Virgil glanced at Patton’s arm, noticing a purple mark, matching Virgil’s own. Virgil studied both the marks carefully, taking in the shape.

Forever.

Virgil’s heart was beating rapidly, and he made eye contact with Patton.

“I…” Patton tried, still looking unsure what to say, “It’s… It’s gonna be okay.”

Virgil’s mind was racing. Going through a million what-if scenarios each second, way too quickly for him to fully experience anything. Scenes were flashing before his eyes. Him and Patton together. Sweet sunshine Patton, asking with an awkward and sad look in his eyes, if Virgil would just leave and never seek out Patton again. Virgil running and never returning on his own accord, leaving Patton alone and sad and confused.

Him and Patton together, holding hands and laughing. Joking around just as they had before.

Virgil’s breathing had become loud and fast, and Patton was standing a bit away, hesitant to step closer, as he always had.

Virgil didn’t know what he wanted.

Virgil never knew anything.

“V-Virgil I…” Patton tried, swallowing something, “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t wanna. Things don’t have to change if you don’t want them to.”

What did Patton even think of this? Why was Patton’s first instinct always to calm Virgil down? Why couldn’t Patton just express a desire, so that Virgil could react to that? Virgil didn’t wanna decide anything. Didn’t wanna say anything. Didn’t wanna do anything. He was frozen in place. Half of him was seeking out the warmth of the hug he’d initiated just a minute prior, longing to get close once again and hugging Patton tighter than ever before.

The other half wanted to run. Run away as fast as possible and avoid facing the inevitable.

Inevitable was such a dreadful word.

Virgil looked at Patton, who had such sympathetic and beautiful brown eyes. Virgil felt something fluttering inside him.

He didn’t want to lose Patton.

And maybe it was a good sign, that something inevitable was something Virgil didn’t want to lose.

Virgil didn’t like fate. He never did. He hated that something was beyond his control.

Yet, Virgil’s relationship with Patton hadn’t been entirely out of his control, had it?

Virgil kept staring at Patton, because he couldn’t get his body to do anything else.

“You’re my soulmate.” Virgil suddenly said, his voice quiet and somewhat choked, as if the words that came out were forced and not quite his own, “We’re soulmates.”

Patton looked a little relieved to hear Virgil saying something, though the clear concern on his face didn’t disappear. “We are,” he said, shakily. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Virgil exhaled, in something that resembled a chuckle or a sob. “Why the fuck are you sorry?”

Patton looked a little caught off guard. “I… I don’t know.”

Virgil’s heart was still beating at a rapid pace, and he couldn’t quite place why.

Run. Run. Patton. Patton. Run. Patton.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his breathing, but he couldn’t quite get a grip on it. He shook his head, and jumped forward.

He wrapped his arms around Patton, because Patton felt like the only link between Virgil and breathing in a stable way. Patton felt familiar. Patton felt like home. Like love. It was comforting, when Virgil was in an embrace like that, and it only took a few moments of shock before Patton reciprocated.

They didn’t say anything for a while, simply holding each other tightly, as if it was the only way to keep the world at bay. The only way to keep the terrifying what-if scenarios and the fears Virgil had spent his entire life building up, at bay.

Patton rubbed circles on Virgil’s back, and Virgil allowed himself to melt into the embrace. Virgil’s heart didn’t quite calm down, but his breathing did.

Virgil was the one who ended the embrace once again, pulling back to look at Patton’s face. Reality settling in. Patton was looking at him, his cheeks having gained a warmer glow. “Are you… Are you okay?”

Virgil’s breath was shaky. “I don’t… I don’t know.” he said, “I’m fucking terrified.”

“It’s… It’s some news for sure, huh.” Patton said, “We’re… We’re soulmates!”

“We are.” Virgil said quietly, “That’s… That’s new.”

“Things don’t… Things don’t have to change, you know.” Patton said, “We’re soulmates, but we’re around each other anyway.”

Virgil chuckled dryly. “I don’t know what I want.” he said.

“That’s okay!” Patton said, looking at the top of Virgil’s head, “We can figure it out. It’s gonna be okay. Can I… May I touch your hair.”

Virgil burst out laughing. “What?”

Patton blushed. “I’m sorry, that came out weird, it's just… It looks really nice and I always wanted to know what it felt like, and…”

Virgil couldn’t stop the smile creeping up on him. “Sure.” he said.

Patton gave a relieved sigh, and reached out to ruffle Virgil’s hair. His eyes lit up. “It’s so soft!” he said, “It’s even nicer than I expected.”

Virgil snorted, feeling something resembling a blush on his face, which was strange and out of character of him, in his opinion. “Thanks.” he mumbled quickly.

“I’m… I’m surprised, but also not surprised? That you’re my soulmate.” Patton said quietly, as if he was talking to himself.

Virgil breathed, “What… What do you mean?”

Patton giggled breathlessly. Awkwardly. “It’s… I don’t know. I just, really love spending time with you. You make everything feel so much more vivid and interesting. I love your little jokes and your smile… I don’t know how to explain it. It just… It feels like there’s a connection.”

Virgil didn’t really know what to say to that.

Because Patton enjoyed spending time with him and that seemed so strange and far-fetched that he always had to reevaluate the thought in his head a hundred times over and over, whenever it dared to sneak by. It filled Virgil with a bunch of strange and happy feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with any of them. Virgil liked Patton. Virgil cared about Patton. Virgil wouldn’t mind spending every single day with Patton, and that thought terrified him, because that was dangerously close to having a meaningful connection.

And they were soulmates, so maybe there was no backing out of the emotional vulnerability, Virgil had somehow digged himself into.

“I like you too, Pat…” Virgil said, his voice sounding slightly choked and strange, because all the words seemed to hesitate to come out. “You… You suck way less than most people.”

Patton smiled and laughed. That nice laugh he had, that made Virgil feel at home, because Virgil had gotten attached. “Don’t be so harsh on people, Virge. They surprise you sometimes. You can’t say they’re inherently bad.”

Virgil huffed, and smiled back hesitantly. “Don’t get all philosophical on me Pat.”

Patton looked at his arm once again, at the little mark Virgil had left, because they were soulmates. And Patton smiled. “I’m happy it was you.” he said somewhat quietly, as if he was afraid the words would be counterproductive.

Virgil glanced at the palm of his hand. It was surreal to look at the blue color on there, because it was so small, but it meant so much. It was supposed to mean so much.

And Virgil didn’t know what he wanted it to mean.

Patton knew that. Patton understood that. That was more than Virgil ever thought he’d get, and it made him feel… Content.

Well, content was a strong word, but he almost felt as if it applied. At least for a few fleeting moments, and perhaps it would for many more.

“I’m… I’m glad it was you too.” he whispered, a little surprised at his own words.

Patton looked Virgil in the eyes, looking for a sign of something perhaps. A way to interpret Virgil’s words.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Do you want anything to change?” he asked, “It’s alright if you do. I wanna know what you want.” he closed his eyes and swallowed, “Please.”

Patton hesitated. He bit his lip. “I… I’m not sure if I know either, honestly.” he said, crossing his arms slightly, rubbing the side of one with his other, “I just wanna be with you I guess. Somehow. I don’t think I need anything sudden, I just wanna be around you. See how it goes, and let things change if they do.”

Virgil exhaled, something that resembled relief. “Yeah.” he said, letting an awkward smile appear on his face, “Yeah that sounds nice.”

Virgil didn’t like change. He hated when things were inevitable, and he couldn’t stand things being out of his control.

But he liked Patton. He loved when Patton smiled and laughed, and he enjoyed how Patton listened and respected Virgil’s thoughts and boundaries. He loved being there for Patton when he needed it, and he loved how it never felt like an exchange, but rather just giving. Both of them giving, because they wanted to give.

And Virgil was still scared. Terrified. But he found that maybe he could take it, as long as Patton stayed by his side.

No, Virgil didn’t like the idea of soulmates.

But Virgil wanted Patton. He wanted Patton to be a part of his life, and maybe, it seemed, Patton wanted to be a part of his too.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #moxiety #qpr moxiety #platonic moxiety #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #dramaticwriting

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brandstifter-sys · 4 years

Text

Sonnets

Word Count: 2144 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety with some Creativitwins

Rating: T+

Warnings: Sexual themes, brotherly angst, talk of death

Roman finds a journal and assumes it’s Remus’ but when Remus says it’s not his Roman leaves him with it, so he has some time to read. Little does he know what will come from perusing that book.

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Remus was chaos, he didn't bend to anyone else's rules unless he wanted to. Almost nothing was off the table for him—gore, violence, monsters, pain—but he had limits. Don't steal Janus' hat when he isn't holding or wearing it, because an angry Janus meant silence, or worse being silenced and alone. Never ever get too gross with Patton, because he will scream and cry and flash those hideous puppy dog eyes! Stay at least 6 feet away from Logan or suffer through a lecture on how little influence the duke held. Never let Roman hurt himself so bad he can't heal. And never ever read Virgil's diaries.

Remus was happily throwing shurikens at a large canvas with paint balloons, having fun despite only hitting the ones filled with red. It was just a little annoying to only have one color on a solid white background, and even more annoying when it was Roman's colors staring at him. Roman hadn't been much of a good brother in the past few years, and it stung to think about how they drifted apart. How almost everyone ran from him to Roman. It hurt to be so lonely.

"Greetings, Your Disgrace!" Roman said as he entered the castle atrium suddenly. Remus threw another star that lodged itself in the canvas with a splash and a thump, and grinned manically at the unsettled prince.

"Well if it isn't MacBetty himself!" Remus said and cracked his neck sharply, "What hell did I probably unleash on you today?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Roman scoffed and held up a black journal with sparkling green trim, "You left this in the common area."

"Did I?" he asked and righted his head with a sickening pop. He was as bad as Roman about collecting cool journals and never filling them, so it could be his, even if he didn't recognize it. Roman handed it to him and crossed his arms.

"It would appear so. If Logan yells at me for leaving my notes lying about, he will certainly yell at me for yours."

Remus hummed softly and ran his fingers over the cover, ignoring the jab. The trim pricked his fingers as they glided over it. It was a nice journal, but definitely not something he conjured up. He supposed it might have been a gift, but that would mean someone made something for him—someone other than Janus, and maybe just one other side, but he remembered every gift Virgil ever gave him.

"He likes to yell. Are you sure this is mine?" he questioned, still learning the rise and fall of the trim.

"I assumed, considering the design. I don't like to open other people's journals," Roman answered. Remus knew he was scared of leafing through it, probably expecting some security monster popping out the second he opened it. He didn't blame him for that one, but it stung nonetheless.

"Me neither, but now I'm curious!" Remus laughed and opened to a random page. It was all hand-written poetry. Interesting!

"It's a poetry book! Wanna hear one? It could be a hint!" Remus wiggled his eyebrows. Roman let out a short sigh but went tense.

"I have other things to do. I came to drop off the book and now I must depart. Farewell." Roman bowed and sank out with flourish. He left far too quickly for comfort.

"Love you too, nice seeing you again, don't be a stranger," Remus pouted and went back to his room, too bummed to paint anymore.

He rose up and flopped on his bed with the journal open. Some angsty poetry might make him feel better. He got comfy and let his eyes traverse the page

My mouth is dry Sugary sweet and kind Choking me with my own tongue Out of everything, that saccharine isn't a lie

Remus pursed his lips. That one was really short, and with the talk of lies, he had to wonder. Was this actually Roman's? Did he want to share this with him covertly? Remus bit back a squeal at the thought and kept reading with some hope.

Lost in translation Obstinate and selfish Get over yourself Avoidance builds pressure Never any quiet when you snap

Remus giggled, knowing exactly who that one was about! Someone pissed the author off! And he knew that that person pissed Roman off a lot! He turned the page, expecting to learn more about this author, believing they could be his brother wanting to reconnect. He was a little surprised to find a skull doodled in the corner but brushed it off.

I want to pull him from the shadows and into my heart Will he see me? Will he disappear if I reach for his hand? Am I blind and staggering in desperation? Someone like him would be better without me Someone like him deserves someone better No star deserves to succumb to a black hole

That one hurt. Remus wiped away the tears forming in his eyes. He knew that feeling all too well. The one side who made him want to obey, the side that made his heart flutter like the bats in his tummy—that side was his best friend and then he left. He missed his partner in crime and he wished that Virgil would come back, just for a visit, and spend time with him again. But that wasn't happening and he had a whole book to read about an author he could really connect with, Roman or not.

He went through several poems that were angsty and angry, full of self-loathing. With each piece he read, the more he doubted it was Roman. The language wasn't formal enough and it didn't match his style at all! It was good stuff, most of it, and Remus kind of hoped the real author would be willing to collaborate with him. He liked this guy.

Like the sun overhead, you're on fire The big man has a little golden boy Pompous and cruel with haughty desire Which one of us are you gonna destroy?

Darkness and shadow that cannot be lit Overshadowing you to make it stop Use that hubris to land another hit I'll keep fighting until the curtains drop

You think you're Hercules when you're so weak Rise like a phoenix Icarus, just try Maybe you'll learn what it means to be meek Until that day you won't see me cry

I will rain on your parade every damn time Stopping stupidity is my worst crime

Okay so that one threw him for a loop. It would take a few minutes to piece it together. Remus decided that he could assume it was about Roman this time. Princey loved the classics and he had a pet phoenix. This author had some beef with him! Remus hoped for more anger at Roman with the next poem, because he certainly had enough pent up with the snobby, best-friend stealing, always got the spotlight prince. He didn’t get that catharsis, he got more than he bargained for.

I find comfort in breathing in his scent Even if his hands are mine for tonight If he asks, I don't know where his clothes went What I'm doing is wrong but it feels right

If I close my eyes I can taste his kiss A dream in a nightmare clouding my mind Hearing my name on his lips would be bliss To pin him down, our fingers intertwined

I long to stare into piercing jade pools So he thinks of me while I stake my claim I want him to never want to let go I always thought that love was just for fools But on his green sash, love, or something, came I almost regret that he'll never know

This was definitely not a book the author wanted to share. Remus was pretty sure that his face was going to melt off. Now he really wanted to figure out who wrote these! Someone actually liked him like that at some point! It definitely wasn't Princey in that poem—Remus still had the sash mentioned! He was just the tiniest bit turned on, but most of his hype went into his famous wiggles.

"You're so dead!"

Remus jolted up and beamed. Virgil never stopped by anymore, so when he popped up threateningly, Remus was too happy to care or put the pieces together.

"And how do you wanna kill me? I have some suggestions!" he sang and shimmied. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms.

"Have Janus wipe your memory and give it back."

"What, the book?" Remus questioned and held it up. Virgil snatched it and held it to his chest protectively. Remus' eyes widened in horror.

"You wrote all that?! And I read it!? Oh no no no no no! I had no idea—I'll get Hisster Myde and scrub it away with steel wool! Dammit I am so sorry, Sca–Virgil!" Remus yelped and got up to pace. His only rule about Virgil, broken! The only rule he wanted to follow—tarnished!

"Were you about to call me 'Scabby Doo' again?" Virgil scoffed, hiding the fear and hurt he felt.

"No, 'Scare Bear,' something kinda cute but that’s not important right now!" Remus answered, "I read your stuff without asking! I might be a crazed Camus Stranger boy, but I have some standards!"

"Remus. Breathe. You're gonna wipe this trash from your memory and it'll be okay," Virgil tried to soothe him, only for the duke to go rigid.

"Trash!?" Remus snarled and spun on his heels and marched up to Virgil until the lumbering emo hit the wall, confused and scared.

"It's not trash! I know trash! I eat it for breakfast! That book holds some of the best stuff my critical creative ass has read in ages!" Remus snapped and glared up at him with a fire in his eyes.

"What?"

"Those poems are great! I was gonna find the author and beg on my knees like a needy subby bitch to collab with him because holy shit! I felt something with each one!"

"Even the one with the skull doodle on the page?" Virgil squeaked, his face a beautiful shade of red. Remus smiled sadly.

"Yeah, that one hit a little too close to home. I got all teary eyed. Thinking about it now after reading that saucy sonnet, it really hurts!"

"I uh—" Virgil stammered, "I'm, uh, 'm sorry for the sash and the whole—"

"If you apologize for anything else I am going to lip wrestle that apology away!" Remus cut him off, "Because dammit, Virgil, I love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore. No more self-hate and no more doubting yourself."

"Puppy," Virgil said and finally took back some control, guiding Remus back and having him sit down, "I can't promise I'll be able to stop that completely, but if you can stand a little bit of it, I wouldn't mind making that collab a date."

"Really!?" Remus grinned making Virgil's eyeshadow turn purple, "Can we paint too? And watch scary movies? And make out? And then try and woo each other with some dark prose until one of us caves and asks the other to be his boyfriend? And then f—"

"Yeah," Virgil cut him off and pressed a finger to Remus' lips, "Except for the part about caving. Will you–I mean, only if you want to, would you–and it’s cool if you say ‘no’ since things might be a little weird but—”

“Band-aid, Emoraptor!” Remus cut him off, like he used to do back in the day when Virgil started down one of his nervous tangents.

“Maybe be my boyfriend now?" Virgil said quickly and winced.

"Yes!" Remus cheered and dragged Virgil into a hug, tumbling on the sheets, "Loom over me like a cypress tree and stay with me until I taste death for a night."

"Stay here and cuddle until we pass out like touch starved gremlins? Only if you visit me in the abyss until this world calls," Virge mused and wrapped his arms around the duke, curling around him protectively.

"And then the next," Remus hummed softly and kissed his hand, “But you’re always in my dreams!” Virgil buried his face in Remus’ neck and smiled against his skin. Who would have thought that they would wind up here?

Roman sat on his bed and stared at the collage of pictures he had on the wall. In the very center was an old drawing of him and Remus in front of a castle. He sighed wistfully and stared at it, admiring Remus' work. He hoped that sneaking into Virgil's room was worth it—he wanted Remus to be happy even if he couldn't provide that joy. Maybe one day he’d be able to, but until then, he hoped he got his best friend and brother together to make some amends if not more.

#remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #dukexiety #creativitwins #roman sanders #sex mention tw #angst tw #creativitwins angst #sandyscribed #ask to tag

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my-happy-little-bean · 4 years

Text

Do The Cooking By The Book

pairings: LAMP/CALM words: 6013 warnings: swearing, alcohol, implied panic attacks, small burn mention, general angst summary: patton bakes when he’s sad and nowadays, no amount of chewy chocolate chip cookies would be able to cover that up.

or: the five times patton bakes something for the others and the one time he can’t.

a/n- hello! welcome to part 2 of that series i mentioned before called ‘let’s indulge bean in their slightly low quality, very personal fics’ (maybe i should actually make this an actual series on ao3 lol) :’)

i have been having a bit of writer’s block between this patton/janus one shot and golden slumbers (there's just o n e more scene i need to figure out, trust me it's haunting my every move), so i decided to write a bit of a fresh warm up instead! and by warm up, i mean i started writing it in the beginning of july and it somehow spiralled into a big thing, like they always do :’)

inspired by my declining mental health and my unhealthy obsession with baking focaccia at 2 am :)

p.s – later there's a [1] that's supposed to be a footnote but the formatting just said no so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

read on ao3 ~

enjoy!

-----------------------------

~ patton’s chewy chocolate chip cookies ~

ingredients:

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

0 teaspoon club soda

2 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened (or melted, like my heart around my honeybees <3)

1 3/4 cups packed dark brown sugar (must be working out ;) )

1/4 cup granulated sugar sugar, honey honey (except no honey :P)

2 large eggs, room temp.

2 teaspoons vanilla extract (and not any extra-ct ;) )

2 cups Virgil-esque chocolate chips*

*semi-sweet! ^v^

––

“Holy shit, Pat.”

Patton smiled, all toothy and wide. He was still standing beside the couch Roman was lounging on, holding up the tray with his pastel blue oven mitts.

“You like it?” he beamed. Roman nodded, scrambling over the armrest to grab another.

“Umfh, yeah,” Roman replied, crumbs spilling out of his mouth. “Ovfiously.”

“...What?”

Roman quickly swallowed and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Patton laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No worries! I think it’s a- dough -able.”

“...If you weren’t holding cookies right now, I'd say that you suck. But you're holding cookies, so..."

There was a pause that Patton quickly filled with laughter, even if it suddenly felt like he was struggling to carry the sound out of his chest and into the air.

Luckily, Logan walked into the room before Patton could say anything that was affected by the spontaneous pang in his chest. His eyes lit up upon seeing him.

“Logan!” He cheerily dashed over to the other side of the room, holding up the tray to Logan’s face. “A treat for my smart cookie?”

Logan reeled back slightly to avoid getting hit by the edge of the tray. He pushed up his glasses.

“Ah, thank you, dear. But I do believe it is too early for copious amount of sugar consumption–”

“Just try one, cookie-tita,” Roman cut him off, “you and I know that you want one.”

Logan frowned at him over Patton’s shoulder, then looked back at Patton. He gave Logan the widest smile he could muster, which made him sigh.

“While Roman’s reference was a bit of a stretch–” He eyed the cookies one more time, then looked back at Patton– ”I suppose I will agree to half a cookie.”

“Goody!” Patton said brightly. “Or should I say, gooey?”

“You shouldn’t.”

Logan picked one cookie up and took a small bite. His eyes softened, which made Patton’s heart melt.

“...Oh sweet Einstein,” he muttered, grabbing one more cookie off the tray before making a beeline to the coffee machine in the kitchen. Patton just smiled to himself, admittedly a bit proud.

Before he turned around to go see if Logan needed help, he heard shuffling coming up beside him. He looked over and smiled.

“Virge! You’re awake!” Virgil pulled one side of his headphones up as Patton presented him the tray. “Cookie?”

“Uh, sure.” He took one and nodded when he had a few bites, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Pat.”

“No problemo!” he chirped, wandering back to the living room. Virgil trailed behind him, now slipping his headphones around his neck.

“Did you bake these this morning?” Virgil asked as Patton set the tray on the coffee table in front of Roman, who readily lunged at it. Patton turned and smiled brightly at him.

“Yeah! I mean...it was technically morning, heh.”

Virgil blinked in that knowing way Patton was all too familiar with. Patton mentally cursed.

“What do you mean by technically–”

Before he could say anything else, Patton clapped his hands together.

“Well, I’m glad you all liked the cookies.” He tried not to think about how loud his own voice suddenly was. “Feel free to finish them!”

Roman frowned, mid-bite of his third cookie.

“Don’t you want any, sweetheart?"

“No no! I chip-ed in so much effort in baking them that I tired myself out, heh!” He faked a yawn. “I’ll just go to my room!”

Roman just laughed, stuffing another cookie in his mouth with a shrug. Logan wandered back from the kitchen, conjuring a book as he walked and nodding at Patton. He grabbed another cookie and sat on the couch beside Roman, leaning against his shoulder.

Virgil just looked at him as he left, eyes narrowed and steely.

They’re so perfect, Patton thought as he sunk out to go to his room, leaving the three of his boyfriends alone with a wave. Perfect just the way they are.

Without me.

-----------------------------

~ ‘i got ya’ focaccia ~

ingredients:

for the garlic-infused mixture

1/2 cup extra-virgin, PG-rated olive oil

2-3 minced garlic cloves

0 garlic gloves (haha i’m hilarious)

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried

1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary or 1 teaspoon dried

1/4 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

for the bread

1 cup warm water

2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)

1/4 teaspoon honey honey, you are my candy girl–

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt (maybe it’s wearing some nice clothes!) (sea what i did there? i’m funny, aren’t i?)

––

Virgil heard a soft ‘ shit ’ coming from the kitchen.

Don’t panic, it’s probably all fine, he thought, slowly walking towards the entrance to the kitchen. It’s totally not some burglar, ready to steal all our spices and blow them into my eye, making me blind. It can’t be, we’re not even real so how could there be a burglar–

As he neared the dimmed light coming from the kitchen, however, a quiet sob broke through his thoughts.

A chill ran through him. The sob was muffled, squeaky, and admittedly a bit pathetic in terms of how there was an attempt to cover it up. Almost like the sound a puppy would make when someone accidentally stepped on their paw.

All too familiar.

“Patton?” he murmured, turning on another light in the kitchen.

Patton was hunched over the counter space beside the oven, next to a saucepan on a burner; which was emitting a strong garlic and herb smell.

That wasn’t what Virgil was focusing on, though; but rather the way Patton held his hand close to his chest.

Patton spun around on his heel when his name left Virgil’s tongue, his eyes wide and glazed over, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Sh– Virgil! Hi!” He laughed nervously. “What are you doing here? It’s like, 2 am!”

Virgil dug his hands in his sweater pockets. “I’m always up at 2 am. What are you doing here?”

He watched as Patton’s smile forcefully tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I’m baking focaccia! Wanna join?”

There was a slight crack in his cheeriness. Virgil took a step closer.

“What happened to your hand?”

Patton looked down at it, then held up his index finger, which was slightly red.

“Just accidentally brushed up against the pan!” he chuckled. “It was still hot. ”

“How could you brush up against the pan,” Virgil deadpanned, hopping onto the kitchen island. “Roman’s asleep.”

Patton blushed as he ran his finger under cold water.

“Grab the flour and pour a cup of it in that bowl,” he said, shaking his hand dry and going back to the stove. “I think that the yeast and honey had enough time in the water. I’m just about done with the garlic stuff.”

“Okay, honey,” Virgil hummed, already scooping the flour in the measuring cup.

Patton turned to face him over his shoulder with a smile.

“Gosh, you get funnier at 2 am, kiddo.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s easy to cater to your humour, babe. Though no one does it as good as you do.”

Patton’s blush intensified, and it made Virgil feel a little more at ease that he could still make him flustered like that.

“So really, Pat,” Virgil asked, stirring in the flour as Patton went over with a smaller cup of the garlic-infused mixture. “Why are you up so late baking focaccia of all things?”

A pause. Patton finished pouring in his cup before turning his back away, his head low.

“No reason!” he said brightly, though Virgil suddenly felt edges of darkness to each word. “I thought it’d be nice. Plus Roman loves my focaccia. Thought I could surprise him!”

A pause. Virgil wanted to press him more, but there was something about Patton’s cracked smile that advised him against it. He knew a warning when he saw one.

“He likes anything you bake him, babe,” he said instead, adding salt and the rest of the flour before beginning to knead the dough in the bowl. “You could bake him a frog and he’d be grateful.”

“Now Virge, I think you’re mixing the twins up again,” Patton giggled. Virgil smirked, even if he felt like he shouldn’t. There was such heavy air in the kitchen; a positive emotion wouldn’t last a second.

“You sure you’re okay, Patton?”

When Patton finally faced him, it felt like the air was sucked out of him. Now that he was standing under the light, he felt like he saw all of him more clearly. There were dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. Did he always have those? And under his eyes were bags of purple, dark and stormy; clear evidence that maybe Patton had been late-night baking before.

However, that broken smile was what haunted Virgil the most.

“I’m just peachy, Virge!” he chirped, conjuring up a towel and covering the bowl of dough Virgil probably over-kneaded. Patton’s eyes seemed to drill right into his own. “ Positive.”

Virgil numbly nodded as Patton clapped his hands.

“Well! Now we wait!” He smiled again at Virgil. “Want some coffee?”

-----------------------------

~ mushy gushy marshmallows ~

ingredients:

marshmallow base

2 cups of sugar

1/4 cup corn syrup

1 cup water (1/2 for for dissolving gelatin)

7 tsp / 3 packets of gelatin

1/4 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp of vanilla extract

dusting powder

1 cup confectioner’s sugar

1/2 cup cornstarch

*note to future patton: don’t make these, actually. they suck.

––

“Fuck!”

Logan heard the curse from the kitchen, lifting his head from his book and immediately smelling for any smoke.

“Patton?”

There was no smoke. Instead, just another string of curses. Logan sighed; it was not like the moral side to swear. But reprimanding him didn’t sound like a wise idea.

Instead, he set his book down on the coffee table in front of him and wandered to the kitchen.

“Is everything oka–”

He stopped mid-sentence and looked at the sight in front of him.

Surrounding him was a sugary mess, with many bowls of gelatin and water littering the entire counter. Logan could only assume they were failed attempts at whatever was being made today.

In the middle of this mess was Patton, holding the hand mixer up in the air with tears streaming down his face.

“...Let’s put the hand mixer down, shall we?”

Logan moved forward before Patton could even respond, slowly lowering his hand that held the mixer. Patton just sobbed, dropping it on the floor in defeat. Logan tried not to panic at the suddenly broken hand mixer. Logically, they could summon a new one. It was extra energy, sure, but it was fixable.

However, he wasn’t quite sure he could fix the sight in front of him.

“Is there something wrong, starlight?” he murmured, ushering Patton toward the kitchen table. Patton just sighed.

“It’s the stupid marshmallows.” Patton threw his apron onto the floor as he sat down. “I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong. I tried everything. And they– they just suck.”

Logan blinked, almost dumbfounded. In all the years he spent together with Patton, he had never seen him so distraught. Not even his arguably-worse decisions elicited a response similar to the frustration he was currently witnessing. Patton always wore a smile and carried on. Any mistake was just a mistake; nothing more to it.

So what was different here?

“I even tried summoning a candy thermometer,” Patton continued. Logan tried his best to be present, even if his worry was slowly overtaking all of his senses. “Those things are stupid! I thought–”

“Hey,” Logan finally said, cutting Patton off by holding his hands into his. “Let’s slow down for a minute, okay?”

When Patton looked up at him, his heart broke.

Patton’s eyes were glassy with tears, some kind of foreign look not too far behind his irises. The absence of his smile was even more unsettling.

He looked completely different; as if someone took one of the loves of his life and replaced him without even leaving a trace.

Suddenly, he was filled with what he only assumed was longing.

“Patton,” he said slowly, looking down at their intertwined hands, “please don’t worry about the marshmallows. They’re just marshmallows. Clearly there is something else that is–”

He cut himself off as he heard Patton’s breath hitch. When he looked up, there was a faraway look in his eyes.

And that was when it clicked. That foreign look…

It was fear. Fear and guilt, all wrapped up in one.

The face of someone who just got caught.

Patton quickly pulled his hands away from Logan’s, stumbling onto his feet and muttering something about cleaning up later under his breath as he sunk out.

Logan blinked, taken completely aback. He quickly re-evaluated every word he said that could have led to him leaving.

“They’re just marshmallows.”

Logan winced. Shit. Perhaps Patton was still in his ‘in his feelings phase; not his ‘in need of rational solution’ phase. He should have known better and now, Patton was further away from him than he was before.

Logan then thought about the guilt that struck Patton’s face before he could confront him; the fear in his eyes when Logan dared to dig a little deeper.

Patton wasn’t far away, actually.

Patton was just gone; and Logan didn’t know where to look to find him.

-----------------------------

~drunken bitter butter rumcakes~

ingrdents:

for the cupcakes:

1 cup of choped picans

1/2 cup coconut flake

yellow cake mix, lots of it probs

some vanilla puddin apparently? i dont know why

eggs i dont care how much fuck it

1/2 milk

vegetable oil (optional cuz it sounds gros)

rum

for the bitter rum glaze:

some butter and sugar

more rum

rum

for the frosting

confictione confecion confectioniser’s powdered sugar

soft buttter

vanilla extract

rest of the bottl eof rum probably

––

It only took a crash from the kitchen for Roman to realize that Logan and Virgil were right: something was wrong with Patton.

Virgil had been the first one to express his concern, and it was right on the day Patton baked them all cookies. Patton had since baked many more cookies; which for some reason, only intensified his worry. Roman didn’t think much of it at first. Virgil, bless his soul, always held a bit of his paranoia close to his chest. Plus, Patton’s cookies were the best! There wasn’t much to complain about. A few days later, Virgil mentioned something weird about Patton’s focaccia; but even that admittedly didn’t raise any concern from Roman.

It was when Logan mentioned the marshmallow incident that Roman knew something might be off.

The two had warned him that going to the kitchen late at night could possibly bring some less than ideal sights, but that only drew Roman closer; like a beautiful moth attracted to light. If Patton was truly upset, Roman had to be there! He knew that the others didn’t know much about navigating the small crises Patton would have every now and then, but Roman did! It was Patton, after all! Roman had experience — and he just had to play it by the book.

But when he finally walked into the kitchen upon hearing the source of the crash, he was greeted with something he never quite saw before.

Patton was on the ground, holding a long, glass bottle by its neck and a bowl—with all its contents—was splattered on the floor beside him.

Roman stood there, almost dumbfounded. Patton didn’t even realize he was there before he looked up and blinked a few times.

Then, Patton started to cry.

“Oh, sunshine,” Roman murmured, sitting next to him on the floor. The strong stench of alcohol filled the air beside Patton, and Roman saw a glimpse of a rum label on the bottle. It was half empty.

“M’sorry,” Patton mumbled under his breath, immediately resting his head on Roman. “Didn’t–” He hiccuped– ”Didn’t mean to make noise.”

“Shh, mi amor, it’s okay.” Roman stroked his hair slowly, going through the familiar motions of comforting his boyfriend. “I understand. Let me help you, okay?”

Another sob wracked through Patton’s body.

“I– I don’t deserve your help.” The words came out in a slur. Roman had a slight feeling that Patton didn’t use all the rum in his bottle for baking.

“Nonsense! Of course you deserve help,” Roman whispered, twirling a strand of his hair. “I’m here to help you. I always am.”

Patton leaned into the touch, though the weight of his head seemed heavier than usual; like he was unintentionally pressing himself onto Roman, limp against his shoulders.

“S’fine,” he said after a few more teary hiccups, trying to push himself onto his feet. “Gotta– gotta finish cupcakes. Tryna new recipe.”

Roman frowned. “The cupcakes can wait until tomorrow, Patton; I’m going to bring you to bed and clean up–”

“No!”

Roman jumped at the sheer volume of Patton’s voice, suddenly nervous that he’d wake the rest of them up.

I can handle this myself, he thought. I always have been able to, this isn’t different.

“No, I don’t– I don’t need your help.” Patton stumbled up to his feet, leaning his arms on the kitchen counter like it was a life raft. He buried his head in his hands. “I don’t need your help, I don’t need anyone’s help, I just need– I just need to finish this, then–”

“Darling, I don’t think–”

“No thinkin!” He pushed his index finger onto Roman’s lips. “No thinking, that’s for Logan. Tonight, we’re not thinking of anything– not thinking about anything anymore.”

Roman was taken aback.

“Patton, we can continue,” he said gently, “but only if you sit down first and let me grab you some water, okay?”

Patton lifted his head to face Roman, his eyes red from the tears.

“Why do you take care of me?” he suddenly asked, his voice a small whimper. Roman froze as he continued. “Why do– why do any of you care?”

“Patton, I–”

“I don’t do my fucking job right anyway,” Patton hissed. “I’m– I’m broken junk in Thomas’ brain! I can’t even do the right and wrong thing, I can’t– I can’t make him happy. I can’t make you guys happy– ‘n I love you guys! God, I can’t even make stupid cupcakes–”

“None of that is true, Pat,” Roman tried to protest. “You make us extremely happy, you make me– ”

“You’re a liar!” Patton cried, turning on his heel to stare at Roman, whose heart dropped. “You’re– you’re a fucking liar, Roman.”

The air suddenly felt too thick for both of them to be breathing. Patton must have noticed that because as soon as the words left his tongue, he covered his mouth with his hands with teary eyes.

“...Patton, please sit down. You’re not thinking straight.”

“M’not–”

“I know.” Roman tried to keep his voice levelled as he spoke. “Just...just sit down, okay? We’re going to talk it all through.”

Patton just stared at him blankly for what seemed like an eternity before finally speaking up.

“I’m sorry.”

And before Roman could plead for him one last time, Patton sunk out, the bottle of rum still in his hand.

Roman blinked at the spot Patton once stood in, all shaky and teary like he was facing an inky, twisted nightmare. His words echoed in his head and while Roman knew it was best not to take it all to heart, he still felt the sting of each curse.

What kind of a hero was he?

He then looked at the splattered mixture on the floor and sighed. It looked a lot like cake mix. And if there was rum in that, it probably would’ve been good. A shame, really.

His eyes then spotted a book on the kitchen counter, open to a page that had a bit of rum on it judging by the smell. Roman frowned, going over to grab it. He closed it to look at the cover.

It seemed to be Patton’s recipe book, judging by the baking-themed stickers littering the blue cover. When he opened it, he was greeted with pages of ingredients and instructions to make some of Patton’s signature baked goods. The first few pages made Roman smile; there were puns besides some of the ingredients and even cheesy references to him, Logan, and Virgil. It seemed very Patton-esque.

But as he went further through the pages, the tone seemed to shift. There was an absence of puns for one of the recipes, and Roman knew he could’ve at least hit a few. And when he got further than that, he just stopped writing measurements all together. The rum cupcake recipe, which seemed like a recent entry, was barely decipherable.

He flipped back a few pages and saw words scratched out; sentences that didn’t belong in a typical cookie recipe. And the corners of some of the pages were crisp, as if water dried on them over time.

Roman’s breath hitched as he closed the book. Something was wrong, and for the first time he didn’t know what to do.

-----------------------------

~ whats good-berry muffins ~

ingredients

who

cares

theyre

just

stupid

muffins

berries, probably

––

“Roman, he did not mean what he said,” Logan said as Roman paced in front of him. “Perhaps you caught him at a bad time.”

“A bad time?” Virgil echoed incredulously, turning around on the couch to face Logan. “Dude, he was wasted. That’s not a bad time, that’s a ‘code red’ time.”

“Besides, shouldn’t you be advocating for intervention, lo -ve of my life?” Roman asked, still pacing. “You seemed pretty upset about the now-called ‘marshmallow incident’.”

Virgil gave Logan a look and Logan looked down, almost embarrassed.

“...I have since realized that my actions were not ideal, but that is to no fault of my own. Holding guilt does no good, and neither does intervening when one does not want to be...intervened upon.”

“Okay first off, even Janus lies more subtly than that.” Logan didn’t make eye contact with him, but stiffened at Virgil’s words. “And second of all, Patton needs support. We’re supposed to be there for him – not just waiting for the most dire sign. The plane is crashing, Logan; you can’t just put your seatbelt on and wait. You have to do something.”

“Actually, if an airplane is crashing and you are instructed to put your seatbelts on, it is of your best interest that you–”

“For Odin’s sake,” Roman groaned. “I love you, my nerd in shining armour; but you got to learn what a metaphor is.”

Logan fell quiet as Roman continued.

“We need to do something. This isn't a typical Patton dilemma. And I know he doesn’t want to talk about it just out of the blue so we can’t confront him. We have to figure out a way for him to trust us.”

“He loves us,” Virgil grumbled, though hints of anxiety singed the edges of his words. “Shouldn’t the trust be there already?”

“Virgil, he loves us an infinite amount,” Logan said reassuringly, finally settling back into the chair. He pushed up his glasses. “In fact, he probably loves us too much to want to worry us or cause us any emotional strain.”

“But it wouldn’t cause us– well, whatever you said!” Virgil protested. He slumped over, his elbows pressed into his thighs. He looked defeated. “I just want to help him. I can’t stand seeing him like this.”

“I know, stormcloud,” Roman murmured, sitting down beside us. “But...but we can do this. Together. We always have and now, we will.”

Logan nodded, tapping his shoulder so Virgil could rest against it.

“Roman is correct. Besides, we do not even have to confront him. Perhaps confrontation is where part of this issue stems from. The trust is there, we just have to remind him that we are willing to, given that we are his partners. We just need to make a comfortable environment for–”

Suddenly, Virgil felt a small tug in his chest; as if something was pulling him downwards. His eyes widened and his breath hitched at the sensation. He knew where it was coming from.

“Guys, it’s Patton. Something’s wrong.”

In a flash, he sunk out, Logan and Roman soon following suit. Roman pulled out his sword just in case.

When they rose, they found themselves in Patton’s room; though it was less bright than usual. The fairy lights were flickering and swaying against the walls and the frames were all askew. It looked as if it was struggling to keep itself together.

And in the middle of the room was Patton, on the floor and tugging at his hair as he cried, heaving into each sob. Surrounding him were boxes of half-summoned muffin mix, as well as some sugar slowly fading out of existence. In front of him was his recipe book, tearstained and ripped at the edges.

Virgil immediately went to Patton’s side, scooping him up into his arms. Patton made no effort to protest, his body still clenched up from all the energy he was spending summoning the ingredients into his room. In the corner of his eye, he could even see the beginnings of what would be an oven.

“Patton,” Virgil heard Logan breathe out, still standing in the same spot behind them, almost in shock. “You are spending too much energy summoning all these things, your room nor your form cannot handle it. Why don’t you just go to the kitchen?”

Patton sobbed even more, tugging at his hair and curling up into Virgil’s chest. Virgil looked up at Logan over Patton’s hunched shoulders and just shook his head, his eyes flickering between him and Patton.

Logan then made a small ‘o’ shape with his mouth, slowly approaching the two on the floor and sitting cross-legged beside him. He made an attempt to lower Patton’s hands from his hair. Eventually, it turned into him rubbing small circles in Patton’s back with the palm of his hand, softly whispering “it’s okay” under his breath as he moved closer to him and Virgil.

Roman dropped his sword onto the floor and followed suit, grabbing a fluffy blanket from Patton’s bed and going behind his three boyfriends, laying the blanket over their shoulders as if he was shielding them from the unstable room surrounding them. He hovered over their shoulders for a while before kneeling down and hugging all three of them.

And as the ingredients slowly disappeared around them, the room began to fix itself. Patton could breathe a bit slower now, yet the others curled up into him like the warm blanket they were surrounded by.

Eventually, Patton realized that he was no longer crying; yet everyone stayed.

And then, Patton fell asleep; and they stayed for that too.

-----------------------------

~ Don’t Forget-ti That We Love You Funfetti Cake* ~

Ingredients:

For the cake

1 and 2/3 cup (210g) all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda (because so-da one for us!) [1]

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup (1 stick or 115 g) unsalted butter, melted

3/4 cup (150g) granulated sugar

1/4 cup (50g) packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup (60g) yogurt

3/4 cup (180ml) milk

1 Tablespoon (15ml) pure vanilla extract

2/3 cup (90g) sprinkles (nonpareils not recommended**)

For the buttercream

1 cup (2 sticks or 230g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature

3–4 cups (360-480g) confectioners’ sugar

1/4 cup (60ml) heavy cream

2 and 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

salt, to taste

*Virgil actually came up with this and thinks its so lame so thats why that’s the name LOL ~ Roman

[1] Roman wrote this pun but I am making the executive decision to retract this comment from the original script because it is not a necessary part of the recipe.

**can you tell that lo was the one who wrote the recipe ~ v

––

Patton tried his hardest to fight the pull coming from the kitchen.

It’s been a few days since the others found him in his room after his failed ‘bake muffins in isolation’ mission and Patton hadn’t dared to bake since. After all, if that incident wasn’t a good enough warning, the other times they found him in the kitchen were. He couldn’t let them see him like this again, what ‘this’ was.

The others thought they knew he was upset about something, but Patton didn’t know how to tell them that he didn't even know what he was feeling. He wasn’t upset, he wasn’t stressed; he was just feeling every feeling, all at once.

And he didn’t know what to do.

Baking was the only thing he could do when he felt like this. He longed to see a smile on Virgil’s face; to watch Logan actually eat and enjoy it rather than talking about how it didn’t matter that they ate; to laugh as Roman scarfed all of it down and ask for the recipe. The recipe book was actually going to be Roman’s gift for their anniversary. It made his heart ache even more knowing that it wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

When he felt everything or nothing at all, he would just bake and watch as the people he loved were filled with joy; and Patton, selfish as it is, would bask in the sunlight they radiated. If he kept baking and kept making them happy? Well, their light could never disappear.

But then, it did.

And Patton couldn’t bear to stand in the darkness of that kitchen anymore.

Still, the tugging persisted. Patton secretly hoped that him pitying himself would guilt whatever force was summoning him to the kitchen into giving up its pursuit.

Patton sighed, tugging the strings of his cat hoodie a little tighter so that the hood with wrap around his head. Maybe if he didn’t show his face, no one would see that he had been crying for an hour or so.

When he sunk out, he was met with a warmly-lit kitchen and a small cake in the middle of the dining table.

Patton frowned, walking towards it curiously. It was a very...rustic cake, if rustic still meant ‘messy’ in baking terms. The icing was a bit rough around the edges and he felt like the writing in icing was supposed to say “WE ❤ U” but the heart looked a bit like...well, Patton didn’t want to say.

Still, it was rather cute. There was a small plate beside it with a fork and a slice of the cake, dots of sprinkles baked into it. Patton smiled; it seemed to be a funfetti cake! His favourite!

Patton took a bite out of the cake without really thinking about it, his smile only growing at the sweet taste.

That was when he saw the book.

It laid neatly beside the plate, open to a page he didn’t quite remember writing. On it were various scribbles of bright red ink mixed with blue ink, along with a note written in pencil at the bottom of the page. He recognized the handwriting immediately as he picked up the book and began to tear up.

“Virgil, if he does not want to be summoned you cannot–”

Patton looked up from the book and saw Logan and Virgil suddenly at the entrance to the kitchen, stopped in their tracks with their eyes wide. They stared at each other for a brief moment before Virgil huffed, breaking the silence.

“See, Lo?” He kissed Logan's cheek and went on his tip-toes to ruffle his hair, much to Logan’s dismay. “Patton always comes down for cake.”

Patton dropped the book on the table and went over to sweep the two in a big hug, warm and tight and filled with love. Virgil fell quiet, but hugged back as Logan chuckled, patting Patton’s back.

“I sincerely hope the cake is to your standards, Patton,” he said as he pulled back. “I know that the aesthetics are not...well, they are not ideal; Roman spent so much time planning that he forgot to take into account the amount of time we’d actually have–”

“Logan?” Patton said, his voice still scratchy from being close to tears. “I love you. It’s perfect.”

Logan smiled brightly, the light from it almost blinding Patton.

“You guys didn’t have to bake for me!” Patton rubbed at his eyes with a small laugh. “I know baking a cake is no easy task, especially a funfetti cake!”

Virgil shrugged. “Logan led most of it. I kinda just made sure the kitchen didn’t explode. You know how those two can get."

Patton giggled. “Of course.”

“Roman should be on his way shortly,” Logan said, pushing up his glasses. “He is acquiring a few blankets and pillows from his room.”

Patton perked up at the thought. Roman’s blankets were made of the softest, most delicate velvet. The idea made his chest warm up.

“You guys did all of this for me?” Patton asked, his voice small.

“Of course we did, Pat.” Virgil held Patton’s hand and kissed it softly. “We love you. And we want to be here for you; even in the less-than-ideal times. You would do the same for us.”

“But we do not expect you to dwell on your emotions if you do not feel comfortable doing so,” Logan continued as he went over to the dining room to grab the cake. “If you would like, we can watch Disney movies and eat cake and provide a distraction. However, we want to reassure you that we are here to listen to whatever is troubling you, so whenever you feel comfortable, please do not hesitate to reach out.” He paused. "We do not have to find a solution right now. We can metaphorically 'sit in the feelings' for a while."

Patton smiled as Logan arrived at his and Virgil’s side. He kissed Patton’s shoulder softly before making his way to the living room, where Patton could hear Roman rambling about what movie would be the best to watch; and he heard Logan’s rebuttals come after.

And walking out of the kitchen and into the living room could only be described as a slow-moving blur. Patton watched as Roman spotted him and swept him up into a big hug, startling Virgil who was later brought into the hug as well. He watched as Logan gave them an amused smile, patting the blankets Roman arranged under a pillow fort in front of the TV, the opening to Tangled—Patton’s favourite—playing on the screen.

“I love you guys,” Patton murmured as he sat in the middle of the pillow fort, a plate with cake in front of him. Logan sat beside him with a nod, kissing his head as he summoned four forks with a smile. Roman and Virgil found their way somehow into the tangled mess of each other, cuddling against Logan and Patton until they were the closest humans, or sides, could ever get.

And no one complained when Patton paused the movie when Eugene got stabbed, crying a bit and telling them about how that scene sort of reminded him about what he felt the night before. No one left when Patton began to spiral a bit from that and sob into his cake, finally admitting to them his thoughts and how he had just been feeling everything.

And then, everyone stayed; even after that.

425 notes · View notes

fakeloveaskblog · 3 years

Note

Yay Loceit! (Ignore me, I have Loceit brainrot.) Can we see the zoo date? I would love to see the zoo date! (Is there a possibility of encountering Remus and make it a conjoined date? But, like, we don't tell him that's what it is? Because we don't wanna overwhelm the guy.)

(Words: 2712)

Janus: "Don't worry dear fiend. I have Loceit brainrot as well.....ALSo yes!! I totally haven't been waiting to tell someone all about the date. Pff totally not...So basically..."

When Janus arrived by the entrance of the zoo Logan was already waiting outside. They excitedly waved at each other before running up and clashing in a loving hug.

"So how is my one and only still not poisoned boyfriend doing?" Janus asked with a slight giggle in his voice.

“Very well now when I am with you”

Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His boyfriend already had a big grin on his lips but it only grew with the kiss.

He had on a blue suspenders, jeans and a t-shirt with some dude printed on it. The snake had tried to dress extra nice for his first ever date (!!) so he had his long black skirt and his finest purple shirt.

“That is...Jean-luc Picard..right?” He pointed at Logan’s t-shirt.

He flapped his hands around “Correct! I see that the star trek watching is teaching you a lot!”

“Well I do have a good teacher so of course”

The compliment left rosy blush on Logan’s cheeks. He took his boyfriend’s hand and intertwined their fingers before walking into the zoo. It had a big outside area for different larger animals and then a bulding to the west filled with frogs, fish, snakes, etc, etc.

Neither of them were that interested in the large animals. Though Janus did snark about how he looked like a seal and Logan stopped to take photos of the bears so he could show them to Patty later.

It wasn't until they passed a sign Logan suddenly let up into happy stims. He pointed to a house with big look through windows.

"Birds!"

He dragged Janus along with him to one of the windows. kestrels, subirds and kingfishers were flying around and vibing among trees and hung out fruit treats. A small crowd around them was also looking at the different birds.

Logan pointed between his boyfriend and the birds as if Jan hadn’t already seen them. He kept stimming his arm back and forth.

"Their aerodynamics are so fascinating don’t you think. Aside from humans they are the animal that are consistently closest to space and all because of their biology. They are like natural born astronauts”

“I respect any creature who can leave any and all social situations by flying away. Big dick move as some” Remus “says” Janus replied.

“If birds had too big dicks I think it would disturb their flying but yes I get your point” He let out a dreamy sigh “Oh what I would do to be able to inspect bird teeth, not to even talk about their wings!”

Logan squeezed his hand and smiled at him before dragging him over to the next bird. It was several big secretary birds. They were walking instead of flying.

"These ones are known for eating snakes" Lo commented "Are you feeling frightened?"

"Ah yes darling, I am already close to death from fear" He replied in as much of a monotone he could muster. They both chuckled.

Logan went on a long ramble about how the different biology of the species made the flying look and work different. His voice went a bit louder than it usually was, it always got like that when he was excited. Janus wouldn’t have minded it if there weren’t other people there.

He nodded along to his boyfriend’s rant but kept glancing to the people around them. Some of them were looking at Logan. Janus gulped. Suddenly holding his boyfriends hand hurt.

Janus quietly moved his hand away. His throat tightened. The people weren’t looking anymore but it felt like they did, like ants crawling up his skin. It had probably been a stupid idea to wear the skirt.

Obviously Logan noticed but he didnt say anyrhing about it. He finished his rant and asked "Do you want to reunite with your relatives- I mean look at the snakes now?"

"I uh “ He forced a confident smirk “Of course darling. It it prime time to return to my people!!”

They walked away from the birds and went down the sunny path towards the house that stored snakes among other things. It was lined by neatly cut trees and homes for mammals. They didn’t hold hands.

Janus kept fiddling with his gloves to the point of not even looking where he was walking. He bit the inside of his cheek until it was bleeding.

“Are you feeling alright?” Logan asked.

“Never been better!”

“If it is about the hand holding feeling nervous is nothing to be embarrassed about. When I first held hands with Patty I got so flustered I proceeded to walk into a swing and break my glasses”

Janus glanced around to the people around them “Ah yes that is definitely why I’m acting this way. Spot on dear”

His boyfriend looked in the same direction he did “Oh alright I understand now” He patted him on the shoulder “Well I will have you know I have taken part in multiple physical fights to protect Patty from harassement, I did win most of them. I will of course do the same thing for you”

He said it so casually Janus nearly lost it “Exscuse me wHAT?”

Logan leaned down so they were eye to eye and put his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders “Sweetheart I can and will break someone’s nose for you”

“That’s the most romantic thing someone has ever said to me”

“I would go for their kneecaps as well”

Janus clasped his hand over his heart and gasped in an overly dramatic tone “Oh such erotiscism you’re showing today!”

“I am legally obliged to show it off every now and then”

He straightened his back and continued to walk down the path. Janus hesitantly reached out to take his hand. Shame tugged at his heart but he buried his face against his boyfriend’s arm to try and ignore it. Logan gently moved his thumb up and down his skin in response.

“....I do still advise that you talk to Picani about it. I am aware it’s hard but if what you’ve told me about your mental health is true I believe it would be beneficial. I could help! I know Picani! Very intimately!”

“Darling please you don’t have to keep reminding me you’ve fucked my fake therapist” Janus sighed “I don’t know if I deserve to take up his time, I’m not That bad”

“Sweetie that is first degree bullshit” Logan replied very gently “There is scientifically no way to accurately compare two people’s mental healths to conclude which is worse. Trust me I did a study on it in college! Do I need to brag about my degree more?”

Janus let out a half hearted chuckle “I’ll think about it. Let’s focus on the snakes for now”

“Thinking about it is good enough for me” He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They entered the building. The first room was lit in a calming blue because of the giant windows showing off octopuses and rays swimming around. A sign was pointing over to the frog and snake rooms.

Janus looked around the room in awe and- HOLY HELL REMUS WAS THERE. He sat crosslegged on a bench in front of the octopuses. He had headphones on and was focusing on the sketchbook in his hands.

In a panic Janus started to drag his boyfriend with him to the frogs. Logan saw how flustered his boyfriend had suddenly become and looked around. He saw Remus as well and stopped in his tracks which forced his boyfriend to also stop.

“Does that happen to be the other guy you have a romantic interest in?”

“We’re here to look at snakes not at men Loganson!”

"Aww" Logan flapped his free hand "There are few things i like more than getting to see my partner being loved by someone else they love! We must talk to him"

"Oh- Oh god-" Janus let out while being tugged along.

Remus flinched when Logan shoved his ready to be shaken hand almost into his face. His whole body tensed to an uncomfortable degree.

"Greetings! I have no idea who you are!" Lo exclaimed.

He took off his headphones and looked up at him with panic in his eyes "Uh yeah" He saw Jan and immediately let out a breathe of relief. His shoulders relaxed slightly. "Hiya snakey~ Is This dude your snack?"

Janus was dying. He was dead. This was hell.

"NO! He's my sworn enemy! I'm here to use one of the sharks to kill him!"

Logan gasped "You are? How rude. Such a waste of the shark’s time when a bullet would do"

"Yeah!” Remus added “Anus! If that even is your real name-”

“It’s not”

“-I thought you would be much better at murder! Shark murder is sooo the 70's. Where's the orchestrated acrobatic dance knife throwing???"

Janus let out a dramatic huff "You simply don’t understand how hard it is to be a strong independent complete idiot and a serial murderer at the same time"

Logan nodded in sumpathy "Stranger would you like to accompany us on the rest of our zoo experience?"

He closed his sketchbook. Pages had been filled with doodles of the octopuses "Sure! I'm Remus by the way"

"Ah yes" They began to walk down the hallways lined by animal habitats. He held onto Janus’ hand "You were killed by your twin according to Roman mythology"

"I know!! That's why I chose it"

"Fascinating. I'm Logan. My parents chose it because of the X-man" His parents were also huge nerds.

“Hah dorks!” Remus said while skipping alongside them “Why are you holding hands? Is that a rule at zoos? Oh shit have I been doing zoos wrong???”

“I don’t think so. We are only doing it” Lo glanced at his still flustered boyfriend “.....to aggravate homophobes....yes...”

“COol!! Can I join?”

Logan nodded. Remus proceeded to take Janus’ free hand and happily tugged at it while skipping along. Jan had been wrong. NOW he was dying. His face was so hot from blushing he swore he could melt chocolate on it. The only way this could get ‘worse’ was if he suddenly grew a third arm and Remy appeared to hold it.

“Murder frogs!!” Remus exclaimed while stopping outside a window.

Inside sat several poison dart frogs in a pond surronded by leaves. They were in pretty neon colors and small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Remus jumped up and down from excitement before pressing his entire face up against the glass.

“They’re the most poisonous animal in the world!!! Snakey you should murder Lo with this one!! These bitches can kill like 10 people with 1 poison thingie!!! it’s so cool!!”

“I have read that they can live to up to 15 years so they have ample time to kill hundreds of people in their lifetime” Logan replied.

“!!!! You are SO right!!! That’s my life goal as well!” Remus turned to look around the room and his eyes turned as big as a cat’s “Fucking hell. Look at how THICK that lizard is!!!”

Janus kept being dragged around between the two while they explored the animals. The saw toads stacked on top of each other, insects swarming around and exactly 1 incredibly friendly chameleon who climbed across a tree to get as close to the glass as it could.

Just holding both of their hands was so much to take in but hearing them rant facts to each other while looking so so happy made his heart feel things he didn’t know it could feel. He wanted to kiss them both and beg them to please never ever shut up.

The zoo melted away as he daydreamed about living as a poly relationship. Getting to see them both be this close and happy every day. Getting to hold them both like this every day. Getting to fall asleep next to them. Oh he was so-

“Hey Snakey you’ve been pretty quiet” Remus interrupted “Whatcha think?”

“dfshkjskj” Janus very eloquently let out. He buried his flushed pink face in the fabric of Logan’s shirt.

“Huh. Exactly what I was thinking! Onwards to the snakes!!”

The snake room was oval shaped. The walls were made up of windows into different giant vivariums decorated with branches, warm rocks and food. In the biggest vivarium several big samar cobras were lazing about. They were both big enough and venomous enough to kill a man.

Janus let go of his crushes to press his palms against the glass and wave at the snakes. He looked back at his boyfriend with a big goofy grin “Look at these babies!!”

“They are indeed very pretty”

“They eat rats! Their venom is able to destroy tissue so if you get the venom in your eyes it can create total blindness!! They-” He stopped himself. Stopped his stimming as well “Sorry. I’m rambling”

Remus patted his shoulder “No. Go on. I wanna hear, about the other snakes as well. I promise” Logan nodded along.

Janus hesitated, but they both looked at him with such loving looks he quietly continued “Okay well what I was going to say was...”

They went around and looked at every snake. The other two happily listened to him infodump about every species there. Sometimes they held hands. Sometimes they all stimmed together. Janus was smiling so much his cheeks hurt.

They stayed sitting by the snakes. Janus leaned his head against the glass to bop his nose to the snakes while Remus and Logan ranted to each other about their favorite obscure sci-fi movies (they also exchanged numbers).

The three of them had a sudden realization that they all loved murder mysteries and decided they had to have some sort of murder mustery movie night some time in the future.

(Logan also saw a poster about how around Christmas snake petting spots overseered by snake experts would be open. He didn’t tell the other two. He figured he would use it as a surprise Christmas gift)

Eventually the zoo got close to closing. It was Logan who had to drag them both away from the snakes and octopuses. The 2 drama kings acted like Lo was dragging them away from their children.

Once they stood on the street outside the zoo Remus said goodbye. For a moment it looked like he was moving in to hug Janus but he decided not to. He disappeared down the street to catch the bus.

“So” Logan turned to his boyfriend “Was it a satisfactory first date?”

Janus rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and moving up on his toes to kiss him on his nose “It was absolutely horrible darling! I hated every second of it!”

“Glad to hear it” His voice softened “I’m proud of you honey”

“It was just a date. It’s nothing. Nothing if it’s with you”

“Well I shall still be proud, because you can not stop me, and I shall still be percentage wise incredibly in love with you” He pressed a loving kiss to his forehead “I will see you at work then”

“Not if I’ve gotten my invisibility spell to work by then muhahah” Janus slowly let go of him “Love you!”

Janus stood by the entrance watching as his boyfriend (it still made him giddy to think that) went to his car. He gulped and tensed his shoulders once he was all alone. He walked over to a more desolate spot and sat down on the side of the payment.

He scrolled through the contacts on his phone while the image of Logan’s smile repeated in his brain. He let out a shaky breathe as he moved the phone up to his ear and listened to the signals.

“Hiya Janister!” The cheery voice of Dr. Picani rang out.

“Hello...I.....I would....I’m just looking to ask if there’s a chance I could book a time for solo therapy? I’m...I’m...honestly not so sure if I’m completely okay...or if my childhood was okay either, but I’m sure I want to get better”

#loceit #dukeceit #demus #thanks for the ask!!#suggesting remus would be there was a really good idea!#janus sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #for yalls information in the fic universe they are somewhere in august so christmas is quite a bit away

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crying-in-a-stall · 4 years

Text

Incorrect Sanders Sides

Virgil: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Roman: >:O language Patton: Yeah watch your fucking language Janus: OKAY WHO TAUGHT PATTON THE FUCK WORD? Roman: 'The fuck word'. Logan: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Roman: Oh my god they censored it Remus: Say fuck, Logan. Virgil: Do it, Logan. Say fuck.

Virgil: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world! Roman: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment. Janus: More or less, I guess... Patton: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that! Remus: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept. Logan: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

Roman: Hewwo. Patton: Hihiiiiii! Logan: Greetings, Humans. Janus: Three kinds of people. Virgil: I want pudding. Janus: Four kinds of people. Remus: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS? Janus: Five kinds of people.

Logan: Just be yourself. Virgil: 'Be myself'? Logan, I have one day to win Roman over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me? Patton: Couple weeks. Remus: Six months. Janus: Jury’s still out. Virgil: See, Logan? Virgil: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Virgil: Croissants; dropped Roman: Road; works ahead Remus: BBQ sauce; on my titties Patton: Shavacado; fre Janus: Miss Keisha; fuckin dead Logan: Logan, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Patton: We need to distract these guys Remus: Leave it to me Remus: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Logan, Roman, and Janus: *Immediately begin arguing* Virgil, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

Virgil: Rules are made to be broken. Logan: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Patton: Uh, piñatas. Remus: Glow sticks. Janus: Karate boards. Roman: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Virgil: Rules. Logan: …

Logan: Dumbest scar stories, go! Roman: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Patton: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Remus: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Janus: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Virgil: … Virgil: I have emotional scars.

Logan: Anyone d- Virgil: Depressed? Roman: Drained? Patton: Dumb? Remus: Disliked? Janus: Distrusted? Logan: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people …

Patton: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life Virgil: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years! Janus: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this! Roman: I knew I lost that potential somewhere! Remus: My moral code, is that you? Logan: ... Patton: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

Janus: Nothing in life is free. Patton: Love is free! Roman: Adventure is free. Logan: Knowledge is free. Virgil and Remus at the same time: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

Patton: What does 'take out' mean? Logan: Food. Roman: Dating Virgil: Murder Remus: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Remus: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff. Janus: I witnessed the dumb stuff. Virgil: I recorded the dumb stuff. Patton: I joined in on the dumb stuff. Logan: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

Janus: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Roman: 'Prettiest Smile' Patton: 'Nicest Personality' Remus: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Virgil: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Logan: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do? Virgil: Have everyone stand. Patton: Bring three more chairs! Janus: The most important ones can sit down. Remus: Kill three.

Logan: Good morning. Patton: Good morning. Roman: Good morning. Thomas: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit. Virgil: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

Patton: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything? Remus: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies Janus: Socks are Feetie Heaties Virgil: Forks are Stabby Grabbies Remus: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties Virgil: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies Janus: Stamps are Lickie Stickies Logan, annoyed: You are disappointments Roman: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Logan: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Patton: Three of us saw it, Logan. How do you explain that? Logan: *points at Janus* Sleep deprivation. *points at Virgil* Paranoia. *points at Remus* Delusional personality disorder. And you just believe everything, Patton.

Janus: Favorite horror movie? Remus: It Logan: Saw Roman: Annabelle Virgil: High School Musical. After watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Virgil: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Remus: ... Your what? Virgil: My friends. Janus: Are they saying “friends”? Remus: I think they're being sarcastic. Janus: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Virgil! All of your friends are in this room. Virgil: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

Patton, trying to convince Virgil to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong! Roman: And grumpy! Logan: And oblivious to reality! Virgil: …

Roman: You lying, cheating, piece of shit! Virgil: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD Roman: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING PATTON WITH ME Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

*Patton is cooking* Roman: Any chance that’s for me? Patton: It’s for Logan. I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need them on my side. Virgil: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

Patton: Hey, is Roman sleeping or dead? Virgil: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts. Logan: Yeah, so did I. Roman: Okay first of all, fuck you-

Virgil: Is stabbing someone immoral? Janus: Not if they consent to it. Remus: Depends who you’re stabbing. Logan, who was dragged into the dark sides meeting: YES?!?

Janus: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys. Patton: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap! Logan: Self-care is any necessary human regulatory function which is under individual control, deliberate and self-initiated. Janus: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Virgil: Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Roman: Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!! Remus: Lmao self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting. Patton: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Roman: You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of Nachos. Logan: That's the most hopeful thing I've ever heard. Virgil: But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any Nachos? Patton: Then tomorrow is nacho lucky day.

Roman, banging on the door: Virgil! Open up! Virgil: Well, it all started when I was a kid... Logan: No, they meant- Patton: Let them finish.

Janus: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night. Virgil: You were flirting with Remus. Janus: So what? They're my partner. Remus: You asked me if I was single. Virgil: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

Store Worker: Would a ‘Janus’ please come to the front desk? Janus, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem? Store Worker: points to Remus and Virgil Store Worker: I believe they belong to you? Remus and Virgil, simultaneously: We got lost :( Janus: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

Janus, driving Remus and Virgil: So how was your day? Remus: We almost got surprise adopted! Janus: What? Virgil: We almost got kidnapped. Janus: Oh, okay. Janus: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Janus: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container. Remus: The cow??? Janus: What? Virgil: Remus, W H Y?

Roman: Virgil, my old arch enemy. Remus: ... I thought I was your arch enemy? Roman: I have a life outside of you, Remus.

Remus: How's the sexiest person here~? Janus: I don't know, how are they~? Remus, flustered: I- Virgil, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!

Patton: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Virgil: I'm a knife. Roman, from across the room: They're the little spoon.

Roman: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Logan does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Patton: If Logan were to jump off a cliff, they would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Logan jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Roman: You jump off a cliff! Patton: Gladly. Provided Logan did first.

Janus: I know you snuck out last night, Remus. Virgil: Play dumb! Remus: Who's Remus? Virgil: NOT THAT DUMB!!!

Roman: Fitness tip, never stop pushing yourself. Logan: Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Virgil: Why not 9? Why not 10? ]Janus: Strive for greatness. Roman: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Patton, from the background: Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Remus from the background: Burn your ex’s house down. Roman: You can do it. I believe in you. Thomas: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

Remus: I can’t believe you live nearby, and you won’t let anyone crash at your place. Virgil: You people already know too much about me. Janus: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won’t let any of us crash at your place.

Virgil: Janus, can I talk to you for a second? Janus: Yeah, what’s up? Remus: Lemme guess. You and Roman are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss? Virgil: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

Remus: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Janus: Wasn't Virgil with you? Virgil: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Remus: Okay, help me please! Virgil: Got two words for you. Janus: I bet they won't be helpful. Virgil: Your problem. Janus: I was right

Virgil: So are we flirting right now? Roman: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU Virgil: That doesn’t answer my question

Patton: Where are you going? Remus: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there Patton: Can you get me a strawberry cone? Janus: Can you kill Virgil? Virgil: Can you kill Roman? Roman: Can you kill Janus? Logan: Can you not commit a felony?

Logan: It’s dark in here Patton: Don’t worry fam, I got this Patton: *Stomps their feet* Patton: *Sketchers light up*

Logan: So what do you do? Janus: I work in genetic research, and I'm currently trying to eliminate all Cancers. Logan: Wow, impressive. Janus: Then I'll move on to Leos.

Remus: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve. Roman: I think you mean cards. Remus, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

Virgil: We went through an entire character arc during quarantine Janus: We all became more evil if you’re curious Patton: We're still in quarantine, don't worry, there's time for a redemption arc still! Remus: I’m going to get worse on purpose

Patton: Am I in trouble? Logan: Take a guess. Patton: No? Logan: Take another guess.

Patton: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside Roman: *holding in a laugh* Logan: Patton, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn... Virgil: *Sips coffee from bowl*

Virgil: You kill people for money?! Virgil: Can I pay you? Janus: Virgil no- Remus: And all this time I’ve been doing it for free like a chump!

Roman: What are your goals? Thomas as Patton: To pet all the dogs. Logan: No, fitness goals. Thomas as Patton: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

Patton: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them. Virgil: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

Virgil: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my paranoia. I'll wait. Patton’s Card: FAM - ILY Virgil, tearing up: Okay.

Logan: I actually have a black belt. Roman: In what, karate? Logan: No, from Gucci.

Remus: Am I going too far? Janus: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

Patton, motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo. Logan: Babe, I’m right here.

Remus: You think I really give a fuck? I can’t even read.

Virgil: Okay okay stop asking me if I'm straight, gay, bi, whatever. I identify as a FUCKING THREAT. Roman, from across the room: You tell ‘em, babe!

Roman: You can de-escalate any situation by simply saying, 'Are we about to kiss?' Remus: Doesn't work for getting out of speeding tickets, by the way.

#incorrect sanders sides #incorrect quotes #incorrect sanders sides quotes #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil #roman #patton #janus #remus #logan

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 14: Dukeceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 14 - The first words you hear your soulmate speak are written on you.

Content warning: character with vitiligo, implied rudeness towards vitiligo, Remus being Remus (in a way that could be categorized as intentions for animal abuse?? But not really. It’s not malicious in any way.)

Word count: 1.4k

What’s that on your face?

Every day he was greeted in the mirror by the same, harsh words, etched into his collarbone in startling black ink. He’d heard many variations of the question before in his life, people with too much curiosity and too little impulse control, blurting out questions about his skin before he even properly introduced himself. At this point, he’d memorized the spiel: It’s called vitiligo and yes, I was born this way. No, it doesn’t hurt. No, it’s not contagious. No, it’s not because my parents were different races. That last one still made him laugh sometimes. But, better to laugh at the absurdity than bang his head against a wall in frustration, he supposed.

So yeah, did it suck knowing that the first thing his soulmate said to him would be borderline judgy and annoyingly insensitive? Yeah. But it was just something he’d have to live with. Hopefully, the rest of their first interaction would be uphill from there, because if he got more irritated with his soulmate when they literally just met, that probably wasn’t going to be a great sign.

With a huff, he lowered his shirt over the soulmark, lugged his book bag onto his shoulder, and exited his dorm room. His roommate had left however long ago to head to his own morning classes, so he’d had a nice peaceful morning with the room to himself to get ready. It was nice not to be constantly on guard, hiding his soulmark. It embarrassed him.

He checked his phone as he closed the door behind him and groaned loudly. Apparently his peaceful morning had been at a cost; he had to make it across campus in five minutes or risk being late to Moresi’s lecture. Moresi was a great prof, don’t get him wrong, but she had a habit of calling out anyone who walked in the doors late, and Janus really didn’t need that.

Risk walking in late and being humiliated, or look like a fool running through campus? Maybe he should just skip class.

He decided on option two, since this single class was costing more than his laptop, and got a better grip on his book bag before taking off down the path. He struggled to down his granola bar while sprinting over the lawn. You’re going to choke, the voice of his mother shouted in his head, but he ignored it and picked up the pace just a tad.

With twenty seconds to spare, he burst through the doors of the lecture hall and took his seat in the back, one that was never surrounded by people and left him generally alone. He liked his arm space.

“Good morning, folks. Welcome to another rousing lecture on ethics,” Moresi deadpanned, earning a few scattered chuckles through the hall, “Today we’ll be focusing a bit more on Plato’s idea that-”

The lecture hall door flew open and a figure stumbled through, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. He gave a half hearted wave as Moresi crossed her arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Janus didn’t recognize him, but that was to be expected of a four hundred student lecture hall.

“Remus Kingsley, the only student of my six different lecture classes that I have the unfortunate necessity of knowing the name of. What tale of chaos and havoc brings you so late to my class once again?” The snickers slowly rose.

“I’m only three minutes late!” He complained, still panting, but a small grin was growing on his face. No matter how pissed she sounded, Moresi was never serious in her teasing.

“That’s three minutes too many. Take a seat in the back, and don’t disrupt my class again.”

He grumbled under his breath but took a begrudging seat next to Janus. So much for arm room. Janus stared as he gave him an impish grin, before his eyes narrowed slightly.

“What’s that on your face?”

Janus froze. Gone was his carefully formulated monologue on his skin condition, goodbye to any suave first impressions he’d wanted to make, hello to the awkward idiot that had taken over his brain. Sure, this didn’t necessarily mean this guy was his soulmate, it could just be a coincidental question, but actually hearing the words out loud? It was a lot.

This guy, though (Remus, was it?), didn’t take his deer-in-the-headlights face into consideration and reached a finger up.

Is he seriously about to touch my face?

Janus was in too much shock to move away as the man poked at his cheek… no. Not poking, exactly. Rubbing…?

He pulled his hand away and Janus realized with a shock that a couple granola crumbs were now resting on his fingertips. Oh, the incredible waves of mortifying embarrassment that now rolled over him. The stranger flicked them onto the ground without a second thought, smiling at him.

“All good now. I’m Remus, by the way.”

An interesting interaction, one where the person touches your face before introducing themself properly. But Janus had the feeling that just kind of summed up this guy as a whole.

It took him a moment to process that Remus was waiting for him to introduce himself, but just as he opened his mouth, the prof spoke up again.

“I’m sorry, Kingsley, is my lecture interrupting your conversation?”

“Just a tad, Moresi. But you’re forgiven.”

She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “shit head” before turning back to her lecture, and luckily, Remus decided to keep his mouth shut.

---------------------------------------

Remus booked it as soon as the clock struck 11:30, so even if Janus were able to speak past the anxious lump in his throat, he wouldn’t have had the time to. So, consequently, that afternoon he had plenty of time to worry about meeting Remus the next time.

Logically, whatever he did end up saying (assuming they were in fact soulmates), would be written on Remus’ arm. But what if he decided on something to say, and then at the last minute changed it? Did he technically have any free will regarding his first statement, or could a last second decision alter that? Would the writing on Remus’ arm change? Could he even say something wrong? Soulmates had always been too vague of a concept for him to think about.

Turns out, he didn’t even have to worry about it. He had decided to calm his raging thoughts with a coffee and a walk around the campus pond, intently watching some turtles sunbathing on a half sunken log, when someone bumped into him. The lid of his coffee exploded, sending the lukewarm drink all down the stranger’s shirt and his own.

“Shit on a stick, I didn’t see you! I’m so-”

Remus. Of course. Janus stuttered to a halt as their eyes locked, Remus’ comically wide, hands frozen in what had been a pitiful attempt to clean his shirt off. Did he think he could wipe coffee away?

With no prompting whatsoever, Remus pulled down the collar of his shirt, twisting his head oddly to read the writing on his skin, in the same place that Janus’ was.

“Yep, that’s it, word for word. Does your-?”

“Yep,” Janus breathed, showing the soulmark in a similar fashion.

“You didn’t say anything to me during class. I assumed you were just awkward.”

“Me? Awkward? A preposterous proposition.”

Remus smirked, rolling his shoulders back, causing the joints to pop loudly. “You’re smart. That’s cute.”

“I agree with the smart, but I abhor the sentiment.”

“Don’t get a word you’re saying.”

“Lovely.”

Now Janus was smiling too, and dammit, he didn’t like when people made him smile. He had a reputation to keep. “I was more shocked at your statement than anything. I thought for sure the ‘what’s on your face’ would be in regard to…” He gestured vaguely to his face.

“What, the vitiligo? No way! My brother has it, actually. I’m an idiot, but not that much of an idiot. I actually think it looks really cool.”

He gave Janus a once over before reaching out a hand, fingers wiggling, and pointing with his other thumb over his shoulder.

“I was just about to go throw rocks at ducks. You wanna join me?”

“Don’t throw rocks at ducks,” Janus reprimanded lightly, taking the outstretched hand with only a moment’s hesitation.

“Can we just throw rocks, then?”

“As long as we’re not aiming for animals, yes.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #ts soulmate au #ts college au #sander sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides #sanderssidesau #sanderssidesfanfiction #soulmate september #soulmateseptember

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remuscore · 4 years

Photo

I made the sides human and (mostly) not white bc making them white as humans is boring. Anyways little things and facts about them under the cut. You can ask more shit about them if you want to, this was just for fun.

Patton Picani

I made him a Picani for the fun of it.

He’s mostly based off of Terrance Patton because he was cute and bouncy.

The little bracelets he has are friendship bracelets for Logan and Virgil. He also has one for Roman and a very old one for Remus.

Oldest out of the bunch (for the sake of this post, I’m making it highschool wise cause that’s easier for me) he’s 18.

Parents are divorced and spoil the ever loving shit out of him.

He doesn’t know what he wants to do for a living but he does know he wants to be a dad.

Logan Rey

He’s mostly based off Raymond from ACNH just cause.

Before I put the glasses on his bust shot, he looked like a rich white boy that would call you a slur. Thank god he looks better now.

Second oldest also at 18.

Has a single mom that’s always working to keep them a float and no dad.

Ofc he wants to be a fucking teacher. Specifically a English teacher cause the gay dream.

Roman Prince

Don’t let the letterman’s jacket fool you, he’s in theater, choir, and art club.

Also hella closeted.

He’s half Latino (specifically Cuban) cause I like those human headcanons of him being Latino.

He’s 17 and about 2 minutes older than Remus.

Has ADHD, but isn’t diagnosed cause he was seen as a gifted child while Remus was diagnosed because he was a problem child.

Parents are together but Catholic and strict as shit.

Baby wants to be an actor but shit terrified to tell his parents that.

Remus Prince

He was the longest to fucking do. Why did I put so much effort into his clothes.

Anyways he’s pretty much the family disappointment, gay punk rat.

He would also be in all the things Roman is in, but he got kicked out of them all for being too crude and chaotic.

Only friend is Janus (used to be all of them, but they kinda abandoned him once he started acting like that).

Wants to be an artist. Specifically a surrealist artist.

Virgil Shiro

Baby’s Japanese cause idk I saw someone do that and I liked it.

Still an emo fuckwad.

Speaking of baby, he’s the youngest at 16.

Besides Remus, he’s my favorite design cause of all the different shade of black and purple.

I tried designing his hoodie to look like the merch hoodie but I didn’t bother looking it up.

Has two moms!! His mom had him with a man but then realized that she’s a lesbian and married Janus’ mom (that’s right their siblings).

Has no idea what he wants to be and has a crisis over it constantly.

Janus Bennett

White boy number two behind Logan.

I gave him the port wine stain birthmark instead of vitiligo like a lot of other people do cause idk it’s something I don’t see for him.

He’s also trans because I will always make Janus trans in stories where he’s not a side.

Meaning his mother didn’t pick the name of a two-faced god for her two-faced child, that was Janus’ idea.

Oh, and he’s the third oldest in front of Roman and Remus by a few months.

He also wants to get into ethics and sociology cause he’s a nerd.

#sander sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #human au #remuscore

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years

Text

Reflecting Light

Chapter One

Chapter Eight

Remus wasn’t really thrilled with stopping at an orphanage. It tied a little too close to his fake backstory for him to be comfortable. He had no clue what he would say if someone expected him to know how they worked for some reason. But there were apparently a ton of orphanages around that didn’t get enough food or supplies, so they had a couple as part of their rounds.

That was complete bullshit, for the record. Remus had picked up a lot of things about his former home from his new life as an accidental rebellion member, but it was easy to say this one made him the most angry. The food hadn’t been spectacular in The Light, but they’d always had enough of it. Definitely enough leftover to supply a place that took care of orphaned children.

Remus spent the morning with Janus as they both organized the supplies they were dropping off. Janus looked irritated and a little exhausted as he finished counting the last one.

“We’re gonna have to stop at home before we finish our rounds,” he said, glancing at Remus. “We’re almost out of food, and we need to pick up supplies for our next stop. Have you ever been to the rebellion base before?”

“I can safely say I never expected to go to the rebellion base,” Remus said with a wide smile and a nod.

Janus chuckled. “That’s fair,” he said. “A lot of people end up in the rebellion by desperation or by chance.”

Or by both, Remus thought, although he didn’t say that out loud. “I would like to meet you and Virgil’s father,” he said instead. “I’ve always wondered what kind of person runs the rebellion.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, because he had always wondered that. Granted, there was also some context missing there. Namely that Remus had wondered such as someone from the opposite side.

“Just don’t ask him about any embarrassing kid stories and we’re all good,” Janus said.

Remus grinned. “I make no promises.”

Janus sighed, writing one last thing down and setting his checklist aside. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud with you in the room.”

“You’re learning!” Remus called happily, following Janus out of the storage room. They both headed back up towards the deck of the ship, where everyone was preparing to land soon.

Remus had somehow ended up with an official position that didn’t have anything to do with the actual movement of the ship, meaning if he wasn’t desperately needed no one would ask for his help. He therefore decided that while Janus and Virgil were busy at the wheel he was going to sit next to Jackson and comment on everything he was doing wrong, which made Jackson shoot him several delicious glares throughout the process. But Jackson was his favorite person on board to mess with (barring Janus and Virgil of course, but they were busy), so it’s not like Remus was going anywhere.

When they finally landed, Remus gave Jackson a firm pat on the shoulder. “Alright, I have some notes, but overall, that was passable.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Oh, if you insist!” Remus said, moving like he was going to pull his pants down.

“Ugh, gross, stop!” Jackson exclaimed, but he was starting to smile. “God, I should really know not to say that kind of stuff around you by now.”

“Yeah, everyone else does, keep up. So you’re coming with today, right?”

“Yep,” Jackson said, giving Remus a smile. “Only cause the rest of you are too weak to carry the boxes yourselves.”

“Oh, is that so?” Remus walked forward and scooped Jackson up bridal style. “Well allow me to help you down to the cargo hold so you can carry all of the boxes then.”

Jackson sputtered indignantly, and Remus cackled before he dropped him straight onto the deck. “Come on, I can grab a couple,” he said, and started down to the cargo hold as Jackson pushed himself up off the deck.

Remus beat him down there by a couple steps, and grabbed both of the boxes that had the food they were dropping off, as Jackson picked up the ones with the blankets and the clothes. They both carried the boxes down off the ship, where Virgil and Janus were waiting with a cart to put the boxes on, since they’d have to travel a little further to reach the orphanage.

Remus set the boxes down on the seat and hopped on top of them to sit, where he was joined by Virgil a second later.

“You make me carry the boxes and then make me walk the miles to the orphanage too?” Jackson asked, looking up at them where there was no space left on the box.

“That is correct,” Remus said with a grin. “Go talk to Janus, I’m sure you two will have a grand old time.”

Jackson grumbled in irritation, and Virgil laughed from where he was sitting beside Remus as the horse that was pulling their cart started off.

“So, this has got to be weird for you,” Virgil said as they started moving.

Remus looked at him for a moment. “No, why?”

“Oh, I just assumed it would be a little different for you to come back to an orphanage after so many years.”

Remus swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Eh, not really. I mean, this isn’t the orphanage I grew up in. I’m more looking forward to meeting your father at the next stop.”

“Fair enough,” Virgil said with a nod. “I’m sure that will be mortifying.”

“You say that so casually.”

“I’ve accepted it.”

Remus laughed. They both continued to chat for the ride through the town and out the other side, then the little bit of distance into the countryside that ended with them pulling to a stop outside the orphanage.

Remus hopped down from the boxes and picked the same couple up again, as Jackson did the same with the other two, looking thoroughly more exhausted than Remus, which he was definitely going to be teasing him about.

Janus knocked on the door, and a second later a woman pulled the door open and gave Janus a bright smile. “It’s good to see you sir. I was beginning to worry.”

“We’ve been running a little behind lately,” Janus said with an apologetic smile as they both stepped inside. Remus followed and set the boxes down in the doorway. Jackson did the same and then turned immediately with a call that he was going to sit in the cart until it was time to leave.

Virgil walked in behind Remus and moved to lean against the wall as Janus continued to talk to the woman.

“Oh, you dears can help yourselves to a glass of water,” the woman called over to them. “Kitchen is right through there.” She pointed towards the back of the house.

“Thanks,” Virgil called, pushing himself off the wall and heading towards the back of the house. Remus followed.

“Hey, Virge, do you think we should bring Jackson a glass of water?”

“I think we should, but we should hide his until he starts complaining.”

“This is why I like you,” Remus said with a grin, reaching out for the door and opening it.

There was a cry of surprise from the room and the sound of something falling and shattering. Remus pushed the door open the rest of the way to see a kid who looked about ten years old, staring at both of them in terror.

“Woah, hey,” Virgil said, starting forward past Remus and towards the kid. The kid scrambled backwards, away from Virgil, and kept looking between him and the glass, like he was expecting—

Oh. Oh, Remus got it.

“Hey, Virgey isn’t gonna hit you, kid,” he called. Virgil turned around and stared at him in surprise. “He’s too nice.”

“What?” Virgil asked. “What are you talking about, why would I—” he paused, and turned back around to see the way the kid was staring at him in wide-eyed fear.

Virgil’s whole demeanor shifted immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, kneeling down. “Hey, do you think I’m gonna hit you?”

The kid didn’t say anything, just moved further back and pressed himself into the counter.

Virgil moved back too. “Can you tell me your name, buddy?”

The kid was quiet for another moment before he squeaked out, “I’m Thomas.”

“Thomas. Okay,” Virgil said. “I’m not going to hurt you, Thomas. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, that depends,” Remus said. “What do you normally get hit for? There is a standard to uphold.”

Virgil turned around again, staring at Remus like he had two heads and one of them had just exploded— shock and a little disgust.

“Remus,” Virgil said. “Go wait with Janus.”

“What? Why?”

“Now.”

Remus flinched at the anger in Virgil’s tone and backed out of the kitchen, seeing Virgil turn back to Thomas as he did so.

Janus was still talking to the woman, and they were looking over a couple of papers, using the boxes as something to write on.

Janus glanced up at him as Remus approached. “No water?”

“Nah, Virgil got mad that the kid in the kitchen has been hit before.”

Janus stood up straighter. “I’m sorry, what?”

Remus shrugged. “This Thomas kid dropped a cup and got scared Virgil was gonna hit him.”

Janus turned back to the woman he’d been talking to, who had suddenly gone very pale. Something in her face must have bothered Janus, though, because he immediately dropped the paper he was holding and moved towards the kitchen, the woman following right after.

Remus stared after them, not sure what the big deal was. Yeah, the woman was probably gonna be embarrassed if she got caught in the fact that she hit Thomas, but if the kid had done something to deserve it, what was the problem? But after a moment, he heard a lot of tight, angry words. Oh, that definitely wasn’t going to help the kid calm down.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, Thomas sprinted out of the kitchen and into the living room. The second he spotted Remus, though, he backed up again and moved towards the wall as far from both the kitchen and Remus as possible.

Remus sighed. Well, shit.

“I’m not gonna hurt you kid,” he said, holding his hands up and shifting backwards so he could move from the boxes, because if Thomas was anything like him he didn’t want anyone near him right now. “Promise.”

Thomas didn’t quite look like he believed him, but that was okay. Remus would just move as far away as possible and keep his hands behind his back. He wasn’t sure what else he could do, he didn’t want to leave the kid alone right now.

Eventually, Thomas seemed to understand that Remus really wasn’t going to hit him, and he jumped up and sprinted across the room to hide behind Remus’ leg. “Are you going to let her hurt me?” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to drop the cup, I promise.”

Remus sighed. He didn’t really know enough about this kid’s life to make a proper judgement call, but he did know that he didn’t like seeing Thomas scared.

“Nah, I got you, kid,” he said, patting Thomas on the head. “Don’t worry.”

Thomas whimpered and buried his head against Remus’ back. Remus reached his hand behind and offered it to Thomas, who held onto it and squeezed it tightly.

The door to the kitchen had been left open enough when Thomas ran out that Remus could now hear the shouting coming from inside.

“You don’t understand, he doesn’t listen!” the woman was exclaiming. “I had enough children already before he showed up out of nowhere—”

“I don’t even know where to begin with how that’s not an excuse,” Virgil snapped.

“Virgil.” Janus sounded much calmer, though he still sounded more pissed than Remus thought he’d ever heard from him before, which was baffling given the situation.

Thomas hid further, behind Remus’ back, and Remus squeezed the hand he was still holding. “Hey, Thomathy,” he said. “Do you have a favorite color?”

“I like red,” Thomas said quietly. “Why?”

“What do you like about it?”

“Uh… it’s pretty.”

Remus nodded like that was logical, which it decently was, to be fair to Thomas. “Good reasoning. I like green, it looks like puke.”

“What? Ew!” Thomas exclaimed, in a voice much less scared, which was what Remus was going for. “Why is that your reason, gross!”

“Oh come on, who doesn’t like puke?” Remus asked, shooting a grin over his shoulder. “It looks so delicious.”

“Ew ew ew no it doesn’t!” Thomas exclaimed, waving his hands out in front of him, even as he started to grin. “You’re disgusting!”

“Why, thank you,” Remus said with a grin of his own. Thomas laughed, which was exactly what Remus was going for. He turned around and scooped the kid onto his lap, and started asking him other basic questions, like favorite food, favorite shirt, if he had a best friend. Thomas answered with what sounded like essentially any kind of treat, the one he was wearing at the time which was coincidentally red, and no.

They talked for another couple minutes and managed to avoid any of the arguing going on in the kitchen until Janus and Virgil emerged from it. The woman from before didn’t come with them, but Janus and Virgil both looked thoroughly ticked enough that Remus was pretty sure he got her reasoning.

“Okay,” Virgil said. “So Thomas is going to be coming with us now.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “He’s going to what?”

“Come on, let’s head back to the ship. You and I have to talk about something anyway,” Virgil said, starting for the door.

“Woah, hold up a second,” Remus said. “I understand you’re upset.” Still didn’t understand why, but he could work that part out later. “But maybe we should consider asking Thomas his opinion on the matter?”

He got a confused look from Virgil, but looked down at Thomas anyway. “Hey, kid, do you want to stay here or do you want to come with us? I promise we’re gonna take your feelings into account, okay?”

Thomas looked like he was very overwhelmed with everything that had just happened in the last 30 seconds, and Remus couldn’t say he blamed him. But Thomas seemed to still give the question a moment of thought before he wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck. “I wanna go with you. Even if you like green for a gross reason.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that,” Remus teased, standing up and taking Thomas with him, who he shifted around behind him so he could ride piggyback style back to the cart.

Virgil and Janus both gave him bewildered looks as he passed, but Virgil followed him to the cart, and Janus gave a small remark that he was going to get whatever belongings Thomas had. Jackson was sitting on the cart when they got there, looking much less exhausted than earlier.

He sat up a little when he saw Thomas. “Remus, why is there a child clinging to your back?”

“He’s coming with us,” Remus said, letting Thomas hop down onto the cart, and then onto Remus’ lap again once he sat down.

“Remus is gross,” Thomas announced to Jackson, as if the rest of the crew didn’t know this already. “But he’s nice too. I like him better than Ms. Weston.”

Virgil gave Remus another baffled look as he sat down. “I was in the other room for three minutes,” he said. “What the hell did you say to that kid?”

“He looked scared, so I asked him his favorite color,” Remus said. Thomas started to fidget on his lap so Remus offered Thomas his hand, which he proceeded to play with. “You were all yelling kinda loud, you know. If someone’s scared of getting hurt, loud noises are not going to help.”

“What— but you—”

Virgil was cut off by Janus pushing the door open and walking out, holding a bag. He carried it over to the cart and set it down at Thomas’ feet before climbing in next to Virgil.

“Thomas, sweetheart,” Janus said. “Do you know if Ms. Weston was hurting any of the other kids?”

“Wait, what was happening?” Jackson asked in shock, and Virgil shushed him.

Thomas considered that for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. I just stress her out because she has to deal with all the other kids, so she said she needed something to be a stress reliever.”

He went back to playing with Remus’ hand after that perfectly normal sentence, but everyone else in the cart all seemed to exchange looks with varying levels of sadness and horror. Remus wasn’t going to question it at this point.

“You don’t think she’s going to pick another kid, do you?” Virgil asked.

Janus seemed to consider that for a moment. “I think we put the fear of God in her,” he said finally. “Threatening to stop bringing supplies is a serious thing.”

“You threatened to stop bringing supplies because she was hurting one kid?” Remus asked in shock.

Virgil shot him another glare, but Thomas reacted to that before he could reply. “Please don’t stop bringing supplies!” he exclaimed. “None of the other kids did anything wrong! I mean sure they could be kind of mean to me sometimes, but it’s okay! I’m fine, I don’t want them to starve!”

“Hey, no one said we were going to let them starve,” Virgil said. “We’re not going to stop bringing supplies, okay?”

“Promise?” Thomas asked, sounding so scared at the prospect that Remus was a little awed. Damn, this kid had compassion. Sure, he wasn’t going to accuse Shane of something horrible when Remus had done everything to deserve his treatment, but if he was given the option of letting Shane and everyone else who had ever been horrible to him starve to death… he honestly had no idea if he’d protest.

“I promise,” Virgil said, sounding a little in awe himself. Thomas sighed in relief and took up Remus’ hand to start playing with it again.

There was a moment of stunned silence, before finally Janus took up the reins and flicked them, prompting the horse to start moving, and then turned them around towards the ship. They made the journey back mostly in silence, after which Janus took Thomas to the ship to let him pick out a room, Jackson headed back to start preparing to launch with everyone, and Virgil grabbed Remus firmly by the arm and dragged him up to the top of the ship.

“Remus,” he said, sounding so furious Remus actually took a step back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus blinked at Virgil a couple times. “Do you want an actual list? I could give you one but I’m not sure what you’re actually referring to right—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Remus. Did you actually ask an abused kid to his face what he normally gets hit for because there’s a standard to uphold? What the actual fuck made you think that hitting a child under any circumstances would ever be an okay thing to do?”

Remus blinked at Virgil a couple more times. Was he joking? He had to be joking. But he had started that statement with “I’m not fucking joking,” so what the hell?

“Well…” Remus started, then stopped. “Well, if a child screws up, they have to be punished, right?”

“Punishment and abuse are two very different things, Remus,” Virgil said, still sounding like he was ready to murder him. Okay, maybe Remus was wrong. Maybe Virgil wasn’t too nice to hit someone. He took another step back.

“But if—”

“No buts. No maybes, no ‘just this once’s, no nothing. That’s a line that you don’t cross, period. For any child. Ever. There is never a circumstance where hitting a child, or you know what, fucking anyone for that matter, as a way to punish them, is ever, ever, okay. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Remus felt like his world had tilted off axis. Virgil’s words weren’t quite processing, but he sounded so absolutely furious and certain that Remus couldn’t find it anywhere in him to doubt what he was saying.

“I… I was never going to hurt Thomas,” Remus said weakly. “I swear.”

Virgil must have sensed the genuineness in his tone, because he finally seemed to calm down a bit. But he still looked firm even as he took a deep breath. “I believe you,” he said finally, and something in Remus’ chest loosened. “But you might want to make that clear to Thomas.”

Remus nodded, still dazed. “Okay,” he whispered. “I um, I need a minute.”

Virgil took another breath. “Okay,” he said. He took yet another breath and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry I got so angry, Remus, I know that’s not easy for you.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Remus said, still feeling kind of like he was about to collapse. “I kinda deserved it.”

“I’ll tell anyone not to come up here, okay?” Virgil said, his tone significantly softer than it had been at the start of this conversation, and Remus was pretty sure this was what emotional whiplash felt like. “No one’s gonna bug you.”

Remus nodded, and walked back to the back of the ship as Virgil adjusted the wheel to put it on autopilot, then headed back down to the main deck.

Remus sat down straight on the deck and leaned back against the side of the ship, trying to process any single one of the thoughts racing through his head.

Virgil had just indirectly said to him that what he’d gone through wasn’t okay. That what Shane had done wasn’t okay. But if what happened with Shane wasn’t okay, then… then… then what? Then that made him some kind of victim? He didn’t want to be a victim. Didn’t want to consider what that might mean. If he didn’t deserve to be hurt, then why was he?

Shane had seemed to have perfectly valid reasons all throughout his life. Remus had messed up the mission, so he got a black eye as a result. He accidentally got someone else hurt, so he got a broken leg so he could understand what the other person was going through. He had failed his guard duty, so he had to explain what he’d done wrong and accept a worse punishment if the same thing happened again. It was just cause and effect. Logan would call it logical. But now Virgil implying that none of that was okay?

Well… Remus paused. Now that he thought about it, the idea of what he’d gone through not being okay wasn’t totally alien. That had seemed to be Patton’s viewpoint when he first found out. Had that been why he wanted to tell someone else? But Patton had learned that telling someone was a bad idea, Remus had just also kind of assumed he’d learned the whole situation wasn’t as messed up as he’d originally thought it was. But what if that wasn’t the case?

Remus sat there and breathed for a while, trying and failing to decide how to feel about everything. Maybe for now he should just do what Virgil said and apologize to Thomas for implying that he deserved to be hurt.

He stood up and walked back towards the main deck, trying to decide how to ask Thomas to talk to him, but it turned out he didn’t have to worry about it, because Thomas was already on the main deck, and the second he saw Remus he lit up and ran over.

“Remus! Remus! Guess what, I get my own room! I’ve never had my own room before, how cool is that?” Thomas ran up to the top of the deck and started bouncing in front of Remus, beaming up at him.

“That’s pretty cool, kid,” Remus said, smiling weakly. “Hey, Thomas, I need to apologize, buddy.”

Thomas tipped his head. “Why?”

Remus tried to think of a way to put this. Eventually he took a couple steps backwards and sat down on the deck again. Thomas walked over and sat down in front of him.

Remus considered what to say for a minute, and sighed. “I used to live with this person named Shane,” he said finally. “And Shane would hurt me, just like Ms. Weston hurt you. I thought that was a very normal thing, and I just realized that it might not be like, half an hour ago. So I assumed your situation was the same. But Virgil is right. There’s nothing you could have done to deserve getting hurt. Not a kid with a big heart like you.”

Thomas looked at Remus for a minute. He nodded slightly. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s really hard not to see yourself as the screwup, huh?”

Remus blinked. Okay. Yeah. No one was ever going to hurt this child ever again.

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard,” Remus said. He smiled a little at Thomas. “Maybe we can try to get there together. How about it?”

Thomas beamed, and threw his arms around Remus. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said happily. He pulled back and sat himself down in Remus’ lap. “Sorry you lived with a jerky jerk who hurt you.”

“I’m sorry you did too,” Remus said, ruffling Thomas’ hair. Thomas smiled up at Remus, which quickly turned into a grin when Remus smiled back.

“Hey,” Remus said. “You want me to teach you how to navigate the ship?”

“You can do that?” Thomas asked, eyes widening.

“I had this friend named Logan growing up who knew all the constellations, so I know how to use the stars for navigation. I can show you tonight if you want to.”

“That would be amazing!” Thomas said, beaming. “Do you know all the constellations too?”

“Oh, yeah, I learned them years ago,” Remus said, leaning back on his hands. “I can show them to you tonight, it would probably be easier if I can actually point them out.”

Thomas seemed very enthused by that idea, and started happily talking about the one constellation he knew, which was the big dipper. Remus wasn’t sure how he’d react when he explained that it was actually part of Ursa Major, but that could be a problem for that night. For now he could sit and watch this child who was too adorable for his own good get excited about the stars.

Chapter Nine

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #pirates #rebellion #angst #abuse #tw abuse #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #my fic

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