#summary: a bunch of Romans fighting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevesharrlngtons · 3 years

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i measure time by days spent away from you.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: while you’re off on a girls weekend, roman is left missing you.

word count: 5.9k

a/n: ingredients: just sweetness. instructions: read when you are feeling sad. results: good feelings resulting in feedback 4 the writer (-:

“I can’t believe you’re being such a baby about this.”

“Fuck off,” Roman grumbled in reply, moving to lay flat against the mattress with a huff.

You just laughed and continued to fold clothes into your bag. You were very meticulous when it came to packing, wanting everything in your suitcase to be stored efficiently to maximize space. Roman always teased you about it. Although, each and every vacation taken together, he always complained that he couldn’t fit everything he wanted to bring in his suitcase. You’d counter his irritation by offering to help him pack next time, and he’d always roll his eyes stubbornly.

But, you wouldn’t have to hear his snarky comments or annoyed ramblings this trip, because you were leaving Roman behind in Pennsylvania.

Destiny had invited you to her bachelorette party in Atlantic City for the long weekend, and you had happily accepted. You had been awaiting this girls trip for weeks and you were excited that it had finally arrived. You didn’t have many female friends anymore, having grown apart from the ones you made in high school and college, so the opportunity to have some good old fashioned girl time was overdue. While you and Destiny were close, you had never met any of her other friends. You were silently hoping to come out of the weekend with some new buddies, a few good stories, and plans for future adventures.

“I just don’t understand why it’s three days…” he said, watching you riffle through the closet for a party dress.

“Hardly,” you snorted, “I’ll be gone tonight, tomorrow and Sunday morning. You’ll barely even notice.”

The sound of you moving hangers around covered Roman’s pouted not likely.

Roman had been dreading your departure all week and now that it was here, he was stewing in self pity and pubescent angst. He didn’t want you to fly to New Jersey and go partying with a bunch of rowdy women, he just wanted you to himself. Which he knew was selfish and borderline unhealthy, but he didn’t really care. He liked you right by his side, slung under his arm, safe and sound. He wasn’t used to you going out with friends and especially not for so long. If you were out for an evening, you were back and in bed snuggled to his chest well before dawn.

“I just don’t see why you can’t fly out Saturday morning, do whatever Destiny wants, then fly home in the evening,” Roman sighed, waving his hands lazily in the air.

“What kind of loser does that? It’s like showing up for the birthday party and leaving before the sleepover,” you took a dress from the closet and walked to the mirror to pose with it infront of your body.

“You hated sleepovers as a kid,” he argued.

“I never wanted to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor,” you shuttered, “but when I’m promised a nice mattress, along with tons of drinking and dancing? Count me in for the sleepover and all the party favors.”

“So, what?” Roman pushed up to rest on his elbows, “You’re just going to get wasted and dance? You could do that here, y’know?”

“You wanna go dancing with me, Rome?” you shifted your eyes from the dress to look at his reflection in the mirror.

“You know I’d go with you if you asked…”

“Then, we should totally go dancing next weekend, baby.”

You turned to place the dress you had been modeling in your bag and Roman groused petulantly. He watched closely as you folded the slinky designer dress on top of your other clothing and toiletries, smiling when it fit perfectly. You mouthed your checklist to yourself, counting off on your fingers that you had everything you needed, before you zipped the suitcase shut. When you had finished, you shuffled around on your knees to look at him.

“What if I fly down with you and we could get our own room? Have some hotel fun?” he raised an eyebrow and you just shook your head at his pleading.

“Ro, this is a girls weekend, meaning no boys allowed. Including you.”

He once more threw himself back down on the mattress in theatrics.

“You do know that Peter lives here now?” you walked over to the bed and hopped on to straddle his hips, “How can you be mad at me for leaving you to have a fun weekend with your best friend?”

“Peter has plans.”

“I know for a fact that he doesn't,” you took Roman’s face on your hands and pivoted his chin to look at you, “so go out with him. Have some fun, get drunk, do whatever you can’t do when I’m here.”

Roman let you handle him completely, his neck limp and suggestible. He stared up at you with sad emerald eyes.

“What if I make some calls and get the jet? I could get it here in an hour and you could go to New Jersey and be home before dinner?”

You just smiled and leaned down to kiss him softly, “I love you.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a no, but I still love you.”

Again, Roman slumped and sulked.

You looked down at your moping boyfriend and kissed his jaw affectionately. You knew that Roman loved you, but you weren’t entirely sure why he was throwing such a fit about your leaving? Sure, he liked being with you, doing things with you, fucking you; but he wasn’t one of those partner’s who was lost without their other half. Roman did plenty of things alone, even went on the occasional business trip all by his lonesome and never put up this kind of fight before.

You had mentally chalked it down as him being a possessive worry wart, which is why you already had plans to text him often to ease his mind.

As you continued to lay soft kisses to his skin, there was a honk outside followed closely by a buzz of your phone. Your car had arrived to pick you up. Roman groaned as you sat up.

“I gotta go, baby.”

“Five more minutes?”

“I don’t think I can ask the driver to do that,” you hummed as you pushed yourself off him.

You went to the door and you looked over your shoulder to see Roman still laying down, a scowl on his face.

“Are you gonna walk me down, at least? I’d like to say goodbye to you.”

Roman’s scowl deepened before he released a deep breath and pushed up from the mattress and walked to you. When he reached you, you made a move to grab your bags, but Roman beat you to it. He picked up your luggage without any haste and left the bedroom without a word or backward glance. You just rolled your eyes at his childishness and followed him, catching up with his long legged strides to wrap your arms around his waist. You pressed your cheek firmly to his back, and wound your fingertips in the fabric of his shirt. It made walking down the stairs a struggle, but Roman didn’t move to peel you off, which you appreciated.

“You off?” Peter asked from the living room, lifting the remote to pause whatever he was watching on TV.

“Sure am,” you said from behind Roman, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“Have fun, will ya? Say hi to D for me.”

“I will,” you grinned as Roman stayed silent.

You could see Peter's face screw up with confusion on Roman’s stoic behavior, but kept his mouth shut on the matter, something you were thankful for. There was another honk from outside which prompted you to start to drag your oversized boyfriend to the front door.

“Have fun!” Peter called again, his voice muted by the closing door.

Once outside, Roman handed off your suitcase to the town car driver. The man took your luggage, then opened the backseat door swiftly for you to enter, waiting expectantly.

“Give us a minute,” Roman said, dismissing the driver with a little too much hostility.

The driver gave no indication of being offended by Roman’s tone, as he nodded and went to put your bag in the trunk of the car and then returned to the driver's seat. When he was out of sight, Roman looked you in the eyes.

“You really sure you wanna go?”

“Really sure,” you responded with a quick nod.

“I guess I can’t talk you out of it then, now can I?” he frowned.

“Roman, I promise you everything is going to be OK. I’ll be fine there, and you’ll be fine here.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he slumped his shoulders.

“Then what is it?”

Roman just shrugged. Too stubborn to admit how much he would miss you.

You sighed, “Well, whatever it is… I’m going to miss you.”

Roman took his hands from his pockets and placed them on your hips.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll miss you, too.”

You slid your hands up his chest to meet behind his neck, pulling him close.

“I love you very much,” you placed a chaste kiss to his lips, which Roman chased.

“Love you, too.” he returned, giving you a much longer, more passionate kiss.

When you pulled apart, Roman spoke again.

“Text me when you get to the airport, when you board the plane, when you take off, when you land, when you actually get off the plane, what kind of car you're taking to the hotel, get me the driver’s info if you can --” you interrupted his rambled list.

“I will, I will do all of that and I will tell you when we get to the hotel.” you said in a soft, placating voice. You smoothed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and felt tiny goosebumps form along the skin underneath.

“Fine, fine, OK.” Roman’s jaw tightened.

You leaned up and pressed your lips to the tensing muscle, “I love you and I promise to keep you posted, but I gotta go. I don’t wanna miss the flight.”

Roman nodded stiffly, but said nothing.

You began to wiggle away from his hold, when Roman decided to swoop down one last time to kiss you. You were sure the driver was retching by the sheer amount of times you both had done so, but you didn’t care. You loved this silly man and would drown him in smooches to his heart content before you left.

When your final kiss ceased, you both with labored breathing and gloss swollen lips, Roman let you enter the backseat of the town car and shut the door behind you.

As the car drove away, you unrolled the window and leaned out the opening, blowing him a dramatic kiss as you swayed your arm in the wind like a 19th century on looker to a parting ship. Roman watched you with a stilted smile until you disappeared down the road.

When Roman came back inside the house, Peter was waiting for him.

“So, the ol’ ball and chain is out for the weekend. What are your plans?”

Roman said nothing to him as he began to march up the stairs, hand clenching the rail.

“I’m thinking strippers? Huh? Could be fun?” Peter walked to the staircase and watched Roman until he receded into the hallway without a reply.

“Maybe rent the fight on pay-per-view? Get some beers?” he called louder.

Still he only received silence. He rested his chin on the banister and waited a moment before he yelled, “Fine, be a pussy and cry that your girlfriend is gone!”

The sound of a door being thrown open was Peter’s first response, followed by a verbal one.

“I never said no, Jesus! So fucking fine, let’s go to the strip club, asshole.”

Peter smirked as he heard Roman’s indiscernible grumbles before he shut himself right back into his bedroom. Roman liked to pretend he was complicated, but Peter could play him like a fiddle.

Roman was surrounded by body oil, neon lights and gyrating women. A few years ago, this would have been his heaven, his domain. But now, it all felt trivial and antiquated. It felt played out and pathetic. With the neck of a beer bottle cradled lazily between his fingers, he watched on as the beautiful women of the club stripped from their skimpy costumes and revealed themselves in new and arousing ways.

Peter, who sat next to him at their small circular table, was transfixed by the women around them. Reclined in his seat with a smile on his face, his eyes followed the dancers as they spun around poles, as they groped and shook themselves. Roman knew that he should have the same appreciation for the dancers as his friend. He knew that he should be calling over the ones who eyed him up and down with lust, he knew that he should be paying for private dances until his bank account ran dry. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like it, at all.

Peter picked up on his friend's lack of enthusiasm when he found him slipping his phone from his pocket every few minutes to check for notifications. He let out a snort through his nose, one that was muffled under the booming music, but still heard by Roman.

“What?” he asked as he tried to discreetly put his cell back in his front pocket.

“Nothing,” Peter hummed, raising his eyebrows, “Just find it funny.”

“Find what funny?”

“That you’re so whipped.”

“Fuck off,” Roman scoffed, taking a swig of his beer.

“Sure, sure, whatever. It won’t make you any less whipped, though…” Peter smirked.

“I am not fucking whipped.”

“Yeah? Then why do you look like you just put your fucking dog down when you should be looking like a kid in a candy store? Huh?”

“I’m just not feeling it, OK? These girls are ugly. If I see one more cesarean scar I might vomit,” he sneered.

“These girls are all tens and you know it! You’re just being a pouty little whipped boy because your girlfriend’s gone.”

Roman’s face hardened as he turned to glare at Peter, “Fine, y’know that? Fuck you, you goddamn prick. Have fun with these busted bitches. I’m out of here.”

Roman shot from his seat and slammed his beer on the table, causing a few other patrons to look over. He was already gathering his things to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey, cool down, bud,” Peter said, trying to pacify a Godfrey level tantrum, “I was just joking around, OK? I’m just bustin’ your balls, that’s all.”

Roman’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he loomed over the table with a glower in his wide eyes.

“C’mon man, just sit,” Peter pleaded, “Don't be weird about it, just sit.”

Roman eventually relented after a long pause, collapsing his long limbs back into his chair with a loud sniff, his posture rigid. Roman picked his beer back up and took a pull from the bottle.

“Look, I really was just kidding around, alright? Don’t take it to heart or anything,” Peter said, leaning toward his friend so he wouldn’t have to talk over the music.

“Yeah, Ok. Fine,” Roman replied, refusing to make eye contact by letting his gaze wander around the club.

Peter sighed, “I get it, alright? I do. When you’re in love, things are different. You have blinders on to everything but that one person, and as easy as it is to make fun of, it’s not a bad thing, Roman. It’s good, and it’s a good feeling to have.”

Roman finally looked over the table to Peter, whose gaze had wilted and saddened. He could practically see him thinking about Letha, her face forming and twisting in his irises.

He swallowed thickly before he slapped Peter on the shoulder in a search to break the tension, “No hard feelings. I’m gonna head out for a smoke, yeah? And I promise when I get back I’ll have a better time. OK?”

Peter pursed his lips in an attempt to ward off the bubbling curse of his fallen love's memory and nodded, quickly downing the remainder of his drink and calling a waitress over for another.

Roman took his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the exit. Once outside, he collected his pack of Marlboros from his pocket, then a cigarette and the lighter that fit snuggly beside each other.

As he sucked on the filter under the club’s awning and fluorescent flood lights, he felt his phone vibrate. He scrambled to retrieve it from his jeans and read the text hurriedly.

just got to dinner and im ordering a vodka soda and thinking of you. miss u already, ily!

Roman’s heart flipped and fluttered in a way that made his cheeks tinge with pink, while a smile fought to curl on his lips. As he quickly typed out a reply, a little voice in the back of his head told him that maybe Peter was right, maybe he was whipped.

drink slow, baby, remember what happened in ibiza when you had to many lol

And immediately after

i love you too, keep me posted

When he pocketed his phone once more, Roman pondered. Flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette, he decided that there were worse things in life than being in love with a woman, and being devoted to her. If that made him whipped, then so be it. Though, he would never admit that to anyone but his consciousness (even a bit painfully at that).

The sheets were warm with body heat and Roman had lost the cool side of his pillow hours ago. He tossed and turned. He shucked off the blankets, just to retrieve them moments later. His limbs danced under the sheets in search of comfort and a portion of the bed that wasn’t sticky with his sweat and a high temperature. His hips hurt from laying on his sides and his shoulders hurt when he rolled on his back. He was crawling out of his skin with discomfort and soreness as the moon illuminated the bedroom. Around 1AM, he had tried to close the blinds, but they only ever budged for your magic touch, and Roman had only mangled them into an unrelenting slope.

Roman had checked his phone every ten minutes since he got under the covers. He had texted you a succinct good night around eleven and had received a jumbled good night in response. He had typed out a text that had bordered on passive aggressive, asking about how your night had been going and how much you had had to drink, but deleted it before he hit send. He was doing his best to avoid playing into the overbearing, resentful boyfriend role that he felt he was in. You deserved to let loose, he just wished he was by your side as you did (and not thousands of miles away).

He had typed another text out just after midnight, then another after the blinds incident, but deleted those as well. Part of his pouting was pretending that you didn’t want to be bothered by his messages, so he would just lock his phone and return it to the night stand each time. But, that was before the irritation had set in on his bones and just the thought of trying to fall asleep made his skin waver and blister.

But he still didn’t text you.

Because this time he called.

He shuffled around as he listened to the phone ring in his ear, squirming under the covers as the top sheet seemed to be holding his ankle hostage. He felt an overwhelming urge to snap and strip the bed of its clothes and throw them all out on the lawn, when he heard you begin to pick up.

“Ro?” you shouted into the receiver, the loud blare of club music accompanying your voice.

“Hey, you’re still out?” he asked, twisting his leg around erratically until his ankle was free.

“I can’t hear you! Hold on,” you said loudly again, followed by muffled shuffles as you moved through the crowd.

“Wait! Hold on! Roman! Wait!” he heard your far away voice say as you exited the club.

The music grew further away and the static shuffle ended, Roman could finally hear your voice and only it.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you giggled.

“Having fun?” Roman asked, trying to mask his interest.

“Yeah,” he could hear your shrug, “dancing is lots of fun.”

“You sound like you’re having fun.”

“Well, I can be lots of fun after a few Moscow Mules,” you chuckled at your own joke.

“Switched from vodka sodas?”

“Yeah, the other girls were drinking them so I thought, ‘Hey! Why not?’”

Roman could hear the sound of your high heels echoing on the pavement.

“How are you getting along with them? No bad blood?”

There was a beat of pause on your end before you sighed, “It’s hard to make new friends, Rome.”

“Did something happen?” Roman felt a flare of anger in his chest.

“No, no,” you replied, “they’re nice girls, I think I’m just in my head about it.”

“Are you sure, baby?”

“Yeah, everything's fine, really. I am having a lot of fun.” you reassured.

“You sure?”

“I mean, they’re nice. They are… but they’ve all been friends for years, and I’m just this new girl coming in and trying to fit in with them. That’s the only bad part; feeling like I have to prove myself or something… I don’t know. Girls are weird,” you peeled away at the skin on your lip as you spoke.

“They’re excluding you? The fuck is wrong with those fucking women? Who the fuck do they think they are?” Roman’s heart beat began to accelerate and suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind.

“No, of course they aren’t excluding me. Destiny wouldn’t let that happen and you know it,” you said, “it’s just… they all have inside jokes and years of history together and y’know, here I come, Destiny’s new friend whose main bond with her is weird vargulf trauma.”

“I swear to God, baby, if I hear anything about them bullying you, no one will ever find the bodies. I’ll drain those snotty bitches for you,” he swore.

You replied with a light hearted giggle, “I highly doubt that will be necessary. But is there something very wrong with me, that you threatening homicide for me, sorta turns me on?”

Your comment was the pin to burst the anger that had begun to balloon in his chest.

Roman snickered, “No, at least not to me. I think that’s what makes us work together.”

You made a noise in thoughtful agreement.

“Roman? Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you asleep? You came home from the club hours ago.”

Roman let a beat of silence come over the receiver as he collected his thoughts. He was slightly embarrassed by the reason, and while he had come to the conclusion there were worse things in the world than being whipped, he didn’t want you to know how whipped he was for you.

“Jus’ hard to sleep alone,” Roman mumbled into his phone, picking at a loose thread on the duvet.

He heard you snort a laugh and twinge of shame flared in his belly.

“Ro, you sleep without me all the time! I’m the needy one who can never sleep without you, remember? We go over this everytime you go out of town.”

“What? So, I’m some frigid monster without feelings? I can’t miss you? I can’t possibly not be able to sleep without you because I’m such an unfeeling asshole?” Roman carped defensively.

“Mm, baby, I love when you put words in my mouth,” you were happily drunk, so while this could have been said with malice and venom during a fight, you said it with warmth and giggles now.

“I never said that you are unfeeling or cold or an asshole. You are sometimes, but that’s beside the point,” Roman grumbled bitterly as you continued, “You’ve just never brought up not bein’ able to sleep when you’re away, is all. You go to Tokyo quarterly and it’s never come up when you get home.”

A jumbled, muffled response came from Roman’s end as his cheeks burned red.

“What? Ro, I can’t hear you?”

“I said, I… Jesus, fine. I said that I always refill my sleeping pills when I leave, ok? I pop an Ambien or two and that’s how I can sleep away from you,” he confessed, “and I don’t know, I guess I forgot to refill them before you left. So, yeah, whatever.”

You didn’t immediately reply to Roman’s admission and his stomach began to churn with hot worry. Rationally, he knew that you wouldn’t ridicule him or tease him for his attachment to you and his acknowledgement of it. But the irrational side, the side that grew up with Olivia Godfrey as his mother, who would dull out affection only as a form of manipulation, made him feel sick.

“Oh, Rome,” you cooed, your voice tender and comforting, “I never knew that… I, that’s actually really sweet.”

Roman’s shoulders dropped, “Yeah?”

“Yes! I think it’s very sweet. We can’t sleep without each other. I think it’s cute. I think that means something.”

“Something good?”

“I’d say so.”

Intense warmth flooded under Roman’s skin and filled his body with loose relaxation. He could hear the smile in your voice, and he could see you swaying in your heels, propping yourself up on a brick wall that bordered the building, and he knew you were wishing it was him. He wished it was him, too. He had never felt such a perverse envy of brick in his life, because it got to feel your soft skin and caress your flowing hair while Roman was a million miles away, craving the taste of you.

Roman wished he could curl up inside your voice, that he could let your syllables embrace and pet him, let your sentences of sweeter things and kind compliments rock him to sleep and help him forget how far away you truly were.

After a few silent moments of simmering in each other’s long distance affection, Roman reluctantly spoke.

“You gotta go back in soon?”

“Probably,” you gave a heaving sigh, “I don’t want them to worry or anything.”

“Or have them give you shit for being whipped,” Roman said with a forced chuckle.

He knew that this showed another chink in his armour, that his vulnerability glowed from underneath his comment. Sleep deprivation and loneliness was taking a toll on his filtering ability.

“Pft,” you blew out the sound from your lips, “they already know that I’m whipped, Rome. I’m not much of a secret keeper.”

You disclosed this without any stuttered worry or fear. You told Roman of your love and devotion to him without having to grit your teeth or wipe your clammy hands on your pants. It helped him feel comfortable in admitting his affections for you, but it was still much harder for him than it was for you. He knew that he needed to continue to work on divulging to you often and regularly of his love, because whenever you did, it filled Roman with the most remarkable and indescribable feeling. The feeling of stability and trust and happiness and the giddy feeling of knowing that the person you love most reciprocates. And Roman wanted most in life for you to feel that same way.

“I miss you, Rome. I love you so much, but I gotta go,” you said, breaking through his thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I miss you, too. I love you,” Roman hoped you could hear his sincerity through the phone and your drunken haze.

When you hummed contently, he knew you had.

“Bye, baby,”

“Make sure to text me when you’re back at the hotel, ok?” Roman interjected quickly before you hung up.

“‘Course, honey. I love you!” and with that, the line went dead.

Roman still tossed and turned and ached for your presence in his arms, but your short conversation had helped him eventually lull himself to sleep. His dreams were filled with short vignettes of you, sparks and flickers of your face.

Just after mid-morning on Sunday, you gently stuck your key into the lock of your home’s door. You had texted Roman after you had boarded the plane home and when you landed in Pennsylvania, but you had yet to get a response. You were hopeful it was because your high strung boyfriend was still asleep, something you knew he needed.

After your over the phone heart to heart in the early hours of Saturday morning, Roman still only got fitful rest. Saturday night was much of the same, as he sent you a litany of text messages, ranging from attempts to sext to requests for Netflix show recommendations. You were beginning to feel slightly guilty for the sleep you were able to get on your hotel queen, but you mainly accredited your ability to fall into the grip of slumber from the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed over the weekend. Even now, the effects of the alcohol still had you in a clutches. With sunglasses perched high on your nose and four Tylenol simmering in your stomach, all you wanted to do was finally be back in Roman’s arms and kiss him wherever your lethargic lips could reach.

Once you had opened the door, you heaved your suitcases over the threshold and set your keys in the crystal dish that held Roman’s as well. You stretched your arms over your head with a squeaky moan, and inhaled deeply the smell of your home. There was something so comforting about coming home, no matter the extent of time away, and smelling the scent that your living space held. The smell that your senses accommodated to, the smell that you didn’t notice every day. Your and Roman’s shared home smelt like warm fabric softened linen and Roman’s favorite pine candle he had a stockpile of. It smelled like a hint of lemon from Anna’s disinfectant and a tad like cigarette smoke that lingered on Roman’s clothes. It smelled like Roman’s wafting cologne that made your knees buckle and your stomach flutter, and you swore you could smell your own in the air somewhere too. Maybe Roman had sprayed it in the air to comfort himself? You wouldn’t ask him if it was true, but it made you smile anyhow.

You made your way deeper into the house, headed for the kitchen in search of a Gardorade and a granola bar before you went up to join Roman in your bedroom. Though as you rounded the corner to look into the living room, you were surprised to find Roman splayed out on the couch. Folded underneath his head was his pillow from upstairs, and draped over his lanky limbs was the thick duvet from the guest bedroom. The excess fabric pooled on the floor next to him, most of it having slipped off his body.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked at him. His plump lips were spread and his jaw was lax. One of his arms was thrown over his head and the other over the back of the couch, while one of his legs had fallen off the cushions, causing his foot to lay flat on the floor. He must have been running on fumes for him to be so deep under while laying on the stiff designer couch so loosely.

After a few more moments of admiring him, you decided to obtain your food before you went to wake him. Of course you had the option to leave him be, but you knew when he woke he would be angry if you came home and didn’t. That, and you wanted to be in his attention, even if it was just two and half days, you had missed him.

With a few bites of your granola bar chased down by Gatorade, you walked over to Roman. You set your items down on the coffee table as you knelt next to his head. His nose scarcely scrunched and his eyelids twitched. You placed a gentle kiss to all three and he started to stir.

“Roman? C’mon, wake up,” you whispered, brushing back a curled piece of his hair that had fallen on his forehead, “I’m home.”

He let out a throaty groan as his eyes fought to flutter open. His adams apple bobbed and he pursed his lips before his beautiful emerald green eyes were revealed to you between languide blinks.

“Hey,” you grinned, finger combing his hair, “you finally get some sleep?”

“(Y/N)? How long have you been home?” he asked, voice graveled from slumber.

“Not even five minutes.”

“And you didn’t wake me?”

“I’m waking you now,” you smiled, gripping his hair playfully.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his arms that had been flung behind his head coming to grip you waist, “come here. C’mere, c’mere, c’mere.”

You giggled as Roman grappled you with sleep soaked limbs to pull you on top of him. When he did, he brought his other arm down to snake around you, keeping you firmly to his body. You moved your hands up to cup his jaw, kissing him listlessly on his cheeks.

“I missed you. Oh, I missed you,” you uttered and Roman’s arms tightening.

“Fuck, God fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much,” Roman keened sleepily.

You were sure he was being more candid because of how tired he was, but you didn’t care.

“You’re never leaving again, ok? Never leavin’ my side again. Taking you everywhere with me from now on,” his hand skirted underneath the hem of your sweatshirt, his finger eagerly exploring your missed skin, “never letting you leave my sight.”

“I’m ok with that,” you purred in his ear, kissing him with finality on his lips, “I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

Roman gave you a heavy lidded expression of pure bliss, “You make me happy.”

“You make me happy, too.”

You smiled down at him and propted yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him, “Let’s go upstairs, baby. Our bed is better than this couch.”

“Nah,” he groused, pushing you back down to his chest with a huff, “just here, just like this. Too tired to move.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, things are better now anyway.”

Your cheeks ached from smiling as you nuzzled your nose to the column of his neck and Roman’s chest rumbled with happiness.

Roman’s fingertips pressed into your back with comforting pressure and his other hand moved down to slip into the back of the waistband of your pants to feel the skin of your ass.

He felt such a flood of contentment, he wondered just how he had survived at all these past few days without his fix of your skin, your smell, your kisses and you. He buried his face into your hair and ignored the way some of it found its way into his nose as he inhaled. He ignored the kink in his neck and the pain in his shoulders and the fact that he had accidentally ripped down the blinds in the bedroom the night before. Because now, nothing else mattered except you. Roman wished he could tell you just how he felt, all about this feeling. He wished he could tell you how he loved you with the entirety of his being and that you truly made him happier than anything else in the world. He hoped he figured it out soon, but for now, he knew this was enough.

i hope you enjoyed! if so, i would love to hear your feedback (-: and i know i am overloading you on fluff, but a very angsty story is in the works!

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey reader insert #roman godfrey fluff #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #hemlock grove reader insert #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 3 years

Text

Sometimes You Have No Option

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: scar mentions, mostly just vague nothing too graphic at all, very quick mention of the ‘heat death of the universe‘, it’s one throwaway line but just to be safe!

Summary: Virgil wonders what Roman gets up to on his adventures that leaves him battered and bruised. What he finds isn’t what he expected....

---------

There was always this unpleasant feeling that followed Virgil whenever Roman came back from traversing the mindscape on an ‘adventure’; sometimes he’d come back bruised and bashed, other times he’d sport a limp, but nearly every time, Roman would come home with new scars.

Virgil couldn’t understand the appeal of it, though far be it for him to say anything about it. Sure, maybe it did hurt a little seeing someone he cared about come back each time more banged up than before.

But that's none of his business, right?

Virgil wondered just what Roman got up to each time he went out. He’d never seen the things Roman could conjure outside of the main mindscape; some called it the ‘imagination’ but they were already within the imagination technically. No, what Roman would conjure was more like a simulation within the mindscape, as far as Virgil understood it. Like adding an extension onto a home…. Only to tear it down once you were done with it in the end.

Perhaps calling them ‘daydreams’ was a more accurate comparison.

There were many times Virgil would let his own imagination run wild with the kind of journeys Roman must have gone on. Forests and kingdoms, perhaps a seafaring adventure if Remus agreed to not set the kraken on him. Or maybe he branched out even more. Something like the spaceports of Treasure Planet, or something more akin to a spiritual journey you’d find in a Ghibli movie. Who knew what Roman was up to most days, honestly.

It was a lazy Saturday in the mindscape when Virgil finally decided to ask Roman about it.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to do so, but Logan and Patton were both busy elsewhere, and all Virgil had to do was watch TV and contemplate the inevitable heat death of the universe when Roman had returned. Mismatched eyes latched onto the creative side as the prince made his way to the kitchen. He winced as he watched Roman root around for frozen peas and press the bag to his left cheek.

The injury was just out of Virgil’s sight, but as Roman turned and made eye contact, he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming. Despite the way the sight made Virgil’s lips pinch into a frown, Roman met him with a smile that made his stomach do flips as he made his way over to the sofa,

“What’s that look for, Woe Troham?”

Virgil snorted, “Wow, we’re getting obscure with the nicknames now? You’re really earning that extra credit in Emo Studies, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and sat down next to Virgil, careful of the anxious side’s bunched up legs, “You do realise we ALL went through Thomas’ emo phase, right?”.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever...”, he was about to leave the conversation there when he remembered the matter at hand, “Hey, uh, Roman?”

“That’s what they call me, yes.”, the creative side smirked playfully, “Typically preceded by ‘Prince’ but I’ll cut you some slack this once.”. Virgil wanted to slap that smirk away. Or maybe smooch it. The jury was still out on that one.

He sighed in mock annoyance, “Can we cut out the nonsense for once, Romano?”

He bit his lip to stifle a chuckle at the insulted huff Roman let out.

“Okay, seriously, I was gonna ask what happened,”, Virgil continued when Roman fixed him with a perplexed frown, “Y’know, to cause that.” .

He freed one hand from his hoodie paws to gesture to the bruise under the frozen peas in Roman’s hand. Said creative side shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about, Virge. I’ve had far worse before.”.

Oh great, because that’s what Virgil was absolutely dying to hear.

The words left his mouth before the anxious side could stop them, “.. Can I see?”

Okay, that had to have crossed a line, surely. Those scars were probably super traumatic or heavy with meaning, or perhaps they were-

“Okay.”, Roman shrugged. He was already hauling his shirt off by the time Virgil had registered how casual Roman was about this whole thing. He was about to voice his confusion when Roman’s shirt fluttered to the floor; leaving Virgil with a moment of gay crisis, but even more so a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Roman’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were fresh, likely only days old, while others were already paling with time. The anxious side had no idea where his hands obtained the audacity to trail themselves along Roman’s skin without permission, but the creative side seemed content to let him continue.

Surprisingly confident fingertips traced valleys and trenches of healed and healing skin, only ever stopping on each route if Roman protested. Virgil had no idea why Roman let him even do something that felt this intimate in the first place, but the question that bubbled out of his throat instead was, “What…. Happened to you?”

He expected Roman to turn away, to dramatically cover himself once more, perhaps muttering a barely audible “some things are left unsaid” or “it’s…. Personal”, and then he’d retire to his room while Virgil did the same and let his mind swim in it’s usual cloud of anxious self depreciation.

What Virgil did not expect was for Roman to immediately start pointing them out and listing every single cause like it was his grocery list.

“Well!”, Roman began, pointing to a scar on his left hip, “This is one I got from accidentally laying down on a light bulb.”

The prince pointed to more scars as he went, all too oblivious of Virgil’s stunned silence, “This one here is from running through corn stalks with my shirt off, and that one was a mosquito bite I scratched, which yes I know you shouldn’t do that, but you know how dreadfully those itch.This one here is from the time I tried to fight a goose- Oh! And this one I procured from falling out of a window during an impromptu tickle fight with Remus-”

“Why does anyone try to fight a goose?!”, Virgil blurted out. Of all the rapidfire information his brain just tried to absorb, he wasn’t sure why that was what his brain latched onto, but he couldn’t exactly take back the question now.

The anxious side watched Roman’s expression take on a distant, stoic edge, but having known him so well by now Virgil knew the prince’s fake dramatic long distance stare a mile away. “Sometimes,”, Roman began, and Virgil did his best not to give a fond huff of annoyed laughter at the creative side’s faux drama tone, “The goose leaves you no option-”

Virgil couldn’t stifle the peal of laughter that slipped through his teeth and betrayed his irritated facade. The whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster but Virgil was mostly just happy that even if Roman was constantly getting into scrapes, at least it was nothing overly serious. By the time Virgil had stopped laughing, he realised Roman had also fallen victim to the case of the giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, goddamit, Roman!”, Virgil snarked weakly, the gentle smile he wore betraying any attempt at true irritation. Roman simply continued to beam at Virgil, brilliant and bright, a beacon of pure adoration.

“That’s a rather funny way to pronounce ‘handsome and dashing’, but I’ll take it!”

It’s unfair that Roman got to be so well put together while Virgil was just standing there, hands still resting on Roman’s bare chest, blushing up an absolute storm. Something about the way Roman smiled at him - so gentle and adoring - made Virgil want to do something crazy.

Like kissing him.

Yeah.

He should kiss him.

No, wait, he absolutely should NOT do that.

In fact, Virgil caught himself just as he was leaning towards Roman, intending to turn away. However, Roman’s arms snaked their way smoothly around his waist, keeping him close but still remaining loose enough that Virgil could break away if he wanted.

“.... Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Roman’s voice was hesitant, a little less sure of himself than his expression implied. To save himself from embarrassment by not subjecting Roman to any barely passable attempts at a verbal affirmation, Virgil nodded bashfully.

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil’s lips then settled back into half lidded eye contact, a small quirk of laughter dancing across the prince’s features.

“Am I the only one who’s been subtly flirting this entire time? Because if so, I am going to be utterly scandalized.”

Even Virgil was surprised by the relieved laughter he let out; it was the ugly kind that gave away just how smitten he was with Roman. He tapped his fingers against Roman’s chest, humming playfully.

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll just have to be scandalized, pretty boy.”, he teased.

Roman’s shocked expression was too cute, how could Virgil resist? The anxious side sighed out a low chuckle, rolled his eyes, and lent forward to reward him with a much earned kiss.

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We love us a couple of pining dorks

Based on this post and so I tag @count-woe-laf as promised!

#my fics #prinxiety #roman #virgil #fanfic #fanfics #prinxiety fanfiction #this is basically a shitpost piece #but I'm working on other stuff and it's been so long #I wanted to give you all smth soft and fluffy to read

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shortprince-cos · 3 years

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Patton's Normal And Totally Not Angsty Birthday

Summary: Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people, but his famILY had other secret plans.

Warnings: Crying, being alone for an extended period of time, angst, slight innuendo. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Pairings: Platonic DRLAMP (all)

{Masterlist}

~~~~~

Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea, considering what had happened earlier last year. Everyone was still on their toes from the...fight.

It wasn't a fight though! It was more like a...big disagreement. That kind of maybe split everyone apart and left Patton alone...

But it was fine! Everyone just needed some alone time! Even if it had been awhile - a long while - since the incident. They just needed to think about things, and when they were ready, Patton would apologize and they would hopefully accept!

Hopefully...

Patton turned in his bed again, trying to sleep for the umpteenth time that night.

He sighed and eventually sat up, glancing at the clock. It said it was 4:16 in the morning, now it was technically January fifteenth.

Happy birthday to him.

Patton wiped the tears off his face and put on his glasses and his cat hoodie. Well, if it was his birthday, he might as well have a cupcake and make a wish. He'd probably need it, to be fully honest.

Patton meandered through the hallway, glancing at everyone's different colored doors. Everyone was probably asleep.

He remembers when it used to be just three doors in the hallway. Just Morality, Creativity, and Logic. Was it simpler then? Or were they just living in ignorance?

"No one knows you better than yourself, am I right, Tony?"

"I know big words too! Ssssssaxophone-"

"Who knows what'll happen if you don't adopt them, and they need a good home!"

"Anything he darn well pleases!"

...Maybe he was the only one not taking things seriously. They say ignorance is...better to live in, and Patton was basically swimming in it before his wake up call.

"We need actual contributions from you, now and then."

Is that why this happened? Maybe he's been ignorant of all the actual dilemmas this entire time. That's how everything went wrong! He didn't just suddenly not know what to do, he never knew what to do! He just hid it with jokes and puns and silly commentary to 'lighten the mood', but really he was just a distraction from their actual problems.

Patton hugged himself as he stood in the hallway, surrounded by the doors of his friends. Well, if they still wanted to be his friend.

Patton glanced at the dark purple door in the hall, cringing at the memories that came with it.

"Now Anxiety, if you don't want to participate, you can just sit this one out."

"Awww you poor little anxious baby!"

"And what about Anxiety, he always seems to get you down."

Patton swiped his tears away, hurriedly making his way down the hall to the staircase.

Janus didn't have a door here yet; he said he'd rather stay with the others in the hidden side of the mindscape.

Probably because of how awful they all were to him.

"Deceit, standing in the spot of one of my four best friends."

"Um, you're in my spot."

"Because Thomas gave his word, but you wouldn't know anything about words, would'ja mister?"

"I may be amphibian, but I can't say that I am fibbin'!"

God, they were so terrible to him. No wonder he doesn't like being around any of them.

Patton's hands shook as he gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, holding in his silent sobs.

All of this is his fault. He caused the rift in his famILY.

Suddenly he heard voices from downstairs. Wasn't everyone in bed? It was four in the morning, who would be up right now?

Patton wiped the tears off his face for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

He stalked down the top stairs slowly, trying to listen in onto what the voice was saying.

"Listen," A voice whispered. "I'm just pointing out all the possibilities."

"More like all the negabilities, seeing how all of them are negative." Another snarked.

"Just- does he even wanna see us? We basically ghosted him for months. We didn't even include him on the Nico situation. Why didn't we do that, he's the heart! He's like, the most important side for that!"

Oh. They were talking about him.

Patton debated leaving, going down there, or keep on listening before another voice spoke up.

"I doubt he would not wish to see us. If anything, I believe he would like to talk about what happened."

"Logan, we're talking about Patton here. If we talk, he'll just say he's fine when he's clearly not fine."

"That's not true." One obviously lied.

So all four of them were downstairs talking about him. Wait, isn't there supposed to be five-

"Hi Potty-cakes!" Remus suddenly shouted from behind him.

Patton shrieked in surprise, before almost tumbling down the stairs before someone caught him.

"Pat! Are you okay?!" Virgil said, slowly helping Patton to his feet.

"Y-Yeah, I'm perfect!" He said, plastering his Patton-ted fake smile.

Virgil squinted at him. "Pat, have you been crying?"

Ah. Guess the smile didn't work.

Patton noticed that everyone was crowded around him, including Janus, which meant that lying was out of the question.

"Uh- kinda?" Another smile.

Someone swore under their breath as Logan spoke up. "Patton, what are you doing awake at this hour? Don't you normally get up at seven?"

Patton stood up straightly instead of leaning on Virgil. "Oh, I just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep! What're you guys...?" Patton started as he finally looked around the room, noticing the balloons, streamers, and a banner that they had used for every birthday Patton had had.

"...doing?" He finished.

"Uh-" Roman started. "Well uh- we were kind of...surprising you with a birthday party?" He shrugged nervously.

Patton stood shocked for a moment. They were throwing him a surprise birthday party? Why? Why would they do that- weren't they mad at him? There's no way they would just suddenly not be mad at him! What was happening?!

"Pat, what's wrong?" Janus suddenly asked, putting a gloved hand on Patton's shoulder.

"I'm fine, why?" He answered on instinct.

"Padre, you're crying." Roman explained.

Patton touched his cheek, and sure enough, he was crying. "O-Oh. I guess I am."

Another hand gripped his wrist. "Pop-star, are you okay?" Virgil asked with concern and sincerity in his voice.

Patton immediately started sobbing. "No, no I'm not."

Some tentacles wrapped around him from behind - probably Remus - as a bunch of arms started surrounding him as well, securely trapping him in a hug.

Patton kept crying into someone's shoulder as multiple people kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eventually, Patton had stopped crying, just enjoying the feeling of a hug - a hug! - surrounding him.

Then, they started pulling away, leaving Patton with traces of warmth left over.

"Patton, are you alright?" Logan asked with concern in his eyes.

Patton rubbed at his eyes again and sniffled. "Y-Yeah. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. I kinda expected to spend today alone..."

Everyone made a noise of either surprise or concern.

"Patton I..." Roman started, looking at the ground in guilt. "I didn't mean to make you feel alone, I just-" He sighed. "I talked to De-Janus, and he helped me realize that it wasn't like you were trying to make me the bad guy, you were just trying to tell me that Janus wasn't one either. So, I planned a party to apologize to you, and well, I guess the surprise is ruined."

Patton immediately hugged Roman the minute he stopped talking. Roman chuckled, but Patton could hear the tears in his voice.

"I'm- I'm so sorry I-"

"Shh, don't be." Roman comforted. "We all forgive you."

After another minute of hugging, Logan cleared his throat.

"While this moment is very touching and much needed, it is currently almost five in the morning, so I suggest we all take a nap before we get into the festivities."

Everyone made noises of agreement, when Patton interrupted.

"Um- could we-?" Patton started before cutting himself off.

"What's up, Pat?" Virgil asked.

"Uh- I-I just thought that maybe we could..."

"Cuddle on the couch?" Janus finished with a smirk on his face.

Patton nodded with blush on his face.

"Ooo sexy~"

"Remus, I swear to all things princely-" Roman started before the twins started arguing and Logan had to break them up before they could brawl in the living room.

Eventually, everyone on the was cuddled up on the couch and snuggling in one way or another, and Patton couldn't be more content.

~~~~~

Whoo! I finished on time!!!!!!!! I'm so proud of myself for writing this in one day! Though, I think it's a bit rushed, I forgive myself for that tho because it was written in one day lol

Ty for reading! I really enjoyed writing Patton angst again lol!

General Taglist: @resident-crow-goth @macademmia @theantisocialghost @foreverfangirlalways @emo--nightmaree @moxy--sanders101 @quinnthequeer @gattonero17 @trashno0dle @tranquil-space-ninja @artsy-enby09 @lugooble @sander-crossing @disney-princess-patton @sleepyysoot @hi-its-tutty @lookingforaplacetosleep @sarcasmremovedsoul @corkeecoderyt @drarrymalecsolangelo @private-snippers @girl-who-reads @emy-loves-you

Ask to be added or removed!

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #patton angst #platonic drlamp #pattons birthday #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts janus #ts remus

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carriagelamp · 3 years

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Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

#aardman animation #shaun the sheep #lumberjanes #kid paddle #asterix #the last firehawk #hunger pangs: true love bites #marian engel #bear #canadian literature #canlit #queer lit #book review #book reviews #chatter

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365days365movies · 3 years

Text

Historical July V: The 13th Warrior (1999)

Let’s start from the beginning here.

Beowulf was an epic poem now considered one of the oldest written legends in English ever. Written between 975 and 1025, it tells the story of the hero Beowulf, warrior of an ancient Swedish tribe known as the Geats. Not quite Vikings, but not terribly far off. Recruited by King Hrothgar of the Danes (another Scandinavian Viking-esque tribe), he killed the vicious monster Grendel, as well as his vile mother. Beowulf returns home and becomes king of the Geats for 50 years, only to slay a dragon and die from his wounds.

This is one of the most studied poems ever written, and I am not doing it justice with that summary. Still, because of this, the story of the hero slaying a monster has remained a staple of classic literature to this day. Obviously, it was around before this as well, but this is definitely a sterling example. It was also, of course, adapted countless times over the years, including the 2007 motion capture film directed by Robert Zemeckis, and cowritten by...holy shit, NEIL GAIMAN?

...Wow. I’d tag him in this post, since I know he’s active on Tumblr, BUT I DON’T GOTS THE BALLS TO DO THAT. Seriously, though, no idea he wrote Beowulf, that’s a surprise to me! The film itself is somewhat controversial in terms of reception, and I was tempted to watch it again, since I barely remember it. Buuuuut, this is about watching movies I’ve never seen, so let’s get back to that, right?

So, we’ve got Beowulf in one corner. AND IN THE OTHER CORNER, standing in the 800s-1000s, ready to engage in piracy and trade, we have the Varangians, AKA the Volga, AKA the Volga Vikings! So, first things first: Vikings.

The cultural vernacular would have you think that Vikings were these horn-helmeted barbarians who raped and pillaged everything they saw. A lot of that is, of course, untrue, but the Vikings were certainly not to be messed with. As usual, this comes from a casual observer of history, not a true historian, so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, or let me know about something interesting of which I may not be aware!

The earliest known account of the Norsemen is in 793, kicking off what historians refer to as the Vking Age of Scandinavia. Specifically, we’re talking Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, as well as parts of England, Iceland, Greenland, and a bunch of islands in the Atlantic. Some of the people from these places served as mercenaries in more inland Europe, in what you eventually would call Turkey. The guard that formed from these Scandinavians were known as the Varangian Guard.

From the areas near Byzantium, the Norsemen would use the river Volga, which runs from the Caspian Sea throughout Russia, and encounters a lot of cities and settlements. Here, the Vikings became well-known for their trade, some of which miiiiiiiight have been slaves. OK, some of that was DEFINITELY slaves, but also furs, tusks, and other goods. It was on the water that the Norsemen REALLY hit their stride, and they became famous for their colonization and conquest of the seas. They went fuckin’ EVERYWHERE, and you could find settlements of the Vikings from Greenland to the Ukraine.

But of course, this was accompanied by raids, pillaging, and mercenary work along the way. Never said that part wasn’t true. Their might as warriors was legendary, as was the weaponry they used, and the Norse gods they worshipped. These are the men of Odin the All-Father, Thor the Thunderer, and Loki the Tom Hiddlestoned.

Alligator Loki is the only true Loki, and I will fight you all.

Anyway, this is a massive oversimplification of the importance of the Vikings, as well as their methodologies and influence. I haven’t seen A&E’s series Vikings, but I hear it’s very good! Might check it out one of these days. The warriors were made famous for their struggles against Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire, as they resisted the push towards Christianity felt all across Europe. When he died, they experienced a resurgence, leading for more raiding and more pillaging!

But it wouldn’t last forever. The vast Viking states in Scandinavia began to fracture into separate empires, especially because Christianity made its way to Denmark and Norway in the end. The Pagan beliefs of the Norsemen were being replaced by the rise of Christianity, and new kings and rulers rose from the chaos. Slavery was also being abolished, eliminating a source of income and trade for the Vikings. And then, in 1107, King Sigurd of Norway took his people and turned their sights towards a new building conflict in the south, a clash between Christianity and Islam. And with the rise of the Crusades, the Viking Age was over.

But their legends, of course, lived on well afterwards. The Greeks, Russians, and others still referred to them by their name in the region: the Varangians or the Volga Vikings. In their time, they’d ruled over their own kingdom, the Kievan Rus’, which took up much of eastern Russia. This kingdom of Vikings outside of Scandinavia was ruled by the Rurik dynasty from 882 to 1263, and in that time period, much of the territory was taken over by Christianity and the Slavs. But for a time, the kingdom was a force to be reckoned with.

Also, apparently, they’re an enemy is Assassin’s Creed: Revelations? I really gotta play more of those games.

OK, so...where does that lead us? Well, much of the information we have about the Volga Vikings comes from an Arab author named Ahmad ibn Fadlan, who wrote of his experiences with the Vikings as part of a trade caravan. He’s also the main source of the “ship burial” ritual, in which a boat was used as a coffin, containing goods and treasures along with the deceased. His writings on the subject were read and adapted by another famous author.

Oh, Michael Crichton, how I love you. Fuck yeah, Westworld and Jurassic Park author Michael Crichton saw this book, and said “I wanna write about this!” And so, he wrote Eaters of the Dead, an retelling of the story of Ahmad ibn Fadlan’s journey with the Volga Vikings, as well as an adaptation of Beowulf! Yup! It’s historical fiction time, baBEEEEEE

To adapt this into film, who should step in but John McTiernan, director of Last Action Hero, The Hunt for Red October, Predator, The Thomas Crown Affair, and ONE OF THE BEST ACTION FILMS OF THE 1980S

...OK, I’m ready. Let’s do this. Who’s in this movie, by the way?

FUCKING ZORRO IS IN THIS MOVIE?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with Aḥmad ibn Faḍlān ibn al-ʿAbbās ibn Rāšid ibn Ḥammād (Antonio Banderas), a historian, ambassador, and exile from his country. Also, an Arabic man played by a Spanish actor. Granted, we know basically NOTHING about the real man’s ethnicity or origins, so it’s not...impossible? But OK, that potential problem aside, why is he an exile? Well, he schtupped the wife of a nobleman.

As he and his friend Melchisidek (Omar Sharif) travel to be an ambassador to the Bulgars near Volga, they are attacked by Tatar raiders, then saved by travelling Norsemen. And no, that’s not how this happened in real life, but whatever it’s a dramatic way to introduce our boys. The Vikings are there to mourn the death of their king, and that night, Ahmad gets to observe a ship burning Viking funeral. Which, uh, the real Fadlan DID NOT witness, since he witnessed a ship burial. But again, whatever.

Although disgusted by the seemingly uncivilized behavior of the Vikings, Fadlan observes their behavior and stays with this caravan for a bit. The prince of these people is Buliwyf the Leader (Vladimir Kulich), while the only one that speaks a language other than Norsk is Herger the Joyous (Dennis Storhøi), and he translates the dialogue of the Norsemen into Latin for Melchisidek.

Later, a messenger from the North comes to ask for their aid. The young man is a prince, and the son of King Hrothgar, and NOW I GET IT. Hrothgar. King of the Danes. And “Buliwyf”. It’s Beowulf, OK, got it. And the kid is asking for help to slay a monster that’s been damaging their village. A seeress tells them that 13 men must go to fight the creature, and that the last must not be a Norseman. And so, against his will, Ahmad is now...the 13th Warrior.

Reluctantly, Ahmad goes along, and over an unspecified amount of time, learns their language. It’s a clever way to show it, too, as bits and pieces of their conversation are heard in English as Ahmad continues to learn. He shocks them all, interrupting them as they’re mocking him over a fire, then immediately calling them a “son of a pig-eating whore”, which is a hell of a first impression.

Over time, with his high horsemanship and his observational skills, he gains the respect of Builwyf as they make their way to the shores of Hrothgar’s kingdom. He even teaches Buliwyf how to write Arabic, which is neat! Meanwhile, Ahmad learns more of their ways and religion, noting the differences between his monotheistic Islam, and their polytheistic belief in the Norse pantheon. When they get there, the place is FUCKED up. Walls broken down, buildings in ruin, and a broken king.

Said King Hrothgar (Sven Wollter) knows Builwyf and his late father, and has come to ask him for assistance with this threat. Said threat is not told to us at first, but is apparently an ancient enemy of the Vikings from 100 years prior. As the 13 men deliberate over this, Ahmad spots a bloody and injured child running through the fields. The Vikings, with the help of a local, discover his origin: a destroyed cabin in the woods. In said cabin is a beheaded corpse, hanging upside-down alongside other similarly dismembered bodies. Yikerrrrrrs. Ahmad is the one to see this, and is quite sickened by the sight. This confirms the Viking’s fears: their culprits are the Eaters of the Dead, also known as the Wendol. Which, yes, is a deliberate reference to Grendel. Interesting. VERY interesting. I’m kinda diggin’ this.

Looking through the cabin, Ahmad discovers a small figurine. This is a Venus figurine, a relic from the Neolithic age thought to be worshipped as a fertility figure. It’s apparently meant to represent the mother of the Wendel. HA! Nice. I AM digging this so far; it’s cool to have this classic story realistically reinterpreted into a real story. They return back to the settlement, where they discover that the Wendol are encroaching closer to the village.

That night, after dinner and a verbal altercation between Buliwyf and Hrothgar’s son, Prince Wigliff (Anders T. Andersen), the men agree to wait in the great hall for the Wendol, who are barely men according to them. That night, they wait behind, and the Wendol do indeed attack them, killing and beheading two of them. And while the Warriors kill some of them, their bodies are gone by the end.

After being tended to by a woman of the village, Ahmad goes back to joining the rest of the Warriors in training and fortifying the village against attacks. He struggles quite a bit, but gets the village metalworker to make him a scimitar in order to ease the work. And also do Zorro-esque sword tricks, because he’s Antonio fucking Banderas.

But as the work goes on, Herger gets into an argument with a young man of the village, which leads to a fight in the middle of the village, possibly to the death. Fearing that Herger will indeed die, Ahmad tries to get Buliwyf to stop the fight, but he refuses. As Herger is clearly losing the fight to the younger man, Wigliff encourages the young man to kill him, only for Herger to easily kill him. Yeah, turns out that Wigliff is an absolute asshole, and he’s trying to set Buliwyf and the Warriors up to fail.

After the battle is done, lookout Edgtho the Silent (Daniel Southern) spots fire on the hillside, and rouses the attentions of the other Warriors. They believe that the Wendol has raised a great dragon, the Firewyrm. However, it is instead hundreds of the Wendol, armed with torches and coming down the hillside. Ahmad rides out and rescues a young woman, seeing the Wendol in the process. Time for battle.

Ahmad and the others lower their new barricades, as the Wendol ride in on horses and carrying torches. And honestly...it’s pretty fuckin’ sick. I mean it, this is awesome looking. They throw their torches over the barricade, while getting fired on by the Vikings, and returning that fire with arrows and spears. Village people put out some of the fires, while the bear-hide wearing barbarians steadily make their way into the citadel.

By the time the fight is over, four more Warriors are dead, bring us down to 7 left. It’s also discovered that the Wendol are in fact humans, clothed in the skin of bears, because that shit...that shit is cool. For the record, I’m not claiming that this movie is the best or anything close...but I’m having a good time with it, is all I’m saying. After the battle is done, Ahmad partakes in some mead, then spends the night with the woman from earlier, Olga (Maria Bonneie).

The next day, in the need for more information on the Wendel, the Queen Weilew (Diane Venora) brings them to an old woman in the woods, a seeress. She tells them to find the mother of the Wendol, as she is their source of willpower, as well as their leader, who “wears the horns of power”. The Wendol Mother can be found “in the Earth”. And with that, a new quest to end this scourge begins.

As they head out, they find the village of the Wendol, and note the ritualistic structures topped in bear skulls. Ahmad then deduces that the Wendol not only want to be seen as bears, but also see themselves as bears, hence their headdresses and manner of fighting. And so, they search for a cave, where bears are said to sleep. And again, that’s a really neat interpretation of the original story, where Grendel’s mother is said to be found in a cave, I AM FUCKIN’ DIGGIN’ THIS MOVIE

Sure enough, they find a cave in the Wendol’s territory, and find a gigantic Venus figurine. And, of course, they find just a FUCKTON OF SKULLS. It’s basically a temple to death, a true ossuary within the mountain. AND YES, IT’S FUCKING AWESOME. This...this might be a new guilty pleasure movie for me. Like, a movie you put on in the background while you’re doing something else. Because I’m genuinely really enjoying it.

The make their way down a waterfall, going deeper into the cave. As the Warriors fight the Wendol themselves, Buliwyf goes to find the Mother of the Wendol. He does, and instead of having sex like they do in the 2007 film, he just beheads the shit out of her. Which is a shame, because she looks incredibly cool. However, in the process, he is stabbed by a weapon of hers, dipped in some kind of liquid. Given that she had a snake on her, I’m assuming that it’s meant to be poison.

On the way out of the cave, warrior Helfdane the Fat (Clive Russell) chooses to stay behind and fend them off, bringing us down to 5. Pretty sure somebody died in the fight with the Wendol, but it was a little darkly lit, so I wasn’t sure. But yeah, we’re at 5. They find a hole in the cave that leads to the ocean outside, and make it back to Hrothgar’s hall.

At this point, it’s clear that Builwyf is going to die from the poison of the Wendol Mother. At the same time, this is not the end of the fight, as the Wendol Leader is still not dead, and they’ll want vengeance for killing the mother. As they talk about this, they hear the Wendol on their way. As they prepare, Conan prays to Crom...I mean, Ahmad prays to Allah.

Buliwyf also comes out, to face the end fighting. As he does, he and the other Warriors (Ahmad included), say a prayer of their own, preparing to be interred in the halls of Valhalla. Funny thing, though, that’s a real prayer from the writings of ibn Fadlan! Yeah! But it’s also from a slave girl about to be burned to death with her master, so not exactly the same. Regardless, it’s a neat touch! And with that, here come the Wendol.

The battle commences, and while it’s tough, the leader of the Wendol indeed falls at the sword of Buliwyf, causing all of the remaining Wendol to retreat into the woods from whence they came...and probably elect a new leader to come back and kill the rest of them at ome point, but whatever. The Warrior watch them fade into the fog, and as they do...Buliwyf dies, sitting upright as if in a throne, as a true king.

The Warriors take him and give him the burial of a king. In real life, like I said, he’d likely be buried within a ship, instead of in a burning ship at sea, but I get it. It’s a powerful image. And with that, the battle is over. Herger stays behind, and the rest return to the south. Ahmad writes his story in a journal, and the film...just ends.

Well, that ending was abrupt as fuck.

But is this a good movie? Welllllllll...

Cast and Acting - 5/10: Look, Antonio Banderas is a great actor...whe he’s playing someone with charisma. Stoic...isn’t his strong suit. Not saying he was bad in this; mobody was bad in this in terms of acting. But he was...boring. Except for Dennis Storhøi as Herger, everybody kind of is. Not bad, just...dull.

Plot and Writing - 7/10: People criticize this movie for having a thin and boring plot, but...this film creatively reinterpreted the myth of Beowulf and made it realistically possible. And goddamn, if I ain’t a sucker for that shit. That said, that’s all Michael Crichton. The writing by William Wisher, Jr. and Warren Lewis is just...fine. It’s fine? It’s not amazing, it’s just fine.

Direction and Cinematography - 5/10: Eh...it’s OK. Some shots are actually quite good, especially those within the foggy wastes. But others...eh. John McTiernan did fine, but I won’t say he was perfect either. Same with cinematographer Peter Menzies Jr.

Production and Art Design - 9/10: Now I may be just a simple country Tumblr writer, and I may not know my historical clothing as well as some a’ those high-falutin’ city Tumblr writers, but from where I sit...this movies LOOKED pretty fucking awesome. Yeah, I love it. It looks pretty fuckin’ great, not gonna lie.

Music and Editing - 6/10: I mean, it’s Jerry Goldsmith doing the score. That seems about right. It’s a great score...even though it feels like it should be scoring a different movie sometimes. Yeah, that is kind of an issue. And then there’s the editing by John Wright, which seems fine to me? Like, I don’t really have any issues with it.

I’m cool with 64%. Because I had some fun with this one!

It’s not great, and it’s not the most fun film I’ve ever seen, but I do like the interpretation of the original myth quite a lot, to be honest! Kudos to this movie for that, if for nothing else.

OK, so that’s the 900s covered. This movie took place in 922, by the way. Now, I would do a Crusades movie, but I’ve actually seen a LOT of those already, weirdly enough. A Knight’s Tale is tempting in terms of historical fiction, but...eh. Maybe not this time. In fact, as I look at it...oh, God, I’m gonna have to jump another several hundred years for the next one. But if so...might as well go somewhere interesting, right?

Next: The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965);dir. Carol Reed

#the 13th warrior #the thirteenth warrior #eaters of the dead #beowulf #michael crichton #john mctiernan #antonio banderas #ahmad ibn fadlan #vladimir kulich #diane venora #maria bonnevie #omar sharif #tony curran #historical fiction #historical july #user365 #365 days 365 movies #365 film challenge #usergiles

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eliemo · 4 years

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Getting There

Part Two of The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Logan says it will take some time. He promises the others will always be patient. Virgil knows this, he just wishes it wasn’t quite so easy to push him back over the edge.

Masterpost

Notes: I plan on writing a bunch of these, so don’t worry! Janus and Remus’s reactions will come soon!

Learned behavior, especially in cases like this, was incredibly hard to unlearn. Logan had made that very clear, many times, assuring Virgil that it was perfectly reasonable to have some occasional setbacks.

A long talk and a cuddle session, while Patton’s go-to medicine, wouldn’t magically fix all their problems.

Logan had insisted on pulling all four of them aside the next day, delving into research and tactics to use to ensure Virgil felt safe, to gradually undo the damage that had been done.

Patton and Roman had been listening intently, nodding along, sure to pause and ask for Virgil’s input whenever it was needed, holding his hand and making sure he was never overwhelmed.

There were some...unpleasant phrases thrown around during the talk. Abuse, trauma, conditioning...it all felt like something dirty. Like he was tainted, broken.

And of course they knew what he was thinking, they were all so kind and attentive, so openly worried, quick to reassure and comfort.

It helped, but...but still. Virgil was still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that all the things he went through, all the things he’d been taught were normal and expected weren’t...weren’t ok. That it wasn’t normal.

He’d deserved it. That’s what they told him. He went through all of that pain because that was just the way it was, and there was no other choice.

Had he really been stupid enough, pathetic enough to just believe that and let it all happen? If he was so easy to take advantage of, so easy to hurt, then why wouldn’t the light sides end up doing the exact same thing, no matter how well meaning they were in the beginning?

He knew it was stupid and unfair to have those thoughts. And to make it worse, he knew they knew he was thinking it.

They wouldn’t do that. They’d sworn it to him too many times to count. Like Logan said it was just...going to take some time to believe it.

And things did get better. Slowly. He might not have even realized progress was being made if it weren’t for the less than subtle praise the three of them kept offering, the pride and hope that was impossible to miss.

As embarrassing as it was, being practically applauded for something as small as forcing himself not to fall into a desperate string of apologies for bumping into someone’s shoulder, he couldn’t deny that it helped to some extent.

He did wish he was doing a little better, though. Sometimes he had to force himself not to flee if someone was in a bad mood, silently remind himself that no one was going to hurt him, that he didn’t need to be afraid, didn’t need to protect himself and hide.

It didn’t always work.

And there were always going to be slip ups. Little mistakes and thoughtless behavior that Virgil would never hold against the others. They were trying so hard and like Patton had said, mistakes were part of being human.

There had been a...particularly bad day during a rather stressful filming week. Their schedule was finally allowing them all a bit of a break, and Virgil had taken up residence in the living room for the afternoon, lost in his own head in a futile attempt to relax.

He hadn’t even realized he’d left some things strewn around. Just a few pillows and blankets- it wasn’t a big deal, he’d clean it up before he headed back up to his room like he usually did. At the time, he was too tired to really give it much thought.

And then Roman had stalked through the living room, nose buried in his notes, mumbling something under his breath. He was clearly swarmed with the work Thomas needed from him, lost in thought and stress, and on his way to the kitchen he’d stumbled over one of the pillows.

Virgil smirked and sat up with the intent of calling the Prince a clutz, hopeful that their familiar banter could reduce some of the tension from the workload, but Roman beat him to it.

“Jesus, Virgil will you clean up your mess?” He snapped, kicking the pillow aside. “I don’t have time to be tripping over your stuff!”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the kitchen, and Virgil had...froze.

It was fine. He knew it was ok, he knew…

But all of that had disappeared in a second, all rational thought drowned out by cold, all consuming fear and memories, harsh realizations that Roman was angry- angry at him, and Virgil had left a mess, and whenever he’d left a mess before he’d been punished--

That snapped him out of his shock, instinct and panic taking over, and he threw himself from the couch and dropped to the floor, gathering everything into a pile and frantically trying to fold the blankets with trembling hands.

It was fine, it was fine, it was fine. He’d made a stupid mistake but he could fix it. It would hurt less if he just cleaned it up.

God why wouldn’t his hands stop shaking? His chest was aching, his grip weak and unsteady. It took far too long to get the blankets folded, and when it was finally done the end result was uneven and lumpy, nothing that would get him out of any trouble.

He didn’t even know when he’d started crying, fear and hopelessness setting in all at once, but suddenly he was sobbing, breaths quick and ragged as he desperately tried to smooth out the blankets, refusing to focus on getting a hold of his breathing until it was fixed, until the room was clean and Roman didn’t have to be angry anymore—

“Kiddo?”

Oh no. No no no, he wasn’t ready for anyone else to see what he’d done yet. It was still a mess, he’d still left everything a mess and he was a mess, and he was just going to make them more upset with him and then it would be worse.

“Virgil.” There was someone kneeling beside him, and it took him a moment to realize it was Patton. “What’s wrong?”

Virgil shook his head, knowing Patton was looking over the mess Virgil had created, growing just as angry as Roman.

“I-I’m cleaning,” he managed, wincing when his voice came out a pathetic, weak stammer. “I d-didn’t mean to- mean to leave it a m-mess, I was- I was gonna clean it up, I didn’t mean to upset him, I didn’t--”

“Hey, it’s ok.” Patton’s hands were suddenly over his own, squeezing gently to stop Virgil from frantically trying to fix the wrinkles, the folded blankets still not even remotely acceptable. “Breathe, honey. Can you look at me?”

Virgil obeyed almost immediately, not willing to risk making anybody anymore angry than they already were, trying to stop his ragged sobs to no avail.

“There you go, kiddo. Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

Virgil shook his head. “I- I can’t, I have to fix it, I- I’m trying to clean it up, I promise.”

“It’s ok,” Patton said again. “It looks fine, Virge. You know it doesn’t need to be perfect.”

“Yes it does,” Virgil argued, because he knew it did. He was already in trouble, making it perfect and spotless was the only way to lessen the inevitable punishment. “I already made him mad and he’s gonna- he’s gonna...I have to fix it, I have to--”

“Nobody’s going to do anything to you, Virgil.” Patton frowned, moving Virgil’s shaking hands from the pile of blankets. “Who do you think is mad at you?”

And for a second, Virgil wasn’t even sure. Just for a second, he almost said another name, too many memories overlapping.

But then it cleared slightly, and he was only blinded by the current panic of what he’d done, still unable to fully grasp what was being said to him.

“R-Roman, he...I didn’t realize that he wanted it clean I-I didn’t know and I ruined it and he’s upset and he’ll--”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Patton said, for some reason looking even more distressed when Virgil snapped his mouth shut, watching the moral side with wide, wary eyes. “Roman’s a bit distracted today, I’m sure he isn’t upset. He probably doesn’t even realize.”

Virgil hadn’t even noticed until Patton frowned down at their hands, but he’d been desperately fighting against the other side’s hold, frantically trying to go back to smoothing out the blankets without even realizing.

“Here,” Patton said, gently easing him back. “How about I go get Roman, and then we can--”

“No!” Virgil had ripped his arms out of Patton’s grip, scrambling backwards without any clear thought of what he was doing. “N-no, no Patton, please let me finish, let me just try, I can do it I swear, he doesn’t have to be upset, I can be better, I can fix it please--”

“Honey,” Patton tried, and Virgil knew he was scaring him but he couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re ok. I promise. Remember what we said? You’re safe with us.”

Virgil curled in on himself, hunched over on the living room floor, mind scrambling desperately to latch on to what Patton was saying, trying and continuously failing to make sense of the warped reality his panic had created.

“Please don’t get him yet,” he found himself begging. “Please, not while he’s angry, please, he’ll hurt me, I don’t want him to hurt me again.”

And that was when Virgil had known, both he and Patton, that he wasn’t talking about Roman anymore.

But he didn’t stop his pleading, and Patton didn’t even hesitate, carefully lowering himself beside Virgil who forced himself not to flinch away.

The thought of fleeing to hide briefly crossed his mind. Patton would eventually call Roman in, and Roman would see the mess Virgil still hadn’t cleaned up, and he’d still be angry.

Virgil had tried hiding before. It didn’t always work, and it often led to worse punishment once he was caught, but on the off chance that he got away, the anger had usually faded by the time he resurfaced.

Usually. It often wasn’t worth the effort.

“You’re ok,” Patton said again, pulling him from his thoughts. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Virgil. Ever again. Can you breathe with me, please?”

Virgil nodded, something screaming at him to obey, just do what they wanted and it would be ok…

It took an embarrassingly long time for Patton to talk Virgil down, for Virgil to even remember where he was, what exactly he was so afraid of.

But it all came back, slowly, the real world filtering in around the panic, the soothing voices, the gentle reminders that he wasn’t in any danger.

Oh. Great, he’d done it again.

It took Virgil a second to come back fully, blinking as he registered Patton sitting beside him, watching with wide, teary eyes.

Oh, god.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, now for an entirely new reason. “I’m ok Patton, I just thought...fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out like that.”

“Language, kiddo,” Patton said softly. “You don’t need to be upset with yourself, and you have nothing to apologize for.”

Virgil’s breathing was still too shallow, his chest aching with each gasp, and before he knew it he was reaching for Patton, letting himself melt into the other side’s embrace.

He managed to keep himself from crying again, just barely, closing his eyes against Patton’s ever soothing words of comfort and safety.

They’d been down this road too many times by now, some days worse than others, and Virgil had no idea how long his family was going to put up with this. Their patience seemed endless, but everyone had their limit.

“I’m trying,” he said after a moment, desperately needing Patton to understand. “I’m trying, Pat. I‘m trying so hard to be better, I swear I’m trying, I don’t want to keep doing this but I just--”

“You’re making more progress than you think, kiddo,” Patton said, cutting off his frantic rambling. “And we’ve already told you, there’s no rush. It’s gonna take time, and that’s ok. We aren’t going anywhere.”

They’d all told him that at some point. Told him he was getting there, that it wasn’t his fault when he slipped up, that they wouldn’t give up on him.

They’d all promised, all in their own way. Virgil only wondered if they’d realized just what it was they were signing up for.

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Patton was carefully pulling away, smiling almost apologetically.

“I’m going to get Roman now.” He frowned at the way Virgil’s shoulders tensed, eyes cast downward. “I’ll tell him what happened. But we can’t just leave these things unaddressed, you know that.”

He did know. Logan had said it enough times, along with countless other tactics and behaviors to help Virgil that never seemed to work.

Nothing ever worked. He couldn’t even recover properly.

But when he nodded miserably Patton just gave another small smile, squeezing his hand before standing from the couch and hurrying into the kitchen.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, Virgil left to hunch over himself beneath his pulled up hood and press into the corner of the couch, when there was the sound of footsteps rushing towards the living room.

He managed not to flinch, just glanced up and watched as Roman practically came barreling into the room, eyes wide and face flushed.

Princey looked like he wanted to rush across the room to Virgil’s side without a second more of hesitation, but a glance back at Patton in the doorway stopped him in his tracks.

“Virgil, I-I’m so sorry.” He was breathless, and Virgil’s throat felt tight at the waver in his voice. “I should have known...I wasn’t even thinking--”

“It’s ok,” Virgil said, willing his hands to stop shaking, pushing down the cruel, nagging voice shouting warnings in the back of his mind. “Really, Roman. It was a stupid overreaction. It’s on me.”

Roman took a careful step forward, only moving the rest of the way to the couch when Virgil didn’t immediately tense up or move away.

“I am sworn to protect you,” he said, voice oddly small as he lowered himself beside Virgil. “I was stressed and distracted- but that's no excuse. I should never have allowed myself to do or say anything that could make you feel unsafe.”

Virgil let out a trembling sigh, the obvious guilt in Princey’s eyes like a punch to the gut, so painfully undeserved, and all his fault.

He took Roman’s hand, noting how the creative side almost instantly relaxed at the physical contact. “You were stressed, and you just asked me to pick up my things off the floor. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“And I shouldn’t have been so aggressive,” Roman said. “You have no reason to be ashamed of your reaction, especially with the stress you’re under. I promise it won’t happen again, Virge.”

The reassurances, as always, settled something in Virgil’s chest, breaths coming a bit easier, a weight gradually lifting from his shoulders. But it still just felt...wrongly placed.

“It’s ok if it does,” he said, finding himself leaning against Roman’s side. “We’re...learning, right? All of us? It’s- it’ ok if we have slip ups. It happens.”

Logan had said something similar to all of them countless times before, his words of course were much more steady and eloquent, but Virgil knew Roman would recognize the words for what they were.

“You’re right.” Roman still sounded unconvinced, but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to dwell over it too much when he was being pulled close, once again enveloped in strong, safe arms. “And we’re getting there. Together.”

It wasn’t the first slip up that had sent Virgil back into that awful, panicked state, and it definitely wasn’t the last.

It was stupidly easy to trigger him back into that mindset, convinced he was too much, that he’d done something horrible, that he would be punished and hurt accordingly.

He was assured it was ok, that it was “normal” to react like this after going through the things he had, but Virgil was almost sure he was taking an absurdly long time to show any improvement.

But then again...maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

Improvement could be so slow, so small, that maybe the bad just sometimes happened to overshadow the good.

The first time Virgil really noticed it, he’d been finishing up putting away some clean dishes, Logan setting the table for dinner while Patton and Roman idly chatted over their cooking.

“Virgil?” Logan called. “Those glasses actually go in the other cabinet to your right. Do you mind moving them?”

Right, he’d known that. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

It was only a few cups, and he wordlessly moved them to the next shelf over before closing the cabinet and making his way over to the couch until dinner was ready.

Or at least...that was what he planned on doing before realizing that everyone in the kitchen was staring at him.

They were trying to be sneaky about it, but Virgil could very clearly see everyone was watching him with wide, poorly hidden smiles, looking ridiculously giddy like he’d just announced he’d won the lottery.

What the hell?

“Uh, guys?” he asked. “Everything ok?”

Logan was the first to speak, and Virgil wondered if he was imagining the pride radiating from the logical side.

“Everything is satisfactory, Virgil,” he said, reaching forward and squeezing the other’s shoulder.. “Thank you for doing the dishes.”

Before Virgil could even consider calling him back as he walked away, Patton let out a noise that could only be described as a squeal, practically flinging himself forward to envelope the anxious side in a tight hug.

“I am just so gosh darn proud of you, kiddo!”

“I- what?”

Even Roman was looking like he was forcibly holding himself back from joining in, and the Prince was actually bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling so wide Virgil felt something in his stomach swoop.

“Give him some space, Patton,” Logan spoke up, having stopped to watch from the doorway. “You responded extremely well to my request, Virgil, but apologies if we overwhelmed you.”

As Patton pulled away, Virgil once again opened his mouth to ask what on earth everyone was so happy about, before it suddenly dawned on him.

He’d put the dishes in the wrong cabinet, a mistake that had been pointed out by another side.

It was exactly the sort of thing that would send him into a panic, make him lose himself in a fit of frantic apologies, paranoia and anxiety rising up to choke him, to send him under a wave of regression.

But...that hadn’t happened this time.

It hadn’t even occurred to him to apologize. No panic, no fear, no flood of memories and guilt. Just a simple mistake that he’d quickly corrected and then promptly forgotten about.

And he still didn’t feel the need to apologize or get out of the enclosed space.

Huh.

“See? I told you,” Roman said, leaned up against the kitchen counter. “We’re getting there, Stormcloud.”

And...yeah. Virgil supposed he was right. It was slow, sometimes almost invisible, but that really didn’t matter. They were getting there.

520 notes · View notes

waywardrose13 · 3 years

Text

Deliverance From Evil

Pairing: DARK!Dean Winchester x Reader (?), Sam x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 11,054

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: Non-con, rape, physical and mental/emotional abuse. Ages 18+, virgin!reader, language, mentions of depression/anxiety, curse, purgatory, purgatory!Dean, hateful remarks, negative self image, mentions of suicidal thoughts, not enough editing to satisfy me. Please let me know if I missed any triggers/warnings.

Rating: Mature- 18+!! If I find that you are under 18, you will be blocked. Go read some of my minor friendly stories.

Summary: Dean Winchester had two sides; the selfless, caring man who loved his baby brother, car, and pie; and the cruel, sadistic man who was hell bent on making Y/n’s life a living hell. When Dean, Cas, and Y/n are sucked into Purgatory, things take a turn for the worse. Two years later, Y/n finds herself face to face with the man who broke her. A new discovery leads to Y/n finding out the truth, yet sometimes, the truth is better left unsaid.

A/N- This story is very dark and can be triggering to some readers. Please do not read if any of the above warnings are triggering to you. I have also listed some resources below if you are in need of help. I love you all!

Bingo squares: @spndarkbingo (Purgatory!Dean) // @badthingshappenbingo (This is for your own good) // @spndeanbingo (Soulmates AU)

U.S. National Sexual Violence Hotline: 800.656.4673

U.S. National Domestic Abuse Hotline: 800.799.7233

The idea of Purgatory wasn’t what put me on edge. It wasn’t the monsters constantly down your throat, or the blood, sweat, and tears that somehow never seemed to stop. It was Dean Winchester’s sinister stare and cruel remarks that put me on edge.

I didn’t hate the man. If I was being honest, I felt quite the opposite, but it was more of a feeling of distress. Ever since meeting him, something about me had made him loathe me. I wasn’t sure what it was, nor have I ever asked, but whatever it is, I have never been able to make him at least tolerate me.

Sam and I had met in college. I was a freshman when he was a senior, and he tutored me for a while. We became friends, and soon we found out the both of us had gone to college to escape the hunting life. We grew apart for years, naturally coming back together on a hunt.

I had been at the bunker with the Winchesters ever since, much to the elder brother’s dismay. And ever since then, Dean had made it his job to make my life a living hell.

It started out as small jabs at me; little comments that had an underlying, cruel meaning to them. Or forgetting to pick me up from police stations, houses, etc, or not bringing back food for me. But slowly, it evolved into something more. He began openly being cruel towards me, saying things that made me cry in bed at night. He’d shove me when Sam wasn’t looking, he’d purposely break my things, bleach my clothes, point out my insecurities for a laugh.

I honestly thought the bullying ended in high school.

I hadn’t fallen in love with the person he was towards me. I had fallen in love with the person he was to others. He was selfless and caring. He was brave, intelligent, and had a killer sense of humor. And the simple sight of him made me weak at the knees. But whenever his words were spoken to me, or his glare was pointed at me, I sometimes forgot who he was when he wasn’t hating me.

Something must have been wrong with me. How could I love a man who was so ruthlessly callous to me? Although I had tried to stop the feelings, it was like an inexplicable pull vehemently caused me to fall into a confusing love with this man. It was unstoppable, and however much I prayed or wished for it to leave, the feeling never ceased.

“Hey, Y/N!” I jumped as Dean barked at me, and I snapped myself out of it, looking towards him. “Get your head out of the damn clouds and move your ass.”

I sighed, hoisting my makeshift bag onto my shoulder, trudging after him and Benny.

After Dean killed Dick Roman, he, Cas and I were swallowed into Purgatory along with the Leviathan, too close to the impact sight, apparently. I immediately knew I was fucked when Dean looked at me dead in the eyes when we landed and told me he’d rather go to hell than be stuck with me in a place like this.

“We need her, Dean,” Cas had said. Dean had rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“We need her like we need the plague, Cas,” he snarled. I flinched at his words, and I closed my eyes for a moment to keep the tears at bay. “I mean for fucks sake.”

“Look, the way I see it, I don’t care if you hate her, but we need all the help we can get. And she’s a good hunter despite everything else you, for some reason, hate about her.”

It was the first time someone had stood up for me. It wasn’t long, however, before Dean and I were on our own, Cas seemingly taking off after a particularly rough fight. He ignored me the whole time, not saying any words to me, but using his shoulder to roughly shove me out of his way from time to time. The way I saw it, he wasn’t verbally abusing me anymore. I could manage a few shoves.

When Benny joined our team of two, Dean began speaking again, and we continued the search for Cas.

So here we were now, walking through the dense forest of Purgatory, eyes and ears constantly alert. It was like the start of a bad joke; two hunters and a vampire walk through purgatory…

“Don’t mind him, Cher,” Benny murmured to me. “He’s in a mood.”

“He’s always in a mood around me, Benny,” I said. “Nothing I do will ever change that.”

“Benny, quit gossiping with her and get over here,” Dean said, voice hushed. He was crouched down over the edge of a cliff, Benny and I making our way to crouch on either side of him. Dean shot me a dirty look, and he turned slightly towards Benny.

“What is it?” The vampire asked. Dean nodded his head to the valley at the bottom of the ridge.

“Leviathans,” Dean said. “Took out a small pack of wolves a few minutes ago.”

I shivered, watching as one of the leviathans picked up a severed limb, inspecting it before tossing it to the side.

“Shit. That was our path, wasn’t it?” Benny asked. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, and I’m not really in the mood to get into a fight with a bunch of leviathans right now,” he said.

“I don’t blame you, chief,” Benny agreed. “But what are we going to do now?”

I glanced to the left, eyes roaming the cliff side. It was high above the creatures below, and it fed to another cliff edge on the other side. It would be above our path, but most likely would run parallel alongside it. There seemed to be good footwells along the cliffside, and I struggled to get the courage up to speak.

“I have an idea,” I said. Both men looked over at me, interest on Benny’s face and annoyance on Dean’s.

“The adults are talking,” Dean said.

“Let her talk, chief,” Benny said, patting his friend on the back. “Go ‘head, cher.”

I swallowed. “The side of the cliff: it’s hidden by the tops of the trees. But-” I pointed to the other edge- “if we are careful enough, we could climb across and get to the other landing. I’m guessing the otherside runs parallel to our original path, it’ll just be higher.”

“Smart,” Benny said, giving me a smile. “Real good.”

“How the hell are you going to climb across the side of a damn cliff?” Dean asked, raising a brow. “You can barely hold up your axe.”

I bit my lip. “I’ll manage. And I can, too, hold up my axe. I’m not weak.”

Suddenly I was being shoved onto my back, my hands being pressed into the dirt as Dean held my wrists. He straddled my waist, his face inches from mine.

“Push me off,” he hissed, eyes furiously burning through my skull. I struggled beneath his hold. I was strong, but Dean was stronger, and no matter how much I bucked and pushed and pulled, he wouldn’t budge.

He let go of me for a moment, and I shoved at his chest, quickly being held down again with one hand while his other held a knife to my throat.

“You know, it would be so easy to end you right now,” he growled. My eyes widened in fear. “I wouldn’t have to hear your whiny, sniveling voice anymore and see your pathetically hideous face.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in my eyes.

“It would put us all out of our misery.”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Benny said, now on his feet.

“The bitch needs to be taught a lesson,” Dean said, pressing harder. I whimpered, fear clutching my heart in its grasp as he smirked darkly at me. “Don’t you… bitch?”

“Get off me, Dean,” I said, bucking beneath him again. He laughed, hand squeezing my wrists tighter. “Stop it.”

In a blink of an eye, he had reared the blade back, bringing it shooting back down until it stabbed into the ground beside my head. I flinched away from it, eyes squeezing shut as he was being pulled off me.

“What the hell is your problem?” Benny asked, pushing Dean against a tree. “What the fuck has she ever done to you?”

“What do you mean? Just look at her,” Dean said.

“Give me a reason, chief,” Benny snarled. “Give me one good reason why you terrorize that poor woman.”

Dean hesitated, his mouth agape as he thought for a moment. I was sitting up, hand on my throat as I watched carefully as he closed his mouth and set his jaw, eyes casting downwards.

“That’s what I thought,” Benny muttered, letting him go. Dean took a deep breath, looking up at me for a moment.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He bent down to pick up his sword, slinging it over his shoulder onto his back before making his way to the cliff side.

Benny helped me to my feet, hands cradling my head as he inspected my neck. There was a small nick from Dean’s blade, but I was relatively unscathed.

“Alright, cher,” Benny began, hands gently resting on my shoulders. “You stick with me, okay? I won’t let Dean touch you again.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding my head as he patted my back. He pulled me in for a quick hug before following after Dean.

***

The next three days had gone by in a blur. We had yet to find Cas, and Dean was getting impatient. It was a constant surge of monsters and a constant physical battle with ourselves as we pushed through the fights, trying to swallow back our bile at the blood and guts that inevitably found itself onto our clothes.

I was washing up in the river, a little way through the trees from a camp we had set up for the night. I had carefully peeled off my bloodstained clothes, washing my body as best I could with the river’s water before attempting to clean my jeans and shirt. I scrubbed at them until the blood was simply an ugly stain, tossing the garments onto a nearby rock to dry. I was midway running water over my hair when suddenly arms were lifting me up, eliciting a squeal from my lips. A hand clamped over my mouth and I was dragged back behind the rocks. I struggled in the arms of my captor, rearing my head back and bashing it into their nose. They grunted, and they let go.

I spun around, fists raised, eyes widening.

“Dean? What the hell?” I asked, covering my stomach. My chest was still covered by my bra, and the water was deep enough to cover the bottom half of me, but I felt naked under Dean’s intense gaze. I glance around, spotting my clothes on the boulder. I grabbed at them, pulling the shirt over my head before my jeans were ripped away from me and thrown to the side. “Hey!”

His lips crashed against mine in a bruising force, hand tangling in my hair as he snaked an arm around my waist, crushing my body against his. My hands flew to his chest and I tried to push him away, confusion and fear coursing through my veins as he wouldn’t let go.

I bit down on his lip, and he reared back with a small yelp, touching where blood began to seep from the bite. I pulled my shirt on as he was distracted and backed away from him, arms curling around my torso.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, wiping away the blood. I stared at him, mouth dropping.

“What the fuck was that?” I yelled. He raised a brow. “You don’t just come onto a girl like that! Especially after treating her like you treat me!”

“I… huh?”

“Are you seriously playing dumb right now?” I asked, brows drawing together. “You can’t be that fucking idiotic.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? For everything. But here’s the thing,” he said, moving closer to me. I moved back until I was pressed against the rock. “We’ve been here for almost a year, right? Neither of us have gotten any within that time. You just looked hot down here in the water, and I see the way you look at me sometimes so I just thought, ‘hey, why not?’”

How long had I dreamed a moment like this would happen? Too many times. More than I’d care to admit. But did I really want to be with Dean for the first time like this? With him hating my guts, simply wanting a quick fuck in Purgatory pf all places? Fuck no.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You’re shitting me.”

“No.”

I ran a hand through my damp hair. “I… I can’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth right now. You think I’m hideous! You’ve said so multiple times, so you’re full of shit! And just so you know, you don’t just jump onto a girl and assume she wants the same thing you do. Besides, who wouldn’t be attracted to you, for fuck’s sake? It doesn’t mean I want to fuck you! God, Dean! You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you…”

“Yes, you do! You’ve bullied me like a damn middle schooler since the moment you met me!”

He sighed, jaw clenching. “Fine. You know what? Forget it.” He moved past me, stopping for a second. “And all have you know, it’s not that I hate you. It’s just that I can’t stand to be around you for more than ten minutes without wanting to put a gun in my mouth. And you’re right, I do think you’re hideous, and my god does your personality make you fucking ugly inside and out. If you don’t want work done on your face, at least work on that. Maybe then you could find someone willing to put up with you.”

He left then, leaving me speechless. I collapsed against the rock, silent sobs racking my body. I hated myself, and Dean thrived on that fact. I had no idea what I had ever done to him, nor did I understand how someone could be so cruel. But there was one thing I did know for sure; Dean Winchester was absolutely hell bent on breaking me.

***

I combed my hair out with my fingers, eyes staring out over the water.

It was nearly a week after my confrontation with Dean, and he had gone back to ignoring me. I was okay with it, not minding the silence after the cruel words. I always relied on my friendship with Benny to get me through, but it seemed as though he was pulling away from me, too.

I sighed, my hands finding themselves on the dirt beneath me. They were filthy, no matter how many times I scrubbed at them with moss and water, the blood and mud wouldn’t rid itself from my skin.

Suddenly, something went soaring through the air in front of my face, a blade lodging itself in the tree beside me. I fell back, flattening myself on the ground as I looked to the side, seeing Dean standing twenty feet from me, a dark smirk on his face, Benny shaking his head behind him.

“What the hell, Dean!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet. “You could’ve killed me!”

“But I didn’t,” he said, walking towards me. He reached past me, eyes locked on mine as he retrieved the knife from the bark. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t be so… are you fucking with me?” I asked, watching as he turned around and shrugged off his jacket.

“Just drop it, cher,” Benny said, rolling his eyes. I set my jaw and turned away, swallowing back the anger brewing inside my chest. I folded my arms over each other, biting down on my tongue until I drew blood. “I’m going to scout the area. See if I can’t find a better place to set up camp.”

I inwardly groaned at the thought of being alone with Dean, and watched from the corner of my eye as Benny made his way through the trees, Dean leaning against one to stare at me. He was twirling his blade around in his fingers, his smirk not fading from his face. I shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Dean began.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I muttered. He stopped twirling the knife, smirk fading to replace his expression with a stoic, hard one.

“I’ll give you one more chance at this, Y/N,” he said. He walked toward me slowly, and I backed away a bit.

“At what?” I asked, now pressed against a tree. Dean didn’t stop moving until he could press his palm against the tree, leaning into it as he bent down until he was eye level with me.

“I think you know.” His eyes flickered down to my lips, his tongue running out to wet his own. I shivered as he lowered his face to the side of my head, nose pressing into my hair to take a deep breath in.

“Dean, please, I don’t-”

“You know, I bet you’re still a virgin,” he interrupted, ignoring my words. I tried pushing against his chest but he took my hands in his, bringing them behind my back and crushing me further into the tree. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with anyone. Although, I’m not surprised.”

“Dean, stop it,” I said harshly, but once again my words went unheard, and he nipped my collarbone.

“Fuck, a virgin pussy sounds so good right now.”

“I said stop, Dean!” I cried, pushing harder against him. He retaliated, quickly holding both of my hands in one of his in order to press against my throat with the other.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you said,” he hissed. “The only reason you’re alive is because of me. Face it, you wouldn’t have made it on your own, and the only reason that I haven’t killed you myself yet is because Sam would kill me when we get back.” He crushed his lips to mine, all teeth and rough pressure as he shoved his tongue into my mouth. He rolled his hips against me, and my stomach churned. “I haven’t had any in a long time, Y/N. I need to let off some steam, and you owe me.” He pulled back to look into my teary eyes. “Answer me this… are you a virgin?”

I clenched my jaw. “Let go of me.”

He growled and slapped me, a yelp escaping my lips as he gripped my chin, bashing my head back against the bark. “I will find out one way or another, I’m just curious.”

I swallowed, teeth sinking into my tongue. I’ve had two boyfriends in the past, if I could even call them that. I had only gone on a few dates with both of them, but never went further than second base. I was twenty-four and never worried about still being a virgin.

Until now.

I didn’t want my first time being like this; raped in purgatory by the man who hates me, and who I was utterly afraid of; raped by a man I had unwillingly fallen in love with.

I gave a short nod, and he smiled darkly. “Not surprising, but definitely exciting.”

“Dean, please don’t do this,” I said, struggling against his hold. “Please.”

“Benny will be back soon, so we need to make this quick,” he said. And suddenly, his hand was off my throat and on the button of my jeans.

“No!” I snarled, trying to kick at him, but he wedged his knee between my legs, and I was completely trapped.

His hand was inside my pants and down the front of my panties without hesitation, and I cringed at the thought of the dirt and blood that coated both of our skin. His fingers ran through my folds, thumb finding my clit quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut as nausea washed over me, and my body went rigid at the alien feeling of someone else’s hands down there. A tear trickled down my cheek, and Dean bent forward to lick it up.

“Come on, baby,” he cooed mockingly. “Just go with it. There’s nothing you can do to stop it anyway.”

I reared back as far as I could to spit in his face. He flinched back in surprise, his face morphing from cocky and dark to menacing, and I was thrown to the ground roughly within a second, Dean quickly hovering over me and holding me down before I could move away.

“I was trying to make this better for you, I truly was,” he said, beginning to undo his belt. I shuddered and squirmed beneath him. “But now, you’ve just pissed me off. So I don’t give a fuck if you’re ready or not.”

He shoved his jeans down far enough to free his cock from his boxers, moving back to tear at my own jeans and panties and drag them down my legs. I flipped around and began crawling away, but he gripped my ankle and turned me around onto my back.

“I want to see you,” he grunted, hands spreading my legs enough for him to fit between them. I looked down at his prick, eyes widening as I saw the size of him, and he laughed. “You’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

He stroked himself a few times before lining up with my entrance. I didn’t stop struggling, hands trying to claw at his face, my eyes blurring from my tears. He gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands while the other held himself until the tip was resting against me, and then he moved his hand to grip my waist harshly.

He forced himself inside me in one painful thrust, and a scream of pain was ripped from my throat. Dean smirked, relishing in the fact he had just torn through my virginity with such cruelty and violence. He groaned as he began to move. My hands slumped against him, knowing it was no use. He was much stronger than me, and he had already gotten what he wanted.

“I knew you’d like this,” he hissed in my ear, pulling out just to snap back in. “A bitch born to take a cock. My cock.”

The last shred of my innocence was taken within a second, and each time he shoved himself inside me, it took everything in me not to burst into tears. I turned my face away from him, eyes squeezed as tight as I could in order to try and disassociate myself, praying that this was simply but a dream.

But as he hiked up my leg around his waist to angle himself deeper inside me, I knew it wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare, one born to tear down my walls and shatter the last of my will. I knew Dean Winchester was intent on breaking me, but I didn’t know he’d take it to such extremes.

“Shit,” he cursed, plunging himself deeper and deeper with each thrust until he couldn’t go any further. I bit my lip to keep in my cries of pain, nails sinking into the palms of my hand.

His hips began to stutter, his movements choppy and I knew he was close. I dug my nails in deeper until I felt blood trickle from my fingers. His hand gripped my jaw, turning my head.

“Look at me,” he growled, holding himself to the hilt inside me until I complied. He smirked at the tears that trickled from my eyes, and slammed himself home once, twice, three more times before he came. He held his hips flush to my pelvis, eyes still locked with mine as he spilled himself inside me.

He gave a few more lazy humps, making sure he didn’t waste a single drop of his come before slipping out, sitting back on his haunches and taking a deep breath. “Wow.”

I sniffled, scooting as far away as possible as I pulled up my panties and jeans with shaky hands, trying to hold back the sobs and failing. I brought my hand up to my mouth, biting my sleeve to stifle the cries threatening to echo off the trees, and brought my knees up to my chest.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Dean said smiling. He laughed, shaking his head. “You felt better than I thought.” He sighed, standing up then and looked down at me. “Benny will be back soon. So pull yourself together before then. Say one word to him about this, I’ll kill you.”

I nodded in understanding, and he grunted.

He grabbed his axe and turned away, trudging off into the woods for his usual search for firewood.

In the five minutes he was gone, I took the time to pack up the few belongings I had, and without turning back, I ran for the hills.

Two Years Later

The nightmares never faded.

They had become less frequent, yet every few days or so, I’d run from the images inside my own head, battling demons within me instead of on the battlefield. Being scared of someone or something is one thing, but being scared of your own mind, your own dreams, was an entirely different thing, and it took strength to lay down and risk the possibility of reliving old trauma.

Yet, it was inevitable, after everything that had happened. Therapy helped, so did the anti-depressants and anxiety pills I took each night. But the truth of the matter was, the memories of Purgatory were always there, and the guilt and shame never faded, it simply turned into a dull ache that never truly went away.

Running from Dean, I was sore and bleeding, and all I cared about was keeping as much distance between him and I as possible. I listened to the whispers of the monsters, making sure I was never too close.

Dean got out before I did, just two months after I ran, and it was only a few days later that I found the portal. I didn’t even try to contact Sam, because where Sam went, Dean went.

Instead, I changed my name and set up a life for myself in a small town up in the mountains of West Virginia. I got a job at a police station as a victim advocate, got an apartment, and never once looked back.

Quitting hunting wasn’t easy, and every once in a while I’d take a case close to home. But I typically stayed within the state, not wanting to risk running into the brothers on a hunt.

Over those two years, I slowly began to rebuild my walls. However, in a split second, it all came crumbling down again.

It was a Monday afternoon in October. A cool front had washed over the Virginias and Maryland, finally carrying a crisp, sweet wind to cool our skin from the sweltering heat of the summer.

I was walking back to the station from lunch, having ran to a sandwich shop a block away. I was chewing on my lip and thinking about a particular case when I saw it; the sleek black coat of the Impala.

I felt my stomach drop, and I felt like I would be sick. Surely it couldn’t be the brothers. Other people had this particular car, too. But my fears were confirmed when the door to the station opened, and Sam walked out into the wind, leaves scattering around his feet, Dean right behind him.

I was frozen with fear. All the progress I had made had diminished in a second. I wanted to turn and run the other way. I wanted to duck into the alley and wait until they were gone. But I couldn’t move. My limbs were suddenly planted and my body lost the ability to move as the man who had made my life hell for years and haunted my dreams stepped into the sun.

Sam looked around as Dean led the way to the Impala. There was nothing I could do as his eyes landed on me, the surprised look on his face making me wince, the fearful one on mine catching him off guard.

“Y/N?” He asked. I saw Dean stiffen at the sound of my name, and I suddenly regained the ability to move. I spun on my heel and rushed into the alley, hoping to make it around to the back of the station and slip inside unseen. But Sam’s long legs made it so he was faster than me, and no amount of sprinting could keep me far enough away. He stepped in front of me, and my eyes widened. “Y/N… I… You’re alive.”

I swallowed thickly, looking over my shoulder. I tensed as I saw Dean at the end of the alley, his face hard and jaw clenched as he met my eyes. I looked back at Sam, shaking my head and stepping around him.

“I have to get back to work,” I said, trying to push past him.

“Wait!” He said, gripping my arm. I flinched, and he let go immediately.

“Sam,” I said, looking up at him. He tilted his head in confusion at the look of defeat on my face. “Please.”

“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Dean said you were dead. That you died when you were in Purgatory.”

“A part of me did,” I admitted. Sam’s face darkened at my words, and I looked away. “And if you love me, you’d stay away from me. For good.”

“I thought I lost my best friend, Y/N,” Sam said. “I can’t just let you go now, knowing you’re alive.”

“Sam, please,” I begged. “Please.”

“Why?” He demanded.

“Just let her be, Sam.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and I looked back over towards Sam. Dean had caught up to us and was standing beside his brother now, a dark look on his face. His stare was icy, and it sent shivers down my spine. I shivered when he licked his lips, eyes raking up and down my body and suddenly I was back in Purgatory, his predatory gaze sending me reeling to a time of pain and misery.

“Y/N!”

I jumped, realizing Sam had been trying to get my attention for some time now. I looked up at him, worrying my lip, tears filling my eyes. “Sam, I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Why did Dean lie? What the hell happened in Purgatory?” He asked.

“Dean didn’t…” I trailed off, rolling my eyes with a scoff. “No, I guess he wouldn’t tell you what happened.”

“Y/N,” Dean warned, stare turning deadly.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam snapped. “Y/N, you can tell me anything.”

“No, I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Your brother will kill me.”

“No, he won’t. I won’t let him,” Sam said. “Now please, I miss my best friend. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me,” I said. “Not anymore. Purgatory was shitty in itself, but Dean…”

I was suddenly pushed up against the brick wall, a yelp escaping me as Dean’s hand wrapped around my throat, his body pressed against mine. I shivered in fear, visibly shaking as his lips curled into a snarl.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, trying to pry his brother off me.

“What did I tell you would happen if you told anyone?” Dean hissed. I beat at his hands, trying to kick out at him.

“Dean…”

“I’ll kill ‘ya,” he said. “I’ll do it right now. Don’t. Say. A. Word.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks, and Sam was able to tear Dean off me, pushing him up against the opposite wall.

“What the fuck?” He yelled. He pushed off his brother, turning towards me, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. His voice softened then. “Are you okay?”

“I really need to… to get back to work,” I whispered. I was still shaking, and Sam’s fingers tightened slightly, almost as if he was trying to steady me.

“Can I come see you after work? I’ll meet you here and walk you home?”

I glanced over Sam’s shoulder towards Dean. His jaw was set, and he gave a shake of his head.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I murmured. I watched a smirk grow on Dean’s face, and I shivered.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t care. I’ll meet you here, okay? At five?”

I nodded.

“Okay. See you then.” He turned slightly. “He won’t be coming, don’t worry.”

The brothers stared at each other intently, and I scurried off as quick as I could, clutching the brown bag in my hand to my chest, not trusting my hands not to shake.

It was my luck that they would end up here, out of all the towns and all the cases in the continental U.S., they had to end up here. There was one thing I was sure about; I wouldn’t be meeting Sam, nor would I be going back to work. I forgot all about my few belongings in the office, beelining to my car, readying myself to pack and be out of town by tonight.

***

I didn’t have much in terms of belongings. It didn’t take long to pack, and I had no set destination. If I had a set destination, I could be found.

I was taping up the few boxes I had, picking up a few odds and ends, figuring I would leave the furniture and have the building owner sell it. Just as I was finishing, three sound knocks were rapped on my door.

I froze.

I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I hadn’t made any friends since moving to town. No one would be coming here unannounced. No one except the Winchesters. They had their ways of finding where I lived. Sam probably asked around the station.

“Fucking Sam,” I muttered to myself. I pushed myself up off the floor, stalking to my front door. “So not cool.”

I unlocked the door, keeping the deadbolt in, before opening it.

My heart jumped to my throat.

“Dean?” I asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You didn’t show up to your meet-up with Sammy,” he said. He glanced around my door, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Simple and plain. It suits you.”

“Go away, Dean,” I said. “I have cop friends and I’m not afraid to call them. Just go.”

Dean laughed. “Please. We both know you’re not friends with any of them. Besides, what would you tell them? You know what will happen if you say anything.”

“Fuck off, Dean,” I hissed. I went to close the door, but Dean was quick to stick his foot out, wedging it between the door and the frame.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tsked. “Won’t you invite me in, little pig?”

I swallowed. “No.”

“Oh, but why?” He asked, smirking. “You scared?”

I lifted my chin, standing up straighter. “No.”

He chuckled darkly, bending slightly to meet my eye level. “I think we both know that’s a lie, little pig.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Dean,” I hissed. I kicked at his foot sharply, unwedging it, promptly slamming my door shut in the process, turning the lock. I backed away from the door, feeling under the small table near the front door for my gun.

I screamed as my door was kicked in, wood splintering off the frame. Dean laughed, stepping past the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. It didn’t quite close all the way, but enough so Dean could slip the chain into its lock.

“Here’s Johnny,” he teased, smiling. My eyes widened, and I gripped the gun, ripping it from its confinement, lifting my arm to shoot. Dean moved quickly, knocking the gun from my hand, pushing me back against the wall. He thrusted forward, crashing his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss.

“Miss me?”

“Get away from me!” I screeched. “Help! Somebody please help me!”

I sobbed as he fisted his hand in my hair, bashing my head back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he hissed. “Almost telling Sammy about our little roll around. What did I tell you, hmm? Have you told anyone else?”

My eyes were blurred from the tears. Somehow my nightmares were coming true. Somehow hell had shown up at my front door, rearing its ugly head and laughing as fear twisted my insides and made my head spin. What had I done to deserve this?

“No,” I said. “I haven’t told anyone. I won’t tell anyone. Please just leave me alone.”

He ran a hand down my face, thumb smearing my tears across my skin. “Oh, but I can’t do that. You disobeyed me. You made Sam skeptical. You must be punished.”

“No,” I cried. “Please, Dean. Please don’t do this.”

He gripped my hair tighter, jerking me down the hall, my fists beating against him the whole time, fighting, kicking, screaming. He simply bent down, picking me up, and carried me into my room. He threw me onto my bed, hands gripping my thighs as he flipped me over onto my stomach.

“Now, bad girls must be punished,” he said. He reached underneath me, fingers unbuttoning my jeans. I kicked back at him, my heel meeting the fleshy part of his thigh. He grunted, and I clawed away from him, but he simply pulled me back down. “Well, that just made things so much worse for you.”

He yanked my jeans down, throwing them somewhere in the room, hands tearing at my simple cotton panties. Tears blurred my vision, and I desperately tried to crawl away. I fisted my hands on the mattress, trying to somehow escape from his hold.

I cried out as his palm collided with my ass.

“Tell me, have you been with anyone else since me?” He asked. I sobbed, screeching behind clenched teeth as he hit me again. “Answer me, bitch.”

“No,” I said. He laughed. I hadn’t heard him take off his belt, but I heard the snap as he pulled it taut. “No, no, no.”

“Oh, yes,” he laughed. He brought the belt down, letting it smack against my bare skin. The sting radiated through my back. Dean was strong, and each time his arm was brought down, the belt would send another striking shot of fire through my body. I was frozen with pain and fear. Dean didn’t have to hold me down after a while. I couldn’t move. “This is for your own good, Y/n.”

I didn’t know how long he struck me. Over, and over, and over he striked, and I lost count after twenty. My hands were clenched in the mattress cover, tears soaking the fabric beneath me, clouding my vision.

I finally heard him throw the belt aside, and his hands curled around my hips, lifting my bottom into the air gently. He softly caressed my skin, and I jumped when I felt his lips touch the welts.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He rubbed my lower back slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

I sunk my teeth into my lower lip. I froze, not sure what I was supposed to do. I knew moving was out of the question. I was in too much pain to move. Confusion sunk into my bones as he slowly kissed up my back, until he was hovering over me.

He turned me slowly, gently placing me on my back, eyes looking down at me. He tilted his head, thumb wiping away my tears. “Hey, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry?” I whispered. “How do you expect me to be okay with all of this, Dean? You broke me in Purgatory. You’ve haunted my dreams for the past two years. Then you do this? Just kill me and get it over with. Please.”

He shook his head, furrowing his brows. “I’m not here to kill you. I actually, believe it or not, came to apologize. But as soon as you opened the door I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Like I believe that,” I hissed. “Just get the fuck out.”

His jaw ticked, and suddenly his resolve faded. For a second I saw remorse, and now? Fire raged behind his leaf green eyes. I felt his whole body tense against me. I felt him… grow… beneath me.

“Fuck no,” I said. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me. I rolled away from him, landing on my back on the wood floor. I cried out as my raw skin made impact, but I pushed myself up quickly. Dean was up now, his eyes hard and piercing.

“Come here, little pig,” he snarled. I spun and dashed towards the bathroom. He leaped over the bed after me, but I was already inside, locking the door quickly. I heard shuffling, and I knew I needed to think fast. I spotted the window and yanked my robe off the hook, slipping it on. I stepped onto the toilet, pushed the window open, and peered down the three flights my apartment was up. I swallowed thickly, glancing back at the bathroom door. The doorknob was jiggling, and I knew he was picking the lock. Mustering up the courage, I hoisted myself up and swung my legs over. The door suddenly burst open, our eyes locking.

“Don’t you dare,” he said. I took a deep breath and looked down again. Just as he lunged forward, I let go, feeling the rush of air and my heart plummet to my stomach. My eyes were wide as I watched the ground rush up on me all too quickly. I tried ducking my shoulder to attempt to roll, hopefully saving my legs and head in the process, but I couldn’t quite get there. I felt something snap as I hit the ground, a sickening crunch sounding in my ears as I landed on my side.

“Y/n!”

That voice was different. That voice was angelic... kind. Sam.

“Oh my god,” he said. He bent down, hands cradling my face as he looked into my eyes. “Hey, stay with me. Are you alright? Jesus- of course you’re not alright, you jumped from a fucking window to get away from my brother. God, Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why does he hate me so?” I whimpered before everything went dark.

***

“Should she be asleep this long?”

“Her body is healing. It’s up to her now.”

***

“Get the fuck out.”

“Sam… I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t come up with these-these lame ass excuses. I saw what you did, and I have an idea about purgatory. Now, for the last time, get the fuck out.”

***

“She will stay with me.”

“And you are?”

“Her brother.”

***

I jolted awake. My body was on fire, my head pounding with a dull ache. I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright light above my head. A beeping sound came from my right, and a quick glance showed an EKG meter. A fucking hospital.

My shoulder was bandaged and arm in a sling. My knee had a brace on it. My behind felt raw as shit.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I tried to sit up.

“Y/n! Thank God.”

I jumped at the sound of a voice.

“Sam.”

“God, Y/n… I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told him.

“No, but I should have known. I should have done something. God, I can’t believe it.”

I sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on the scratchy blanket that was laid over me. I furrowed my brows.

“Sam… did Dean tell you what happened in purgatory?”

Sam swallowed thickly. “No. But I can guess.”

I nodded slowly. “He told me he’d kill me if I ever told anyone.”

“Have you?” Sam asked.

“My therapist,” I replied.

“A therapist?”

“Yeah. I needed one,” I said. “I was… broken when I got out. I was getting so much better, Sam. I felt like me again. Sure, I still had the nightmares sometimes but… I wasn’t always looking over my shoulder.” My lip wobbled as I fought back tears. “Damn him.”

“God, Y/n/n. I can’t believe it. It just seems so… not Dean,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sam, I know you mean well, but please stop saying sorry,” I said. He smiled and blushed.

“Sorry.” He cringed. I laughed.

“Stop it,” I told him, pushing his shoulder lightly. He laughed too, grabbing my hand. He kissed my knuckles.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I told him. “But I knew that where you went, Dean went.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

Sam and I both looked at the door, a plump woman in a white lab coat standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, glasses pristinely balanced on her nose, lips lined with deep red lipstick. She looked like a T.V. doctor, not a doctor in middle-of-nowhere West Virginia.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She checked my vitals and IV bag.

“Sore,” I replied.

“Your brother here has offered to take you home,” she said. I looked pointedly at Sam who shrugged sheepishly. “Look here.”

She shined a light into my eyes, checked my bandages, and determined that I could go home as long as I was supervised for 48 hours. I silently wondered where Dean was, hoping I wasn’t going to see him. If Sam was taking me home, who knows what would happen? Dean knew where I lived. But if Sam was there, perhaps he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything.

***

“Are you alright?”

Sam gently placed me onto the motel bed, careful not to hurt me. His brows were furrowed in worry and his lips were pursed into a frown. I let out a shaky laugh.

“No,” I said. “But I’ll get there.”

“Y/n, I’m so-”

“Stop it!” I scolded. “What did I say?”

“Not to apologize anymore?” He said slowly.

“That’s correct,” I said. I laid back onto the pillows, which were worn, but on my sore shoulder and back, they honestly didn’t feel too bad. “Now, mama needs to rest.”

Sam snorted. “Okay… mama.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t mock me, Samuel.” He raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, mama,” he said. “I’ll call Cas. He can heal you.”

I perked up at Castiel’s name. The gentle angel and I had been good friends. I heard whispers about him too, while in purgatory that is. I shivered at the thought of that place and…

No. I wouldn’t think about that now. I was safe with Sam. Surely Dean couldn’t find us here. Right? Sam would have taken measures to keep him from doing so.

“Hey, Cas. It’s Sam. Listen…”

Sam’s voice trailed off as he stepped outside the room, closing the door softly behind him. Suddenly, the room turned eerie. The air conditioner hummed loudly under the window, producing some sound in the empty room. It was confining. I shifted on the bed, wincing as my shoulder moved in an odd way. I adjusted my sling to a more comfortable position. I hated these things.

I sighed deeply, glancing towards the door again. I blew a piece of hair out of my eyes. Alone. It wasn’t an odd sensation to me. I had been alone for the last two years. But I had slipped so easily back into the comfortable familiarity that was once me and Sam. I had missed him so much. He was my best friend, my confidant. Being around him again was liberating. It lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Telling someone what had happened in purgatory, besides a therapist, lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Of course, Dean would kill me if he knew. But it felt good to get it out, not have it bottled up. Dr. Ramirez was great, of course. But she wasn’t Sam. Wasn’t a friend.

However, now that the room was empty apart from me, the only sounds of the air unit and the springs of the old bed creaking, I was left alone with my thoughts. Vivid images of Dean flashed before my eyes. Of purgatory, across the street at work, the alley, my apartment. Damn him. Damn him for abusing me so. Damn him for not caring. Damn him for giving me a false sense of hope when he spared a silver of remorse. And damn me for loving him.

Did I still? No, I didn’t think so. Not the Dean who hates me. Who hurt me and raped me and tormented me. Not that Dean. Perhaps the Dean who loved his little brother beyond comprehension. The Dean who would throw himself in the line of fire for a stranger. The Dean who sacrificed everything for the world, the world that was so cruel to him.

Fuck. Of course I still loved that Dean. It was like two separate fucking people. A Dean who would light up at the sight of pie and tell you everything about a band he liked simply because he wanted to share something he loved with you. A Dean who was so selfless, you would need to make sure he wouldn’t go off and get himself killed for absolutely no reason but to save a fucking dog. He would have one look on his face, and then turn to me. That look would turn cold. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, would turn to ice in a split second. That voice that dripped of rum and sticky honey tore through my heart like daggers in ice. How could someone be so cruel?

A sob escaped my lips. I was so tired of crying. I hated crying. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand from my good arm. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to think anymore.

Luckily, Sam opened the door then. It made me jump slightly. Castiel was behind him. I grinned.

“Cas.”

“Y/n,” he said warmly. He walked over to the bedside. He rested a hand on my good shoulder. Cas wasn’t one for touchy-feely shit. But with me, he was always more comfortable with it.

“I’m going to heal you,” he said matter-of-factly. I gave him a nod, a light shining from his hand. A warmth filled me, starting from my head and reaching to the tips of my toes, and suddenly I felt better. I gave him a grin, which faltered at the look on his face.

“Cas?” I asked. “What is it?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “It’s… it’s a curse.”

“What is?” Sam questioned. He stood up from his seat at the small table by the window. I glanced at him.

“You have had a curse placed on you. An old one. I’ve seen it before, though. In heaven,” Castiel said. “I’m not sure why I hadn’t seen it before now. Perhaps since I hadn’t had to heal you before.”

“A curse in heaven?” I asked.

“It was designed by the archangels. It was to keep soulmates apart.”

“What?” Sam said. “Soulmates? Surely you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Cas said. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

Sam furrowed his brows at that. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Okay, so a curse. What kind of curse?” I asked. “Who’s my soulmate?”

“The curse is complicated. It can only be placed on one soulmate, and the cursed mate would need to be an interference with a plan from heaven or God himself. ”

“What sort of interference?” Sam asked. Cas hummed.

“Y/n must have stood in the way of her soulmate’s destiny. Her path must cross with them, meaning that she would have altered the path chosen for her mate by heaven. The curse makes it so one of the soulmates hates the other for no particular reason. They can be downright evil towards them. Y/n’s soulmate, if she ever comes across them, may even want to kill her. The curse causes one of the soulmates to do terrible things to the other. They can act one way, and their soulmate walks into the room, suddenly they are filled with an unexplainable rage. There are times where the soulmate can feel remorse or even come to love the one who was cursed. However, the second they lie eyes on the cursed soulmate, their hatred returns.”

Holy fuck.

“If you don’t mind, Y/n,” Cas continued. “Would you mind letting me touch your soul? It should tell me who your soulmate is. I know every path for every human soul. I should be able to see.”

“I… I think I may know who it is,” I said softly. Suddenly my blood ran cold. It felt as if the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees in a single second. Soulmate may want to kill me. They will hate me. Do terrible things to me. They are suddenly remorseful, but once again turn evil once they lie eyes on me. Fucking hell.

“Who?” Castiel asked. I looked to Sam, who was staring at the ground. I saw it dawn on him, saw the realization flash across his face. His head snapped up to mine.

“Dean.”

***

“Are you fucking joking?”

I flinched at his words. Dean stared- no, glared- at me from his chair. He was chained to a chair in the dungeon. “Precaution” Sam had said. Dean wasn’t too happy with it. I sat in a chair about six feet from him, right outside the devil’s trap. His lip curled into a snarl.

“I’ll fucking kill myself if this bitch is my so called soulmate.”

“I’ve already touched her soul, Dean,” Castiel said. “Just to be sure.”

“Okay? And?” Dean prompted.

“Not only is she cursed, but she’s your soulmate.”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned.

“The archangels placed the curse on her at birth. When they found out she was to be your soulmate, they cursed her in order to keep her from interfering with their plan to have you as Michael’s vessel. If she wasn’t cursed, they foresaw the two of you already together; married and two children.”

My heart ached. I could have had that? Instead, my soulmate had abused, raped, and threatened to kill me on multiple occasions. Great.

“Gag,” Dean said. He spit at the ground towards me. “You told them. You know what would happen if you did. You’re fucking dead.”

“Sam,” I said quietly. I looked up at him. He gently placed a hand at the back of my head in a comforting gesture.

“It’s alright,” he said.

“Now, there is a way to remove the curse. It is painful, and tedious, but it may allow you two to venture forth into a soulmate’s relationship.”

“Fuck that.”

“I can’t.”

Although said at the same time, all eyes turned to me.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Cas asked. Sam sighed.

“Cas, not now.”

“I mean I can’t be with someone who-who was so cruel to me. You don’t know the specifics of purgatory,” I muttered. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. My lip threatened to wobble. I sunk my teeth into it. “When this is done, I don’t know if I can be here anymore.”

“Y/n,” Sam said. “When this curse is lifted, the Dean who did those things to you will not exist.”

“It’s true,” Cas said. “The curse alters your soulmate in a way that they’re unrecognizable. It turns their personality completely sour, turning them into a new person. The Dean that will be shown to you when this is over will be the real Dean, the Dean you saw when you weren’t near him. When you’re cursed, it’s like he’s possessed by an alien body.”

“But it’s still his face. His hands. His… everything.” I shuddered.

“That was fun, wasn’t sweetheart?” Dean said. “I still remember how you felt. Tight virgin… Mmmm. Once I’m free of these chains, I may take you again. Maybe I’ll claim your ass this time.

“Enough, Dean!” Sam barked loudly. “Cas.”

“You ready, Y/n?” Castiel asked. I looked up at him, to Dean, and back again.

“Yeah, just one thing first-” I looked at Dean, right in the eye- “Go to hell you son of a bitch.”

Then Castiel’s hands were on the sides of my head, a blinding pain searing behind my eyes, and all I saw was black.

***

“Sam, how am I supposed to live with it?”

“You just do. It wasn’t you. It was the fucking archangels. They did this to her. Not you.”

“It was still… me. I just couldn’t stop it. God, I can’t believe I…”

“Hey. Stop it. I mean it, okay? You beating yourself up with it will not help you in the end. When she wakes up, she’s going to need us. Okay? She’s going to have to re-learn trust and-and love and learn to trust you.”

“If she wants to leave, we need to let her leave. I don’t blame her if she hates me. You heard what she said, Sam. She said she can’t. And I get it. I understand. I don’t want to put her through anymore pain, okay? She needs to live without fear and without pain and suffering. She’s a good, beautiful person inside and out. She didn’t deserve anything I did to her.”

“It wasn’t you!”

“It was, dammit! It was my hands, my body, my fucking words. God, Sam. We may have been cursed, but it was still me. Okay?”

“You heard Cas. It’s like you were possessed. It wasn’t you. Fucking get it through your thick skull.”

“Tell that to her then. If she believes it, I will. This is about her. Not me.”

I could register their conversation. Feel the dull ache in my head. Smell the faint smell of the lavender incense I used to like to burn. The issue was getting my eyes to open.

With heavy lids, I opened my eyes slowly, struggling to keep them open. The brothers stopped talking and I could feel them staring at me. I groaned as I sat up, rubbing at my temple.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Sam said slowly. “You feeling okay?”

“If you consider feeling like you’ve been hit by a train ‘okay,’” I said. “Fuck.”

I looked up at them both, Sam’s eyes warm and lips curled into a sympathetic smile. I forced myself to look at Dean. His eyes were focused intently on his hands, but I could see his jaw clenched and chest moving quickly as he took rapid breaths. His leg bounced repeatedly. He was nervous?.

He looked up at me finally, taking a deep breath, holding it a moment, before letting it back out. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied lowly.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Sam asked.

“No,” I said quickly. Dean winced, but I ignored it. Like hell I would be left alone with him. “Cas did it? The curse is gone?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, yeah it’s gone. Dean um… Dean’s fixed, I guess you could say.”

“Is he?” I asked bitterly.

“Y/n,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t have words. I can’t express how sorry I am.” I looked down at my hands. “There aren’t words to describe the guilt I have. I don’t know what to say or do. I’m just so, so sorry.”

I took a deep breath before responding. “At least I know why I loved you for so long.”

That clearly was not what he was expecting to hear. “W-what?”

“Before purgatory, when things didn’t… escalate… I loved you. I loved the you that wasn’t around me. I thought I was fucked up, loving someone who was so cruel to me. But now I know I couldn’t help it. You’re my soulmate. What are the fucking odds?”

His lip quirked slightly. “I… I loved you too. The me that wasn’t around you. It honestly was like two different… me’s essentially. I loved you, and every time I wasn’t around you, I told myself to apologize and fucking fix myself. But then I’d see you and… this anger just consumed me. I couldn’t understand why. And then in purgatory, being around you 24/7, it’s like everything was heightened. I just wanted to make you hurt.”

I flinched and his face softened.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“No, I want to hear this. I want to understand what you were feeling,” I said. “Maybe it will help me… differentiate you from, you know… cursed you.”

He nodded before continuing. “Like I said, being around you constantly made everything worse. It was like the anger and hatred all heightened. So the night that I… hurt you… I wanted to cause you such profound pain. But I didn’t want to kill you. I think deep down, even cursed, I couldn’t bring myself to kill you. Although the curse hated you, I loved you. You were always so gentle and kind. You’re easily one of the smartest people I know. You’re beautiful and funny and innocent. I fell in love with you, and the curse despised that. It wanted to hurt you. And it did. And for that, I can not apologize enough. What I did… it’s unimaginable. I am so sorry, Y/n.”

We simply sat looking at each other for a moment. Sam sat uncomfortably beside Dean. He glanced between the two of us.

“You’re stressing me out, Sam,” I said finally.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking anywhere but Dean and me.

I cleared my throat and fiddled with the edge of the blanket laid over me. “I… I don’t know what to say, Dean. I really don’t.”

“Don’t say anything, then,” he murmured.

“I want to forgive and forget. Lord do I want to forget. But this isn’t something you can overcome so easily,” I said. “I was so close to being fixed. I was so much better, but you showing up at my apartment and beating the shit out of me like that… it tore down the foundation I had built back up.”

“I had come to apologize,” he said. “And then I saw you and it all went away.”

“I know,” I told him. “It confused the fuck out of me, your fucking mood swing.”

He whistled. “No shit. It confused me.”

We sat in silence for another moment. I wasn’t scared per se, just uncomfortable. If he was “fixed,” I had nothing to fear. I knew I had nothing to fear from Dean now. However, I would never forget the malice and callousness he showed me for years. That night in purgatory was forever seared into my brain. That trauma and heartache and pain would live with me forever. It didn’t matter if he was fixed or cured or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It still happened. It was still at his hands. That’s not something to simply get over.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said softly. “If someday you somehow find it in your heart to forgive me, then that’s your business. I don’t deserve it and I’m not expecting it. But maybe, if you’ll let us try, to start over, someday we could become friends.”

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, Dean.”

I watched his face flash with an emotion I couldn’t quite explain, before masking his emotions. “I understand.”

“Maybe,” I told him. “Don’t bank on it.”

Dean gave me a small smile. “I’m in your hands, Y/n. I’ll be here if you want. And if not, then I respect that.”

I yawned then and Sam stood slowly. “Let’s give her some rest, Dean. She’s had a long week.”

Dean nodded at his brother and gave one last look at me.

“I really am sorry, Y/n. I’ll live with this guilt until the day I die. I hope… I hope you find the happiness and peace you deserve.” He gave me a tight lipped smile and closed the door behind him, evidently taking all weight in the room with him. I let out a deep breath that I had been holding and rubbed at my temples. I laid back onto the pillows, letting my eyes trace designs on the ceiling in the dark of the room.

Sleep found me not long after, and no matter what knowledge I had now, or the safety that was Sam across the hall, I had no control of the nightmares that plagued my dreams and danced behind my eyes. Dean Winchester may have been cured. He may be himself around me now. However, what he did will forever live with me, and no angel cure or spell undoing will ever change that.

And so, I walked through the valley of darkness that were my dreams, and I battled the demons caused by the man who stayed down the hall from me. Yet I slept, knowing that what tormented me behind closed eyes was no longer alive, and the man who had broken through the chains around my heart all those years ago was back and in the foreground. Though I wasn’t sure what my feelings were towards him now, knowing that what he did to me was the result of an archangel curse, I did know that perhaps someday, once we tread through the tumultuous ground that was fear and contradiction, we may learn to live in peace with one another, even if he had loved me and hated me; even if I had loved him and hated him. Yet the most important thing, the thing that allowed me to rest, if not soundly, but at all, was the fact that he no longer wanted me dead, nor did he want my blood on his hands.

So though nothing was back to normal, and I didn’t plan on being around Dean anytime soon, perhaps I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. Maybe I could finally find the solace and peace that I deserved. I think the world at least owes me that.

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fangirlwriting-stories · 2 years

Text

Rebuilding Home

Summary: Roman adjusts to his new living situation and meets some new people who might be able to help. Remus, on the other hand, gets a new living situation in a roommate that he very much does not want.

And both of them can agree that also having to adjust to their brother’s death is not helping anything.

Staying didn’t end up being as bad as Roman had assumed it would be. He got three pretty decent meals a day, and it was warm here and the ceiling didn’t leak like it had at the orphanage. That didn’t stop Roman from missing his home, but he wasn’t sure if he would be allowed to go see it. The one time he brought up the idea to someone, they’d talked about the pros and cons of potentially going for such a long time that Roman eventually just gave up and went to lay down.

Training started the day after the injuries he didn’t remember getting finished healing. Or, mostly healing. The bruises on his arms still hurt a little bit when they showed him how to punch a punching bag, but when he asked no one else seemed to even see any bruises on his arms, so maybe he was just exaggerating. They used the punching bags right next to older kids practicing with a bunch of weapons, but the trainer who was working with him said hand to hand combat was important to know before he learned to fight with any kind of weapon. Roman didn’t really want to learn to fight at all, but that didn’t feel like a safe thing to say.

Other than training, not much went on for his first week there. He ended up staying on the bed that was surrounded by other empty ones, so he didn’t really get many opportunities to talk to the other kids in the barracks. Roman was pretty sure it was about the most lonely he’d ever felt, but it’s not like he was going to complain. They’d taken him in when they didn’t have to, after all, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Things finally started to change on the last day of his first week there. One of the bruises on his arm that hadn’t quite healed had split open while he was sparring. Roman hadn’t said anything immediately because he didn’t want to raise a fuss, but it still hurt by the time he got back to the barracks. He clutched it to his chest and finally let the pain show on his face as he sat down on his bed.

Was there a nurse somewhere around here? Maybe he could talk to whoever they were and get some kind of break, just until he healed all the way?

“Hey, are you alright?”

Roman looked up. Standing in front of him and looking concerned was a kid with round glasses and freckles across his face. He was wearing the same uniform as the rest of them, but he also had some kind of cat sticker stuck to his shirt, right where he could flip the collar over it when he left the barracks so no one would see.

Roman must have been quiet for too long, because the kid pointed at his arm. “Are you alright? That looks like it hurts.”

Roman looked back down at his arm. The bruise was darkening, and bleeding slightly. “I’m fine,” he said, looking back up at the kid. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

The kid narrowed his eyes in further concern, not seeming to believe him. “You don’t have to lie when they can’t hear you, you know.”

Roman blinked. “What?”

“Do you want a bandage? I have a first aid kit in my top bunk. You can have puppies or kitties. Or both, if you want.”

Roman looked at him for another moment. “Why?”

The kid looked really concerned now. “What do you mean why? You’re…” he paused, and realization seemed to cross his face. “Oh. You’re new, huh?”

“What?”

The kid smiled a little, and held out his hand. “I’m Patton. Can I help you feel better?”

Roman looked at Maybe-Patton for a little longer, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Maybe-Patton brightened and took Roman’s less injured arm, pulling him over towards a bunk in the middle of the room. He climbed up on the ladder and grabbed something from the top bunk, then came back down with a first aid kit.

“You can sit if you want,” he said, gesturing at his bed. Roman took a hesitant seat, and Maybe-Patton pulled out some kind of cream along with bandages.

“Okay, so this is bruise cream,” Maybe-Patton said. “I can rub it on the bruise. Is that okay?”

Roman nodded. He still felt a little unsure about all of this, but if it helped his arm stop hurting he was willing to try it.

Maybe-Patton rubbed the cream on his bruise, then took out some gauze and wrapped it around his arm, taping it when he finished.

“There you go,” Maybe-Patton said lightly. “No one should hit that area now. Any other spots you want me to wrap?”

Roman blinked at him in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re new,” Maybe-Patton said, lightly smacking his forehead. “We don’t get a ton of breaks for injuries as trainees, so a long time ago some people came up with a system where you wrap areas that are still healing, so people know not to hit them when you spar. It’s been passed down for years. So if you have any areas you don’t want other people to hit right now, let me know and I’ll wrap them too so they can heal.”

Roman took a minute to consider that, then quietly pointed at other areas where his injuries were the worst. Maybe-Patton wrapped a couple places on his legs and one more on his other arm, and then put the supplies back in the first aid kit and set it up on the top bunk.

“You don’t talk much, huh?” he asked, turning back to Roman.

“What’s there to talk about?” Roman muttered, trying to resist the idea of picking at the new bandages to dispel the awkwardness.

“Lots of things! Or I mean, what do you want to talk about?” Maybe-Patton asked. “Have you read any good books lately? If not, Logan probably wouldn’t mind loaning you some! He collects them!”

“Who’s that?” Roman asked.

“Hello,” came a new voice, and Roman turned to see another person with glasses approaching. This person didn’t have any freckles, though, and his glasses were square. For some reason, he also had a cat sticker under his collar.

“I’m Logan,” the new person said. “I don’t think I’ve seen much of you.”

“He’s new,” Maybe-Patton said. Maybe-Logan raised an eyebrow at Roman, and he nodded to confirm Maybe-Patton’s statement.

“Ah, I see,” Maybe-Logan said. “How are you doing, in that case? Are you settling in alright?”

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Is this place always so confusing?”

“The first couple weeks are difficult,” Maybe-Logan said, as if that explained anything. “But it does get easier.”

“Oh, Logan’s really good at smart logical stuff,” Maybe-Patton said. “He can help if you need reassurance that somethin’s real. And I can help if you need a hug!”

Roman winced inwardly. “I don’t want a hug,” he said. That wasn’t quite true, but he didn’t want Maybe-Patton to hug him if he wasn’t going to ask first.

“Oh, that’s okay too,” Maybe-Patton said, so sudden and genuine that it caught Roman off guard a little. “I can also be here if you just want to talk.”

Roman blinked at Maybe-Patton in confusion. “Why’re you being so nice to me?” he asked.

“You look like you need it,” Maybe-Patton said. “Besides, I remember how hard it was when I first got here. You need good friends and good hugs— or, not those since you said you don’t like them, but we can be friends if you want! Hey, do you want to come pick a bed next to Logan and I? I mean, you can keep sleeping surrounded by empty beds if you want, but Logan’s teaching me Morse code so we can talk after lights out, and that’s way more fun!”

Roman considered the idea and looked between Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan. They seemed… nice. And not in the way that Amelia-Rebecca and Maybe-Stephanie were supposed to be nice. Roman still didn’t really know what he was supposed to do long term, but the idea of talking with Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan more seemed fun.

“Um, okay,” he said, after a moment. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” Maybe-Patton said happily. “You seem cool! And good friends are important, like I said.” He smiled at Roman. “Do you mind telling us your name?”

Roman bit his lip and reached up to tug at his shirt sleeve instead of his bandages. “I’m Roman,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Roman!” Maybe-Patton said. “And hey, I know things can seem really hard right now, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Roman wasn’t so sure about that yet, but he didn’t say anything in reply.

Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan helped him move his things over to a bed near them, and then Maybe-Patton started talking about Maybe-Logan’s library that he kept in his top bunk. He was already smiling at Roman like they’d known each other their whole lives. And somehow, by the time they got called for dinner, Roman almost felt like smiling too.

“Oh!” Maybe-Patton called, before turning back to his bunk. “I almost forgot!”

He reached up towards his top bunk and dug around for a second before grabbing something and turning back to Roman.

He held out a cat sticker just like his and Maybe-Logan’s. “We’re friends now, so you get to have a sticker too,” Maybe-Patton said. “It’s just… kind of boring to wear the same thing as everyone else, you know? But you can’t let it show when you’re not in here.”

Roman did smile a little bit now, and took the sticker with a nod at Maybe-Patton. He stuck it in the area under the collar where he and Maybe-Logan put their stickers, and flipped the collar down over it. “Thanks,” he said.

Maybe-Patton beamed at him. “I like you! You’re super nice, I can tell!”

Roman didn’t know quite what to say to that, but Maybe-Patton seemed to consider that all that was left to say, because he grabbed Maybe-Logan’s hand and turned to start skipping off towards the cafeteria. But then he stopped and turned back to Roman at the last second.

“Oh, so I know you said you didn’t want hugs, but do you want to hold hands?” he asked.

Roman considered that for a second. Maybe-Patton had asked, which was nice. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten any contact that wasn’t fighting since that hug he hadn’t really wanted from Maybe-Stephanie.

He started smiling a little wider and slipped his hand inside Maybe-Patton’s. “Okay,” he said.

Maybe-Patton somehow seemed to grin even wider, and started skipping down the hall, bringing Maybe-Logan and Roman with him. Maybe-Logan did not seem to like the skipping as much as Maybe-Patton did, but Roman saw his fond look as they all made their way to the cafeteria, and he didn’t tell him to stop.

By the time they got to the cafeteria Roman was smiling and feeling better than he had in days. He might ask Maybe-Logan about that library and see if he had anything good.

…

Remus had decided that he was running away. There was no other option now, not after Patty did something like this. Not when he came home from school one afternoon and found a stranger in his bedroom, wearing a hoodie thrown up over his face, looking very small, and most importantly, sitting on Roman’s bed. No one else got to use Roman’s bed. It wasn’t allowed.

“Hey,” Remus snapped, and the kid looked up, seeming startled and a little scared. “You’re in the wrong room.”

“I… I am? Ms. Patricia told me to come in here, I thought—”

“No,” Remus said. “Patty wouldn’t do that. That’s not your bed. You don’t get to use it. No one else gets to use it.”

“Oh, I… I’m sorry? Ms. Patricia showed me to here, I promise I didn’t just wander in—”

“No,” Remus snapped. “You’re not staying here. Don’t get comfortable.” He turned around and marched back out, leaving the kid to sit on the bed for not much longer.

Patty was cooking dinner in the kitchen when Remus marched in. “Patty,” he said. “There’s a kid on Roman’s bed.”

Patty looked over her shoulder. “Oh, you met Virgil?”

“You named it?”

“Remus,” Patty said, turning and putting her hands on her hips. “That’s not an appropriate way to speak about him.”

“He’s sitting on Roman’s bed!”

“We are out of space, sweetheart,” Patty said. “I’m sorry, but he’s going to have to stay with you.”

“No!” Remus snapped. “That’s Roman’s bed, he doesn’t get it!”

“Remus,” Patty said, moving forward towards him. “I understand the issue, okay? But I don’t have any other rooms Virgil can use. And if you are mean to that boy I will pull you out of that room and make you sleep on the couch, understand?” Her eyes softened. “He’s just lost his mother, sweetheart. I would think that you could at least relate to him on that front.”

Remus blew a raspberry.

“Remus, I’m serious. I think he could use a friend who understands.”

“I don’t want any friends,” Remus said. “And I don’t want a Roman replacement either.”

“Oh, Remus,” Patty said gently. “No one is going to expect you to replace your brother. That’s not what this is. Virgil wouldn’t want that either.”

“How do you know? You don’t even know Virgil,” Remus snapped.

“Neither do you,” Patty pointed out. “And isn’t it important to get to know people before you judge them?”

Remus blew another raspberry.

“The lack of a verbal response means you know I’m right, mister.”

Remus crossed his arms and glared away.

“Hey,” Patty said gently. Uh-oh. That was her supportive voice. Remus looked hesitantly back over.

“I miss Roman too,” Patty said. “And you’re allowed to miss him. That’s good. But don’t let being sad about Roman close you off from everyone else, either.”

“I’m not closed off. I talk to you.”

“I’m more than five times your age, Remus. You need friends your age too.”

“I told you, I don’t want friends,” Remus snapped. “I was shit at making them before, and no one wants anything to do with me now.”

“Watch your language young man,” Patty said, giving him a look. “I’m not saying you have to instantly get along with Virgil. But don’t write him off before getting to know him, you hear me?”

Remus blew one more raspberry and turned and stopped up the steps.

The Virgil kid was still sitting on Roman’s bed when Remus got back. Remus didn’t acknowledge his presence this time, just turned and stomped over towards his bed and laid down facing the wall.

“So, um, am I staying here then?” Virgil asked hesitantly.

Remus shot a withering glare over his shoulder, and Virgil shut up. Good. At least he knew how to do that right.

Yeah. Remus was definitely running away. He wasn’t going to stay here with this stranger that thought he could sleep in Roman’s bed and that wasn’t a big deal. How could Patty possibly think this was okay?

Remus stayed there until dinnertime, when Patty called upstairs for everyone to come eat. Remus waited until Virgil left the room, and then a little longer for good measure, and then finally climbed up to go get food.

There wasn’t a big enough kitchen so that everyone could eat in there, and there wasn’t a dining room at all, so the way dinners tended to happen was everyone served themselves buffet style and carried their food into the living room. Fortunately for Remus, this meant he could sit over against the wall as far away from Virgil as possible. Patty didn’t like it judging by the look she gave him, but Remus wasn’t going to care about that.

He ate dinner as quickly as he could in order to have time to get upstairs and actually have his room to himself. It was easy to slip out of the room when Patty was talking to some of the younger kids about the possibility of dessert. He made it upstairs to his now-invaded room and stood in the doorway for a while.

Patty would probably follow through on her threat of making him sleep on the couch if he was mean to Virgil, but Remus could be civil to someone without having to be nice to them. Or, he could try, at least. But no matter what happened, there was one thing that needed to change. He hadn’t been sleeping on Roman’s bed because it hadn’t felt right, but the idea of someone else using it felt even less right.

Finally, Remus shut the door behind him, picked up all of Virgil’s things and slid them across the room to the side of Remus’ bed. Then he moved all of his stuff over to Roman’s bed.

If Virgil was staying here, Remus got his brother’s bed. Virgil didn’t get to invade his room and steal everything Remus had left of Roman.

He finished by putting Roman’s drawing notebook under his pillow. He hadn’t actually drawn anything new in it, but he’d held it and rubbed the cover enough to wear it down.

He’d just moved to lay down on the bed when the door opened again and Virgil walked through the doorway.

He blinked in surprise when he noticed Remus. “You— oh. Do you want that bed?”

“Yes, thank you,” Remus said, putting as much of an asshole tone in his voice as he could.

“I just figured since your stuff was over there you would want me to—”

“Yeah, well you don’t get my brother’s bed,” Remus snapped. “You’re not even supposed to be in here, but you’re definitely not getting to have brother’s bed.”

Virgil looked down at the bed Remus was on. “That’s your brother’s? Why did Patty move me in here then?”

Remus turned to lay on his side rather than responding.

Virgil didn’t say anything for a long moment, but eventually he seemed to figure it out.

“…Oh.”

Remus grit his teeth.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“I lost my mom,” Virgil said. “It’s different, but if you want to talk—”

“I don’t,” Remus snapped. “I want you to stop talking to me. I want you to be out of my life. If you just lost your mom, you could just go live with your dad and not bother me. How about you do that?”

Virgil didn’t reply to that, and after another long pause, he heard the squeaking of springs that meant Virgil was laying down on the other bed.

Well, at least he was done with the conversation. He could figure out how to deal with Virgil long-term tomorrow. For now he needed some fucking sleep.

…

Having friends again was nicer than Roman thought it would be. Maybe-Patton was so full of bouncy energy all the time that he managed to lift Roman up quite a bit too, and Maybe-Logan was in fact very good at reassurance, with reality and otherwise. He taught Roman a couple of grounding techniques that he taught most of the new recruits, and after another couple weeks, Roman felt much more comfortable saying what was or wasn’t real.

Maybe-Patton seemed to have a never ending amount of stickers whenever they had to wash uniforms and thus throw them out. He was also the person people came to when they needed a first aid kit, which Roman learned he replenished from the infirmary. Their superiors even let him, since a lot of the time the actual doctors were dealing with much more serious injuries from real soldiers and couldn’t be bothered to take time out of their day for every injured trainee.

Maybe-Logan was their unofficial librarian, and loaned out books to read as long as kids gave them back. He also gave Roman a notebook, since Roman had been assured all of his things had been lost with the orphanage. Someone had even given him a confused look when he asked and said that he’d gone there to look for himself, didn’t he remember? Roman didn’t want to get into it. Maybe-Logan had said that was probably best, though he didn’t look very happy with that fact as he said it. The real point was, he now had a new drawing notebook.

It took a little time for Maybe-Patton and Roman to learn Morse code, but Maybe-Logan was a patient teacher, and now they could all have talks after lights out that they couldn’t have otherwise had. Then one day, Roman realized another reason for it too.

I think I saw people talking about our training being over soon.

It was tapped out by Maybe-Logan on Roman’s leg, though Roman could only really be sure after ‘saw,’ since it had taken him a minute to realize what Maybe-Logan was doing.

Despite what a horrendous idea it would be, Roman almost glanced over at him in surprise.

Lunch was short, so he had to limit his response to the bare essentials now that they both knew what they were doing. As a result, Roman replied: Training only couple months.

He hesitated.

Or at least me. You more, he amended before Maybe-Logan could tap anything else out.

Not long as assumed, Maybe-Logan tapped. It took Roman a minute to work out his full statement, but he was getting into a Morse code mindset, and it wasn’t so hard to put the words together after a minute.

Patton and I have only been here a couple months longer than you, Maybe-Logan said. And even those who have been here the longest have not been here much longer than that.

Okay, so what does that mean?

I heard something about missions being mentioned. I imagine that will involve tests of some kind to determine if we are really ready to be in the field.

Do you think we are?

Maybe-Logan didn’t reply at first. In fact, a long enough time stretched that Roman thought he might have been done, and lunch might finish first.

Finally, Maybe-Logan started tapping again under the table.

I think—

That was as far as he got, however, because at that point lunch really was over, and they both had to get up.

What happened in Morse code conversations stayed in Morse code conversations, so Roman didn’t say anything as the day went on, though he suspected this conversation would continue later.

He wasn’t sure if Maybe-Logan had told Maybe-Patton at any point, but the fact that the conversation didn’t continue throughout dinner made him suspect he was doing so then.

So that night, after everyone brushed their teeth and changed out of their uniforms and got into bed, Roman laid with his eyes open and waited for Maybe-Logan to say something else.

Sure enough, after five or so minutes, Maybe-Logan picked up right where they’d left off earlier, quietly on the side of his bed so Roman had to strain to hear.

I think we are young.

Roman blinked in surprise, and Maybe-Patton seemed to be just as surprised as him, because he tapped out Why does that matter?

I think there will be people much stronger and more experienced than us who we are not ready to fight. I am not sure they should be sending us on missions yet.

Don’t say that Logan, Maybe-Patton tapped out quickly. I’m sure they’re only doing what they think is best. They wouldn’t send us if they thought we were going to get hurt.

Are you sure?

Roman still didn’t know quite what to say to that. He’d never heard Maybe-Logan question something like that before.

Yes I’m sure, Maybe-Patton insisted. They care about us, Logan, they do. They’re not going to let us get hurt. If they say we’re ready then we’re ready.

Maybe-Logan didn’t say anything for a long stretch, long enough that Roman wondered if he’d just accepted Maybe-Patton’s argument and gone to sleep.

Then, suddenly, he tapped out something else, so much more quickly and quietly that Roman was almost sure he’d misheard.

I’m scared.

Or maybe some things were easier to admit in code.

Roman started quickly tapping before Maybe-Patton could say anything. No one is going to hurt you. If they try I’ll protect you.

Roman, you have been training for less time than Patton and I.

I don’t care. No one is going to hurt either of you. They’ll have to go through me.

You can’t exactly promise that, Roman.

Then I’ll try my hardest, Roman tapped. I don’t want you two getting hurt. I’m not just going to let you. You’re too important.

To who? You think they care?

To me.

Maybe-Logan didn’t respond to that right away, and suddenly Roman was nervous. Was he overestimating their relationship? Were Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan not supposed to be that important to him yet?

Then suddenly, he heard someone sniff, and looked over at the bed next to him to see Maybe-Patton reaching out for him in the dark. It was too dark to really be sure, but Roman was pretty sure he was crying.

Roman reached for his hand and squeezed it, and at the same time Maybe-Logan finally tapped out something else.

Thank you, Roman. You are very important to me too.

Roman smiled, though Maybe-Logan couldn’t see it. He was sure that didn’t solve the entire problem, and he imagined Maybe-Logan would still be scared. But he fell asleep that night with his hand gripping Maybe-Patton’s and having told them both that they mattered to him, along with feeling a new sense of determination. If Maybe-Logan could admit he was scared, then he expected some bad things to happen on these missions. And if that was the case, Roman would make sure they were both safe. He cared about them, after all. They were family.

And Roman wasn’t going to lose anyone a third time.

…

Virgil did not get any easier to deal with. He was suddenly in Remus’ space all the time, and Remus was always aware of him, no matter how unobtrusive he tried to be. He kept up Patty’s rule about being polite, and at least Virgil knew enough to not bother him generally.

Virgil apparently still didn’t know enough though, because after a while he seemed to consider it okay to bring his best friend back to their room to visit.

Remus first met Janus one afternoon when Virgil brought him with him to the bus after school. He didn’t make a habit of riding with Virgil, but that often meant that Virgil wasn’t really riding with anyone, so when Remus saw someone sitting in the seat next to him, he stopped curiously.

“Who the hell is this?” he asked, and the stranger looked over at Remus. Unlike Virgil’s general nervousness, this person immediately glared up at Remus, and Remus got a full view of the burn scars on the left half of his face, which didn’t exactly make him less intimidating.

“What’s it to you?” the stranger snapped. “I’ve heard about you. You’re the dick that thinks it’s okay to treat Virgil like garbage.”

“Janus,” Virgil said, pulling Janus further away. “Leave it alone.”

“And what’s that to you?” Remus asked, ignoring Virgil entirely and leaning into Janus’ face. “Virgil’s a little priss who needs to learn how to fight his own battles.”

That seemed to get to Virgil too, which felt kind of good, actually. Remus wasn’t used to getting many reactions from him that weren’t silence.

Virgil stood up and leaned over towards Remus. “I’m bringing my friend back for a visit today,” he said. “Ms. Patricia said I could.”

“Of course you need permission,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. Before he could say anything else, however, the bus driver yelled at him to sit down from up towards the front. Remus huffed in irritation and sat down in the seat across from Janus and Virgil.

Thankfully, the two of them seemed content to talk to each other throughout the drive and leave Remus alone. They actually seemed… really happy, just to talk with each other, like they might actually be really close. Remus found himself glancing over at them a couple times throughout the drive, not that he would actually admit that.

They made it back home pretty quickly, and Remus headed immediately upstairs, while Virgil and Janus followed after calling a greeting to Patty.

Remus sat on his bed and pulled out a book in order to ignore the two of them as best he could, but they were already talking as they headed over to the other bed, and it was far too easy to hear them.

“Look, I’m not saying we have to spray paint on the side of a wall. We could use a dumpster, or some wood we buy. I just think it’d be fun,” Virgil said, leaning back against the wall.

Remus couldn’t help but perk up slightly, because that did sound like fun. He wasn’t going to say anything, obviously, but it did.

“For you, maybe,” Janus said. “Why would I go out spraypainting when I could stay home and relax with far less effort?”

“You get to make art and fuck with authority at the same time,” Remus muttered despite himself.

Both of them looked over at him, Virgil more in surprise and Janus in annoyance.

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil said anyway, turning back to Janus. “That’s kind of the gist of it.”

“Well then the problem with that is there are better ways to do both of those things,” Janus said. “Take down one of those fancy art houses instead, that’ll have a much more lasting impact.”

“Not everyone has the resources to do that, Jan,” Virgil said, like this was an argument they had many times. “And that comes with a totally different aesthetic.”

“See, this is why your aesthetic should be closer to mine,” Janus said, smirking. “When the point is to blend in with the rich people they never suspect you.”

“You’re not blending in with anything you obnoxiously rich asshole,” Virgil said, smacking Janus playfully on the arm.

“Hey, you can’t be annoyed about my one perk.”

“Ah, that’s right. I’m only friends with you for the money.”

“And we’ll get married for the tax benefits,” Janus said with a grin.

Remus’ chest was aching, and he didn’t quite understand why. It definitely had something with the two assholes that had invaded his room though, and if they were going to keep staying here and bothering him, then he wasn’t going to put up with it.

He got up loudly and ignored them both looking at him as he stalked from the room. They probably wouldn’t care if he voiced his displeasure, but that wasn’t going to stop him from making it known.

Patty probably wouldn’t care either, unfortunately, so instead of going to her Remus went downstairs and sat on the couch with his book.

Unfortunately, the living room was still a public space within the orphanage, and after a while Stephanie wandered into the living room. “Hey Remus,” she called. “How you doing?”

Remus glared at her. Stephanie didn’t seem to like that, and after a moment just glared right back.

“I’m trying to read,” Remus snapped.

“You’re sitting in the living room,” Stephanie said, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s two pests up in my room,” Remus snapped. “Leave me alone.”

“Virgil brought a friend over?”

“Unfortunately.”

Stephanie sighed in irritation. “You could try giving him a chance, you know. He’s a sweet kid.”

Remus blew a raspberry.

Stephanie sighed and shook her head. “Look, Remus, I know you miss Roman, but that’s not a reason to—”

“You’re gonna wanna watch it,” Remus growled, clenching his hands around his book to the point that it almost bent.

Stephanie however, did not seem at all intimidated, and just put her hands on her hips. “You can’t be a jerk to everyone else because you miss your brother,” she said plainly, and with that Remus had pretty much had it.

“Get out or I’ll drop a toaster in the bath next time you’re there,” Remus snapped.

Stephanie finally looked a little disturbed. “Remus—”

“And then I’ll tear your arms off your body and feed them to a dog,” Remus continued, standing up. “I’ll do it. I think about it all the time.”

Stephanie, however, was well familiar with Remus’ intrusive thoughts at this point, and just crossed her arms and said, “We both know that’s not the same thing.”

Remus blew another raspberry, which was really just a signal to both of them that she was right, but he wasn’t thinking at his best right now.

“Remus,” Stephanie said in exasperation. “Look, can you just—”

Rather than sit and keep listening to Stephanie, Remus stood up and stomped back towards the steps. He couldn’t relax anywhere anymore.

“Remus, hang on—” Stephanie called.

Remus blew another raspberry in response and marched up towards his room. He was getting his space back before dinner if he had to physically pick Janus up and throw him out the door.

He made it just outside his room before his thoughts were interrupted by talking, hushed in the sense that the conversation was most likely private.

“Has he said anything?” Janus was saying. “Or called, or…”

Virgil scoffed. “Why would he? He didn’t care before Mom died, why would he start now?”

Remus blinked in surprise and stopped reaching for the door handle.

But the only other thing that happened was that he heard Janus say quietly, “I’m sorry,” and then nothing else.

Remus realized a second later that he was still standing outside the door, and reached out and opened it, storming in. Janus and Virgil both jumped slightly as he did so, and pulled apart from where they looked like they’d been hugging.

Remus didn’t say anything to them, just sat down on Roman’s bed and yanked his book open again.

Janus and Virgil started talking again after a moment, but Remus probably really wasn’t supposed to have heard what he did, because they moved on to school stuff, and neither of them sounded particularly invested in the conversation.

Not long before dinnertime, Stephanie stuck her head in the room, but rather than call them for dinner, she said, “Hey kid, your, uh, butler is here.”

“Thanks,” Janus said, giving her a smile as he stood. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Virge.”

Virgil nodded, giving a smile back at Janus, and then he followed Stephanie out, apparently going to be taken home by his butler.

Remus looked over at Virgil despite himself. “He has a butler?”

Virgil glanced over at him. “You were here when I called him an obnoxiously rich asshole, right?”

“So you two choose to hang out in the leaky ceiling orphanage instead of his probably-a-mansion?”

Virgil didn’t say anything, and a second later Patty called dinnertime.

Virgil got up pretty quickly and headed out of the room. Remus followed much more slowly. He spent most of the evening trying to forget the part of the conversation he’d overheard, but he didn’t get there by lights out.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and climbed back out of bed. Virgil seemed to hear him and rolled over quickly in time to meet Remus’ eyes as he approached.

Virgil looked a little unnerved, which was understandable given that Remus walked up to him in the middle of the night. “Uh… Remus?”

“Did Janus agree to go do some spraypainting with you?”

“What? Uh, no? Why does it matter?”

“There’s an abandoned building on the other side of the backyard,” Remus said, pointing with his thumb. “You want to go now?”

Virgil stared at him. “…Why?”

“‘Cause.”

Virgil was silent for another moment. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay.”

He pulled the covers back and climbed out of bed, then reached underneath and pulled out a duffel bag Remus hadn’t seen before. It clanked a little as he moved it, so Remus imagined it had spray paint inside.

Remus led Virgil out the kitchen door into the backyard, and then across the yard to the fence that blocked them off from the building they were getting at. Remus climbed it and hopped down the other side easily, but though he’d expected Virgil would need help, it turned out he could do the same.

Virgil set the duffel bag down and pulled out a couple of cans of spray paint for himself, then gestured at the bag as an offer to Remus.

Remus’ brain was still planning what exactly he wanted to do, but he reached down and dug around in the bag for a while anyway. He ended up pulling out a red can, so he dug around for a while longer and came back with a brown, white, and black.

“You have thoughts?” Virgil asked as Remus started with the brown.

“Yeah, I’m making a dog with bloody teeth,” Remus said. “Maybe I’ll add Stephanie’s arm tomorrow. It depends on how nice she is to me.”

“Uh… okay.”

Virgil started with purple on the other side of the building, leaving Remus plenty of space for his own piece.

“So hey,” Remus said, after they’d been quiet for a while. “I heard what you and Janus were saying.”

Virgil stopped spraying. “Which part?”

“The part about the guy who didn’t care before your mom died,” Remus said. “That your dad?”

Virgil started spraying his paint again. “None of your business,” he said, which was a yes.

Remus hummed, feigning thoughtfulness. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil turned to stare at him. “What?”

“The thing I said about why don’t you go live with your dad. I’m sorry. That was shitty of me.”

Virgil was silent for another moment, then he turned to work on his piece again. “Thanks,” he said eventually.

Remus hummed again in acknowledgement. “Is Janus good with that stuff?”

“Why do you care?”

That was a good question, one Remus had been trying to work out an answer to all night. But he didn’t have one yet, so he just said nothing.

Eventually, Virgil sighed. “He’s good with stuff with Dad,” he said. “Not really good with Mom.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t get why I miss her. He hates his parents.”

It was Remus’ turn to stare at Virgil. “What a dick.”

Virgil glared back at him. “Excuse me?”

“He comes to an orphanage and talks about how much he hates his parents?”

“It’s not like that,” Virgil snapped.

“Oh, it’s not?”

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “And anyway, he gets that too. He doesn’t talk about his parents here. He’s not an idiot.”

Remus reached down and grabbed the black for the dog’s eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he said, and they both fell silent again.

Remus bit his lip, trying to decide whether or not to say what he was thinking now. He finished with the eyes before he spoke. “Roman was all I had.”

Virgil didn’t turn away from his piece. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“You have Janus,” Remus said. “I don’t know if you get it.”

“I probably don’t, you’re right,” Virgil admitted. “Not completely, anyway. But it aches, right? All the time?”

Remus was going to need gray for shading on the teeth. “It feels like a hole,” he said.

Virgil nodded a little. “I get that,” he said. “It helps if you talk to people. Just generally too, you know. It doesn’t have to be about Roman.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Remus snapped, and Virgil looked at him like he knew he was full of bullshit.

Remus moved to dig around inside the bag for a gray paint. He found one and turned to move and look stubbornly at his piece and not at Virgil.

“I miss him,” Remus said, trying to be quiet enough so that Virgil couldn’t be sure if he heard it.

Unfortunately, he did. “Of course you do,” he said. “But you don’t need to wallow in misery because you miss him. Does that help him?”

Remus gripped the can tighter. “Shut up.”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah alright,” he said, and shut up.

They finished their pieces in silence. Remus added the blood to the dog’s teeth, and stepped back to look at the finished product. He was satisfied with it, for something that he did in the middle of the night in not great lighting.

He glanced over at Virgil and saw him finishing up the storm cloud he’d done, with a lighting bolt coming down from it.

“That looks good,” he said.

Virgil glanced back at him and smiled a little. “Thanks,” he said. “So does yours.”

They put the cans back in the duffel bag and headed inside. Remus didn’t want to say anything else, both so he wouldn’t wake anyone else up and so he wouldn’t damage the fragile fluttering something in his chest that the night had ended up bringing.

As a result, they both went back into their room and put the cans back under Virgil’s bed before either of them said anything.

“So you think next time we can convince Janus to come too?” Virgil asked, sending Remus a small smile as he moved to lay down.

Next time.

The fluttering thing in his chest got a little happier, and Remus smiled a little bit back. “I think if we can’t you should ditch him, because he clearly doesn’t care about your interests.”

Virgil muffled a laugh with his hand. “Wow, you’re so right,” he said, and pulled the covers over himself. “Goodnight, Remus.”

“Goodnight,” Remus replied, and for the first time in a long time, he went to sleep not feeling completely awful.

The next day Virgil came up to him at lunch and asked if he and Janus could sit, and the not-awful feeling increased.

…

Maybe-Logan ended up being right about his assumption that they’d be going on missions soon. Not even a week after he told Maybe-Patton and Roman what he’d heard, superiors Roman had never met before came in during training and announced they would all be going on a mission soon. A practice mission first, at least, to see if they were actually ready. Roman saw Maybe-Logan relax a little at that. They still didn’t know what exactly a practice mission would mean, but the idea was at least comforting.

The practice mission was scheduled for the end of the week, and apparently no superiors were allowed to tell them anything about it beforehand, which did not help with the feeling that they were throwing themselves into something they weren’t ready for.

But the week came to a close, and after dinner on Saturday evening they were all ushered towards a part of the base Roman didn’t remember ever seeing before.

He stuck close to Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan, who seemed to want to do the same. They ended with Maybe-Patton in the middle, far enough back that no one could see them, with Maybe-Patton holding Maybe-Logan’s right hand and Roman’s left.

They finally stopped at the end of a long hallway in front of a set of doors.

“Alright, listen up!”

Roman turned to face the trainer speaking at the front of the group.

“We’re not going to be going very far for this,” he said. “Since this is a practice mission, there’s going to be people waiting just a couple blocks away. Your only job is to get to them, and then you’re done. There’s no time limit or rules, but those who manage to get there alone will get extra dessert tonight.”

Roman squeezed Maybe-Patton’s hand tighter, who thankfully did the same back. He didn’t care about extra dessert. He was sticking with his family.

“Good luck,” the trainer said, and pulled the doors open, stepping aside as he did.

Roman wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see, but it wasn’t really the nothing that ended up being there. It was just a street, and other than the fact that it was dark and hard to see, there wasn’t really anything scary about it.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think it would be like that the entire time, though.

A couple up near the front slowly started moving, and slowly more and more followed their example. Eventually, the three of them moved forward together, and once the last people moved out the doors, they slammed shut and locked behind them.

Some kids started moving down the streets, but Roman was going to wait for Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan to move before doing the same.

Instead of moving, though, after a second Maybe-Patton started to squeeze his hand. It took Roman a second to recognize the Morse code, but he got there.

Logan has a plan.

Roman glanced over at Maybe-Logan, who nodded at him, then started pulling them both towards a building.

Once they reached the bottom, Maybe-Logan shifted in between Roman and Maybe-Patton, and started squeezing their hands at the same time, quickly.

Let’s climb. We’ll see more.

Roman nodded, and looked up towards the window sill just above them.

Just as he was about to reach for it, the first person screamed. Maybe-Patton whimpered and turned to bury his head in Maybe-Logan’s chest. Maybe-Logan hugged him tightly and gestured for Roman to go.

Roman turned and climbed up towards the roof, using the window sills to get there. When he reached the top, he turned to look behind him and saw Maybe-Patton approaching, so he reached out a hand and helped pull him up. He did the same for Maybe-Logan once Maybe-Patton was safe on the roof.

Maybe-Logan moved in between them again and grabbed their hands, pulling them closer to the center of the roof. More people below started screaming, and Roman tried to ignore it.

His attention was drawn back to Maybe-Logan by him nodding away from them, and Roman turned to see a group of people, barely visible in the distance and standing at the entrance to a park.

That’s where we need to get to. If we can find an unorthodox way to get there that would be better.

Why? Roman squeezed back.

This seems like a physical challenge, but I would not be surprised if they’re looking for strategies too. If we can show that we’re getting where we need to by thinking through the problem, I think they’ll like that.

But you’re the only one good at that kind of thing, Roman pointed out.

And how would they know that? We’re not even saying anything.

Roman’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t expected Maybe-Logan to be willing to share the credit like that, though he supposed they did all care quite a bit about each other at this point. Maybe that went farther than Roman thought.

Fair enough. What’s your plan then? he asked.

Do you think you can jump far enough?

Roman looked across the roof to the next building over. He looked back at Maybe-Logan and nodded. Maybe-Patton nodded on his other side, and they all turned to face the next roof.

“One,” Maybe-Logan said, and squeezed Roman’s hand.

“Two,” Roman said, taking the hint.

“Three!” Maybe-Patton said a second later, and all of them started running. Roman was a little faster than them both, but he managed to slow down until they all reached the edge of the roof and jumped across the space. They let go of each other’s hands in mid-air, and Roman went into a roll as he landed on the other roof that ended with him flat on his back but also meant he hadn’t broken anything.

Maybe-Logan and Maybe-Patton fared about the same, and they all climbed up again. Roman moved to look over the side of the building, and saw guards they would have run into if they were on the street.

He also saw people about to approach from behind who were going to have to deal with them.

Maybe-Patton seemed to see the same thing, and nodded at a crate sitting nearby. Roman nodded, and the two of them working together managed to push the crate over the side so it landed right on top of the guards, who didn’t register where the noise had come from until too late. They looked up just in time to get hit by the box.

A second later the people from before came into what would have been the view of the guards. They looked in confusion at the knocked out guards and the box, but moved on a second later.

Maybe-Patton grinned at Roman, who grinned right back. They moved quickly over to the other side of the roof where Maybe-Logan was looking, but after not seeing any guards over there they all moved back towards the middle of the roof to jump to the next one.

This jump was a little farther, but they still made it without any problems, and pushed another box onto guards on the other side of the street, with Maybe-Logan’s help this time.

They got into a rhythm of this, and took out quite a few of the guards along the way, as long as something was available on the roof to knock them out. They reached the point they had to get to pretty quickly, and ended up being the first ones there, since others had gotten held up by guards they hadn’t been able to take out. Now they just had to get down from the roof and cross the street to reach the front of the park.

Roman did one more quick check for guards, but he didn’t spend too much time looking, more wanting to be done with this practice mission and allowed to go home. He made it back to the front of the roof and nodded at Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan, and they both nodded back, meaning their areas were clear too.

Maybe-Patton started to climb down the window sills, and Roman went next. He’d almost reached the bottom when he heard Maybe-Patton cry out in alarm, and looked over to see a guard jumping out from the shadows and tackling Maybe-Patton to the ground.

“Hey!” Roman screamed, jumping down the rest of the way and landing on top of them both. Maybe-Patton cried out again, which is when he realized that might not have been the best idea, but it was too late now. He managed to pull the guard off of Maybe-Patton, just in time for Maybe-Logan to make it to the ground and run over to help him. The two of them together managed to hold him off, and Maybe-Patton managed to climb to his feet.

“Go on, we’re right behind you!” Roman screamed, and held on tightly along with Maybe-Logan long enough for Maybe-Patton to limp across the road, his hand pressed to his chest. Roman shoved away the stab of guilt. Later.

Maybe-Patton reached the other side, and someone nodded at him.

“Let go and run!” Maybe-Logan called, likely seeing the same thing. Roman did, and he and Maybe-Logan made it across the street with feet pounding behind them. Thankfully, once they reached the other side the feet stopped, and Roman glanced back to see the guard shooting them dirty glares as they walked back across the street.

Roman looked instantly for Maybe-Patton. “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he caught his eye. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Maybe-Patton said, though he winced a second later and was clearly in pain.

Roman wanted to start apologizing again, but he was very aware of their superiors all standing above them, and the fact that they would not like that. So, despite how little Roman wanted to, he left it at the one apology for now.

“Someone will take care of his injuries once we get back,” someone else said. Roman glanced up in time to see them give each of them an approving nod. “You all did well.”

“Thank you,” Maybe-Logan said. Roman wasn’t sure if anyone else could recognize how much Maybe-Logan wanted to tend to Maybe-Patton’s wounds right now, but he could tell.

For now, however, they all stood and waited for the others to arrive, despite Maybe-Patton clearly being in pain and wanting to sit down. Roman tried not to drown in guilt.

It didn’t work very well.

…

Eating with Virgil and Janus was starting to become a regular thing, and that was a problem.

Well, okay. There were a lot of potential reasons it wasn’t a problem. It made Patty really happy, and it was nice to feel like he could talk to her again without it becoming a shouting match. Now that he wasn’t alone at lunch anymore people stopped giving him sad, “Look there’s the kid whose brother died” looks. He wasn’t annoyed every time he stepped inside his room anymore.

The problem came with the fact that Virgil and Janus were actually kind of cool, and Remus found that he sort of… liked them.

But he didn’t want friends. He had been fine on his own, and if he was in this situation for much longer, he might start to care about Janus and Virgil past the point that he could come back from. He couldn’t start caring about them that much. They were okay as “people that he didn’t mind,” but if he started to actually want them around?

That couldn’t happen.

So Remus started putting up walls.

It wasn’t difficult. He just had to stop being so nice, and being nice didn’t come naturally to him anyway. He still sat with Janus and Virgil at lunch, but he stopped saying things, and he responded to anything Virgil said to him after school in the most plain, matter of fact way he could manage. It seemed to be working, as Janus and Virgil were starting to exchange unhappy looks when he didn’t say anything at lunch, and were starting to talk to him less in general. If he pushed hard enough, he might even be able to make them mad at him again, which would solve the entire problem.

To help it along, he also stole Virgil’s bag of spray paint from time to time, and took it around to paint with it without asking first. He kept expecting Virgil to bring it up, but even when Remus dropped the bag in his lap when they both knew he hadn’t asked first, Virgil didn’t seem to care.

It made zero sense. Even before they’d started getting along, Virgil hadn’t been a doormat. He wouldn’t have let Remus take his stuff without asking, and he definitely wouldn’t have let it slide without saying anything. What in the world was going on?

He got his answer one day when Patty approached him.

He was alone in his room, since Virgil had gone with Janus to get ice cream after school. They’d invited Remus, but he declined. To his annoyance, he was still thinking about it. He hadn’t had ice cream since before his parents died. Patty didn’t have enough money to take everyone in the orphanage out for ice cream, and he hadn’t had an obnoxiously rich asshole for a friend.

But he didn’t want friends anyway. So now he was here. And that was fine.

A knock on the door pulled him away from his deeply fun experience of staring at the wall. He sat up and called that the person could come in, and a second later the door opened to reveal Patty.

“Hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

“Peachy,” Remus said, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

Patty raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Remus groaned. “Patty, is there something I can help you with?” he asked incredibly sweetly.

“I would have preferred it without the fake sweetness, but I’ll take it.” Patty moved forward and sat on the bed next to Remus. “I wanted to check on you, sweetheart. Virgil and Janus are out, aren’t they?”

“They’re getting ice cream,” Remus confirmed. “Why should I care?”

“Well, I thought you three were friends now,” Patty said in concern. “Did you not want to go?”

“We’re not friends,” Remus said, glaring over at the wall. “I don’t want friends.”

“Remus,” Patty said. “Sweetheart, they like you. And you seem to like them. What’s so wrong with having a friendship with people you like and happen to spend a lot of time with?”

“I don’t. Want. Friends,” Remus said firmly. “Why don’t you just go back to yelling at me about it and leave me alone?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Patty said gently. “I’m not going to yell at you about it.”

“You had no problem doing that before,” Remus snapped. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. “Or did you just suddenly forget how much you hate me now?”

Patty didn’t say anything for a long moment. Remus didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her face when she realized she could stop pretending.

“Remus,” she said finally. “Sweetheart, I don’t hate you.”

Remus glared at her, and was surprised to see genuine concern in her face.

“Did I do something to make you think that, sweetheart?” Patty asked. “I promise I don’t hate you, Remus. I’m worried.”

“You weren’t worried before,” Remus pointed out.

“Of course I was.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

“Of course I was worried before,” Patty said. “Remus, I worry about all my kids. You’ve all been through far too much. And you especially, lately… Remus, if I could give all of the time I wanted to each and every one of you, I would, but I’m just one woman.”

Remus wanted to stop this conversation before it got any more sappy. “An old woman,” he said.

“Watch yourself there, mister,” Patty said, narrowing her eyes, but in a way that meant she wasn’t actually upset. “But I mean it. Sweetheart, I am very sorry if I gave the impression that I didn’t care anymore. I will never stop caring. I will never hate you. I promise.”

Remus blinked quickly. “Oh,” he said weakly. “Okay.”

“Do you want a hug?” Patty asked gently.

Remus nodded, and Patty scooped him up and into her arms. Remus tried very hard not to melt into her hold, and mostly failed.

“Why’re you bringing this up now?” Remus mumbled into her shirt.

“You’ve been closing yourself off, sweetheart,” Patty said, and Remus froze. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’re not spending time with your friends anymore.”

“They’re not my friends,” Remus said instantly, pushing himself back off of Patty. “I don’t want friends.”

“It’s okay to want friends, Remus,” Patty said. “Really.”

“Well, it’s also okay to not,” Remus said. “And I don’t. So.”

Patty gave him a look. “Are you sure about that, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Remus said firmly. “Virgil’s nice and I can tolerate him as a roommate. And Janus is nice and I can tolerate him as Virgil’s friend. But I don’t have to be friends with them. I don’t want to. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Sweetheart, I think we should.”

“No. Later,” Remus said firmly. He meant never, but Patty didn’t have to know that. “I want to talk about it another time.”

Patty seemed to consider that for a minute. “Okay,” she said. “After dinner.”

Remus tensed. “But—”

“We don’t have to talk right this second if you don’t want to,” Patty said. “But this conversation is long overdue, and we’re going to have it today, alright?”

Remus grit his teeth. “Fine,” he got out. “After dinner.”

“Good,” Patty said. She leaned forward and gave Remus a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, sweetheart. I promise, okay?”

Remus felt the tension in his shoulders fade a little, and he nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Patty got up and gave him one more smile before she left the room.

Remus sat on the bed for a long time, staring at the floor instead of the wall now, a plan forming in his head.

He reached under his bed and grabbed his backpack, then stormed over to his dresser and shoved a couple of outfits inside. He was about to go to the bathroom and grab his toothbrush when someone knocked again.

Remus zipped his bag shut and went to sit on his bed just in time for Virgil to call “Coming in!” and walk inside.

“Hey, Remus,” he said happily, walking over towards his bed. He smiled when he glanced back over at him.

“You’ve gotta come with us next time, okay? Janus knows really good ice cream places.”

“Why do you even care?” Remus grumbled, which seemed to catch Virgil by surprise.

“Uh, I just thought you might like some ice cream,” Virgil said hesitantly. “I can’t imagine you get it that often.”

“And why do you care?” Remus repeated. “Why are you suddenly trying to include me all the time? You didn’t before.”

“We weren’t friends before,” Virgil said.

“We’re not friends,” Remus snapped.

Virgil gave him a look. “Right. We just sit together at lunch and hang out after school and talk about our traumatic experiences with our dead family members like casual acquaintances,” he said. “You’re right, nothing even close to a friendship there. Look, you… you’re worrying me, Remus. Why are you suddenly acting like you don’t care about anything? I mean, you wanted to be friends before, right?”

“No,” Remus snapped, but it came out weak. “I wanted you out of my room.”

“Yeah, but I thought we moved past that,” Virgil said. “I… I like you, Remus. I still want to be friends. Just… is something wrong?”

Remus clenched his hands together tightly to hide their shaking. “No,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just decided I don’t want you. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to insert yourself into my life when you’re not welcome. I’m going out.”

He grabbed his bag off his bed and stormed out of the room before Virgil could reply. He was getting the hell out of this place, with all of the nosy people that he didn’t care about and didn’t want to be friends with. He didn’t need anyone. And he was going to prove it.

…

Maybe-Patton had broken ribs. Roman had rushed at the end of the mission when he was checking for guards and now Maybe-Patton had broken ribs and it was all his fault.

Almost everyone had passed the practice mission, and they were now official soldiers, on-call for whenever needed and expected to stay in shape the rest of the time. Unless, of course, they were injured and recovering, like Maybe-Patton.

Maybe-Logan said he’d gone to see him a couple times, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to. Maybe-Patton hated him, he was sure of it. He’d gotten hurt and it was Roman’s fault and now they were going to kick him out of their makeshift family and Roman was going to be alone all over again and he’d have to spend his time thinking about Remus and how much he missed him.

He didn’t want to go back to thinking about Remus all the time. Everything had seemed almost empty when all he had to do was sit and think about Remus. Then he met Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan, and suddenly life seemed possible again.

But he couldn’t ask Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan if he could stay when he’d gotten Maybe-Patton hurt. He couldn’t be that selfish. He could… he could start over. All over again. Find a new family, somehow. And Maybe-Patton and Maybe-Logan would be safer without him.

So Roman didn’t visit Maybe-Patton, and he stopped talking to Maybe-Logan. He made sure to get to lunch early so he could find an empty hallway to eat in. He moved his bed back over to the other side of the room and hid from Maybe-Logan until lights out.

He didn’t have to hide from Maybe-Patton. He was still in a recovery room.

He wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe for Maybe-Logan to understand his offer and let Roman slide effortlessly out of their lives so they never had to worry about him again. Maybe for him to find him, yell at him, and then understand his offer and let Roman slide effortlessly out of their lives so they never had to worry about him again.

It definitely wasn’t for Maybe-Logan to corner him one day before lunch and grab him by the arm.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, and started pulling Roman down the hallway after him.

“What? Why?”

“Because Patton has been asking to see you for days now, and I’m tired of you avoiding us both.”

“But I—”

“Do you want to disappoint Patton?” Maybe-Logan asked, turning and raising an eyebrow.

Well, now that just wasn’t fair.

Roman swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered. Maybe-Patton could yell at him, and then this would be over. He probably deserved to be yelled at anyway.

Maybe-Logan took him towards what he said was the infirmary, and took them both inside.

Roman had been expecting one of the nicely furnished rooms that he saw when he first got here, but when they walked inside the only things here were a small cot that Maybe-Patton was on, and a tray table that was likely for food.

Maybe-Patton lit up when he saw Roman, for some reason. “Roman!” he called. “Roman, you’re here!”

Roman swallowed, and waved slightly as he approached the cot. “Hey,” he said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” Maybe-Patton said with a smile. “I’m a pretty fast healer, actually. Why haven’t you come to see me? I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said softly. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“That’s not true,” Maybe-Patton said firmly. “Of course I want to see you. I’ll feel much better with my whole family here.”

Roman winced. “Do they not think your injuries are serious enough for a nicer furnished room?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Because that’s not true. You deserve one.”

Maybe-Patton gave him a confused look. “There are nicely furnished rooms?” he asked.

Roman looked down. “Oh. Maybe I made that up too. I’m sorry.”

“No, I believe you,” Maybe-Patton said instantly. “I’ve just never seen them.”

Roman looked up and stared at him. “Why?”

“Oh, well I guess I’ve just never been that lucky, but I’m sure they exist somewhere, I just—”

“Why do you believe me?” Roman cut him off. “I can’t even believe me most of the time. Everyone always says I’m wrong, or confused, or making things up. I thought I checked thoroughly enough for guards on the practice mission, but I was wrong, and you got hurt. You shouldn’t trust me. Clearly,” he gestured at Maybe-Patton’s form. “Bad things happen when you trust me!”

“But we do,” Maybe-Logan said, grabbing Roman’s hand. “Roman, making a mistake does not mean we can’t trust you. We don’t blame you for what happened. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is,” Roman protested.

“Roman,” Maybe-Patton said. He reached out for Roman and made grabby hands, and it’s not like Roman could deny him when he did that. He moved forward and hugged Patton as gently as he could, being especially mindful of his ribs.

“It’s not your fault,” Maybe-Patton said. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. It’s not your fault.”

“But you’re hurt,” Roman insisted.

“It’s okay,” Maybe-Patton said. “I’m gonna be okay, Roman.”

Maybe-Logan joined the hug from the other side of Roman. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding us?” he asked. “Did you think we were mad at you?”

Roman managed a nod.

“Roman,” Maybe-Logan said. “We’re not. We still love you, I promise.”

“And we still trust you,” Maybe-Patton said.

“Why?” Roman asked again. He pulled away from both of them, and rubbed at his eyes before tears could escape. “Why? I can’t trust me. You shouldn’t trust me.”

“Do you trust us?” Maybe-Logan asked.

Roman pulled his hands away from his eyes and sniffed. “What?”

“Can you trust us?” Maybe-Logan repeated. “If you can’t trust yourself, do you trust us?”

Roman blinked a couple of times and considered the question. He wiped at his eyes again, and a couple tears escaped. He looked between the two members left of his family, both seeming earnest and concerned and still caring, for some reason.

Finally, Roman nodded. Yes.

He could trust Patton and Logan.

Logan’s face seemed to melt in relief, and he stepped forward and took Roman’s hands. “Then please trust that we still love you,” he said. “We do not blame you for what happened. You are family, and we trust you, Roman.”

Patton was nodding in agreement in the background. “I would be so sad if you stopped spending time with us,” he said. “I love both of you, and I want both of you with me.”

Roman sniffed. “Okay,” he whispered. “I— I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think your apology is needed,” Patton said. “But I forgive you, if that makes you feel better.”

Roman wiped at his eyes again, but he stepped back forward towards his family. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said. “The barracks are too quiet without you.”

Patton smiled. “Then I should hurry up and get better, and we can both make it loud together.”

Roman smiled back. “I’d like that,” he said. “I love you, Patton. And Logan, I love you.”

“I love you too, Roman,” Logan said.

Patton nodded. “Me too.” He nodded down at the bed. “Come sit? We have a lot to catch up on.”

Roman moved forward to sit down, and Logan did the same a second later, and the conversation moved on to better topics. Roman drank in the relief that came with not losing the only people he had left, and the relief that Patton would be okay, and that it felt like he had a future again.

It would be okay. He could work with this.

…

Remus quickly realized that he had nowhere to go. He’d moved from his old house with his parents and his brother straight to the orphanage, and he’d always had at least a roof over his head, even if it was leaky.

He should probably just go back there. But if he did that Patty and Virgil would both have questions, because for some reason they still cared about him, despite all of Remus’ best efforts.

No, apparently they thought he needed other people. But he didn’t. And if they needed proof, then he’d give it to them.

He wasn’t going to stay away forever. Probably a couple days, maybe a week, just long enough that they’d start to worry he wasn’t coming back, and then he could go back and show them that he was totally fine, and that he could make it on his own.

The only problem with that was that he kind of couldn’t. It was dark, and it was getting cold. He’d missed dinner, so he was hungry. He didn’t know where to go to find a place to be safe. He wanted to go home. He wanted his parents. He wanted his brother. He wanted to stop sounding like a whiny child.

All of this put together was probably why he ended up where he did.

The bowling alley was still closed until further notice, so they could clean up all the debris, fix the building, and make it possible to do anything there again. There was caution tape up in front of the locked doors, but it wasn’t hard for Remus to pick the lock, and then he was inside.

He looked around blankly at debris. It looked different than it had last time he’d been here. There had also been a lot more smoke then, though. A lot of the big pieces of debris were gone, and it looked like there were just small chunks of wood and stray bowling shoes left now.

Remus looked at the bowling shoes for a minute. Why was he here? This was a horrible idea. He should go back home, where it was warm and bright and safe and he had food.

He moved over towards the stairs down to the lower level, where the actual alleys you could bowl in were. Not that you could bowl in them anymore. He’d found Roman’s friend down here, trapped under debris. He hadn’t heard from her since the funeral. She’d been okay, last he saw. The wheelchair she had was supposed to be temporary.

Remus reached down and touched the area that she’d been trapped in. The debris that had been there was gone now. He didn’t remember what it looked like well enough to recognize it in any of the debris surrounding him.

Why was he standing here? This wasn’t where he found Roman.

Remus stood up again and turned in a slow circle. Finally, he spotted the bathroom that Roman had gone in before getting dragged out and beaten to death by assholes.

Remus started over there, moving around debris when it was in his path almost without looking. He felt kind of lightheaded, which probably wasn’t a good thing.

He made it to the bathroom, and luckily that window was still broken. Remus climbed up on top of the sink and dragged himself out the window again. The broken glass stung as it dragged across his stomach.

Remus pulled himself up and looked around the new area. He didn’t really remember how to get back to the front of the building from here. He’d kind of been focused on other things last time he did that.

Remus walked over towards the spot he found Roman. He knelt down in the middle of the road and put his hands on the ground. There wasn’t a body here now. Roman’s body was gone. His bed was Remus’ now. His drawing notebook was tucked in Remus’ pocket. Every last trace of him was somewhere it shouldn’t be. He was somewhere he shouldn’t be. He should be here, with Remus. Not dead.

But he was, and Remus was alone. So he was going to stay alone. He wasn’t going to lose anyone a third time.

Something was approaching from the right. Remus was pretty sure by the lights he could see lighting up the road that it was a car. And that probably meant he should move, but he felt really lightheaded right now, and standing up would probably make it worse.

Still, he needed to move. If he didn’t he would die. And Remus wasn’t ready to die, not yet. He had things left to do.

He couldn’t seem to move, though.

Suddenly, he heard brakes squealing, and the sound of a car coming to an unexpected stop. A second later a door was thrown open, and a voice he recognized yelled out, “Remus?”

Footsteps ran over towards him, but Remus still didn’t stand up or even look away from where his hands were. It seems the lack of danger wasn’t making it easier for him to move.

Someone stopped in front of him and knelt down.

“Remus? Remus, can you look at me?”

Remus didn’t say anything.

“Remus? Hey, can you hear me?”

Remus still didn’t say anything.

Suddenly, a hand lifted one of his off the ground and grasped it in their own. “Hey, Remus, can you feel that? Can you focus on what my hand feels like?”

Remus tried. It was dry, and kind of patchy. Why would a hand be patchy?

“I’m gonna squeeze your hand now, okay?”

Predictably, this statement was followed by the person squeezing his hand.

“Feel that? Can you nod yes if you can feel that?”

Remus managed a nod.

“Okay, that’s good. Do you think you can squeeze my hand back?”

Remus did so, weakly.

“Great, you’re doing great, Remus. Can I help you stand up now? Can you nod if that’s okay?”

Remus nodded. It was a little easier this time.

The person took his other hand and slowly helped Remus stand up. Remus kept looking down.

“Hey, Remus? I’m going to move your head up now, okay?”

Remus nodded.

The person let go of one of his hands and lifted Remus’ head until he was looking them in the eyes.

Remus blinked a couple times. “Hi, Janus,” he said weakly.

Janus smiled, looking relieved. “Hi, Remus. Can you do me a favor? Can you look over at my car and describe what it looks like?”

Remus blinked a couple more times, then managed to slowly turn his head to look at Janus’ car. He blinked again. “You’ve got a limo,” he said. “Because you’re an obnoxiously rich asshole.”

Janus laughed a little, though it sounded weak. “Yeah, that’s right. What color is it?”

“White. That’s boring. It should be bright green.”

“As I consistently tell my parents. What does the license plate say?”

“J6NV4X. That kinda looks like your name.”

“I can see where you’re coming from. Anything else?”

“The headlights are on. The car is kinda sideways. Probably because we’re standing in the middle of the road and you had to swerve as you stopped so you didn’t hit me.”

He looked back at Janus. “I couldn’t move. I didn’t stay there because I wanted to.”

“I believe you,” Janus said. “Are you feeling alright? Do you feel a little more present?”

Remus nodded. “I… I’m okay.”

“Okay. Okay, Remus. Can we take you home now?”

“We?”

“Virgil called me with Ms. Patricia’s phone. They’re out looking for you. I asked my butler if we could come look for you too,” Janus said, nodding over towards the driver, that Remus hadn’t even realized had gotten out of the car until now.

Remus looked back at Janus. “What did you ask before?”

“I asked if we could take you home,” Janus said, sounding perfectly patient.

Remus nodded. “Okay.”

Janus smiled in relief again. “Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna sit in the back with you, so I can keep talking to you and squeeze your hand every once in a while, okay? And I want you to squeeze back if you can.”

“Okay,” Remus said again.

“Okay,” Janus said, and he helped Remus start to slowly walk back over towards the car. Remus was pretty sure he heard Janus’ butler quietly say something like “Well done,” to him, but he wasn’t sure why.

Janus kept talking to him for a while, pointing out things in the car for Remus to focus on and describe, and asking Remus simple questions that got easier and easier to answer, like what year it was, or what color were Janus’ eyes.

It took a while, but Remus eventually felt closer to normal.

“Hey, Janus?” he asked, cutting Janus off in the middle of a sentence about the sunroof above them.

“Yes?” Janus asked, turning to face him.

“Why did you know how to do that?” Remus asked.

Janus smiled a little. It looked a mix of bitter and reassuring. “Jackson has to do it for me a lot of the time,” he said.

Remus furrowed his brow in concern. “Why?”

Janus turned the left side of his face so Remus couldn’t see it. “It feels easier to just drift sometimes,” he said quietly. “But it’s not really a good idea to do it all the time. So Jackson helps me.”

“But why would you need to…” Remus trailed off, trying to put the pieces together, but his brain still felt like it was moving significantly slower right now.

Janus sighed, and reached for Remus’ hand again, with his burned one. He squeezed it again, and a lot of things fell into place suddenly.

“You should stay with us,” Remus said.

Janus gave him a look. “In the orphanage with the leaky ceiling? I’m good. I can’t exactly leave behind my butler and my limo. And what would I do without my jacuzzi?” He smiled again, but it looked weak.

“Janus,” Remus said. But Janus pulled his hand away.

“Seriously, Remus, drop it okay? It’s fine as long as I behave. Besides, I need to stay. I have plans. I want to help Ms. Patricia get a better building someday. One that doesn’t leak. I want to help get Virgil and I through school without having to work. And I want to help fund the war efforts, to take down the guys that killed your brother. If I want to do all of that I need to stay for now.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Remus insisted. “We can help you.”

“You do help me,�� Janus said. “You let me come here.”

“Here?” Remus asked. A second later the car came to a stop, and Remus looked up to see they’d made it back to the orphanage.

Another car was pulling up in front of the building, across the street. Janus opened the door and helped Remus climb out, but that was about as far as he made it before Virgil sprinted across the street and tackled him back into the car.

“Dummy,” he said. “Don’t you dare do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said weakly. Virgil pulled him back up and out of the car, and Remus saw Patty stopping in front of him, looking like Remus had added ten years to her age.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Remus did a quick check over himself, and pulled up his shirt to see some cuts still on his stomach. Luckily, no glass was embedded.

“Okay,” Patty said. “Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll treat it.”

She offered her hand, and Remus, feeling like a small child, took it. They all went inside, including Janus and his butler Jackson, and Patty sat Remus down on the couch and sent Virgil to get some bandages.

“So,” she said, looking at Remus. “I’m not mad, but I think I still need to ask you to explain what the hell you were thinking, young man.”

Remus blinked in shock at the curse, but still processed the question enough to look down sheepishly.

“I was trying to prove I could make it on my own,” he mumbled. “Turns out I can’t.”

Patty took a deep breath, pressing a hand to her forehead as she aged another ten years.

Thankfully, at that moment Virgil showed up with the bandages, so Remus was spared a response right away.

Patty pulled his shirt off and started working on the cuts. “Sweetheart, why are you so insistent on wanting to be alone?”

“Because everyone I’ve ever been close to is dead,” Remus whispered. There didn’t seem to be much point in hiding it anymore, anyway.

Patty pulled Remus as close to her as she could while still wrapping bandages around his stomach. “Sweetheart,” she said.

“I can’t lose anyone else if I don’t have anyone else,” Remus protested before she could say anything else.

“Sweetheart,” Patty said again. “That’s not the way to go about things. You’re just going to make yourself alone and miserable.”

“It is scary,” Virgil said quietly. “Caring about people again is scary. But it’s worth it, Re.”

He moved to sit down on the couch, and leaned against Remus’ side. “I meant it when I said I like you. I want to be friends, Remus, really. I’m scared too, but it’s okay. We can be scared together.”

“I want to be friends too,” Janus said quietly, and Remus looked up at him. “I didn’t like you at first because you were mean to Virgil, but then you stopped. And if you’re hurt, then… it’s easier to be hurt with other people. And the more there are, the easier it is.”

“It’s important to have people, sweetheart,” Patty said, as she finished wrapping his wounds and sat back. “People you can talk to, and joke with, and be happy around, and be sad around. And you can always talk to me. Just don’t start getting any ideas that need to be alone. Or that you are alone, because I promise you, you’re not.”

Remus looked from Patty, to Virgil, to Janus, all of whom were looking at him as if they cared.

Because… because they did. Oh, fuck. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

So why did it feel so nice?

Remus sniffed, and wiped at his eyes. “Oh,” he said weakly. “Okay.” He looked up at Patty. “Can I have a hug?”

Patty scooped him up into her arms with strength Remus didn’t know she had, and held him close as Remus started to cry into her shirt. Virgil and Janus each took one of his hands and squeezed it, and they would all stay like that for quite a while.

Remus wasn’t quite sure where to go from here. The idea of considering close relationships with others again was really scary, and he already knew he’d have to do it slowly. But if it meant more things like what had happened tonight, he supposed he might be open to giving it a try. Maybe, in time, he could find a new family.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe he could work with this.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #human au #kid sides #tw gaslighting #tw dissociation #tw child abuse #my fic

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