#ts royaliceit

[anothertssincorrectquotesblog]

Roman: What’s up?

Virgil: Your place on my shit list.

Janus: My level of patience for those who ask such things

Patton: The most depressing Pixar movie about an old man who tries to land his house on a cliff via balloons- *starts rambling*

Roman:

Virgil:

Janus:

Roman: How long-

Janus: It's fine.

Patton, sobbing: -and he just wants to fulfill his dead wife’s dream-

[the-duke-of-nuts]

Ah yes V-Day the day I don’t care about but get to have an excuse to post content of my comfort ships <3

[emoprincey]

Fangs and Cutlasses (chapter 3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | This is chapter 3!

Taglist: @the-duke-of-nuts

The pirate ship never truly slept. Even when the sun had gone down, there were a good number of people patrolling the decks, keeping an eye out for any change in the weather or enemy attacks. Either Remus or Janus would stay up through the night, and Remus always liked to do a last circuit of the ship before he went below deck, to check everyone was in position.

He’d almost completed his circuit when he spotted a lone figure leaning on the railing of the ship.

“Hey,” he said.

Patton looked up in surprise. “Oh, hi.”

“Where’s Ro?” Remus asked. He hadn’t gotten much chance to talk to Patton since he and Roman came aboard.

“He already went to bed. I told him I’d join him in a minute,” Patton said, returning his gaze to the ocean. For a moment, Remus thought he’d finished talking, but then Patton sighed, not turning away from the sea. “I miss the ocean,” he said, distantly. “I grew up right by it, probably spent as much time swimming or sailing as I did on land at one point. I always loved the feeling of being out on the water, being carried and held afloat by the waves. The lakes around the village were nice, but they weren’t the same to sail in. Nothing can come close to being completely surrounded by the ocean.”

Remus hummed in agreement, thinking about the feeling he got when he steered the ship. He always felt so small, a speck in the middle of the vast ocean. It was comforting, in a way. “I never met you in the village,” he said.

Patton shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. I moved there with my family about three years ago. You’d probably already... I mean...”

“Been kicked out?” Remus supplied.

Patton winced. “Yeah, sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “It’s whatever, I don’t really care anymore. I think half the village had been looking for an excuse to get rid of me for years. Sometimes it felt like Roman was the only one there who’d tolerate me, and even then...”

“You want him to stay, don’t you?” Patton said.

“He’s my brother,” Remus said simply, looking out at the waves. “Before I was exiled, I never even spent a day without him. He was always a bit of a stick in the mud about rules, but we were thick as thieves, did everything together. Even when we grew up, we still hung out all the time; we even shared a room. The night I left, I thought about waking him, asking him to come with me. But I couldn’t do that to him. He loved the village. So did I, but he was always so happy there. I don’t know if I didn’t want to make him choose, or if it was because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it when he chose the village over me. I wouldn’t have blamed him, but it would’ve hurt.”

“You don’t know he would’ve chosen them over you,” Patton said. “He cares about you a lot.”

“You didn’t even know I existed before you met me, did you?” Remus asked. It wasn’t really a question – he’d seen Patton’s puzzled expression when Roman had introduced his long-lost brother.

“Ro doesn’t like to talk about things that are upsetting him,” Patton said. “And I think he really misses you.”

Remus turned to face Patton properly, and looking into his earnest brown eyes, he could see that Patton honestly believed he was telling the truth.

“Sure, whatever,” Remus said, and he turned to walk below deck.

-----

Remus wasn’t the biggest fan of being woken up in the middle of the night – as, he imagined, most people weren’t. But as the captain of a pirate ship who had enough trouble getting to sleep anyway, it was especially important for him to get a bit of shut-eye and be well rested for his duties in the morning.

So, when he was awoken before the crack of dawn by a frantic rapping on his door, he wasn’t too pleased.

“What d'ya want?” he grumbled from under his blankets.

The door opened just a crack, and Remus' expression softened when he saw Elliot's face peek through. They were one of the younger members of the crew, and Remus had always had a soft spot for the kid. It was hard to be alone at such a young age, so he tried to make sure the crew were as much of a surrogate family to Elliot as they could be.

“Janus needs you,” Elliot said, which immediately dragged Remus into the waking world. “On deck. He said as soon as possible.”

Remus swung his legs out of bed, glad he hadn’t bothered to change out of his day clothes. “I’m on my way.”

-----

The deck was far more crowded than it usually was at night. There would usually be a couple of people patrolling, but it seemed like half the crew was out there, all crowded around some kind of dark blob. When Remus got closer, he realised the blob was actually a cloaked figure crouched on the floor.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked Janus, who was stood in front of the crowd, looking down at the figure.

“A stowaway,” Janus said. “I found him in the hold.”

“I’m not here to hurt any of you,” the stowaway said. His voice was shaky, matching the slight tremble of his limbs that he was clearly trying to hide. Remus couldn’t tell if it was from fear or from the cold night air. “I just needed to get off that island.”

Remus took a step closer to the stowaway, and got a good look at his face. He was pale and gaunt, with shaggy black hair framing his thin face. The stowaway growled defensively, a glint of a fang showing.

At that, Remus held up his hands. “Why?” he asked, though he could take a pretty good guess.

“There were, um...” the stowaway – vampire? – cleared his throat, obviously stalling to think of something to say. “There were people there who want to hurt me,” he eventually said. “I got away from them on the Broken Isle, but they would’ve found me if I stayed there. I took the first way out I could find.”

“These people...” Remus said. “They were vampire hunters?”

The stowaway winced, quickly schooling his face into some semblance of a neutral expression, but that was all the information Remus needed.

“Aw, kiddo!” Patton cooed. “You should’ve just told us you needed somewhere to stay!”

“I’m over four-hundred years old,” the vampire grumbled.

Janus was tapping his chin in thought. “My question is, how did he even get on the ship? We live here, a vampire shouldn’t be able to enter without our permission.”

“Ah, that might've been me,” Patton said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “He offered to help me carry some crates so I invited him aboard. I thought he ran off, though.”

“No harm done,” Janus said with a small shrug. That was very un-Janus-like of him, but Remus knew his first mate always had a weakness for men with pretty smiles. “Now, we just have to figure out what to do with him.”

“Aren’t you going to let him stay?” Patton asked.

Remus saw the moment Janus gritted his teeth and dragged his gaze away from Patton’s wide, pleading eyes. Oh, he was down so bad.

“I don’t have a problem with it!” Remus chimed in. “The more the merrier!”

This only seemed to make Janus’ conflicted expression twist even further.

But it was Roman who spoke up next. “But- but he’s a vampire!” He protested, eyeing the crouched man warily. “He growled at you.”

Remus levelled his brother with a look. “I told you, bro. You won’t get far judging people on first impressions.”

Janus was still staring intently at the vampire, his gaze calculating. From under the shadow of his hood, it looked like the vampire was glaring back.

“Fine,” Janus said. “He can stay for now, but we’re dropping him at the next port.”

“I wouldn’t want to stay any longer anyway,” the vampire snapped. He stood to his full height – which, admittedly, wasn’t very tall. With slumped shoulders, and baggy clothes dangling off skinny limbs, he looked more exhausted than threatening. “Now, can I go inside before the sun comes up?”

“Can we at least get your name?” Remus asked.

The vampire stalked past him, cloak swishing in ocean breeze. Remus thought he was going to ignore him, but the vampire stopped just before he got to the staircase. “The name’s Virgil.”

[goodieghosty]

Can I request Roman, Janus, and Patton with D2 please?

And then Patton stood there for 30 minutes in gay panic

[brandstifter-sys]

Under Pressure

Chapter 24: Balance (Ao3)

Word Count: 2061

Characters: All Sides

Relationships: Dukexiety, Royaliceit

Rating: T

Warnings: intrusive thoughts, mild gore, sex mention, villain!logan

----

Transfer complete

Logan leapt from his computer and detached the chips from Virgil and Janus. He immediately switched both helmets to resuscitate the sides and hurried back to his desk.

The potato apparatus was active. The single light was glowing blue. Perfect!

Logan inserted both chips and waited. The copies of Virgil and Janus' consciousnesses couldn't be corrupted and nonfunctional—they couldn't be. He was thrilled to see the light shift to white.

And then

"WE DID IT!" Patton cheered as he kicked the door open. Roman was right behind him, smug as he could be.

"Jeez, can you say that again? I don't think Australia heard you," Virgil grumbled and took off his helmet.

"I'm just really happy! I'm sorry Virge!" Patton squealed.

"How can you say that without rewarding your heroes?" Janus teased and stood. He removed his helmet and replaced it with his hat. He threw a wink at him and Roman just to drive his point home. He was still feeling rather...indulgent.

"Perhaps that can wait," Logan said and adjusted his glasses, "We all need to reset to our primary functions."

"How are you supposed to do that?" Roman huffed, "and then make it so I'm Creativity again?"

"Return to your rooms. Log a of n siphoned data from them to manage all of Thomas' functions," he answered flatly.

"That's obvious, except in your case, Logan," Janus frowned, "You spent plenty of time in your room and you still shifted."

"I have the results of my experiment and I am satisfied with them. I should return to my usual functions once I return to my room."

"Great. Let's go so I can get the panic attack over with," Virgil huffed and got up. He counted the number of sides and frowned. Did Remus already go to his room?

Remus' corpse, torn to shreds and covered in blood. A twisted grin.

No he probably didn't, not with that image coming to Virgil's mind.

"Where's Remus?" he asked hesitantly.

"He wished to stay behind for a moment to investigate something," Roman shrugged, "I don't plan on stopping him from finding that my contribution was—"

"Okay, so he's okay. Good. I'll get him after I get back to my old self," Virgil cut him off and trudged out the door with two goals.

Roman sputtered indignantly and hurried after him. No one dared cut him off when he was bragging!

"Let's make sure they don't get hurt, I would hate to see my king in such a compromising position!" Janus hummed and took Patton's hand. Patton flushed to his ears and followed him like a lost puppy. Logan saw no reason to remain there and left to revert to his old self.

----

Remus sat in the common area, perched on the couch after it reappeared. He pretty much saved the day, as Ingenuity. He could go to his room and go back to being his intrusive, creative self, or he could stay like this. He didn't dislike either option, but if he were like this before, none of this mess would have happened. He wouldn't have to be locked away.

He curled his knees to his chest and leaned on them, trying to think of something to make him feel like going back. Thomas would need to be ingenious and he would do so much better with the internet trolls with some quick wit. He would be so much better off without intrusive thoughts bursting into his head like a stripper bursting from a cake.

They'd all fare better with a pirate than a duke. Especially Roman. His brother needed guidance and patience, and support that didn't twist the world into something grotesque. He wanted to get along with his brother, but his brother hated him, hated the duke. He couldn't go back to that. And he couldn't bring himself to say anything, even when Roman entered the commons.

"Remus?" Roman asked quietly and sat next to him, "Are you alright? You're still—"

"I'm not going back. For the first time in years I was useful and I make a sexy pirate. Why would I want to be the duke when no one else wants to deal with that?"

"Remus, Thomas needs his Creativity, and I might have some sway over him, I don't have the resources to do it alone. And you, you bring the ideas to life, as the duke. I know I haven't been the best brother, and now that I know the truth, I cannot begin to atone for all I've said and done. I need the duke, Thomas needs him."

"I can still do that like this, Ro," Remus pouted. Sure he wouldn't be able to do it all with the same level of quality, but it would be done. Roman mirrored his expression and sighed.

"I love you, whether you're a Jerk Sparrow or a dukey," he huffed, "Either way, you're my brother and I am intent on making sure you know that I truly appreciate you and care."

"Liar, you don't want to care about me. And I don't care if you care." Remus huffed and rubbed his eye. He felt sick and vindicated when Janus appeared behind the couch with his brown-toned scales.

"Remus, he's telling the truth," Janus hummed and leaned on the couch, "You, however—" He trailed off and studied his gloves. Remus scowled.

"I'm not lying, I don't care if he cares. No one cares about the duke, no one but me. You all like this me better."

"I for one find this version of you rather dull. And I quite like the spark you bring. But you don't believe me, do you?"

"No, I believe you, but you might be the only one who likes that hyper man-puppy!" Remus said and hid his face in his arms. He wasn't in the mood to look anyone in the eye, and he didn't want to hear more from the two people who entered the room

"Remus, why haven't you—?"

"Shut up Frankenweenie!" Remus growled, "I'm not going back and I'm not getting locked up again because I have no self control or moral compass."

"But you do have them, both of them," Patton spoke up, "And I know I don't say this enough, but you're my kiddo and I love you. Yeah I might get spooked and grossed out by some of your antics, but you keep me honest."

"And I will not be resorting to such drastic measures in the future," Logan added, "I apologize for my actions."

"Sorry doesn't fix anything," Remus said and lifted his head to glare at Logan. So the teacher was back, just like daddy dearest, princey poops, and snake mom—that didn't mean he had to go back.

"Oh no, no it doesn't," Janus agreed and locked on to Logan. Even Pattinson was glaring at him with the disappointed dad stare.

"Remus, I support you no matter what you decide, but for now, I need to have a talk with Logan," Patton said matter of factly. Janus righted himself and approached Logic, in full agreement with Patton.

"You know it's bad when you have mom working with dad," Roman mused. He watched the pair lead Logan away to have a good long talk.

"I can't change your mind, can I?" Roman asked. Remus shook his head.

"You should probably get to work, Thomas has a lot of catching up to do," Remus shrugged. He was surprised to find Roman hugging him.

"You're helping me when you're ready. Duke or pirate, it doesn't matter," Roman said and pulled away. He sank out and left Remus to ponder. Remus stared at the spot where his brother was and wondered.

"You know, you still have to tell me about your crush," Virgil said after he appeared next to him on the couch. Remus jolted but smiled at him.

"You really want to know?" Remus jeered, "I kept getting fun ideas about you torturing me and I got all soft and squishy inside. So yeah, you're my crush and I won't push anything but now you know."

"I'm sorry," Virgil said and shook his head, "You're great, but I have feelings for the duke." Remus froze and stared at him like he was crazy.

"You said I unsettle you, you know that I knew you meant it differently, but you still said it."

"What's more unsettling than having a crush and not realizing it? All the gooey feelings bubbling up out of nowhere and not knowing why—" Virgil shrugged, "And all because of my oldest friend."

"He's not coming back. This me is better for Thomas."

"I don't think so, regular you does some important stuff that you can't do now."

"Do tell."

"You're the best alarm for when his anxiety is going overboard, you distract me from panicking with your random thoughts, and you keep pushing everyone into getting some catharsis. This version of you is great but the old version is just as good, and Thomas needs him more now."

"I might tackle-hug you and cling to you like a koala the second I'm back."

"Then don't change your shirt. The collar will get in my way," Virgil responded and ruffled Remus' hair. Remus giggled and retaliated by taking that hand and bringing it to his lips.

"I'll go as long as I have a boyfriend when I get back," Remus countered.

"You'll have me, if that's what you mean," Virgil said with a faint blush, "So maybe don't keep me waiting." Remus chuckled and kissed his hand again before sinking out.

Once he was gone, Virgil grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. He had no idea how he stayed so calm and collected and he was reeling.

"I heard screaming—oh," Janus said as he rose up again.

"Shut up!" Virgil huffed into the pillow. Janus smirked and adjusted his cape.

"I suppose I don't have to tell you that we're starting Logic on a therapy regimen, or that Sunday is group therapy day," he mused wickedly.

"You just did, now fuck off," Virgil said flatly, not lifting his head. Janus shrugged and sank out without any fanfare. Which would have been nice.

Because Remus reappeared, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt rather than his usual outfit. He tapped Virgil's shoulder to get him into position, but someone wasn't having it.

"I thought I told you to fuck off."

"Why would you ever say that to your doting boytoy?" Remus giggled. Virgil sat up, just in time for the duke to pounce and hug him with his arms and legs. Virgil squawked and fell on his side, with Remus attached to him and giggling.

"A little warning next time?" Virgil huffed and resituated Remus to face him so he could hug him back.

"But you won't threaten to do horrible sexy things to me if I do that!" Remus laughed, "And I want you to follow through on them!"

"I don't have to make threats to do those things to you, but I'm pretty sure the anticipation would kill you. Maybe I should keep quiet."

"Nooooooo!" Remus whined, "Threaten me with a good time! It's so sexy!"

"How about I reward you for saving my ass and eat your tongue instead?" Virgil suggested. Remus perked up and stared at him expectantly, wiggling his mustache in thought.

Virgil leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. A dopey smile crossed Remus' face and he pressed their foreheads together.

"So about eating my tongue—can that wait until later? I kinda like being a baby bat and getting rewards and—and—" Remus fought a yawn and kissed Virgil's nose.

"And you want to take a nap and cuddle, right? I could go for a nap. But out here—Janus, Patton, and Roman are gonna be loud."

"They deserve it after all they dealt with—and you deserve to be snuggled by someone who deserves a nap and an axe to the skull!"

Virgil kissed him again and rolled on his back, dragging Remus on top of him.

"We're skipping the axe, Trash Bat," he said and got comfy.

"As long as you bring it up again later, Scare Bear, it's the best kind of foreplay," Remus mumbled and snuggled into his chest. His eyes fell shut and he conked out immediately.

"Sleep tight, Remus, you're my hero."

END

----

(Master Post)

[whenisitenoughtrees]

Might I suggest “I don’t want to be alone.” with Royaliceit?

okay um. this one really got away from me, as i’m sure you can tell from the word count, so i really hope you like roman angst (w/ a happy ending, bc i’m not a monster)

Title: we are not alone (in the dark with our demons)

Word Count: 5,888

Content Warnings: roman-typical self-worth issues

(fic masterpost)

Roman has never really known what love is.

Oh, he pretends well enough. That’s his job, after all. He is Thomas’ hopes and dreams, his most romantic fantasies, and he performs that role well, spouting off suggestions about grand gestures and acts of true love and deeds of valor and honor and bravery. And it’s not as if he’s lying; based on every story he’s ever read, every Disney movie he’s ever watched, that is the epitome of what romance should be. And he thinks he would like that, would like to execute these grand gestures for someone, would like to sweep someone off their feet, be their savior, their hero.

Someone becomes Patton so gradually that he doesn’t notice for a very long time. Doesn’t notice how his heart beats faster whenever Patton is in the room, doesn’t notice how he hangs off Patton’s every word, doesn’t notice how he would do just about anything to get Patton to smile at him. Or rather, he does notice, sort of, in a vague, curious way. He’s just not sure what it means.

And then comes the wedding. And Roman thinks he understands what love is after all. Because the words of the others have always hurt him, their criticisms and mockery never as easily shaken off as he likes them to think, but this? This is something different. He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, with the side he was told not to believe, was told was in the wrong, was told was bad for Thomas, so you shouldn’t listen to him, Roman! He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, as Thomas sides with Deceit, upending everything he thought he believed, and the betrayal hits him like a knife to his chest. And he knows that it wouldn’t sting nearly so much if he didn’t trust Patton, if he wasn’t willing to follow him anywhere, if he didn’t love him, and the realization is far more bitter than sweet.

So, love is this: heartbreak, the stifling silences between breaths, and the words, we love you, said as if he is supposed to accept them.

He doesn’t. And why should he? He works so hard, tries his best every hour of every day, and this is what it gets him? A blow to the back of his head, faded and empty promises, a snake whispering in the dark, and Thomas turning away from him. You are! rings in his head, stuttered, placating, a lie.

And perhaps Thomas is right. Perhaps they are all right. And if Deceit is right, then he must be wrong. Isn’t that how it goes? Someone has to be the villain, after all. What else is he, if not a washed-up prince, a hero that has never managed to save anyone, a Creativity that is not nearly as good as he portrays himself to be?

God. No wonder they don’t love him.

So he throws himself into being better, into being more. He swallows his pride and apologizes to Deceit— to Janus, he supposes, though something about using the name still leaves an acrid taste in the back of his throat— and if the apology is a bit halfhearted, not entirely meant, Deceit doesn’t call him out on it, and he doesn’t call out Deceit’s apology in turn (and he has no idea, none at all, whether he means it sincerely or not. He can never tell, anymore, whether the words out of Deceit’s mouth are lies or truths, and sometimes, he thinks it doesn’t matter either way).

He asks Logan for input more often. He tries harder not to antagonize Virgil, or at least, not in the ways that truly bother him. He smiles at Patton when Patton approaches him, smiles and insists that he’s fine, even though he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and dropped into oncoming traffic.

And Patton believes him. That is, perhaps, what hurts worst of all, that he doesn’t see the way he’s falling apart beneath the thin veneer of bravado.

But he can’t blame him for that. Roman is, if nothing else, a good actor. A good liar.

He spends more time working, coming up with ideas that are bigger and better than any of his previous ones. He presents them to Thomas, and acts like his entire being isn’t screaming for some form of validation, any scrap of affection, any crumb that might tell him that Thomas doesn’t think he’s too much of a failure after all. And sometimes, he gets that. Sometimes, the ideas are good. Sometimes, Thomas grins and thanks him and congratulates him on a job well done.

More often, the ideas aren’t good enough. More often, it’s back to the drawing board. He barely sleeps these days, can barely be bothered to try.

And he thinks about love a lot. Thinks in the privacy and secrecy of his own mind that maybe, love isn’t worth it, if it hurts this much. Thinks that he wishes that these feelings would go away, and then maybe, he could begin to claw his way back toward normalcy.

But he’s too aware of it, now. Too aware of the way that Patton smiles and moves, too aware of his kindness and his concern and the way he always tries to take such good care of everyone. The betrayal still sits heavy in his chest, but it’s like an old wound, now, one that still pains him but one that he can ignore most days, because in the end, he’s not sure that Patton was wrong at all in what he did, in choosing Deceit over him. He thinks that maybe he was wrong, that he still is, and he’s doing his best to change that, but he has never known how to be anything different from what he is. He has only known how to cover it all up, how to wrap himself in glittering paper and a shiny bow and hope that no one looks too closely at what lies underneath.

Perhaps he’s getting too lost in his own head. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t see it coming.

It’s the only explanation he can think of. He should have noticed it, otherwise, should have seen the way that Patton and Deceit inch together, like two stars sliding into each other’s orbits. He should have seen the cautious glances, charged with so much more emotion than words could say, should have seen the tentative touches, should have seen the way they angle themselves toward each other whenever they’re in the same room. He should have seen it, should have guessed it, but he didn’t, so when Patton announces one night, over dinner, that he and Janus have decided to begin a relationship, he is taken completely by surprise.

Logan extends congratulations. Virgil’s blessing is far more cautious, still very wary of Deceit’s increased presence in their lives, but he appears glad for Patton, at least. And Roman offers the loudest, most boisterous well-wishes he can think of, professing his joy for Patton’s newfound happiness, putting forth anything and everything he can think of to direct attention away from the fact that on the inside, he just feels—

Numb.

Numb. Cold. Empty.

He knew he couldn’t have him. He knew that Patton could never return his affections. But apparently, there is a great deal of difference between knowing and knowing, and that difference is sobbed into his pillow in the early hours of the morning.

He falls into an uneasy sleep, and his dreams are of Patton, Patton smiling, Patton laughing, Patton telling him that he did good, Patton kissing him and tasting of citrus and cotton candy. And then, the dreams change, and Janus is there, too, sliding around the edges, smooth and confident and beautiful, his every motion poetry, his every glance a caress, and Roman takes his face in his hands and kisses him just as soundly as he did Patton, and then, he wakes up, shaking.

This cannot be right. This cannot be right, because these are all the emotions he pushed deep, deep down inside of him, never to see the light of day again. These are the emotions that he rejected after the theater, after the courtroom, after everyone told him time and time again that Deceit was wrong, that Deceit was bad, and if he wanted to be right, wanted to be good, he needed to treat Deceit like the villain he was. And so he did, and pretended that he has never wondered what Deceit’s lips would feel like on his, what it would be like to trace his fingers down those glimmering scales.

It seems that the time for pretending is over.

Once ended, an illusion cannot be reformed. The audience knows the trick now, would see right through any further conjuration. And Roman, too, can no longer fool himself into believing that what he feels does not exist, or that it will go away if he ignores it. He watches Patton, and he watches Janus, and he watches them together, cooking in the kitchen or cuddling on the sofa or simply sitting near each other and enjoying the company, and he burns for them, bright and hot and never-ending, fueled by the sheer force of his want. Roman is passion and Roman is desire, and he desires them, desires their attention and their affection and their love, and it’s like an arrow to his heart to know that he cannot have them, cannot have this.

Because they already have each other. And even if he were worthy of them in the first place, there is no space for him between them.

So, he does the hardest thing he has ever done in his life, and he pulls away.

He tries not to be obvious about it, tries not to do anything that might arouse suspicion or concern. He works longer, harder, makes excuses to miss meals and family gatherings. Loneliness settles into him like a physical weight, one that presses against his chest and makes it hard to breathe. Sometimes, he feels as though he stands on the edge of a precipice, a yawning chasm below, and all he has to do to fall is take one step forward. Sometimes, he feels as though he’s already falling, the wind whistling in his ears, gravity dragging him ever downward.

They give him looks, sometimes. Patton more often than Janus, though that might just be because Janus is more subtle. He can never interpret these looks. They’re always contemplative, perhaps a bit confused, perhaps a bit sad, and he doesn’t know what that means. Part of him fears that they’ve figured it out, figured him out, him and his hopeless, stupid love. Part of him wants them to, wants them to see right past him to all his dirty secrets, wants them to rip the bandage off, to let him down gently, to tell him what he already knows.

Part of him wants to fall.

The loneliness becomes tangible, surrounding him like a fog. He’s surprised no one else can see it. But then, that is the point, isn’t it?

He’s chosen this.

And it all hits him one evening, as the sun has just begun to set and he’s skipped yet another dinner, claiming to be off on a quest in the Imagination. He hasn’t been on a quest for a while, hasn’t been able to muster up the energy, or the persona. Quests are for princes, for heroes, and these days, he’s not so sure that he’s either of those. He certainly doesn’t feel like one. He plans to work instead, to churn out a few more video ideas for Thomas in the hopes that one is usable.

He finds himself curling up in a ball in the corner of his room, tears stinging in his eyes.

There’s no particular reason for it. Nothing about today has been any worse than any other recent days. This feels like something that has building for a while, like a rubber band stretched until it snaps. And he feels like he’s snapped, like something essential in him has broken, and he knows that he should be able to move past this, should get back up and get back to work, but he can’t, and that fact just sends him spiraling more, because if he can’t create anything and he can’t love properly, then what good is he?

He shudders, choking on a sob and sucking in a desperate breath. He stuffs his fist in his mouth, trying to muffle the cries that seek to escape him, as if from a wounded animal, and perhaps that’s exactly what he is. A wounded animal, begging for comfort, for solace, and finding nothing at all.

He wants someone here. Just, someone. Anyone. Someone to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright, even if it’s a lie. Someone to dry his tears, to grasp his hands, to touch him. He wants it and he can’t have it, and he feels so, so alone.

Even if he deserved reassurance, he wouldn’t seek it. He’s supposed to be strong, supposed to be a prince, for heaven’s sake, and even if he knows just how weak he truly is, the others don’t.

He can’t let anyone see him like this.

And that is when the knock sounds on his door, as if summoned by his thoughts. Four times, a light, quick beat. He freezes, alarm coursing through him.

“Hey, Roman?” It’s Patton. It’s Patton, and he sounds worried, and Roman hates himself for becoming a source of stress. “I, uh, I brought you dinner. I know you said you’d grab something later, but you haven’t been down for a meal with everyone in a while, so, uh. I’m getting a little bit worried about you. Could I come in?”

He takes a steadying breath. He needs to respond, because if he doesn’t, Patton will likely enter anyway, just to check on him. So he needs to reply, and hope for the life of him that whatever he says is good enough to persuade him to leave, to persuade him that all is well.

“Just leave it outside the door,” he calls out. His voice sounds thick and clumsy even to his own ears. It’s because of the tears, but perhaps he can claim he just woke up from a nap, if Patton asks. “I’ll grab it in a bit.” And then, he winces, because that sounds rude, sounds callous, sounds like he doesn’t care that Patton has made the effort to come up here and bring him food. It’s quite the opposite; he cares far too much. So he tacks on, “Thanks, Pat,” hoping that at least some of his gratitude will come across.

Instead, his voice breaks, and his breath hitches as he forcibly suppresses another sob.

For a long moment, Patton is silent.

“Are you… okay?” he asks. “I’m coming in, Roman.”

No.

“Please don’t,” he says, and realizes even as he does that his voice is too frantic, too desperate, and it won’t fool Patton for even a second. “I’m fine.”

The doorknob turns, and the door slowly swings open. Not all the way, just enough for Patton to poke his head through, his brows furrowed in concern. There is a plate in his hands, and the room fills with the scent of cooked pasta. Spaghetti, he thinks. One of his favorites.

“You don’t sound fine,” Patton says, and then his gaze finally lands on Roman, and Roman would like to melt into the floor in shame. He knows what he must look like, knows he must seem an utter disaster, with his rumpled clothes and tear-stained face, curled up in the corner like the pathetic mess of a side he is.

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes widening. He seems shocked for a moment, but then, he is moving, entering the room all the way and rushing to Roman’s side, setting the plate down on his desk before kneeling next to him, hands outstretched but not touching, not quite, as if he’s unsure of his welcome. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? What can I do?”

He shakes his head, staring at him, because how is he supposed to tell Patton the truth? How is he supposed to tell him that he aches for him, him and Janus both, longs to disrupt the happiness they’ve found in each other? How is he supposed to tell him that he’s pulled away to try to get over himself, to prevent himself from doing something rash, to attempt to make the problem disappear, and instead has only succeeded in making himself feel worse? How is he supposed to admit any of this?

How is he supposed to admit that he’s a failure?

“It’s just…” he starts. “It’s too much, right now. I’ll, I’ll be okay, I just need…” He cuts himself off, burying his face in his hands, because he knows exactly what he needs, and he can’t let himself say it out loud, but if he voices anything else, it would be a lie, and he’s already lying to Patton so much, and he’s so tired.

“What do you need, honey?” Patton asks, but he just curls in on himself more.

New strategy: maybe if he doesn’t answer at all, Patton will get fed up and leave. It’s unlikely, because that’s just not the kind of person that Patton is. But it’s the only viable plan he has left.

Patton doesn’t leave.

“That’s okay, Roman. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna.” Patton hesitates, and Roman is tempted to look at him, to take the measure of whatever expression is on his face. “Would it be alright if I touched you?”

And he does look then, looks and finds that the only emotion on Patton’s face is concern, a desire to help, so he nods, and Patton reaches out to him, gathering him into his arms, and Roman can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. He feels so safe, so warm, and so terribly, horribly guilty, because he can’t feel like he’s taking advantage of him, because Patton has no idea about the feelings that flutter in his chest, traitorous and excited by something so simple as mere contact, and his mind is so eager to twist this situation around, to make more out of it than it is.

Patton cares about him. He feels more secure about that than he used to. But it is the same kind of care that Patton offers to everyone, and he feels so selfish and awful for desiring more than that, and for not having the courage to even own up to doing so.

But he still relaxes into the embrace, lets Patton rub soothing circles into his back, even though it makes him sob harder, this moment that is so close to what he wants and yet so far.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Patton murmurs, “I promise. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

He shakes his head mutely. It’s all he can do.

Nothing is going to be okay. But he doesn’t have the words to explain that.

But maybe, if he can live in this moment for just a little while longer, he will regain the strength to pretend.

“Patton?” The voice floats in from outside his room, and he stiffens. “You’ve been gone for a while. Is everything— oh.”

Roman shifts his head, and his vision is blurry, but he can just make out the figure standing in his doorway, awkward and discomfited, his hands twitching as if he doesn’t know where to place them. It’s Janus, because of course it is Janus, come looking for his boyfriend, and here Roman is, taking up both of their time, now, and there is a part of him that selfishly delights in it, that insists that if this is all he will ever get from them, he might as well make the most of it.

“I can—” Janus shuffles his feet, oddly hesitant. “Here, I’ll just—”

He moves as to leave, and close the door behind him, and suddenly, that is the last thing Roman wants. It is too late to pretend that this never happened, too late to prevent him from seeing his humiliation in the first place. At this point, what is a little more selfishness?

“You can stay,” he murmurs, and he’s sure he doesn’t sound at all convincing, but Janus pauses anyway, a crease forming between his brows. When he enters the room, he does so cautiously, as if expecting Roman to change his mind at any moment, but he does enter, and that is what is most important. He kneels beside Patton, and Roman is certain that they exchange a glance over his head, some silent communication, before Janus tentatively reaches out and places a hand on Roman’s arm. It is clear that he is not practiced in offering comfort, but the fact that he is willing to try at all is enough to add to the tears still streaming down his face.

“Would you like to tell us what’s wrong?” Janus asks, and even when Roman doesn’t answer with anything more than hitching breaths and shallow sobs, turning his face back into Patton’s shirt because he can’t face this kindness, Janus doesn’t push him for more. Just sits there and offers silent support and a single source of contact.

It’s too much, really, having the both of them here, having Patton hugging him and Janus touching him, both of them offering care but not the kind of care that Roman wants most. And it’s so wrong of him to fool them into giving this to him, because this means so much more to him than it does to them and they have no idea. He’s essentially tricking them, tricking them in the worst kind of way, and the longer he sits there, crying against Patton’s chest, the worse he feels about it.

And eventually, his tears run dry. And he knows he has to end this.

“I’m okay now,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he’s no longer speaking into Patton’s shirt. “You guys can go.”

Janus arches a brow, and belatedly, Roman remembers that lying to the Lord of the Lies is an inadvisable move at best.

“Is that right?” Janus asks, doubt dripping from every syllable. He’s not aiming to wound, but Roman flinches anyway. “You’ve spent the past twenty minutes sobbing your heart out, and there’s absolutely no underlying reason that needs to be dealt with? Everything’s all hunky-dory?”

He wriggles out of Patton’s hold with no small amount of regret, shifting backward until there is a few feet of space between him and both of them. He tries to fix his expression into some semblance of a glare, though he’s certain it’s not very effective. He must look like a train wreck.

“All hunky-dory,” he confirms, and has to pause, because literally who says that anymore? He shouldn’t find that endearing. He shouldn’t. “I was just… overwhelmed. That’s all.”

It’s not technically a lie, so Janus shouldn’t be able to sense anything off. But he narrows his eyes in suspicion, reminding Roman that he’s still perfectly capable of detecting half-truths the normal way, though plain observation.

“You have been putting an awful lot of pressure on yourself lately,” Patton says, and Roman turns to him in surprise. Patton winces, wringing his hands. “I mean… I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries here, but it seems to me that we barely see you anymore, ‘cause you’re always holed up in here working. And I’m not saying that you need to stop or anything like that, especially not if you’re feeling a lot of inspiration these days, but, um. We miss you.” He pauses. “I miss you.” He says the last in an undertone, glancing at his lap, and Roman blinks.

“I didn’t…” He stops, trying to get his thoughts in order, but it’s a hopeless task. His thoughts are flying every which way, no rhyme or reason to them. “That is, I didn’t mean to—”

“If you’re going to finish that sentence with something along the lines of, I didn’t mean to avoid you, you needn’t bother,” Janus interrupts. His voice is smooth and unreadable, and something about it makes Roman want to crawl under a rock and hide there. “It’s fairly obvious to me that that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.” Patton frowns then, looking at Janus and opening his mouth to say something, but Janus holds up a hand, forestalling him. “What I don’t understand is why? Or at least, why Patton? Me, I get.”

It takes a moment for him to realize what Janus is saying, his mind taking far too long to wrangle his words into something approaching sense. “Wait, what?” he blurts out. “Why would you… why would you ‘get it’ if I was avoiding you?”

This is, perhaps, not the most urgent question he needs to ask. But he’s confused, now, confused and beginning to realize that once again, his actions may have had unintended consequences.

Janus looks at him like he’s crazy. “Roman, I am not unaware that you dislike me. And that’s… perfectly fine. After everything I’ve put you through, I… well, as I said, I understand.” He pauses, inhaling deeply, seeming to steady himself. “Again, I’m not asking for me. And I would appreciate an answer.”

Roman can only stare, his horror mounting as he realizes that Janus means every word of what he’s saying, that Janus truly believes that Roman doesn’t like him, and oh god, he’s gone and fucked all of this up, hasn’t he? He didn’t think they would notice him stepping back, much less draw the wrong conclusions, but apparently they have, and he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can lean into this, pretend to be angry with them, pretend not to want them around, no matter how much that would break him. Or he can tell them the truth, and be broken in an entirely different way when they reject him, kindly at best and in disgust at worst. There’s no good option, and it’s all he can do to keep his breathing even, to keep his lungs functioning.

But he looks at Janus, his face set into hard lines. And he looks at Patton, who doesn’t meet his eyes, whose dejection is shining through every inch of his slumped posture and in the way he fiddles with his fingers, anxious and discontent.

He didn’t think this would hurt them. Frankly, he thought they were too wrapped up in each other to notice much of what he was doing at all. But evidently, he has miscalculated, badly, and there is no good option, but he knows which one will hurt them less.

He’s been selfish enough.

He releases a shuddering breath, shaking his head and staring at the floor. He doesn’t have it in him to look at them, to watch their reactions to what he’s about to say. “I’m really sorry,” he says, and his voice emerges as a miserable whisper. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to make you think that—” He cuts off. Gathers his thoughts into a coherent sentence. By the nine muses, this is difficult. “I don’t… I don’t dislike you. Either of you. Um, it’s the opposite. I, uh, like you a lot. Both of you. Too much.” He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach, as if to hide, though he knows that there is no hiding from this, no going back. “I just, you two were so happy, and I didn’t want to, to get in the way, or ruin something, but I guess I failed at that too, huh? I… god, I’m so sorry.”

He stops talking. There’s nothing more he can say. It’s out in the open, now. No take-backs.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. But it’s not for Patton to lunge forward, to grab him by the shoulders and jerk him upright, to force eye contact, sudden and startled.

“You could never,” Patton insists, and to Roman’s dismay, his voice is choked with tears. “Do you hear me? You could never, ever ruin anything.” He sniffles, then, losing some of his intensity, and leans forward, pressing his forehead against Roman’s. “I thought that I’d messed up,” he says. “I thought that it was still too much, after the wedding and everything that happened, and that you still wanted space, or time, and I felt so guilty because I didn’t want to let you have that, but I thought that if it was what you wanted, then I shouldn’t—” He sighs, cutting himself off and closing his eyes. A tear slips out from between his eyelids.

Roman, for his part, barely dares to breathe. Patton is so close.

“You,” he says, a stuttering start, because he doesn’t know what he’s saying, doesn’t know what Patton is saying, “you, what do you—”

“I like you a lot, too,” Patton says, and Roman can see the way his eyes shine and swirl, his irises a smeared mixture of Thomas’ brown and his own signature blue. “I have for… gosh, a really long time now. I guess I never thought there was a good time for me to do something about it, and then with the… everything, I thought for sure that you didn’t… I’m so sorry, Roman. You’ve been hurting all this time and I didn’t… I couldn’t…” He trails off into a sniffle, and as much as Roman would like to comfort him, he is frozen, working through the words that echo in his ears and in his brain.

Because he can’t have said what he thinks he’s just said, right? Because that would mean—

Unable to help himself, he looks over to Janus, expecting to see anger or dismay or something of the like, because if Roman is hearing this correctly, if Roman is interpreting this correctly, then Patton… Patton has just confessed to having feelings for him. And that in itself is difficult to process, impossible to accept, but surely Janus can’t approve of this, can’t allow this to happen, can’t let Roman get between him and his boyfriend—

Janus is staring, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, and his expression is open and unguarded but there is no anger there, no fear, and when he catches Roman looking, it softens, suddenly, inexorably, and Roman can’t hope to understand it because he must be seeing wrong, because it looks an awful lot like—

Well. It looks an awful lot like the way he looks at Patton.

“You’ve always captivated me,” Janus says, simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I… I know that I’ve flattered you in the past, but I, ah. I might have meant more of it than I wanted to let on.” He glances away, as if embarrassed, and Roman feels as though he’s floating. “I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t acquitted myself well, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“We’ve talked about this, a little bit,” Patton says softly, and Roman drags his attention back to him, little though he wants to look away from Janus, from this confession that he can scarcely bring himself to believe. “You, that is. We both love you a whole lot, Roman. We didn’t think you’d be interested, so we didn’t bring it up before. But we’d be really, really happy if you’d join us, honey.”

He shudders, tearing himself away from Patton and immediately feeling the loss, the cold air against his forehead. He doesn’t know what to do, or what do say, and most of him can’t absorb the fact that this is happening, that this is real, that after so long being on his own, they’re both here, they know that he loves them, and they want him in return.

He should be ecstatic. Over the moon. Jumping for joy. But he has never once allowed himself to believe that he might have this, has never so much as entertained the possibility, so now, presented with everything he has longed for, he feels so terribly overwhelmed.

“It’s up to you,” Patton says softly. He reaches out, and when Roman doesn’t move to stop him, he takes his hand, and Roman could cry, he really could. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, whatever you want, we can do.”

He shakes his head desperately, a multitude of words springing to his lips but all of them falling short of being spoken, because he doesn’t know how to explain this, how to explain that it’s too much, being asked this, being asked what he wants, because he wants anything and everything, but he has spent so long telling himself that he can’t that he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s being told that he can.

And some of that must show on his face, because Patton scoots closer, concern driving a furrow in his brow, but then, suddenly, Janus is there, a steady presence at his side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready for that,” he says, and Roman has never heard Janus speak so tenderly. Not like this, not to him. “It’s alright if you’re not ready for anything at all. But if you’d like, you could try starting with what you don’t want.”

At first, he’s not sure what Janus means, not sure how that will help. But then, his perspective flips, and he finds it easier, somehow, to focus on that, rather than the alternative. He wants so much, and he is too used to denying himself, but at this point, he knows very well what he doesn’t want.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he gasps out, and it’s practically a sob, weak and shattered. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

Patton shifts closer once again, wrapping his arms around him for a second time. And Janus is here, too, pressing up against his side.

“Never,” Patton swears. “You never have to be alone, not ever again.”

“And that’s the whole truth and nothing but,” Janus adds, a bit wry but somehow still infinitely soft.

And they stay. With him. Just because he asked. And slowly, their proclamations sink in, the idea that perhaps they really do love him return, and goodness, he’s been so foolish, hasn’t he? Pushing them away because he thought it best, because he was so sure they wouldn’t want him, when really, it was the opposite. He hovers somewhere between laughing and breaking down into tears once again, but ends up doing neither, relaxing into the warmth of Patton’s arms holding him, of Janus right by his side.

Perhaps he was wrong, before. Perhaps even now, he has never truly understood what love is. He has spent the last weeks and months defining it by heartbreak, but perhaps it was never about that at all.

So, perhaps love is this: acceptance, the rhythm of three hearts beating as one, and the words, we’re not leaving, said aloud and finally, finally, Roman thinks he can accept them.

General Taglist:@just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157

[writingsoftheghost]

The Moral Compass is Lost

Part 4

First Previous Next

Dee and Patton are always together.

Every time Roman walks into the kitchen, every time he wants to watch a movie in the living room, even when he goes to see Logan.

There they are.

And they are absolutely. Always. Constantly. Touching.

Roman’s heart feels like it’s been broken anew everytime he sees the couple.

He doesn’t think it can get any worse, of course he should have expected for it to. His luck, after all.

“Hey, Ro,” Patton knocks on the frame to Roman’s open doorway.

When the prince looks up he isn’t at all surprised to see Deceit next to him in the doorway.

“Yes?” Roman plasters on a smile, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

“Dee Dee and I are gonna watch a movie, and we were wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Roman feels nauseous at the ease with which the nickname leaves Patton’s mouth, why were they inviting him? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for it to be just the two of them? Or everyone else as well? Did they know how Roman felt? Maybe they were just trying to torture him!

He wants to say no, he knows he should say no. But...the look of hope in Patton’s eyes, The encouraging smile on Deceit’s lips...Roman couldn’t help it. He’d do anything for them, even if it hurt.

“Sure!” He closes his laptop and hops off his bed. “What movie?”

Patton links arms with both Dee and Roman, Roman tenses, but allows it.

“We were thinking you could pick?” Patton asks softly as he drags Creativity to the living room couch. he stares at Roman with a gentle look in his eyes. Roman looks away quickly.

“O-Oh, I, erm, thought you would already have a movie picked out,” He pulls his arm away from the heart. Patton shoots Dee a sad look. Roman sits on a far corner of the couch, he’s about to cry when he feels Deceit sit down close to him anyway. 

“Roman,” he reaches a hand towards the prince, laying his palm gently on Roman’s arm, “What would you like to watch?”

Roman flashes a brilliant smile-Deceit winces at the falseness of it-He leans forward, the hand on his arm slipping away as the prince reaches for the remote. “Perhaps you would be willing to consider Cinderella?”

Of course they agree, but no one is even really watching the movie. Roman couldn’t stop staring at the couple’s joined hands and tangled together legs on the couch.

Deceit and Patton, however, were exchanging worried glances with each other, in between their periodic sad looks at Roman.

Patton gets up to grab some snacks before starting a second movie. Roman quickly escapes to the bathroom to take a moment to breathe.

While he’s in the bathroom, Deceit discreetly turns the thermostat down. Patton asks him what he’s doing, Dee smiles and tells him to wait and see.

When Roman composes himself enough to leave the bathroom, he thinks the room has gotten noticeably cooler. He shrugs it off. And rejoins the duo on the couch.

Patton offers him some chips, despite the nausea in the prince’s gut, he takes a handful.

*****

Roman starts to shiver, gosh when did it get so cold?

Patton grabs the big blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over him and Deceit.

The lying side looks over at the shivering prince, “Roman,” he begins gently, “Would you like to join us under the blanket?” He lifts the end of the blanket invitingly.

Roman wants to say yes, he imagines that the combined heat from the two would be enough to warm him up. And he wants to be close to Dee and Pat. But he can’t. He’s not supposed to want to. He really doesn’t want to want to...

He shakes his head and shoots the pair a reassuring smile. “No, I’m fine, thanks though.”

“Ro, you’re shivering,” Patton says worriedly, he now gets what Deceit wanted when he turned the temperature down,“Come on, it’s okay. There’s plenty of blanket.”

His eyes plead with Roman, the royal sighs before slipping under the blanket. Making sure to leave at least four inches of space between him and the reptilian trait beside him.

“Yay,” Patton grins at him. “See, isn’t this better?”

Roman plasters on another fake grin, “Yep. Great!”

He forces himself to focus on the screen. The only time he allows his mind to wander is when he catches himself leaning into Deceit’s side. He moves himself away for the third time, when the snake speaks up.

“You can lean on me, Roman. I don’t bite.”

Roman blanches, “I, uh, sorry. I just don’t wanna invade your space.” He laughs awkwardly.

“Nonsense,” the liar makes the mistake of throwing his arm around creativity. Roman immediately tenses. He wants to relax, to be okay with it. Heck, he wanted to enjoy it.

He couldn’t, he needed to get out. To get that arm off his shoulder. But...if he moved. They’d know, they’d know why he moved, Roman just knew it. He wouldn’t be able to come up with a single excuse to move. So, he stayed there.

The movie ended and Roman all but lept up.

“Thanks guys, that was fun, but I think it’s time for me to get my beauty sleep.” He gives a large yawn.

“Like you need any more of it,” Patton giggles softly.

Roman nearly chokes, he pretends not to hear, “Goodnight, guys.”

The pair wave after him sadly. They wish this was going better. But they weren’t done trying yet.

—————

Taglist: @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @kawaiikat54 @emo--nightmaree @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @croftersjam15 @elliotthelizard @louistownsmyass @cemmy @thenaiads @rubixnyn @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink @emo-sunshine42 @a-small-batch-of-dragons @romano-hottopic @captainpatton-thewinterdad @soakinforsif @mushroom-soup-is-my-religion @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @softie-sushi @brilewblue @tryingtobts @frickineedakitkat @deathcanbegreat @arodynamic-enby @notsosecretlyadragon @northlight14

[hottestthingalive]

a storm in your eyes (lightning and dark skies)

It is then, with Virgil curled up against him, wet hair soaking Logan’s neck and the smell of hot chocolate in the air, that Logan realizes he loves a thunderstorm in human form. 

His best friend.

Oh, god, Logan is in love with his best friend. And also his roommate. And also his favorite person in the whole of the universe.

(He’s pretty sure that if Virgil could hear his thoughts, and if, y’know, Virgil wasn’t the person in question, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Oh my god, they were roommates.” The idea nearly makes him laugh.) 

–

Notes: Thank you so much to @snek-snacc, @smileyzs, @confused-sunflower, @xaimelarks​, and all my other followers for putting up with me ranting about this story, and helping me edit. Y’all are the best!

Edit: After publishing this, I got this AMAZING piece of art from @ent-is-undecisive / @birdsongisland! Go check them out, because they’re insanely talented, and looking at this piece makes me so so so happy!

Two sequels also exist for this now! 

waffles and wedding vows (promises and proof)

songs and stars and silence (of loving you)

Hope you enjoy!

Relationships: Romantic Analogical, background romantic Royaliceit, background romantic Intrusleep/rem^2, platonic drlamper

Words: 6885

Ao3

–

Logan Sanders falls in love with a thunderstorm.

Well, not a thunderstorm, exactly. As far as Logan knows (and he knows quite a lot), a tempest, no matter how powerful, cannot take the form of a human.

Still, the first time the boy with a hurricane’s eyes enters Mugnificent (the coffee shop Logan very reluctantly works at), he swears the smell of ozone fills the air. 

His name is Virgil Foley, and he sweeps into Logan’s life like a summer storm, filling it with wind and chaos and unmatched wild beauty. 

The first time they meet, it is 5:26 in the morning, and he’s considering revolt. Yes, he needs this job to supplement his scholarship, but being up this early is awful enough to warrant mutiny. Besides, customers are few this early in the day, and thus the tip jar is woefully empty. 

The door opens with a ding 

(there is a smell like lightning)

and in walks a person with dark hair tied in a bun under a black beanie, rummaging around in their backpack. Their bag is covered in pins, and Logan notes a rainbow one near the center. 

“Hey,” they say, and he meets eyes the color of stormclouds, a grey bordering on purple and blue simultaneously. “Can I just get a small coffee, please? Black is fine.” 

“Yeah,” Logan nods. “Name?”

They glance around the empty Mugnificent with a raised eyebrow, but reply with “Virgil,” anyways. 

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” says Logan, and he’s not normally one for small talk, but he also is sleep-deprived, and too tired to have any sort of filter. “I’m Logan.”

Virgil relaxes, and they hold out a hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, too. I use he/him pronouns, by the way.”

“Ah, yes,” Logan nods, returning the handshake. “He/him for me, as well, thank you.”

Virgil pays and waits by the counter as Logan goes to prepare the coffee, scrolling through his phone. There is a comfortable silence as he makes the drink, which Logan spends mentally cursing out Roman, his coworker who was supposed to arrive for work thirty minutes ago. “Here,” he says finally, holding out the cup for Virgil to take. 

“Thanks.” Virgil is wearing fingerless gloves, and his nails are painted a bright purple. They shine in the fluorescent lighting. “Have a nice day, Logan.”

“You too,” he replies, and it seems too little. Logan doesn’t believe in magic, or gods, or destiny, but as he watches Virgil turn, about to walk out the door, something twangs in his chest. Despite himself, Logan opens his mouth, searching for something to say, anything that will make him stay. 

He blinks, about to speak, and Virgil is gone.

A few minutes later, it begins to rain. 

–

The second time he meets Virgil, it is in his psych class. 

Logan has always liked psychology. It’s fascinating how the human brain works, he thinks, and even if he isn’t always so good at understanding emotions, he’s quite good at the science behind them. His appreciation for said science is the only reason he signs up for the class at all, when it has practically nothing to do with his astrophysics major. 

He’s just about forgotten about the boy with eyes of a storm by the time he sits down for the first psychology class of the semester, pulling his computer and textbooks out of his own bag, and setting them before him. Logan cracks the knuckles on each hand individually, a nervous habit he’s had since he was in high school. He’s done his best to break it, but he supposes, as annoying as it is, it’s better than some of the alternatives.

Case in point, the boy from Mugnificent, who walks into the room nervously tapping his thigh while chewing at his lip. There’s a split in it, one that shines a bright red against the chapped surface, and Logan wants to wince just looking at it. 

His eyes flash with recognition as he spots Logan in one of the back rows, and he pauses. “Logan, right? From the coffee place.”

“And you’re Virgil,” Logan smiles, and okay, maybe he hadn’t forgotten Virgil so much as attempted to forget him. 

“Can I sit there?” he asks, nodding to the seat beside Logan. 

It turns out Virgil is smart, and funny, and just a little bit snarky, and a English major minoring in psychology. He’s got all kinds of nervous habits, chewing on his lip and tapping out rhythms known only to him and drawing on every available surface, and Logan often notices a tendril of ink wrapping around one of his fingers from under his gloves. 

They become fast friends, him and Virgil, bonding over a love for space and science and poetry. He starts coming to Mugnificent for coffee more often, and Roman teases Logan incessantly about it. 

“You’re finally making friends!” he pretends to sob, throwing his arms around him, and he has to shove Roman away, rolling his eyes. Virgil is stifling a laugh behind one gloved hand, and Logan mouths “Traitor,” at him, though he isn’t really mad at all.

They fall into patterns -- psych and history and statistics together, always seated side by side, sometimes accompanied by Roman or Patton or Remus or Janus or any one of their expanding circle of friends. The two of them buy each other coffee, edit essays, go out for junk food (that Logan complains about but secretly loves) with their friends. 

Virgil begs to paint Logan’s nails one night as they watch documentaries together in Patton and Virgil’s dorm room. His tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly as he focuses on the tiny white dots he’s adding, and Logan ends up loving the night sky that graces his fingers. In return, Logan styles Virgil’s long hair into a crown of braids. 

“Your Majesty,” he bows as he leads Virgil to the mirror. 

“If I’m royalty now, I demand a feast to celebrate,” Virgil grins, admiring his hair. “Sir Logan, this calls for pizza!”

“All the junk food you consume is going to kill you one day,” Logan sighs, but he’s already dialing their favorite pizza place.

They eat dinner seated on the floor, holding paper plates and drinking soda as they watch Cosmos. Patton returns to the dorm a few minutes later, accompanied by Janus and Roman both, and snags some of the pizza for himself – luckily, they’d thought to order extra, as soon Remus, Remy, and Emile all show up, too, crowding into the dorm room and around Logan’s laptop. The documentary is switched to Big Hero 6, Virgil showing off his hair and Logan his nails as the others admire them. Soon Virgil is breaking out his nail polish again, painting delicate puppies on Patton’s fingers, and Logan is teaching Roman how to do the same hairstyle on Emile’s curls. 

It’s a Saturday night, so they feel comfortable all crashing in Patton and Virgil’s room, squeezing far too many young adults into one small space. Emile giggles that it reminds them of sleepovers they went to when they were in elementary school, and Remus points out that they ought to play Truth or Dare with a manic grin. Virgil quickly puts a stop to that, however, distracting Remus with conspiracy theories and carving marshmallows to look like Lovecraftian monsters, and Logan wants to laugh because Virgil is very much a mom friend, despite his protests to the contrary. Still, as he sips hot cocoa with a marshmallow Cthulhu staring up at him from the mug, he has to admit it was a good idea. They all get into the fun, carving marshmallows with whatever cutlery Patton and Virgil have in their room, and eventually Monster Mallows will become a tradition for all of their friend group. 

When he falls asleep that night, lying on the floor in the blanket fort Patton and Roman had insisted on building, he dreams of rain and lightning, across dark skies that resemble Virgil’s eyes. 

–

Logan realizes Virgil is his best friend in the middle of winter, when he shows up at Mugnificent at the end of his shift, ordering two coffees and taking them as Logan gets ready to leave. “Sorry, Roman,” Virgil says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all as he hands Logan one of the drinks and reaches out to hold his other hand. “C’mon, L, we’ve got to hurry if we’re going to get there in time.”

“Where are we going?” Logan raises an eyebrow, throwing on his coat and waving goodbye to Roman (who is saying something dramatic about a grievous betrayal) as he sips at the coffee. It’s perfect, his order exactly. 

“Look!” Virgil grins as they leave the coffee shop, and it’s snowing, white flakes falling around them and coating the ground. Some of the cars nearby are already covered in it. “C’mon, we’ve got to get to the park.” 

“Wait, why?” he asks. “Virgil, this looks rather like the makings of a blizzard. We should probably go back to our dorms so we can prepare if we get snowed in.”

“I know it’s a snowstorm,” Virgil rolls his eyes, and his stormy eyes are bluer than Logan’s ever seen them, shining with excitement. “Now, let’s go!”

Logan should probably argue more, but he’s laughing as he gets pulled along, the two half-running towards the park. 

They slow down at the top of a hill already lightly coated with snow, and Virgil reaches into his bag to pull out a picnic blanket. “No,” Logan protests, but he’s cackling as Virgil yells “Snow picnic!” and spreads it over the snow. 

“This is going to turn into a blizzard,” he manages to say, stifling his giggles. “We are going to be buried alive because you wanted to have a picnic in a snowstorm.”

“Oh, shush,” Virgil grins, flopping down onto the blanket and digging into his bag again to retrieve two bagels wrapped in tinfoil. “Drink your coffee and watch the snow with me, Logan Sanders.”

The bagel he hands Logan has Crofters jam instead of cream cheese spread across it, still warm from toasting, and Logan could kiss Virgil if they weren’t very platonic…

Well, it feels like they are a whole lot more than friends, at this point. There’s something about their relationship that feels different from the ones Logan has with their other companions, be it Remus or Emile, Patton or Janus, Roman or Remy. 

Are they best friends?

He asks, and Virgil merely grins and says “I hope so.” 

It’s amazing, lying there as they watch the sky, munching on bagels and sipping at their coffee and pointing out oddly shaped clouds. Virgil is practically covered in snowflakes by the time they have to leave, the wind picking up too much to stay, and Logan is no better. Still, he thinks it was worth it, even when he gets a cold and has to spend the weekend curled up in blankets, sneezing and coughing as he works on his essay for his cosmology class. Virgil gets a cold, too, and they end up on the phone together as they work, Virgil blasting music on his end and Logan parroting his roommate’s consistent reminders to take medicine, and drink some water! 

Emile seems to think it’s cute, for some reason, and they tell Logan to say hi to Virgil for them, a smile playing on their lips that he’s too sick to interpret. 

–

Logan has a crush on a boy in their shared statistics class by March, the one who sits three rows in front of him and two seats to the right, who has green hair and a cheerful grin. Virgil listens patiently about it whenever Logan brings it up, and when they have to pair up for a final project, he pushes him towards his crush, joining Remus instead.

He finds out his crush already has a romantic partner in a strictly monogamous relationship when they’re nearly done with the project, and Virgil shows up to Logan’s dorm room with ice cream and his laptop that night, pulling aside Emile as he comes in and whispering something to him. Emile leaves shortly after, and the two of them are alone.

“What did you tell Emile?” Logan asks later, when they’re sitting on his bed and watching trashy teenage romcoms, because, according to Virgil, “This way, you won’t associate any good movies with this.” 

“Well, Patton invited him for a ‘sleepover,’” Virgil says, eating directly from the carton of chocolate ice cream, gaze shifting from the screen to Logan. “Did the moment he saw your text on the groupchat.”

Logan had texted that his crush has a partner when Roman had begun teasing him about it on said chat. Looking back, it may not have been the best of decisions, but all he wants to do right now is curl into the comforter and watch bad movies, while simultaneously eating unholy amounts of ice cream. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he protests, pulling the blankets closer around him. 

“Listen, L, you’re sad ‘cause the boy you like… well, you know. Anyways, you being sad is a big deal, at least to us.” Virgil isn’t wearing his normal clothes, only a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt (Logan knows he ran over in his nightwear, which makes him feel worse), so he can see the ink covering his hands, smudged in places.

“Why do you draw on yourself so much?” He leans over to look at the patterns of spirals winding their way up Virgil’s arms, tracing them with one finger. “That much ink can’t be good for your skin, pretty as it is, Vee.”

Virgil bats his hand away, blushing behind his curtains of dark hair, and Logan laughs. “It’s just a nervous habit, okay?” he exclaims, and Logan pokes his cheek, cooing. 

“Aw, lookit you,” he smiles, and even though Logan’s heart hurts from what happened with his crush, he doesn’t think he would trade anything for his friendship with Virgil Foley. “So cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Virgil grumbles, pressing play on the computer. “Watch the shitty movie and shush, nerd.”

He gets over the boy from statistics eventually, and gets an A on the project, which Roman insists they celebrate with breakfast at Logan’s favorite diner on campus. (Logan’s pretty sure Roman just feels guilty about teasing him about it, but he goes anyways, pulling his friend aside later to tell him it’s fine.)

–

They return from summer vacation changed. Janus, Patton, and Roman are dating now, for one thing, and it’s disgustingly sappy. Emile comes out as asexual and aromantic a few days after they get back, and Logan helps them hang flags in their dorm room when they arrive a week later. Remy has switched majors, from biology to culinary classes, and Remus tells them excitedly that he’s managed to start a rather popular horror comic online. (Logan reads it, and learns Remus is quite adept at art, writing, and scaring the crap out of him. He never looks at door knobs the same way again.) Virgil, meanwhile, has started wearing far less baggy clothes and more makeup – in other words, people around campus start realizing that Virgil is actually hot, and not just a relatively cute bundle of sweatshirts. 

Logan kind of feels weird about it. He knows how aesthetically pleasing Virgil is, of course – they’ve spent enough time together for him to have figured that out – but… well, Logan had realized while he was away how much he’d missed Virgil, even more so than his other friends. He tells himself it is because of how close they are, and ignores the ugly anger in his chest when people flirt with Virgil, or how his heart pounds and face flushes when they curl up to watch movies these days. 

As for him, well, he’s dyed his hair a dark blue, a color so dark it’s almost black. Roman marvels over it, asking how he managed to not damage his hair in the process, and Logan doesn’t feel like telling him that he had meant to do a brighter shade, but hadn’t realized how hard it would be to get proper color without bleaching his normal dark hair. He does end up telling Virgil later, though, when Remy and Patton drag them and the rest of their friends to a party.

For the record, Logan tended to avoid such events. He didn’t see the point, firstly – he’d never been a fan of crowds, especially not ones where everyone was drunk off their asses, and he generally had too much work to do to bother with parties. Secondly, he simply didn’t care enough to look nice for such a thing, or to go at all. Logan would much rather spend time with his friends if he had to be up in the middle of the night, whether haunting the 24/7 diner a few miles off campus or playing stupid games in the woods or making fun of Disney movies while throwing popcorn at the screen and shushing each other so they didn’t get noise complaints. 

But then there were Patton and Remy, social creatures who liked seeing other people and didn’t mind getting wasted to do so. Roman and Janus typically followed Patton wherever he went, so they were a given, and Remus had developed a raging crush on Remy by then, so he’d probably have tagged along even if Remy hadn’t grabbed his hand and said “You’ll come, right, Ree?” with a grin. 

Well, Remus was lost to them after that, and that left Emile, Logan, and Virgil alone.

Which would have been fine! Except then Virgil had got dragged in by Patton (a difficulty of being his roommate, according to Logan’s best friend, was that Patton was very, very persuasive when he wanted to be) and Virgil had begged Logan to come for “Introvert solidarity, L! Introvert solidarity!”

Then Emile had sighed, said something about being the only responsible one, and appointed themself designated driver. So Logan didn’t even have that excuse to pull himself and Virgil out of it early. 

He finds himself on a couch in someone’s house, sitting besides Virgil. Janus tells him that it is owned by someone who goes to their college but lives nearby, a summer home belonging to their parents or something. Janus says ze aren’t sure who the actual host is, and ze run off to go find Roman or Patton before Logan can ask why all of them are attending a party hosted by someone they don’t know.

Virgil has obviously already had something to drink, or he’s insanely sleep-deprived, as he has started playing with Logan’s hair. Logan’s willing to bet on the former (although knowing Virgil, he can’t be sure – he has an awful sleep schedule) especially since he’s never known the other to be so touchy, even when tired. 

“How’d you get it like this?” Virgil asks, running his fingers through Logan’s curls. He’s perched on top of the couch, and though he would normally be concerned that Virgil might fall, Logan is just glad he doesn’t have to bend over so his friend can examine his hair. 

He tells Virgil, and can’t help but smile as he laughs, perhaps a little more than the story warrants. They sit there in peace for a few minutes, Virgil humming along with any song he recognizes and Logan scanning the room for any of their friends. 

“Your hair is so pretty,” Virgil eventually says, and Logan is surprised he can hear him at all over the noise of the music and other people. He slides down from the couch to sit beside him, reaching up to poke Logan’s cheek. “You’re pretty. You know that, right? You’re real, real pretty.”

“Aw,” Logan grins, hoping the dim lights and Virgil’s addled brain will hide his red cheeks. “What is it you say? Oh, right; you think I’m warm.”

“No, dummy, I think you’re hot,” Virgil sighs. “Get it right.”

“Why, thank you.”

“‘Course. You’re my best friend, Logan Sanders.”

“Same,” he replies, dodging Virgil’s attempt to flick him as he scans the room. “Have you seen Remy or Remus around recently?”

“Oh, they’ve been making out in that closet over there,” Virgil says offhandedly, pointing, and Logan nearly chokes. “You didn’t know? They’re so obvious, Remy’s been whining about it to me for weeks. ‘Oh, Virgil, I’m doomed to be alone forever!’ ‘Oh, Virgil, Remus is so hot, and I’m going to whine about it to you for hours!’ ‘Oh, Virgil, I have a crush on a trash rat man and I won’t stop talking about it ever!’”

“Did Remy actually call Remus a ‘trash rat man’?” he snickers, turning to look at Virgil, who is wringing his hands in mock despair as he imitates Remy.

“No,” Virgil pouts. “Wish he had. Remus would love that.”

“He would,” Logan agrees, rolling his eyes fondly. “Hey, do you want to leave?”

“Why, Logan Perfect-Hair Sanders, are you asking me to ditch a party with you?” he laughs.

“That isn’t my middle name and you know it.” Logan shoots off a text to Emile, standing and turning to grab Virgil’s hand, pulling him upright. “But sure. Will you, Virgil Emo-Nightmare Foley, ditch this absurd party with me?”

“Logan, I thought you’d never ask,” Virgil smirks. “Let’s bounce!”

They get lucky – Logan hasn’t had anything to drink, and due to how large their group is, Virgil had had to drive over Patton, Janus, Roman, and himself earlier. Virgil hands him the keys to the car, and Logan drives them to the nearby McDonalds, where they order fries and milkshakes. “Let’s go somewhere high,” Virgil says when they return to the car, grinning, and Logan obliges, driving them to his favorite stargazing spot near campus, partway up a mountain in a parking lot for an old playground. 

Soon, he finds himself sitting on the hood of Virgil’s car, dipping his fries in a chocolate shake as the two of them stare up at the stars and the moon, pointing out constellations. “Look,” giggles Virgil, his head on Logan’s shoulder as he traces lines between stars. “It’s the glasses one!”

“There is no ‘glasses’ constellation, Virgil,” he points out, but the path his friend is etching into the sky does look rather like a pair of glasses. 

“Well, there is now,” replies the other. “It’s your constellation! You deserve one, y’know, ‘cause you’re pretty, and smart, and nice, and funny, and you’re just the best, Lo, okay?”

“How much did you have to drink, exactly?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow, and his friend punches him in the arm, lightly. “Ow!”

“I’m telling the truth,” Virgil rolls his eyes, pulling the blankets they’d retrieved from the trunk closer around the two of them. “You deserve a constellation. You deserve the universe.”

“Well, now we have to find you a constellation, too,” he muses, ignoring the heat in his cheeks (he seems to be blushing quite a lot lately, talking to Virgil) as he searches the sky. It takes a few minutes, and Virgil is half-asleep on his shoulder by the time he makes his choice, but finally Logan says “I found it.”

“Well, lemme see,” Virgil mumbles, opening his eyes. 

He traces lines between a series of stars. “It’s a cloud,” he explains, “and a lightning bolt. Because you’re a thunderstorm, V.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” He’s biting his lip, suddenly subdued, and Logan feels a surge of guilt, because no one should ever make Virgil look like that, anxious and hurt and scared all at once.

“No,” he answers, fiercely enough that Virgil jumps slightly. “You’re wild, and chaotic, and occasionally a bit destructive, but you also make people feel alive. You bring rain to help things live, you bring the sound of a storm and the beauty of lightning, you simultaneously wake me up and help me sleep. You are beautiful, and inspiring, and so amazingly you, and the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“...And I thought I was the English major,” Virgil says quietly, and his face is bright red. “You have no right to be better at words than me, Sanders.”

“Well, Foley, I’m the astrophysics major, and you’re the one who started making constellations, so turnabout’s fair play,” Logan replies, and Virgil lets out a laugh at that.

Later, when the fries and milkshakes are both gone, they get back into the car and drive back to their dorms. For Logan’s birthday that year, a month or so later, Virgil presents him with a painting of the glasses constellation. He’d commissioned Remus, he explains, staring at his feet, and Logan tells him he loves it. For Virgil’s birthday, he gets a similar art piece from Roman, of the stars making a storm, and Virgil pulls him into a tight hug.

For now, though, the two of them simply sit and gaze into space. 

–

Logan goes on a few dates with someone he meets at the coffee shop, named Andy. They become boyfriends. Virgil teases him about it whenever he brings it up, and eventually he stops talking about his partner to his best friend. The two of them start to pull apart, their friendship strained.

When Logan and Andy separate, Virgil is dating a girl he’s only met a few times, who shares Virgil’s English classes and wears colorful barrettes to hold back her curls.

He hadn’t even known Virgil liked her. 

–

College passes by quickly. They graduate, and Logan tumbles into a job at a rather prestigious observatory. He lives in a small apartment in the city nearby, buys coffee from the Starbucks across the street every morning, settles into a routine.

Gradually, they all start to fall out of touch. It sucks, but things have been off between Virgil and him ever since Logan had dated Andy Michaels, and at the moment Logan sees his ex-boyfriend more than his ex-best friend. Their relationship had ended amicably, but still – he misses Virgil Foley, more than he’d ever like to admit. 

A year or so later, Logan receives the invitation to Remy and Remus’ wedding. 

It is in the fall, and Logan isn’t surprised in the least that they plan to have it in a forest, if only because he knows that the odds of Remus wanting the guests to jump into leap piles with him are absurdly high. At least they’re at an actual wedding site, so they can be inside if needed – Logan half expected, when he found out they’d gotten engaged, for them to drag a bunch of guests to a Starbucks for the event. 

What does surprise Logan is the fact that Remus has apparently sent it early, because Logan is going to be one of the wedding party attendants. 

He calls Remus and Remy that night, certain they’ve mixed up things, but Remy simply laughs. “Logan, you’re still one of our best friends,” he says. “Come on, please?”

“Besides,” Remus adds, “Virge will be one too, and Patton and Roman and Jan and Emile! You can’t break up the team!”

He ends up agreeing, and no matter how much Remy teases him about it later, it was not just to see Virgil again. 

The wedding rolls around. Logan has managed to avoid speaking to Virgil for more than a friendly greeting and a bit of small talk through all the preparations the two of them had had to attend, but the they both arrive early on the day of, and Logan doesn’t know anybody else, and, well, he does miss Virgil. 

“Hey,” he says. Virgil is nearly as tall as him in the heels he’s wearing (Logan had managed to opt out of them, convincing Remus to let him wear flats with his dress), and his green dress offsets his stormy eyes perfectly. Logan doesn’t think he looks nearly as good in the color, but he’d decided not to argue with Remy’s puppy-dog eyes. Besides, he much prefers the dress to the suits Emile and Patton had opted for. 

“Hi, Logan,” Virgil replies. The tension in the air is palpable, and Logan hates it. “How’ve you been lately?”

“I’m good,” he answers. 

“Oh, good,” nods Virgil. He’s gnawing at his lip again, and Logan can see the split in it even through the lipstick. “Me too.”

“I miss you,” Logan says suddenly, because he does. “You were my best friend, and I hate not being close, because you are one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“...I miss you too.” He smooths his dress, looking out the window at the trees, and then laughs. “I’m surprised they didn’t have their wedding in a Starbucks, honestly.”

Logan can’t help but chuckle at that, especially when he spots Remy breezing past them, a coffee cup in hand and makeup only half-done, frantically trying to catch his little brothers and sister, whom he and Remus had appointed flower children. “I thought the same thing,” he admits. 

It’s easy for the two of them to talk, after that, sharing jokes and telling stories and talking about their new lives. Logan feels oddly happy when he learns Virgil is single, and when he mentions how he’s looking for a roommate and Virgil remarks that he is too, it feels as natural as breathing to ask where he’s currently living. Finding out they live in the same city makes Logan feel strangely elated. 

“Help!” Remus exclaims, skidding to a stop in front of them, collapsing into Virgil’s arms and only barely being caught. “I’ve lost my husband-to-be!” 

“Alright, please calm down,” Logan says, exchanging exasperated looks with Virgil, who pulls Remus back to his feet. “Have you actually lost Remy, or are you just being overly dramatic?”

“He has been stolen from me,” Remus whines. “We were kissing, and then he was dragged away by my evil brother!”

“By any chance, was he dragged away to prepare for your wedding? The event we’re attending, so you two can get married? The one that most guests are expected to arrive for in fifteen minutes?” Virgil crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. 

Remus’ eyes widen. “Fifteen minutes?” he asks, checking Logan’s watch, and groans. “Oh, drumsticks. Drumsticks torn right off a chicken. Bloody chicken legs everywhere.”

He darts off, and Logan and Virgil sigh simultaneously.

“We should go help, shouldn’t we?” Virgil asks, and Logan nods reluctantly. “Well, it was great to talk to you.”

“It was pleasant to speak with you, as well,” he agrees. 

As he turns to go find Patton, Virgil grabs his arm. “Hey, L, save me a dance, okay?”

They do indeed dance together that night, after they watch Remy and Remus get married among the colorful leaves, and talk, and laugh, and by the end of the wedding they are good friends again.

Virgil and Logan move in together by the end of November. 

–

They become surprisingly domestic, the two of them, moving into their large apartment that is close to both Logan’s job at the observatory and Virgil’s work at a publishing company. He’s not surprised Virgil has become an editor (he was always the best at it, when they exchanged essays to review), but he is rather impressed when he notes some of the books in Virgil’s room have his full name on the cover. “I write poetry, mostly,” he explains when Logan asks. “It’s… I used to use it like therapy, I guess, and I got some of it published. I’m not famous or anything.”

“That’s amazing,” Logan says sincerely. 

The poetry becomes important, later, but then, it is simply something for Logan to admire, another flash of beautiful lightning in Virgil’s storm.

Saturdays become movie nights, and they order junk food and make popcorn and watch documentaries or horror movies or cartoons together. Occasionally, some of their friends will join them, and every so often, all eight of them cram into Logan and Virgil’s living room. Despite his love for the others, however, Logan’s favorite nights are usually the ones when the two of them are alone, when they curl up together on the couch and make fun of trashy films or contribute their own knowledge to documentaries or sing along quietly to Disney. It is peaceful and lovely and utterly perfect.

Logan doesn’t mean to fall in love with Virgil. It sneaks up on him, mornings of coffee for him and tea for Virgil and memes shared over breakfast, afternoons texting each other with reminders to get groceries and news from the office, nights of cooking together and dancing to the radio. 

One day, when both of them have work off, Virgil pulls him out of bed, waits impatiently while Logan gets dressed, and drags him outside into a storm. They walk through the park together, enjoying the rain on their skin, both of them jumping into puddles and belting the title number of Singing in the Rain and getting utterly soaked. 

They return home for cocoa, each taking a warm shower and then sitting together on the couch to watch old movies with small white krakens bobbing in their cups. It is then, with Virgil curled up against him, wet hair soaking Logan’s neck and the smell of hot chocolate in the air, that Logan realizes he loves a thunderstorm in human form. 

His best friend.

Oh, god, Logan is in love with his best friend. And also his roommate. And also his favorite person in the whole of the universe.

(He’s pretty sure that if Virgil could hear his thoughts, and if, y’know, Virgil wasn’t the person in question, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Oh my god, they were roommates.” The idea nearly makes him laugh.) 

Logan tries to get over his crush (and there’s no other word for it, as juvenile as it sounds). He really does. But it’s so hard, now that he knows it exists, especially when he has to see Virgil every single day. And he can’t just cut himself off, or leave their apartment, because that might ruin their friendship, and that’s the whole reason he’s trying to escape his feelings, because he loves being Virgil’s friend more than anything. 

So he exists in this inbetween state, thrashing in the eyewall of a storm, so close to safety and danger simultaneously, trapped in chaos and uncertainty. 

Logan isn’t quite sure whether he really wants to return to the eye, blissful quiet and the peace of oblivion, or if he can at all. But he thinks entering the storm itself, the danger of telling Virgil how he feels, the potential for a life with him, is equally impossible. 

Eventually he decides that it is best to just ignore his rebellious feelings. It works, sort of – Virgil doesn’t seem to notice anything different, and Logan gets to keep his best friend. Still, every moment together is tinged with a sort of bittersweet sadness, the dancing in the kitchen and cuddling on the couch and meals together a harsh reminder that they are just friends.

He’s not sure exactly how his other friends figure it out, but they do, judging from how Remy and Janus tell him exasperatedly that he really ought to say something to Virgil, how Patton and Roman tell him how cute they would be together, how Remus does his best to shove Logan towards Virgil at any opportunity, how Emile tells him pointedly that repressing his feelings isn’t exactly healthy. Logan does decide that he’ll confess… eventually. 

The problem with eventually, however, is how ambiguous it is. The others have realized as much, evidently, but they don’t force Logan to say something, or tell Virgil themselves, and he appreciates that.

It is a Saturday when eventually finally comes, a peaceful movie night interrupted by a phone call with Roman’s name flashing on the screen. He holds up a finger over his lips as he accepts the call, grimacing apologetically to Virgil as he steps into his own room. “What do you want?” he asks exasperatedly when he picks it up, and winces as the other line fills with noise. 

“Logan, have you read Virgil’s latest book?” Roman practically screams, and in the background Logan can hear Patton squealing with excitement as Janus shushes them both. 

He frowns, closing the door to his bedroom. “I wasn’t aware he’d been working on one.” Normally, Logan knows whenever Virgil is working on another collection of his poetry – he’s often the first person Virgil hands it to for editing. 

“Get on your computer this instant, Pocket Protector,” says Roman, and Logan can hear his grin.

A quick search confirms it; a new book of poetry, just released by Virgil Foley. The revelation is almost painful (does Virgil not trust him anymore? Not like him?) until Janus’ voice comes over the line, hir voice sarcastic and concerned altogether.

“Way to go, love, he’s definitely not overthinking this,” ze sigh. “Logan, listen to me. I need you to go look at some of the reviews for the book, okay? Actually, no, if you can find a sample online, go read that.”

He’s operating in a haze, a robot in human flesh, and what do robots do but obey orders?

Logan barely understands what he’s reading at first, lines of poetry in the sample flashing past him. He checks the reviews, words of praise and admiration flowing through his mind, and it takes a second before he understands any of it. 

Clicking back to the online sample, he starts to recognize the story being told. It is a tale of late nights and hot drinks in the morning, of pining and fear of destroying a friendship older than love.

It is Logan’s story, told through another’s words, a voice speaking of a scholar of the stars, of glasses and storms, of hugs and hand-holding and a cute barista, a boy in psych class, a friendship repaired at another’s wedding, of admiration and hope and love. A love for someone seen not as a storm, but as stars, as the universe in human flesh. 

Virgil is in love.

Virgil is in love with Logan. 

“I’ll call you back,” he hears himself say, and drops his phone on his bed in his haste to get back to the living room. 

“Logan?” Virgil’s voice pierce the haze of his thoughts, his eyes 

(a storm, wild beauty) 

shining with concern, and he sits up from where he’s lying on the couch. “You okay? What happened?”

There are many things he wants to say, questions and explanations and promises, but in the end, all he says is “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” He doesn’t expect Virgil to look quite so flustered, but then again, Logan did just storm into the room, looking desperate and probably a tad deranged, and ask to kiss his best friend. 

“Roman told me about the new book,” Logan says first, and Virgil’s eyes widen even further, and he can sense the incoming apology, but he isn’t done, not yet. He begins to crack his knuckles, a habit he’d thought he’d finally lost, full to the brim with nervous energy. “I’ve read some of it, and as far as I can tell, you are romantically attracted to me. Which is good, because I also harbor such feelings for you, and have for about a year now. So. Can I kiss you?”

“Isn’t it ‘May I kiss you’?” Virgil grins, playing off his feelings with humor, as always. Logan opens his mouth to apologize as his world comes crashing down, because oh, he’s messed up, oh no, but then his best friend’s expression softens, and he whispers “Of course, Logan Sanders.”

“Thank you, Virgil Foley,” he says, and abandons the eyewall for the storm. 

They don’t watch any more movies that night. The two of them kiss, and talk, and kiss some more, and Virgil grabs his author’s edition of the new book from his room, and they read it together on the couch. 

The next morning, they sit with their coffee and tea and talk some more, about labels and boundaries and dreams. Their friends come over for movies the next Saturday, and Virgil and Logan hold hands as they tell them they are dating. 

(Roman choking on the popcorn in his excitement almost makes up for the money Logan spots being exchanged between Emile, Remus, and Patton.)

Eventually, Virgil’s latest book will gain fame, and they will end up with quite a bit of money between the two of them, especially after Logan gets a promotion. Eventually, they will move to a larger house, one a bit outside the city, one where they will have two cats and a dog and a son named Thomas. Eventually, they will get married in the spring, and when it starts to rain as they say their vows, the two of them just laugh. 

But that is eventually. In the now, Logan Sanders is in love. In the now, Virgil Foley is in love. 

They are glasses and hoodies, poetry written and spoken, dancing in the kitchen and cuddles on the couch. 

They are thunderstorms, and they are stars.

[dramplets]

Patton: Roman are you okay?

Roman: Um...gimme a quick second

Roman: *picks up Janus and yeets him out the room*

Roman: Yeah I'm fine!

Janus from the other room: LIAR!

[really-awkward-pics-of-roman]

"What can I say? I'm handsome and stupid, sue me. I have two (2) lawyers willing to back me up. One is not qualified and cries easily, and the other is a wanted criminal and con artist. You have no chance of defeating me."

[anothertssincorrectquotesblog]

Roman: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Janus: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. Well, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!

Roman: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING VIRGIL WITH ME!

Patton, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

[the-duke-of-nuts]

undefined

Day 21: Royaliceit @sanders-spring

These are the two he chose to spend the rest of his life with

[emoprincey]

Fangs and Cutlasses (Chapter 2)

Chapter 1 | This is chapter 2! 

Author’s note: I’ve finally finished the second chapter of this fic I wrote for @the-duke-of-nuts in the Sanders Sides gift exchange last year! 

Fic summary: Remus has come a long way since being exiled from his village. He's the captain of a pirate ship, with his own crew, and a brilliant first mate. But when his brother shows up out of the blue, Remus can't leave him behind again. And, while trying to repair that rift, he meets a strange man cloaked in shadows who will turn Remus' entire world on its head. 

Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight 

Relationships: Familial Creativitwins, endgame romantic dukexiety, endgame romantic royaliceit with pre-established royality. 

Writing taglist: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard 

Word count: 2018 

They had to stop for supplies again the next day, since Remus hadn’t made it back to the ship with anything he’d picked up from the market.

The place they’d docked the boat in wasn’t so much a harbour as an old boardwalk that jutted out over a gravelly shore, but Remus had jumped out and tied the ship to a rotting wooden post with surety, so Roman supposed it was as good as they were going to get.

“We can’t stop here for long,” Janus said, already glancing around the cove warily. “I’ll send out a small team to get supplies, and we’ll leave as soon as the ship’s loaded.”

“I want to at least show Ro the cavern. What’s the point in bringing him along if I can’t show him any of the cool places we go to?” Remus said. 

“Fine,” Janus said. “You can show your brother around, but you’d better not get into any trouble, and if you’re not back in exactly two hours I’m leaving your asses there.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Remus said to Roman as Janus walked away, but somehow that didn’t really reassure him.

Roman wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of going with his brother. Even he had heard of the Broken Isle – so called because of the sharp, thin stream of water that ran between the two islands, making them look like they were one landmass cleaved in two. According to the few rumours that had reached his quiet village, it was a place where only the most hardened of criminals would meet up and exchange their spoils.

As the two of them stepped off the boat, he glanced around, patting his jerkin to make sure the dagger Remus had supplied him with was still looped through his belt.

The isle was everything Roman would expect from a pirate’s hideout – dirty, desolate, and filled with noise. Boardwalks seemed to stretch in every direction along steep, sheer cliffs. None of them seemed to reach the top, and Roman could tell at a glance that it would be impossible to scale them.

Remus led him along a boardwalk, surefooted and stomping as heavily as ever, even though the boardwalk was rickety and rotting.

Roman stayed close to the cliff, trying not to focus on the sound of waves crashing violently against the sharp rocks below.

“Stop looking over your shoulder,” Remus said.

Roman huffed, but he tried to keep his gaze on Remus’ back.

His brother sighed when they reached the end of the boardwalk, which led to a narrow cave in the side of the cliff. He gestured for Roman to follow him inside. “Just act like you belong.”  

“Act like I belong with a bunch of criminals?” Roman scoffed, earning him a glare from a group of passing mermen. They looked mostly human in their land forms, but they were still easy to identify by the scales that curled around the sides of their face, and their frilly finned ears.

“And keep your voice down,” Remus muttered.

Roman pouted, but he kept following Remus closely. He rolled his shoulders as they walked along, trying to get some of the stiffness out. Roman and Patton had been given a tiny room with two bunks. Patton had taken the top bunk at first, but after a while he’d climbed down and squashed into Roman’s bunk with him. Though Roman had woken up with an aching back and Patton with a sore neck, they’d both slept much better in each other’s arms.

After walking through the cave for a bit, they turned a corner. For a moment, Roman thought they’d emerged again into the open air. They were surrounded by light, and rowdy voices, and all kinds of smells. But when he looked up, he realised they were in a massive cavern. The ceiling was made of stone, with boardwalks running between caves higher in the walls, criss-crossing like spiderwebs. The floor was bustling with activity. Ramshackle stalls were crammed together in haphazard lines, and they seemed to be selling everything from food to treasure.

It reminded him, strangely, of the marketplace he used to take the farm’s products to every month. No, not used to – he’d be going back. Soon. Just as soon as... what? When Remus had taken him and Patton on a little adventure across the high seas, would he drop them back off in their village? That thought made Roman’s chest feel oddly hollow.

“This is where people come with their hauls,” Remus explained, leading him over to one of the stalls. “Anything you’ve pillaged can be sold off for a fair price. Or, fair as you can get around here.”

The stall was covered in jewellery and trinkets. Some of it looked valuable, with real stones set in gold, and other pieces were clearly sea glass. A burly man with a scruffy beard was standing behind it.

“Is that stuff stolen?” Roman asked warily.

Remus elbowed him, and raised an eyebrow at the stall owner. “New crew member,” he said, as if that explained something.

The stall owner didn’t seem to care, just humming gruffly as Remus pulled Roman away from the stall.

“Is that stuff stolen?” Remus mimicked, when they were out of the stall owner’s earshot. “We’re pirates, dipshit. What do you think?”

Roman just hummed, a line from Remus’ conversation ringing in his ears. He looked up when he heard footsteps from the upper boardwalks.

“Nosferatu!” Someone shouted.

“What’s going on up there?” Roman asked apprehensively.

Remus pursed his lips, looking intently at the boardwalk. When he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, he turned away, but the crease between his eyebrows didn’t disappear. “Sounds like someone’s found a vampire,” he said. “They don’t usually show up around here.”

Roman shuddered. He’d heard countless tales about vampires – creatures of the night who hid in the shadows to prey on unsuspecting victims. Some of them had been around for centuries, and had vast amounts of wealth.

Remus seemed to catch his reaction, and grabbed his arm before he could continue. “Hey. One thing you’ll learn in this line of work, is that judging people isn’t going to do you any good. You’ll have to work with loads of different people, and no matter what, we’re all outcasts together.”

“I’m not in this line of work,” Roman scoffed. “I saved your ass one time, and couldn’t go back in case I got caught. The first chance I get, I’m going back to the village. You don’t even want me here anyway.”

Remus seemed genuinely baffled. “What makes you think that?”

Roman looked at the ground. He felt a little pathetic admitting out loud what had been bothering him. “You didn’t tell that stall owner that I’m your brother.”

“Well, yeah, obviously,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. When Roman still didn’t get it, he sighed. “Look. If those goons find out I’m carting my little brother around, they’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

“We’re the same age,” Roman said.

“I’m nine minutes older,” Remus said. “Anyway, let’s get this stuff back to the ship. I don’t wanna get caught up in whatever’s going on up there.”

He nodded to the boardwalk the commotion had come from. Roman sighed and followed Remus back to the ship.

-----

Patton wasn’t quite sure what to make of Remus. He’d known that Roman had a relative who was kicked out of the village after one too many petty crimes, but he’d expected that person to be a distant cousin from the way Roman’s parents talked about him, not a brother – and an identical twin, no less. At first, Remus hadn’t seemed like Roman at all. He was brash where Roman was gentle. But they seemed to have the same love for adventure, the same twinkle in their eyes when they had an idea.

He sighed as he started to load some crates onto the ship. He’d stayed behind to give Roman some bonding time with his brother, and some of the crew had just gotten back with supplies. Janus had gone to supervise the things that needed taking below deck, leaving Patton alone to take some of the smaller boxes on board.

A blur of purple whizzed past him, but before he could investigate it he was distracted by the rumble of footsteps on the boardwalk above. He glimpsed a hoard of people – pirates, he presumed – racing across the boardwalk.

Those noisy pirates. Someone ought to teach them some manners.

“Do you need any help with that?”

Patton looked up. A man wrapped up in a loose-fitting dark purple cloak was standing by the crates on the opposite side of the cove. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other, as if he was half a second from dashing off again.

Patton glanced around. There was only one entrance to the harbour, and he hadn’t seen anyone come through it. The man must have entered when he was distracted.

“If you could, that would be great!” He beamed, hoping to ease some of the boy’s nerves. “I’m just taking these crates aboard, if you can pick some of those up.”

He glanced at the stranger, who seemed a little scrawny under the cloak.

“I’m stronger than I look,” the stranger muttered, a touch petulantly, and he hefted one of the boxes easily.

Patton took his own box aboard, motioning for the stranger to follow, but noticed that he hesitated when he reached the gangplank. “It’s ok, you can come aboard!” He assured him cheerfully.

The stranger smiled, and took the box aboard.

When Patton had taken the last box aboard, he turned around to his new friend with a smile. “Hey, I didn’t catch your- name...”

He furrowed his eyebrows, realising he was suddenly alone in the harbour. Perhaps his friend had somewhere to rush off to, he had appeared quite suddenly after all.

“Patton!”

He turned around when he heard Janus call his name. He was coming up from below deck with the rest of the crew.

“Thank you for bringing those crates on board, we can get going as soon as Remus gets back,” Janus said with a smile. Then he nodded over Patton’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

“Roman!” Patton called, running into his fiancé’s arms as soon as he rounded the corner into the cove.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Roman said, catching him with ease and pressing a little kiss to the top of Patton’s head.

Remus walked straight past them, and began talking in hushed murmurs with Janus.

“...and apparently there’s a vampire about,” he heard Remus say as he and Roman approached them. “And hunters, or at least people who fancy themselves to be.”

Janus’ expression turned sour, and he nodded. “Alright then. That’s as good a reason as any to leave now.”

As Remus was untying the ship from the makeshift dock, a mob of people rounded the corner. Some had weapons drawn, and all of them looked furious. One of them yelled and pointed at the boat.

“Shit,” Remus said, hopping back onto the boat. “Man the rigging!” He yelled. “We’re getting out of here!”

A couple of the younger crew members – Patton had briefly spoken to one of them yesterday, a small sullen kid called Elliott – raced over to the mast and began to climb, unfurling the sails. 

“Who are those people?” Roman shouted to Remus, looking back at the shore.

“Don’t know,” Remus called back, “but they seem to have a problem with us!”

The boat began to move as the mob advanced towards them. They sailed out of the port just as the mob reached the shoreline. A few of them waded into the water up to their knees, but there was no way they could reach the boat.

“Do you always do things like that?” Roman asked Remus, once they were clear.

“There’s usually more swordfighting, but yeah, being chased by an angry mob is pretty average for us,” Remus said.

Patton leaned back against Roman’s shoulder, and Roman murmured to him, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

[briandthemoon]

If you're still doing the polyam art mene, mayhaps Royaliceit with F1 please?

They’re SIMP-ly the best. [do not repost this art]

[brandstifter-sys]

Under Pressure

Chapter 17: Passed

Word Count: 1107 (Ao3)

Rating: T

Characters: Roman, Remus, Janus, Patton, Virgil

Relationships: Royaliceit

Warnings: Villain!Logan, intrusive thoughts, sex mention, mild angst, gore

----

Roman was surprised when he took in the hallway. It wasn't the drab metallic tiling he had become accustomed to, it looked like an extension of the common area—beige walls, pale carpet, and two white doors. The one at the end of the hall had to be the exit, he was sure of that.

"Looks like we get to see what's going on!" Remus said as he followed Roman. Janus slithered from his shoulders and turned back into his beautiful self before speaking.

"Finally, I'll be able to worship my king without interruption!" he swooned. Roman paused and turned back to face him.

"You can do so after you finish your apology."

"For?"

"Misleading me, using me for your own gain."

"My king?" Janus breathed with wide doe-eyes. Remus wrapped and arm around him to keep him steady. Janus was trembling.

"Ro, he didn't. That trial? He gave you a choice. He didn't mislead you. And he didn't do it for his gain."

"Roman, you were stifling yourself, your opinion is important. Is trying to get you to understand your value and importance to Thomas somehow for my gain?" Janus asked.

"When you put it that way, it doesn't sound so terrible," Roman muttered, "However, you're the one arguing that scenario, and you have an agenda."

"What happened to the man who would have carried me to the ends of the earth? He was right here a moment ago. Roman, darling, my agenda is simply to uplift you and look out for Thomas' well being."

"Ro, he's not lying. If something hurt, you can say it without adding your assumptions to it," Remus sighed. And he really thought Roman was past this!

"It hurt to be proven right about the wedding. It hurt that I was able to prevent Thomas from spiraling and I didn't. It hurts to think that I did the wrong thing because I sided with Patton and you showed up to save the day and remind me that I was wrong—even if that was not your intent."

"It hurt to be pushed and pushed to prove myself, to make myself vulnerable, only to lead to mockery and ridicule. I can understand that your feelings were why you lashed out, but they were based on your own internal conflict, your perception, not my actions. You owe me an apology, Roman, you owe it to me first because it was your intent to harm me.”

“So you won’t—?”

“I will, when I know that you won’t use it against me. I can offer adoration and praise, spread myself for you to take as you please, knowing that those things don’t hold any sway over my sanity. I spend far too much time with Remus for a few lewd images to embarrass me,” Janus said and studied his fingertips. He hated feeling this vulnerable.

“And you aren’t even going to bat an eye at that remark?” Roman scoffed at Remus and crossed his arms. Remus shrugged.

“You should see what I won’t take pictures of!"

“In any case. I know why you said those things to me, and I will apologize when you understand that I need to hear one from you first,” Janus huffed.

“Did you ever apologize to Patton for getting hissy at him? I know ‘sorry’ is like his new verbal tic! Scare Bear and Least Boy got a full apology out of you at least once,” Remus mused, mostly to himself. Roman could still hear him, and his shoulders sagged as the truth weighed on him. He was hurt so he hurt Janus, and of course Janus would retaliate.

“I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you, even if I thought that you were the source of it at the time. I’m sorry for backing you into a corner, into exposing your closest-held secret, and then trampling on it,” Roman said earnestly, and removed his crown.

"And I apologize for calling you the evil twin and creating so much confusion."

"Wait! You called him evil!? I thought I was the evil twin!" Remus whined, "I'm supposed to be Billie Eilish!"

"But you sound like Stevie Nicks."

Remus beamed at the pair exiting the closest door, groggy and in desperate need of some coffee or something. He didn't know who said it, but he was right!

"I see you managed to escape," Janus noted with a half smile. Patton smiled back and yawned.

"I see you did too!" Patton responded and pouted when he saw Roman wilting.

"Roman?"

"I'm busy wallowing in my shame, Patton. Now is not the time," Roman sighed and stared at the crown in his hand.

"Why? It won't make you feel better, and it sure as hell won't fix anything," Patton huffed and marched up to him, leaving Virgil without a leaning post.

Remus swooped in and picked up the exhausted emo and gave the other three some needed space.

"I have to atone for my shortcomings. I mistreated the two people who I would follow to the ends of the earth. How could I do anything other than wallow at this point? I don't deserve to be a king."

"Roman," Patton sighed, "People make mistakes, big mistakes, I would know. That doesn't mean they don't deserve to be who they are."

"And people can forgive you for those mistakes granted you are willing to make an effort to change," Janus added, "Consider my dearest Sunshine—he created quite a mess and vilified me."

"I'm so—"

"But I forgave him, and now we're practically married."

"Married?!" Roman and Patton yelped.

"I am more than willing to have a second husband, and to share, but my point is that you can have and deserve good things despite having flaws."

"Such as two partners?" Roman asked meekly, "even if they're both taken?"

"Darling, if you mean Patton and I, you merely have to ask to join in."

"Yeah, put your crown back on, King! You can ask us out after the mind is back to normal!" Patton cheered and pulled them both into a hug.

"It's about time!" Remus mumbled to Virgil. Virgil grumbled and stared at him flatly. He agreed.

"Not that this isn't touching, but we have a RoboNerd to stop," Remus said, getting the others to separate albeit reluctantly. Virgil flinched.

Bullets riddling his body. His organs leaping from his wounds. Malfunctioning prototype robot.

"Let's get this over with," Virgil sighed and squirmed out of Remus' grasp. He trudged to the door at the end of the hall and grabbed the handle. With a glance over his shoulder, the others followed. They had a job to do.

----

(Master Post)

[notveryglittery]

"dark" side au, but -

they're actually just a bunch of assholes having fun, being petty, and taking advantage of their forms being imaginary and therefore immortal.

roman waking up each day and with a snap of his fingers, looking as if he's ready for the runway. eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man (he's got a sword for that though), perfectly intentionally tousled hair, model ass handsome ass so full of himself ass -

"no weapons at the table," chides morality as he sets down breakfast. yeah dark side!patton, idk, his morals are skewed or whatever? don't ask me, let's just say he's a touch more mean, more aggressive than passive, whatever anyway - 

"hardly a weapon when he isn't any good with it," virgil snarks which are bold words from someone in stabbing distance. 

roman stabs him.

virgil disappears in a poof of shadows and reappears in the seat across from where his illusion had been sitting. he sticks his tongue out at roman.

"no stabbing at the table!" chides morality who can't believe he has to deal with this nonsense at breakfast, the day has just started, get a fucking hold of yourselves, children.

if logan weren't planning on drinking all the coffee right from the pot, he'd probably just pour it over patton's head because maybe then that would stop him from being so bossy. but that would make a mess and it would ruin his crossword so he continues to ignore the nonsense going on around him.

which of course is why virgil takes his glass of juice and knocks it over logan's place at the table, ruining not only his crossword but his plate of food too.

"it was an accident i swear," virgil says

"shut up," roman says but he's laughing too hard for it to really even be understood

logan takes the glass and throws it at virgil's face. it crashes against the wall as virgil once again takes his shadows and melts away into them. 

"it is really too early for this," patton sighs.

logan grabs the handle of the coffee pot and weighs his options.

deceit appears right beside logan and pats him on the head. "none of that now," he soothes, as if he has any right, being the second worst instigator in the house. (yes, virgil's got him beat) 

so obviously logan instead dumps the coffee on deceit

"oh good," he says, unphased, "i so love this smell. it'll keep me awake all day. thank you very much." 

"do you like, ever shut up?" patton asks.

"no," deceit answers with a charming smile.

"no flirting at the table!" roman interrupts, "unless it's with me!" 

and if there's one thing patton and deceit can agree on, it's seeing which of them can fluster roman the best. "okay," they decide simultaneously.

logan looks into the camera like he's on the office and leaves the table before he has to deal with any of that allo-tomfoolery.

it basically boils down to the "yeah i hate this person but also i'm the only one that can fuck with them" trope. they got a lot of pent up anger and frustrations and all that and maybe "dark" sides is pushing it when they're all basically the same functions still, just a lot meaner and with less caution. like, they technically can't be permanently injured or killed, so maybe they can have a little stabbing... as a treat. 

i ended up taking this to discord bc i got self conscious about posting it, so there's extra under the read more. i'm going to say this above the read more though so it doesn't get ignored: please do not ask about/do not add remus to this post. if you really want to include him, feel free to make your own post, though i would appreciate if you gave me credit/linked back to this post, if you do so.

so we got to talking about logun, in which case i mentioned roman making a paintball course/field for them to all release some steam. but then logan loads his paintball gun with real bullets. "that is DECIDEDLY LESS FUN," roman screams. at which point, bc he can't be outdone, virgil starts ducking in and out of shadows, and just assassin knifing anyone he can. patton, with multiple stab wounds, and a gun full still of paintball bullets: this is the best, i'm having such a good time.

@hawthornshadow then suggested horror movie nights for roman and virgil in which they snuggle up together for, despite their bickering throughout the day. they'll critique the especially bad ones, with logan's help sometimes. he covers plot issues, virgil covers how it could be worse, and then they pause the movie so roman can cover how to improve it. storytime with roman is always a treat, no matter what!! he gives the movies semi-happy/fulfilling endings with patton in mind. (hawthorn really knows the way to my royality heart lol.)

and final random one i don't know where else to put: patton ""drops"" a heavy iron skillet on deceit's foot and when deceit realizes he technically doesn't need feet or nerves to feel pain, he realizes also that patton technically doesn't need lungs to breathe so deceit stabs him with a big fucking knife!