#virgil gets a hug in a different chapter

[edutainer2022]

@katblu42 @astranite It's a snippet of a very raw draft I had sitting in my notes for a while - along these lines of ideas. And it's a longer soliloquy by Gordon, than is maybe strictly in character. But someone needed to tell Scott how it is, so Gordon volunteered. It's supposed to be a companion piece to STAY (Scott did A Stupid Du Jour, so Virgil yelled at him to leave, then broke down, and John is not much happier):

***

- You think we're gonna be okay when you're gone. Deep down, you believe that.

You think Virgil is gonna be upset. Devastated even. But we love him so much, and we'll rally around him, and it'd be alright, eventually. Which is... fine, true - we do love Virgil so, so much, and we WILL rally around him. Except it won't be alright. Ever. You don't GET IT, do you? Virgil will DIE, if you're gone. One day we'll just find him prostrate over your cold body in the infirmary.

[Scott stares, speechless]

- You think John is a Vulcan or something, and he's not gonna feel much feelings or miss you - he has his stars and his comms, and he has Eos, and he's got Alan, right? Wrong! John will check out. He's just gonna be DONE with humanity - I don't think we'll ever get him back. And I don't think it's gonna be pretty. At best he's gonna try to upload your consciousness into Five or something. At worst... you get the idea... Oh, and DON'T get me srarted on Alan. The kid thinks you're his Dad in earnest. We had to re-train him to not call you Dada at three. At twelve he told me he sometimes pretends it's gonna turn out you're really his Dad when he's eighteen and all grown up - so it doesn't hurt so much. So good luck thinking Allie's gonna be fine dealing with your loss!

And you think I won't care much at all. You think I'm so resistant to everything you are, you know, the whole being a pilot, being a neat-freak or being a boring adult thing, and I'm kinda more of Virgil's brother anyway, so I'd bounce right off and be on my merry way. Well, newsflash: I need you too! I'm about doing cartwheels so you'd notice, because you wouldn't let me cut corners and if you're proud that means I've done something really right. And if you're gone... I won't bounce off, okay! I need you too, I need my big brother!

Gordon is shouting by then, hot tears streaming, unreserved. Scott is there in one flash of motion, crushing him into an embrace, but Gordon doesn't hug back, which is, maybe, a first in the entire history of their brotherhood. Gordon doesn't pull away either, hiding his face deeper into big brother's shoulder, just allowing to be held. They stay like this a minute. Two. Till Gordon pulls away at an arm's length and rotates Scott's shoulders towards the exit with a theatrical push.

- Go! Go grovel with Virgil, then go up to Five and apologize to John. I wouldn't put it past him to lock your self-destructive ass out in the cold, though. Then come back and cuddle Alan. Then stop doing... whatever you're doing to yourself.

Scott finds the carpet, the comforter on the bed and the zipper of the open suitcase, suddenly, thoroughly fascinating.

- Virgil wants me gone from the island.

- No he doesn't, you, dingus. - Gordon is back in the game with a John-worthy eye-roll and flapping of hands. - He wants you to STAY and not be killing yourself in stop-motion. We all do. Go! I'll unpack your stuff.

- Is there gonna be glitter in my underwear?

- Nah, I'm too mad at you.

- Hey, Gordon?

- Yeah?

- I need you too.

when the character who's like "i will never reveal my trauma to anyone" gets a high fever and, while weak and delirious, starts spilling every.

last.

secret.

[thetormentita]

spes ultima dea - chapter 1

Audaces fortuna iuvat. —Virgil

Pairings: Ofc x Lucius Verus, Ofc x Ravi (platonic)

A/n: just lemme play a bit with the idea, we all are gonna like it

Warnings: mentions of slavery, blood, ptsd (possibly?), angst

Rating: Mature (+16)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

She stays at a corner of the courtyard as the newcomers are forced to come into the ludus.

“Where do they come from?” She mumbles, her eyes observing them with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Each of the men carries an air of reluctance and resolve, their bodies marked by past conflicts.

It is a sunny day that one, and she always hates when new gladiators are brought into the ludus and the sun shines upon the sky. The voices coming from the busy streets not far from where they are bring her sour memories as the stranger men are gathered in front of their new owner to be properly inspected like if they were just a horse or any worthless merchandise.

“Not sure” the healer puts a face, one of his arms brushing her, like wanting to shield her in case any of the new gladiators puts his eyes upon her. “Heard something about Numidia.”

“Where is that?”

“Past the sea.”

She observes them, silent, her brow furrowed and her hands clasped tightly together. She can’t help but think of her own experience and the tension that came with it. She recalls the days she first arrived, feeling like a prisoner in unfamiliar surroundings, forced to adapt to the rules and rhythms of the place, punished for not understanding a language foreign to her.

They stand apart, almost half hidden, as their dominus talks to the new gladiators, not understanding a word of what a strange man in a toga is talking about, shaking his hands with rings in half of the fingers. They observe in silence, trying to remember all those faces now etched with emotions: some with quiet defiance, others with palpable fear—none of them there by their own volition.

Her eyes stop by a face, a specific face who seems to understand all the nonsense being told, who looks like he would gladly rip the dominus’s head from his shoulders out of rage. There is a fire in his eyes, burning brightly, refusing to be extinguished by chains. She bites her lower lip as she observes him, getting familiar with those specific features, unable to look away.

“Something wrong?”

Ravi’s dark eyes are upon her, and despite she is not looking at him, she knows he has raised an eyebrow.

“Do Numidians speak latin?”

“Not that I know, why?”

She lifts her chin to the newcomer whose clenched jaw threatens to shatter his very teeth. “He seems to understand everything,” she whispers.

Ravi follows her gaze, scrutinizing the young man who seems so effortlessly defiant. He clearly has nothing to lose, like Ravi when he first arrived at Rome, or herself, but the difference is that he is not as defeated as any would be in his position.

“First or last?”

“First.”

It takes them a while to be able to go and see the newcomers. Their dominus always likes to sermonize them as well, remind them of their position and the expected brevity of most of the newcomers. It always stings to her, because she thinks of Ravi and the years he has spent as a gladiator and feels bad for him, to have to live with that gruesome shadow of a man constantly under the same roof.

She has lost track of time long ago, but it always is the same ritual: fetch the small wooden crate, the vat and some pieces of cloth and pass through every cell to tend the possible wounds from their capture. No matter the origin of the new people bought by their dominus, it is always the same. She starts walking with the crate between her arms, almost hugging it, heading down the dim corridor. The air is heavy with a mixture of incense and sweat, a scent as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.

She lives between warriors, and each bears the mark of battles past and those yet to come, even herself.

Despite wanting to visit the appealing stranger first, they are forced to start with another man, whose cheek shows a cut from brow to jaw and his hands are clearly injured. They stop by the entrance of his cell and she takes a deep breath to settle herself before stepping inside. The man’s eyes dart to her, a flicker of fear quickly masked by stoic indifference.

It is always her, not Ravi.

“Alana” she puts an open hand on her chest to introduce herself and then does the same with the Indian “Ravi.”

They do the same with every single one of them, a ritual as ingrained in her as the breathing that steadies her hands. Countless faces she has seen through her years there as a slave, and very few have made it. It always hurts her.

“You are wounded” Ravi kneels before the gladiator, hands constantly open and seen in a gesture to the stranger to let him realize they are there in good faith “We will fix it, allright?”

His voice is soft and modulated, a gentle balm against the tension radiating from the man’s rigid form. She observes him in a momentary wonder each time before she remembers that he had also been a newcomer to the ludus once, and that he also brought scars and wounds from his capture.

The gladiator’s tense shoulders relax minutely, acknowledging Ravi’s words, though he doesn't speak their language. He lets them do in silence, flinching here and there when they clean the gash of his face with vinegar or she stitches it with care.

“Sorry.” She mumbles each time she feels he is in pain because of them.

“They don’t understand you.”

“It is the same. Compassion doesn’t need words.” Alana insists, her gaze steady as she works with gentle hands.

It is a small group, and quickly they get to the cell in front of the man who has awaken in her a cautious curiosity. His eyes follow her movements, from the door in front of their destination, a mixture of wariness and gratitude reflecting in their depths. She lingers while Ravi unlocks the door, and looks at him in silence, biting her lower lip as she uses to do when she is deep in thought. There is something in his eyes, a depth that pulls at her.

“Come on” muses Ravi, calling her attention as they both get into the cell she doesn’t want to.

They repeat the same as they have done with the rest, mainly to let them give them a name despite knowing most of them will not be known as such, or may lose it in favour of something else, more suitable for their dominus or the editor or the audience to match their fierceness and get more coin to the ludus.

“Beware.” Ravi’s eyes are upon the man, and quickly Alana draws his attention to him. “His hands.”

He is shaking. It is impossible to know if it is because of fear or cold, because the jails at that side are cooler than the ones they are in front of, and she places herself before the man with a kind gesture upon her face.

“You are hurt, we will fix you.” As she talks, she points to her body, specifically where they can see he has any injuries. “Can we see you better?”

None of them are aware that the man in the cell in front of where they are has approached the entrance of his new home and is watching the scene with attention.

“They are good people, Itzar.” He says in Punic, only for the man to understand, voice loud enough to try his best to impose respect to him. “Let them do, they are friends.”

Itzar glances from the speaker to the pair before him. The shake in his hands lessens, replaced by a terse nod, but his eyes betray something else, a deep well of suspicion and unease. They dart between his saviors and the bars that bind him, assessing the reality of their kindness.

Alana steps closer, her voice soothing and gentle, attempting to bridge the chasm of distrust despite knowing that the chances of getting understood by the gladiator are almost none. Cautiously, Itzar extends his hand, scarred and trembling, towards Alana, allowing her a glimpse of the wounds he sustains.

“We have to clean this, or you will get sick” she murmurs, gathering her supplies with practiced efficiency after years tending to injuries worse than that. “This will sting a little.”

“Itzar, let them do.” The voice calls her attention, and when her eyes spot the man at the cell in front of them again, she finds his gaze locked intently on the interaction. “Stay still and let them do.” Despite not understanding a bit of what he is saying, somehow she feels reassured by the command in his voice. The certainty cuts through the chaos of her thoughts, anchoring her as she works.

“Do you think he is their leader?” She mumbles to a cautious Ravi, who places himself at the other side, letting the stranger observe the procedure and how she works, but at the same time keeping a wary eye on him, and observing the man called Itzar, ready to act if necessary.

“Possibly. Or maybe he already knows he has come to hell and is trying to make peace with it,” Ravi replies, his voice low yet unwavering as he watches Alana’s nimble hands clean the wounds with care.

“He is looking?”

“Aye. At you. Maybe he is as curious about you as you about him.”

“Shut up.” She hisses, frowning as she finishes bandaging the wound, trying to ignore the growing heat in her cheeks.

She has grown used to be among warriors, and even has developed certain friendship with some of them, something unspoken but respected. Whenever she has the chance to go to the market or to run errands for the domina, she brings back a sweet, or any knick-knack in an attempt to cheer them up, and they cherish these small tokens, grateful for her quiet kindness amid the grim reality of their lives; some of them have the chance to give her back some of that kindness with a part of their food because gladiators are the ones to eat the most among the slaves in the ludus, or anything they can put their hands on to show their appreciation. She likes it despite the chances of most of those men to die at the arena, it gives her life as a slave at the ludus a meaning.

As soon as they have finished with Itzar they leave his cell and they turn to face the latest of the group, who has gone to the end of his cell and has his eyes upon them, silent, with his hands open for them to see.

As Ravi unlocks the door, she exchanges a knowing glance with him, aware of the quiet determination etched into his features. Once the entrance is locked again—as the dominus has stated hundreds of times as a sort of cowardly reassuance—she leaves the crate on the floor and introduces themselves again, her eyes upon the man.

“Hanno.” He answers, still, his voice steady despite the circumstances.

“Will you let us—?”

Both Ravi and Alana stop when Hanno uncovers his chest, revealing bruises and gashes here and there, totally not expecting him to cooperate that easily.

“Can you sit on the cot, please?”

As Hanno obeys, Ravi takes a piece of cloth and soaks it in the vat before handling it to Alana, his sharp eyes observing every movement with meticulous care. Gently, Alana begins to clean the wounds, her touch as tender as circumstances allow.

“This may sting a bit.” She murmurs as she works on his wounds as she has learnt from Ravi, carefully making sure the worst they will do it leave a scar upon the skin. Hanno remains silent, slightly wincing but steadfast as she works, his gaze unfaltering as it focuses on a spot above Alana’s head, possibly to not make her feel uncomfortable; she has enough fighting back her own thoughts as her fingers traverse the network of scars and bruises along the muscled chest, her lower lip trapped beneath her teeth as she tries to focus.

“His back” mumbles Ravi, almost startling her. “He was flogged.”

Alana hesitates briefly, exchanging a glance with Ravi, her gaze filled with concern and understanding. She nods, after a moment, turning her face to Hanno, realising the beautiful blue of his eyes.

“Can you turn to face the wall, please?” She gestures as she talks, her voice carefully gentle. “We need to see your back.”

Hanno complies, shifting with a slight grimace and Alana thanks him with a whisper, moving to tend to the more severe wounds on his back, heart heavy with every silent wince that escapes him as she cleanses his wounds, gashes that speak of a brutality she can only imagine. Ravi watches silently, his own heart weighed down with memories, standing by to assist if needed.

The place is quiet, the only sound the steady rustle of bandages and the soft, careful breathing of the three occupants. Hanno's shoulders tremble slightly with each touch, muscles taut and tense.

“Sorry” she mumbles, brow furrowed in concentration as she works diligently, her eyes roaming his broad shoulders as she can only imagine what has that man gone through before ending there with them.

The world outside seems a distant blur, the heavy silence punctuating each moment of care she affords him. She has so many questions to make him she doesn’t know where to start, but at the same time she forces herself to try and not engage in further contact with him because he would not be the first to die at the arena on the next day. She halts as the thought hits her, glancing briefly at Ravi with questioning eyes. Ravi meets her gaze, understanding her unspoken concern. It is hard to end a season alive, and he knows it well.

As she finishes with the gashes, her eyes go to the mark under his shoulder blade, a half scarred symbol made with a heated iron bar, branding him forever as property of the arena. Its edges are harsh, healed crudely over time, a testament to the brutality his body has endured. A gasp escapes her lips, and Hanno closes his eyes as if bracing himself against memories that gnaw at the edges of his mind.

“I—” for the first time in ages she hesitates. “There is something to help you heal.” Her hands meet Ravi’s by the crate, and Alana knows that he has seen it as well, because his expression is painted with the same mix of fury and compassion that she feels. “It is an ointment. It will help with— that.” She goes to face Hanno, with the little jar between her hands to show him, and he nods before she gives it to Ravi to apply it. “Thank you. For helping with your friend. I understand, this is not good for anybody.”

Hanno manages a faint smile, the gratitude genuine amid the storm of dread surrounding them. His stern features soften when their gazes meet again, and he nods slowly, acknowledging the compassion extended to him.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Question for both you and Moss: what is your favorite moment in Raven Poetry out of everything you’ve shown us so far? (I’m still so hyped about the latest chapter)

Our favorite? Out of the 212,732 word fanfic that's been written so far? Not an easy question. @skeletinmoss decided not to pick a favourite. They picked 26. They love the boys flirting (same, I'm kicking my feet and giggling every time i write such moments you cannot imagine how much I'm enjoying writing them now that they are together) honorable mention to the "filthy peasants" and "Fuck me" moment. Nox being a snitch and tattling to Logan the second he appears. They also love Roman's confusion when Virgil warns him for an attack he couldn't have seen comming while kicking J's but in uno. Virgil being so good at imitating cat noises that Logan couldn't tell the difference. The hug after Ro fixed V's hoodie (that was so sweet!) V getting revenge on his brother and cockblocking him "power move. V jinxing himself and after this when he tell's prince to "bite me" and Roman slamming him against the wall in response "I just might. You might remember you spin my head right round? We already mentioned that we both have a soft spot for the karaoke stream. The boys sleeping on the floor together after the halloween stream. The googly eyes war V being a party drunk Mischief smacking Ro's butt. A long supressed desire indeed. J protecting Patton (my heart) the bodies of the unborn moment. V is so dramatic sometimes. Ro torturing himself with the villain asmr V waking Ro with his pillow the whole cupid incident bitty V V making a nest out of Ro's clothes V sleeping under his bed cuz the room was too bright. V taking a bath with clothes on The identity reveal and the long awaited kiss.

As for me... Oof. I am so biased cuz i wrote them all out. There are so many soft and cute and funny moments. I'd say i'm particularly fond of nox comming home. It's an early moment but it shows how both V and Ro are such caring people in their own way and i love every second of it. The identity reveal and the kiss are of course big ones too. Both had a lot of build up and like i said i'm happy with how they turned out. But i think Nox was a verry essential part of making these two go from akward roomates to friends that will be lovers.

So glad you are enjoying the story and hopefully we can bring you the next chapter soon.

[dndeceit]

A bit late for "new years" stuff, but thought I'd put out a little about my fic writing plans for the next year...

(Plus some miscellaneous other plans. This is a journal post.)

I've got two stories right now tied neck and neck for being the first new fic of the year.

One is the sequel to "Nails in the Coffin" which I've been working on more or less since I posed the fic (or longer, technically, since Nails sat finished for almost half a year before I actually posted it). That one's going to focus mainly on finishing Logan's arc and actually seeing Thomas deal with moving forward and how he learns to cope with the whole...vampire thing, but there's plenty of the other sides as well.

The other is an expanded version of a prompt I filled last year. So the cute little one-shot I originally finished has grown about five more chapters and is a lot less cute and a lot angstier (though, still, with a nicely hopeful ending).

The rest of this is stuff I know I'll work on but can only hope I'll finish:

For the Fallout AU, I have three fics I'm focusing on. One picks up with Virgil and Janus after "But Someday the Sun Will Shine" and one follows after "Crawl Out Through the Fallout" (where Marcus continues to be best boy and Virgil gets a much needed hug). I've also made significant progress in a fic that will cover Roman and Remus's backstory (which is a lot of fun to write because the first one so far that ties in directly to the actual games).

Some others that I might wind up working on if the mood strikes me:

A pre/sequel to "A Game of Tea and Dragons" where we learn how Roman met his questing companions and what happens after the curse is broken.

The proper sequel/third entry in the Party Games AU with Janus figuring out how to handle the werewolf nonsense (and also how to deal with his friends insisting on being there for him every step of the way).

Part two of "A Kiss by the Sea", moving ahead with my original plans for that fic (i.e. actually getting to the Roceit in the Roceit fic that was requested).

My Among Us AU, which is probably going to be the next "big" project just as soon as "Salt for Salt is finished with.

A cute and creepy gothic horror/kiddie horror story focused on kid!Logan uncovering a supernatural mystery.

Two fics that were scrapped versions of prompt fills because I realized they were missing key parts of the request, forcing me to start over again. (I liked what I had, but if it wasn't what the requester asked for, better to start over and do these versions later).

Other plans outside of writing:

I'm finally getting back into the mood to play (and possibly run) DnD. I won't go into detail, but I was dealing with quite a bit of burnout before, which was keeping me from playing. A lot of factors were involved, including issues with the business choices of the people at WotC, the primary GM in my group wandering away from DnD (but not really sticking to any of the new systems he tried), an eventual friend break-up in the gaming group with said GM, and a lack of interest in learning the new edition (new 5e? 5e2024? whatever it's called). But I've finally joined one of my friends' New5e games...

I've recently been drawn back to thinking about the Ravenloft setting (which was a much earlier hyperfixation of mine). I'm...cautiously excited that, after so many years of playing 5e, now that my friends are a bit more experienced, they're open to the idea of playing 3.5e. Which means that I won't have to do as much conversion to actually run a proper Ravenloft experience.

Ravenloft the setting is a whole different animal than has been presented in the 5e materials, and I'm looking forward to exploring that version of the Land of Mists again...

(Let's just hope that this energy doesn't wind up distracted toward a Sanders Sides Ravenloft AU, because the last thing I need is another WIP...)

If I get this off the ground I might start doing campaign journaling here, but if I do I'll have a tag so that those following me for Sanders Sides and Fic Rec Fridays and the like can block them.

[yomica12345]

Glass-says: Chapter 23

Chapter 1 Link, Chapter 22 Link

Ao3 Link

Warnings: Implied punch, bruising

Chapter 23: An Early Christmas Present

“The Christmas Festival?” Virgil grimaced, hopping down from the counter.

“Your mother, Bianca and I will be leaving tomorrow and we will be gone for a few weeks. With your birthday on Thursday and with us not being able to celebrate Christmas this year at home with you we thought we should do something as a family tonight. Roman and Janus are welcome to join us—we’ll cover their tickets.” He paused, his smile softening. “I need to know they’re as responsible as you if I’m leaving the house in the hands of three teenage boys.”

“That’s… fair,” Virgil sighed.

“Just try to put on a smile for your mother. This was her idea, and she’s really excited to be together as a family again.”

“I’ll try,” Virgil murmured, hesitating. “Could I invite one more friend?”

“To move in?” Wilder teased, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Three teens is already a lot.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, giving his dad a playful shove. “I meant to the festival.”

“Oh, that’s different. But that’s another twenty-dollar ticket... What if I got a hug in return?”

With a resigned sigh, Virgil shook his head and wrapped his arms around his dad. “Fine.”

Wilder chuckled, giving him a squeeze and then tugging Virgil’s hood over his head.

A muffled laugh came from the doorway. Virgil jumped, ears burning as he shot Roman a glare, yanking his hood back down.

Wilder smiled. “Your other friend can come too. Who is it?”

“Logan.”

“Logan?” Wilder’s brows lifted thoughtfully. “Why don’t we invite his father too? I know it’s short notice, but it’s almost Christmas.”

Virgil hesitated. “His father?”

“Sure, why not? I’ll cover his ticket too if he wants to come.” Wilder tilted his head. “Unless there’s a reason we shouldn’t?”

“No, I’ll let Logan know.” Virgil pulled out his phone, fingers hovering for a moment before he sent the text. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, glancing at Roman, who was still grinning in the doorway.

“Looks like we’re all going to the festival,” Virgil muttered, his tone flat, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

Wilder chuckled, ruffling Virgil’s hair. “See? It’ll be fun.”

Fun. Virgil wasn’t so sure. But with Roman, Patton, Logan and Janus along for the ride, maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so bad or at the very least not boring.

~

Logan glanced up at his father, his eyes following the precise movements of Scott’s hands as they adjusted his scarf. The action was firm and controlled. Logan swallowed, shifting his gaze to his watch.

“They’re late,” Scott murmured, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on the fabric. It was a subtle tell, one Logan wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching so closely.

“It’s only been a minute,” Logan offered quietly.

Scott’s gaze slid to Logan, his eyes sharp behind his polished glasses. He sighed, the sound low and edged with impatience. “And why are you wearing those bright-colored frames? I don’t recall purchasing anything like those.”

Logan’s fingers twitched as he adjusted the glasses, his shoulders stiffening. “I—”

“Stand up straight,” Scott ordered, his tone curt.

“Yes, sir.” Logan straightened, smoothing out his jacket reflexively, the practiced motion automatic.

“Logan!” Patton’s voice rang out like a bell, breaking through the tension. He dashed up, arms outstretched, and launched himself at Logan.

Logan staggered slightly but steadied himself, placing a careful hand on Patton’s back to support the exuberant spirit. He grimaced but didn’t push him away.

“Mr. Steele!” Wilder called, approaching with an easy smile. “Sorry we’re a little late. Should’ve given ourselves more time to get here.” He extended his hand. “I’m Wilder, Virgil’s father. And this is my wife, Giovanna.”

Giovanna gave a little nod.

Scott’s handshake was firm, his grip bordering on rigid. “It’s Dr. Steele, actually,” he corrected. His voice was polite, but there was a clipped precision to it. “But I’ll excuse the oversight, as you likely weren’t informed. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Storm.”

Wilder’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his smile remained intact, a subtle edge sharpening his expression. “It’s Dr. Storm, actually.”

Scott’s brow lifted, a flicker of surprise breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. “You have a doctorate?”

“Psychology,” Wilder replied evenly. “And you?”

“Biochemistry,” Scott answered, his gaze lingering on Wilder for a moment before he turned back to Logan. “Well, let’s get on with this, shall we?”

Wilder nodded, his tone casual but firm. “Why don’t we let the boys have some fun on their own for a while? We can meet back up around seven near the food stands for dinner.” He handed Virgil some money and a few tickets. “Have fun, kid, and make sure your sister doesn’t get into any trouble.”

Virgil shot Bianca a pointed look. “You better not.”

Bianca snatched a ticket and a twenty with a mischievous grin, laughing as she bolted toward the entrance. “Just try and stop me!”

Without thinking, Virgil grabbed Roman’s hand and took off after her.

Patton tugged on Logan’s arm. “They have your ticket!”

Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Of course they do.” He quickened his pace, following the others.

Janus gave a polite nod to both Wilder and Scott, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “I’ll keep an eye on them.” With measured calmness, he strolled after the group—only to stumble over thin air. He caught himself with a sharp curse, shooting a glare to the side and muttering as if chastising someone unseen.

Wilder arched an eyebrow at the display, then turned back to Scott with a relaxed smile. “So, what got you into biochemistry, Dr. Steele?”

~

Roman sighed. “Sorry, Hot Topic, I don’t see the little brat anywhere.”

Virgil sighed. “At least you know what she is now.”

“I knew she was a brat the moment she stole the last of the guacamole.” Roman grumbled. “The little punk…”

Virgil scoffed. “You think that is bad? She borrowed my headset without asking last year, broke them and tried to pin it on me.”

Janus chimed in, arms folded. “She ate my sandwich. In front of me.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “How does that one-up mine?”

Janus’s eyes narrowed. “It was my school lunch. She pulled it out of my bag right before we left. I didn’t have anything to eat all day.”

Patton winced sympathetically. “That’s not very nice.”

“It was not, no.”

Virgil glanced between Janus and Roman, his expression shifting. “Are we just going to pretend nothing happened the other—”

A commotion cut him off. Gasps and rising chatter filled the air.

“Wilder!” Giovanna’s voice rang out in alarm.

Virgil’s eyes widened. He didn’t hesitate, shoving past the crowd as he raced toward the source of the shouting. He skidded to a stop, heart pounding, at the sight of Dr. Steele on the ground, one hand pressed over his eye with a pained hiss.

Wilder stood over him, shaking out his hand, his face set in a grim line.

Logan froze beside Virgil, eyes wide. The scene held him captive for a moment before he shook himself out of his stupor, his hand reaching out to help his father up.

Wilder raised his hands as security closed in, taking a deliberate step back. His voice was steady but firm. “Logan, if you ever need a place to stay, you’re welcome at my house with Virgil. In fact, I’d suggest coming back with us tonight.”

Scott straightened, glaring at Wilder, one hand still pressed to his eye. “You punch me and then insult me in front of my own son?”

“Meritate di peggio,” Giovanna spat, gripping Wilder’s arm and motioning for Virgil. “Grab your friend. Let us go.”

Virgil hesitated, glancing at Logan, and extended his hand. “You coming?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to his father.

Scott sighed, rubbing the tender bruise beneath his eye. “Just go, Logan.”

“Come on, Lo.” Patton took Logan by the arm, his voice gentle but insistent.

Logan watched his father, his mouth opening slightly as if to say something.

Scott accepted a bag of ice from a bystander, meeting Logan’s eyes. “Go. You can collect your school supplies tomorrow.”

After a moment, Logan gave a slight nod, letting Patton tug him forward as he took Virgil’s offered hand. As they walked away, Logan glanced back over his shoulder. Scott was brushing off offers of help, his jaw set, shoulders stiff with pride. Logan’s gaze dropped to the path ahead, his father’s voice echoing in his mind: Stand taller, Logan.

How were things going to be between them now?

Chapter 24

[alissonbear-ker]

Virgson ABO Universe Part 5

This chapter is inspired by the omega Alisson-centric fic I'm sticking with you written by the gloriously talented @somethingchanged244. I love the dynamics between her Jurgen and Alisson. Please read it if you haven’t! The way she writes omega Alisson is perfection.

Ali has never harboured romantic feelings for any of his teammates before. Well, before Virgil that is. That is not to say he has never had a crush on someone on the team. Yes, our Ali might have a thing for his very alpha, very unattainable manager, Jurgen Klopp.

Just because Ali has a crush doesn’t mean he has done anything about it, or even intends to. His career is thriving and to throw it away because he thinks his alpha manager is hot is stupid. Ali is able to control himself, thank you very much. Besides, just imagining the mockery he (and Jurgen) will be subjected to if news of this ever gets out to the wrong ears is enough to put to bed any fantasies Ali has ever had about Jurgen.

It doesn’t stop Ali from indulging in extra long, extra tight hugs with the big German alpha though. He loves Jurgen’s scent. He once shyly requested for one of Jurgen’s jerseys under the guise of not wanting to wear his own goalie jersey for a celebratory party with the team, then conveniently forgot to return it. It’s in the back of his wardrobe. He doesn’t wear it or take it out because it would be really awkward and embarrassing to explain if anyone ever finds out.

Jurgen is very fond of Ali, perhaps a bit too fond. Jurgen is no fool and he is well aware of the consequences should he ever do anything about his feelings. The age difference and the power imbalance in their relationship effectively means he will always have to keep this to himself. Jurgen is old and he’s used to being alone. Ali is a young and beautiful omega who has plenty of opportunities to find a good alpha.

It is easy enough for Jurgen to tell himself that, because during his first few years at the club, Ali religiously takes his heat suppressants and scent blockers, and it is almost seems like the goalie is going to remain single and unmated for the rest of his life, or at least for his footballing career.

Then Virgil shows up for training one day smelling all kinds of besotted. The younger alpha is usually good at keeping his emotions from bleeding into his scent, but Jurgen is older and infinitely more experienced in the ways of alphas and omegas and their dynamics, and yep, there it is. The fruity punch of happiness with an occasional tinge of sour jealousy, all intermingled with Virgil’s own musky alpha scent.

It is also all too apparent who the omega who has caught Virgil’s eye is. His heart sinking, Jurgen watches as Virgil’s eyes follow Ali around the pitch, lingering as the omega leans forward to stretch out his hamstrings.

As a fellow alpha, Jurgen can acknowledge that Virgil is an extremely eligible alpha by any measure. If Virgil’s chosen omega had been anyone else, Jurgen would have said that the omega in question is a lucky omega indeed. But when it’s Ali? Jurgen isn’t too sure.

Perhaps it’s his bias talking, but Jurgen doesn’t trust that Virgil won’t break Ali’s heart. Ali has never been with an alpha as far as Jurgen knows. Is Virgil really going to treat Ali right? Is Virgil truly attracted to Ali for who the omega is, or is this some sort of strange attraction that developed by virtue of suddenly discovering that Ali is not a beta but an omega?

Here's a random snippet of alpha Jurgen and alpha Virgil getting possessive and growly over omega Alisson. Would have posted as a fanfic, but I can't end it right 🥲

Jurgen might be shorter than Virgil, but damn, the German alpha can be hell of an intimidating presence when he wants to be. Of all the obstacles Virgil had imagined that would keep him from getting closer to Alisson, this hadn’t been one he had expected.

“I don’t want a fling, boss. I want a life partner. I will treat Ali right, and make him the happiest omega in the world.” Virgil is a footballer, has never been good with words, but he really wished he had studied harder in school now, so he could properly put to words how he feels about Alisson.

“I’m an alpha myself,” Jurgen’s eyes, usually kind and gentle, are uncharacteristically hard right now. “I know you believe what you are saying right now. But if you were truly serious about Ali, surely you would have came to this realisation years ago, even when you thought he was a beta. Alphas and betas can mate. It’s very common.”

“I don’t think it’s fair of you to say that,” Virgil says. Jurgen’s accusations are not sitting well with him, and the alpha in him is rattled – and angry. He forces it down, reminding himself that if he ever wants to convince Jurgen that he is fit to be Alisson’s alpha, he has to keep his emotions in check and not lash out like a stereotypical brainless alpha with no self-control.

“And yet you know it is true.”

Losing his temper definitely isn’t a good move. But that doesn’t mean Virgil just has to sit back and take this from the other alpha. There is truth in what Jurgen is saying, Virgil knows, but there can only be one reason why Jurgen is so adamant about Virgil backing off on Alisson. Alphas are only ever this possessive with their own chosen omega.

“With all due respect, boss, if you had wanted Ali for yourself, you should have made a move years ago.”

Jurgen’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said,” Virgil replies. “Look, Jurgen. I respect you, but if you are going to be coming down on me for not recognising my feelings for Ali much earlier, at least give me credit for doing something about it the moment I realised. It doesn’t reflect much better on you for harbouring feelings for Ali all these years and never once acting on them.”

Jurgen raises himself to his full height, and he might not be raising his voice, but Virgil knows he is pissed. “I never acted on them because it would only hurt Ali if the public knows he is in a relationship with his manager. I did it to protect him.”

“Didn’t do Ali much good though, when he is entirely reliant on suppressants to control his heats without an alpha by his side, and some sick bastard decided to steal his suppressants before the biggest game of his life.”

That is a low blow coming from Virgil, and Jurgen has to admit, it hurts. He has always felt terrible watching Alisson subject himself to increasingly strong dosages of heat suppressants every year, knowing that he could do something about it if he really desired, but held back by the fear of what society would think and say.

Virgil looks at him knowingly. “I am right, aren’t I? You don’t dare to step up and do what’s right to protect Ali. Or maybe you can’t, because of your position, I’m not here to judge. But I can do what you couldn’t. If you can’t be Ali’s alpha, why can’t another alpha step in?”

Jurgen is silent. He can’t deny the truth of Virgil’s words, and he hadn’t expected the younger alpha had it in him. Perhaps he had underestimated Virgil after all.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Bloody Valentines

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Young Justice 98, Titans, GL Corps, Legion of Super Heroes, Flashfam, New Gods, Shadowpact, Superfam

Summary: 90s monster slasher AU

Chapters: 11/?

Characters: Dick Grayson, Joseph Wilson, Jason Todd, Charley Parker, Zatanna, Eddie Bloomberg, Daniel Cassidy, Chester Williams DC, Guy Gardner, Kyle Rayner, Lilith Clay, Raven Roth, Kole Weathers, Bette Kane, Donna Troy, Roy Harper, Jenni Ognats, Bart Allen, Virgil Hawkins, Richie Foley, Ayla Ranzz, Zoe Saugin, Rol Purtha, Darla Aquista, Lori Zechlin, Hal Jordan, Helen Jordan II, Orion DC, Lightray DC, Jonathan Lane Kent, Conner Kent, Mia Kent, Roxy Leech, Kara Danvers, Chris Kent, Thara Ak-Var, Match DC, Thaddeus Thawne, Vic Stone, Koriand'r, Karen Beecher, Grant Wilson

Relationships: DickJoey, Daniel Cassidy/Zatanna, DonnaRoy, Jenni Ognats/Virgil Hawkins, Raven/Lilith Clay, Lightrion, MatchThad

Additional Tags: POV First Person, Unreliable Narrator(s), Vampires, Werewolves, No Capes AU, 90s Slasher AU, Homoeroticism, Horror, Slasher

Chapter Eleven: The Body in the Gulch (Roy's POV)

Donna turned away from me in bed, hugging herself, closing in. It’d been like that for a while. I just wanted to hold her. “Donna?” I whispered. “Donna… Do you want me to go to sleep on the couch? I will if you—.”

“I need to take a shower,” Donna whimpered like she wanted to cry. 

I wanted to reach out and touch her, but it didn’t feel appropriate. “Donna, does something hurt? Did I—?” Donna shook her head. “Then, why are you so upset? Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll try to fix it.” 

“You didn’t do anything… I just—. I feel off. Don’t you feel weird, Roy?” Donna asked. She looked at me with her big blue eyes, and I opened my arms and nodded. 

“It’s this place. And we saw those people hit that—.” 

Donna hid her face in my chest, and I felt sick to my stomach. All I could do was hold her and pretend I wasn’t scared out of my wits. Something about the land here felt… Cursed. And I don’t say that about a lot of places. I could feel Donna trembling, and I wondered if she could hear my heart beating fast in my chest. I liked the lightning and thunder. I liked the cool, calm mornings after the rain. But nothing was calm or cool. The air went from freezing cold last night to muggy in the morning and something in Donna switched. Her skin felt cold and damp as she stopped shaking and touched my chest. “Donna?” I questioned. 

“Maybe that shower could wait,” Donna whispered as she gave my shoulders a little push as she took me down. I can’t remember most of what happened between her doing that and breakfast… I can’t remember most of what happened. I saw her in the kitchen, wearing my boxer shorts, and making bacon. 

She wore a cutoff t-shirt for some obscure band in Seattle. “Donna, I—. How’d we get here?” I asked. 

Donna laughed and rustled a hand through my hair. “Was it that good?” Donna whispered. 

“Must’ve been. Wish I could remember. Donna, I feel kinda weird. Did I hit my head or somethin’?” I questioned. She wasn’t afraid anymore. It was almost like she wasn’t the same anymore. I looked at her, and I could almost see something different behind her eyes. Something vacant, lacking her natural warmth. I reached out to touch her, but I froze. 

“Nope. You didn’t hit your head. Maybe you’re a little dizzy,” Donna answered. She bit her bottom lip as she touched my cheek. Her hands were ice-cold. It scared me a little. I wanted to recoil, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. 

Raven entered the room in an old-timey robe. The quilted ones with the buttons and collar. It was classy. Old Hollywood type classy. She looked at me with wild, wide eyes and said my name aloud. “Roy,” said Raven in her calm and cool way. “Can you follow me to the car in a few minutes? I think I left something in the trunk.”

“Alright. Are you gonna go in that?” I asked. She looked down at her outfit and laughed. 

“I’ll be out in just a minute,” Raven replied. 

Bette stepped out of her room with sunglasses and one of those skirts girls wear over bikini bottoms. She hugged Donna, leaning over her shoulder to look at breakfast. Then Kole came out of the room in a white t-shirt with lace frilly stuff and a pink button-down dress that went to her knee. She wore frilly socks… And black dress shoes. They were a little dirty, like she’d walked in a puddle and forgot to shine them up again. Then, she looked at Donna and Bette, then at me. “I think I forgot something in the car. I can’t find my rainboots. I think they’re in the trunk,” Kole stated. She looked down at her feet as if someone would chastise her for forgetting. 

“That’s fine. I’m walking Raven to the car in a minute. You can come with us then,” I replied. Kole looked up and smiled. “The rain had everybody out of sorts last night. I’m sure everybody forgot a little something in the car.” I nudged Bette and Donna, wondering if they’d left something, too. 

“I left my hiking bag,” Donna stated, “Roy, can you bring that back for me?”

“Sure. The three of us will bring back whatever’s left in the trunk. How about we meet you guys at the beach after we finish up?”  I suggested. Donna looked at Bette and they nodded. 

Once Raven finished getting dressed, I took her and Kole to the car. Kole blazed ahead, but Raven and I trekked behind, so we could chat. “Donna’s acting strange this morning,” Raven noted. I nodded in agreement, trying not to say anything damning about Donna. The last thing we needed on this trip was paranoia and backbiting. Besides, they weren’t like that. They were good friends. All of them, and I didn’t want to put a wedge in that by expressing my discomfort with a few lost minutes and a weird interaction with Donna. 

“How’d you sleep, Raven?” I questioned to take the heat off of Donna for a minute. 

“Alright… And you?” Raven asked in reply. 

I squinted as the sun bounced off the lake. “Raven? Do you feel weird about this trip? I don’t know… Ever since we got here, I’ve been having second thoughts. Maybe we should go—.”

“Remember that song Hotel California?” Raven interrupted. 

“You don’t think we can leave?” I asked. Raven frowned at me, pushing her hair back as she approached the car. “Raven… Raven, wait.” I grabbed her wrist. She looked at me with a mixture of nausea and despair in her eyes. They were a funny bluish green, so light, but so heavy with sorrows. I let her go and sighed. 

“Roy, what’s done is done. It’s already written,” Raven whispered. 

Dick’s car was already in the lot. Dick, Vic, Kory, and Karen were talking to the police. Joey was standing on the other end of the lot talking to some jarhead-looking guy and a police officer. Joey looked like he wanted to throw up, and Dick looked a little confused and frightened. It was hard to frighten Dick, so I knew whatever it was, it was serious. Karen seemed out of it, like she couldn’t make sense of whatever happened. Vic consoled Kory, who was beside herself. 

Then, I caught a little bit of what Joey signed from where I was standing. “I saw him. My brother was driving. I thought he was robbed because he was naked, so I put the blanket over him,” Joey signed. His hands had blood and dirt on them. His brother looked at me. He interpreted for his brother in between glances. 

“Raven, did you see what Joey said?” I whispered. She looked straight past me at Kory as she approached us. She headed straight for Raven and embraced her. Raven started to shake as she stood with her hands out by her sides. It shook her. “Kory? What happened? Is everybody okay?” 

“It was a kid. Someone left a—. X’Hal, help me,” Kory sobbed. I pulled her into a hug, and she cried on me for a little bit. I felt sick. 

I wanted to believe they were hit by a car in the rain, but the part about the kid not having any clothes—. That sounded a lot like murder. How was I supposed to get past that part? Vic made his way over, and he touched Raven’s shoulder. 

“I thought you guys arrived last night,” Vic whispered. 

“We did… We didn’t get to unpack in the rain. We did—. We didn’t—. Did you see what happened?” Raven asked. 

“I didn’t see much. Kory and Joey got out of the car first. Dick and Joey’s brother jumped out to make sure they didn’t get hurt getting down there. It was steep and wet out—. I think that kid was murdered from what they said. I offered to hike to the nearest payphone with Joey’s brother, but he wasn’t having it. Karen and Dick went with him,” Vic replied. “They’ve blocked the road off, haven’t they?” Raven asked. Vic nodded. There was no escaping it now. Whatever ominous feeling Raven and I had was justified in that moment. And the worst part was, none of us would be able to escape it.

[kieraelieson]

Me using the sides to vaguepost about my problems:

Thomas stands in front of the couch, his posture slumped.

“You said this wouldn’t happen!” Virgil yells at Logan. “We worked out the likelihood of different outcomes and you said this one was the least likely!”

Logan looks stunned, frozen. “It was least likely. There’s no way this should have happened. It’s logically impossible.”

Patton crumples, his eyes red from crying. “It could’ve been… we thought…”

Janus rises up, trying to help hold up Patton. “Thomas, it’ll be ok. As… brutal as the end of this chapter of your life has been, we’re now on the beginning page of the new chapter. We can put this behind us. Focus on the future.”

“The future?” Remus says, grinning maniacally. “You mean the future in which they’re plunged into pain and torture?”

Patton sobs, and Virgil hisses furiously at Remus.

“I hate to agree with the snake,” Roman says quietly. “But it’s actually possible that they’re relieved about it being over now too. I mean, it’s been months! Even with this outcome, everyone is… getting a break.”

Thomas breathes in slowly, his breath hitching. He struggles to blow the breath out. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, guys. But for now.” He opens his arms, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Come here. I think we could all use a hug. Even you, Remus.”

Virgil is the most reluctant, but gradually they all gather together. And just hold each other. They aren’t falling apart. Not just yet.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Before I Go

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Chapter Five:

Remus makes sure Roman is in his room when Virgil gets there for a multitude of reasons.  Yes, Virgil’s not the biggest fan of him, but more than just that, he also wants a little time with just Virgil and him and Janus, which Roman seems to understand.

So when the knock comes on the door, the two of them are alone in the living room.  Remus hops up instantly, keeping a hand on Janus’ shoulder so he knows Remus is going to get it.  Janus has been fragile all day, and Remus is going to take off his plate what he can.

He pulls the door open and is met with Virgil standing with his hand poised to knock again.  He blinks a couple times when he sees Remus, looking lost.

“Uh,” he says.  “Hi.”

Remus rolls his eyes, reaches out and pulls Virgil into a hug.  “Moron.  Get in here,” he says.

Virgil wraps his arms around Remus and squeezes him tightly.  “I missed you,” he mumbles into Remus’ shoulder.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Shush,” Remus says, pulling Virgil inside the apartment and shutting the door after them.  “Come sit.”

Virgil pulls back from Remus with a small smile, only to stop a second later when he sees Janus.

Janus doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.

Remus groans, grabs Virgil by the arm, and drags him over to the couch after him, then plops him down in between himself and Janus.  “So.  Hi.  How’ve ya been?”

“Uh,” Virgil says.  “Better?  I think?  I… I’m not so scared anymore.”

Remus smiles at him.  “Good,” he says, nudging Virgil in the side.

Janus scoffs and leans back into the couch, and Remus shoots him a look.

“You found a new place to live, right?” Remus asks, and Virgil turns back to him.  “You can stay here if you have to.”

Janus turns to stare at him, and Remus pointedly ignores it.  Like he’s going to let Virgil stay on the streets.

“No, I did, I’m fine,” Virgil says.  “I’m staying with my roommate Logan.”

“Ah, but are you roommates, or are you… roommates?” Remus says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Virgil rolls his eyes.  “We’re roommates,” he says.  “And good friends.”

“Nice,” Remus says with a grin, meaning it.  He’d been worried about Virgil when he left.  He hadn’t been in a good place.

“Oh for pete’s sake, are you two finished?” Janus says, glaring over at both of them.  “You said you came to apologize, didn’t you?  We’re waiting.”

“Janus,” Remus snaps, crossing his arms.

“What?  Why do I have to sit here and listen to this?  I have other things I could be doing!” Janus snaps back, pushing himself up off the couch.  “If you two just want to catch up you can do that without me!”

“Janus,” Remus says, standing, but Janus storms off before Remus can stop him, down the hall and slams their bedroom door after him.

Remus groans and plops down on the couch again.  “Sorry about him,” he says, still glaring off after him.

“It’s okay,” Virgil says.  “I kind of expected him to be angry.  He’s Janus.”

“He’s just… on edge,” Remus mutters.

“I can’t exactly blame him,” Virgil says quietly.

Remus shakes his head.  “It’s new,” he says, turning back to Virgil.  “He was different before I brought Roman here.  I think it’s freaking him out.  We were supposed to ignore it until we couldn’t.”

Virgil snorts.  “Sounds right up his alley.”  He pauses, and looks at Remus for another second.

“I really am sorry,” he says finally.  “I should have just been happy for you guys when you said you were dating.”

Remus shakes his head.  “You were scared,” he says.  “It’s okay.  Besides, people have done much worse to me because they were scared.”

Virgil narrows his eyes, seeming annoyed at the reminder.  “Yeah, where is that prick anyway?”

“In his room.  I’m giving you both a day of reprieve to get used to the idea of each other before I introduce you.”

Virgil tips his head curiously.  “That’s not like you.”

“Yeah, I’ve got more important things to think about than my entertainment,” Remus says, giving an overdramatic sigh as he leans back on the couch.

Virgil’s gaze turns suspicious.  “Like what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Remus says, waving it off like it doesn’t matter.  “Tell me how you met Logan.”

“We met at a bar,” Virgil says.  “He’s crazy smart, Re.  He’s a chemist.”

“A chemist, you say?” Remus says, leaning in towards Virgil and starting to grin.

“No, he cannot show you how to make a bomb.”

“Boo!”

Virgil shakes his head, smiling at him.  It fades a second later into concern though, giving Remus only a second to brace himself before the inevitable questions start.

Sure enough, Virgil pulls his legs up on the couch to turn and face Remus.  “So, how are you?  Janus said you’re about a year along, right?”

Remus nods.  “Honestly, so far the most annoying part is that I can’t laugh without breaking out into coughing,” he says, shrugging like it’s not a big deal.

“Re,” Virgil says.

“Virgil, I have bigger things to worry about,” Remus says.  “Like the fact that you won’t let your badass chemist friend show me how to make a bomb.”

“Remus.”

Remus groans.  “Come on Virgil, I don’t want to talk about it.  The deciding to ignore it until we can’t thing isn’t just for Janus.  I’m not done living yet.  I’ve got more stuff to make and more things to do.  Let me make and do stuff.”

Virgil is quiet for a minute.  “Have you thought about what happens after?” he asks, looking hesitantly at Remus.  “Who gets what, who you want to do the service, how you want to be remembered?”

“Virgil.”

“Do you want me to handle it?”

Remus blinks.  “What?”

“I don’t know what’s been going on with you,” Virgil says.  “And I may not know exactly what you want.  But… I know this priest, Patton.  Who wouldn’t refuse to do a ceremony for you.  It would have to be a secret one, obviously, but he’d do it.  And I can make some choices based on what I know, that you can change if you want as it gets closer to… well.  It… can be an apology.  You know.  For not being here.”

“Hey, no,” Remus says, reaching out and taking Virgil by the shoulders.  “I don���t want you to do that to yourself.  I told you, I forgive you.”

“I’m good with death,” Virgil counters, pulling his hands down.  “I like death.  I can do it.”

“You like horror movies.  That’s very different.”

“Remus,” Virgil says quietly, looking up at him.  “Let me do it.  I want to do something for you.”

“No.  You’ve got something else you can do for me.”

Virgil blinks, seeming caught off guard.  “What?”

…

Virgil left late in the afternoon, and Roman finally came out of his room, only to find Remus alone in the living room, writing something in a notebook.

“Where’s Janus?” he asked.

“He gave up like a little baby,” Remus called.  He didn’t bother to keep his voice down at all, so Roman wasn’t surprised when Janus yelled “Hey!” from the back room.

“You know it’s true!” Remus yelled back, before turning back to his notebook.

Roman glanced down at it to find Remus was writing a poem, which wasn’t something he remembered Remus doing a lot when they were younger.

“What are you making?” he asked hesitantly.

Remus stuck his tongue out for a second, clearly concentrating.  “It’s for Janus,” he said, which was a little hard to parse out since he didn’t stick his tongue back in his mouth.  He stopped suddenly and turned to Roman, and this time he actually did stick his tongue back in his mouth.  “Don’t tell him,” he said, lowering his voice, his face suddenly serious.

Roman nodded.  “Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the seat on the other side of Remus.

Remus shrugged and nodded at the seat, so Roman walked around and sat down.

“Hey Re— mus?” Roman added on quickly.

Remus stopped writing for a second.  “You can still call me Re,” he said quietly.

Roman swallowed past the lump in his throat.  “Re,” he said, squeezing his hands together on his lap.  “How did you meet Virgil?”

Remus smiled a little bit.  “He and Janus were the first people I met when I got here.  I snuck into gay bars I was too young for, and met them in one of them.  They were also too young, so we kind of stuck together that night and just… clicked.  Janus’ parents were accepting of him, so he let me crash with him a lot once he learned I didn’t have anywhere to stay.”

“Were accepting of him?” Roman asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Remus said, smile falling.  “They died in a wreck just after Janus turned eighteen.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman murmured.

Remus shook his head, but squeezed his eyes shut, and for a moment Roman saw something pass over his face.  He looked terrified.

“Re?” Roman said quietly, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm.  Remus shook him off and shook his head again, though it seemed to be more of him shaking himself.  He opened his eyes and turned back towards the poem he was writing.

Okay, so.  He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.  But Roman didn’t just want to leave him there.

“Remus?” Roman asked hesitantly.  “Can I hug you?”

Remus dropped the pencil and launched himself into Roman’s arms.

Roman wrapped his arms around him and squeezed tightly, and the two of them stayed there for a while.

...

Chapter Six

[emoprincey]

Becoming Brothers chapter 2 - School and Scheming

Chapter 1 | This is chapter 2! 

Fic summary:  Everyone knew Roman and Remus were twins – at least, that was what they told anyone who’d listen. In fact, the only people who knew they weren’t related at all were Roman and Remus themselves, and of course their single dads, Logan and Virgil. But when the boys realise their dads are falling for each other, they might have a chance to become real brothers, if only the grown-ups would stop being so oblivious. It looks like some matchmaking is in order…

Relationships: Platonic/familial Creativitwins, romantic analogical. 

Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight 

Word count: 4019 

Taglist for this fic: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard @star-crossed-shipper @theblackcatscratchpost 

Author’s note: Hello again! It’s been exactly a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic, which wasn’t planned at all. This is kind of a beast of a chapter so it took a while, but I’m really happy with how it turned out XD 

“Dad, you can let go. I’ll be fine!” Remus insisted, trying to pull away from Virgil, who’d pulled him into a hug just as they got out of the car in the high school car park.

Virgil sighed, and gave him one last squeeze before he pulled away. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you will, really. Have fun, okay? High school is big, and it might seem scary, but I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Remus said, craning his neck to look around. He’d been here on the open day last year, but the school looked so different when it was full of people milling about. Most of them were bigger than him, and he could see groups of boys jostling each other, and gaggles of girls with identical haircuts and far more makeup than the rules on the website said was allowed. And now he was going to be one of them. In a black blazer and tie identical to everyone else, he was a high school kid now. And that wasn’t scary. At all.

The knot in his chest relaxed a little when he saw a familiar blue car pull into a nearby spot in the busy car park.

“Roman!” Remus called, waving when he saw Roman get out of one of the doors in the back.

“Remus!” Roman called back, dashing over to him with his backpack still hanging off one shoulder. He looked smart in his new blazer, and Logan must have done his hair this morning because his light brown locks were styled into a neat quiff. He probably looked smarter than Remus did with an untucked shirt – because even though Virgil had told him to tuck it in this morning he’d found that uncomfortable – and hair that got messed up the second the wind touched it.

“We’re in high school now!” Roman exclaimed, as if Remus didn’t already know that. “I can’t wait to start! I’m going to be in all the school plays, and I’m going to do guitar lessons – because they have those here – and maybe trumpet as well, and piano, and-”

“And before you do any of that, you need to go to assembly,” Logan cut in, with a fond smile. “You don’t want to be late on your first day, do you?”

He bent down to adjust Roman’s tie as he spoke, though Remus thought it already looked perfectly neat.

“Remember, you’re, getting the number fifteen bus home. The number will be on the front,” Virgil reminded the two of them, “and you’re both going to Logan’s house.”

“I know,” Remus said. “You’ve only told me fifty times today.”

“Just want to make sure you know,” Virgil chuckled, wrapping one arm around Remus’ shoulder in a little side hug, which Remus didn’t mind so much because it was just starting to sink in that he was going to be in a new place without his dad all day.

“You both have your water bottles, don’t you?” Logan asked, and the boys nodded. “Remember to actually drink from them, it’s a big day and you’ll need to stay hydrated.”

“I feel like we’re in class already,” Remus whispered to Roman, who giggled.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but Virgil elbowed him playfully and he seemed to relax.  

“You’ll never win against them,” Virgil said, with a small laugh.

“They are quite the double act,” Logan admitted. “Anyway, you two really should get to assembly now, I’ll see you both when I finish work.”

He patted Roman on the shoulder, kind of stiff and formal like he always was, but Roman surged forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“See you later, Dad,” Roman mumbled into the front of Logan’s shirt.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll see you later, Roman.” Logan’s eyes glistened a little, and he wrapped his arms around Roman as well.

Virgil pulled Remus close again, and Remus didn’t try to pull away this time.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Virgil said quietly.  

“I know,” Remus said thickly, because he did. No matter what his teachers had said at parent’s evening in primary school, or how long it took Remus to do his homework, or how many times he said the wrong thing in the wrong situation, Virgil always made sure to tell Remus how proud he was of him, and how well he was doing by just being himself.

“Have a good day, kid,” Virgil said, and he ruffled Remus’ hair one final time, then tutted at how he’d messed it up and tried to smooth it down again.

For a moment, Remus considered asking Virgil not to make him go. Maybe if he begged enough, he’d be able to stay home instead of going to a school full of loud kids who would probably make fun of him, and teachers who would say he didn’t try hard enough. But he knew Virgil had work. He’d stick it out, just for one day. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he was expecting.

So instead, he gave his dad the bravest smile he could, and nodded before he walked off with Roman.

“Remus, tuck your shirt in!” Virgil called after him.

Remus sighed – he’d been so close to getting away with it – but he did as he was told before he and Roman joined the busy crowd of people entering the building. The crowd was a lot bigger than Remus was used to. Even Roman looked a little apprehensive, and Roman always said he wasn’t scared of anything. Remus squeezed Roman’s hand as they walked through the doors, and Roman squeezed back.

The assembly hall wasn’t hard to find – it was just inside the main doors, and Remus had sat in there for a talk on the open day, so he remembered the way. It was already packed when they got there, and the first few rows of benches in front of the stage were already filled. Remus didn’t mind, though – he didn’t like sitting near the front anyway, because the teachers would always see him fidgeting and tell him off. He immediately made for the cool tiered seating at the back, but a teacher blocked his path and ushered him and Roman towards the fourth row back of benches.

“So, what are we going to do?” Remus asked Roman once they sat down. The hall was slowly filling with buzzing chatter as more students entered behind them.

“About our dads?”

Remus nodded.

“Well, we need to figure out how to set them up,” Roman said. “We can draw up a plan in the treehouse after school.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something else, but a teacher shushed him as a woman walked onto the stage. He recognised her as the headmistress from the pictures all over the website and the speech she’d given at the open day. She was definitely breaking the make-up rules, with bright red lipstick that matched her polka-dot blouse, but the rules never seemed to apply to teachers.

Remus tried to whisper to Roman throughout the assembly, but he kept getting looks from the teachers stood at the side of the hall. After a while, even Roman started to look annoyed with him, because the teachers probably thought he was being disruptive too, so Remus was quiet after that.

At the end of assembly, the headmistress called each student’s name, and directed them to a form tutor. Remus and Roman were both in 7C, and were pointed over to a smiley man called Dr Picani. Remus hadn’t thought that doctors could be teachers too, but Virgil had worked two jobs in the past, so he supposed it made sense.

Dr Picani made a show of counting the students’ heads before he led them down the corridor. The assembly hall was attached to what Remus vaguely remembered as the humanities building, and their form room was on the second floor. The walls were covered in brightly coloured displays, and graphics with cartoon characters – a few of which Remus recognised. He didn’t really understand what much of the writing in the displays meant, but there were a few diagrams of brains, which Remus thought were pretty cool. There was even a model brain on Dr Picani’s desk, cut open to show sections inside highlighted with different colours.

“This is a psychology classroom,” Dr Picani explained, when one of the students asked. “None of you will be able to take psychology until GSCE, but I do teach some history classes as well, so some of you might still have me as a teacher!”

Remus grabbed a seat at the front of the classroom right next to Roman – mostly so he could get a better look at the model brain, but also because Dr Picani actually seemed alright.

Dr Picani handed out the timetables, and Remus was relieved to see that his history teacher was listed as Dr E Picani.

“Hey, we have mostly the same classes,” Roman said, leaning over to compare his timetable to Remus’.

“You will do for this term at least,” Dr Picani told him, sitting down at his desk. “You’ll be in your form groups for all your classes, then after Christmas you might get split up into sets.”

Remus privately hoped that wouldn’t happen, but before he could voice that thought his attention was once again captured by the model brain. “If you’re a doctor, do you cut open people’s brains?” he asked.

He heard Roman make a grossed out noise beside him, but Dr Picani just chuckled.

“No, I’m not a surgeon. I have my Doctorate in psychology; I’m more interested in what people are thinking than how their brains physically work,” he said.

“I’d like to be a brain doctor when I grow up,” Remus declared.

 -----

Since form time had taken place during first period, their first actual lesson of the day was English. The school seemed difficult to navigate, but fortunately their English class was on the same floor as their form room.

Remus knew the teacher would be strict as soon as he saw her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, grey streaks in uniform lines as if even they had been placed there purposely. She surveyed the class from behind glasses that balanced halfway down her nose, her stony expression not shifting at all until a boy pulled out a chair from one of the desks.

“Ah-ah!” She called, her voice icy. “I don’t know how things worked at your primary schools, but in my classroom, we have a seating plan.”

And that was when Remus knew for certain that this class would be his worst nightmare.

The teacher picked up a sheet of paper from her desk, and began assigning students to their seats. The tables were set out in neat rows, with only room for two people at each desk. Remus hoped he’d get a seat next to Roman, but the teacher was clearly assigning the seating in alphabetical order, and their surnames were nowhere near each other in the register. It also meant that Remus’ name was one of the first ones to be called.

“Remus Blake; Remy Chen.” The teacher pointed to the desk right in front of hers.

That was just Remus’ luck. He had a sneaking suspicion that this teacher wouldn’t turn out to be as nice as Dr Picani.

“Miss, can’t I sit next to Roman?” Remus piped up hopefully. “We’re twins.”

The teacher pursed her lips, giving Remus a disapproving look. “That’s Ms Driscoll, to you. And surely if you’re twins, you’ll see enough of each other at home. It’ll be good for you to socialise with other people.”

“But we don’t live together!” Remus objected.

“I see,” Ms Driscoll pushed her glasses up her nose. “Mr Blake, are you and Mr Sanders over here really twins?”

Remus shrank back a little under her gaze. Nobody had ever called him Mr Blake – that title was for his dad. “Not yet...” he mumbled. “But we will be soon!”

Ms Driscoll laughed shortly, but she didn’t really sound amused. “Mr Blake, take your seat. You can stay behind at break for lying.”

Remus huffed as he sat down. Of course he’d gotten in trouble on his first day, and he’d really tried to behave himself.

The boy Ms Driscoll had reprimanded at the start of class – who must be Remy – sat down next to him.

“Is he really going to be your brother?” Remy whispered, leaning over to Remus with a curious expression.

“Yeah! We’re going to make our dads get married,” Remus answered proudly.

“That’s so cool!” Remy said, opening his backpack to take out a pencil case patterned with sunglasses. “I have a baby sister, but she mostly sleeps and cries. It would be cool to have a twin.”

“It will be,” Remus assured him.

“Mr Blake, Mr Chen,” Ms Driscoll snapped. “Did I give you permission to talk?”

Remus sucked in a breath. That was one of the questions teachers asked that he’d get into more trouble for answering out loud, so he shook his head.

Ms Driscoll nodded firmly. “Be quiet, both of you. Or you’ll be staying behind at lunch as well.”

Once Ms Driscoll had turned away from them again, Remy rolled his eyes towards Remus, and Remus suppressed a smirk at that.

The lesson dragged on, with Ms Driscoll scolding Remus every time he fidgeted. Roman ended up on the other side of the classroom, near the back, and when Remus turned around to meet his eyes Ms Driscoll tapped on his desk as if she was trying to draw his attention back to his worksheet.

His detention was just as boring as the lesson, perhaps even more so because he couldn’t listen to his classmates working, and all of Ms Driscoll’s attention was on him because he was the only one in the room. 

-----

Remus hoped he’d be able to scheme with Roman later in the day, but the class after break was a double lesson of biology, which ended up being just as interesting as Remus hoped, and he it was all he wanted to talk about at lunch. And after lunch they had another assembly.

By the time they got on the bus after school, Remus was exhausted. He’d taken the bus before with Virgil, but he’d never used a bus pass. The driver showed him where to scan it, and he managed to get a seat near the back with Roman.

The whole way back, he watched for their stop, even though he knew it was about twenty minutes away.

Roman’s house had a neatly mowed lawn and a dark blue garage door. They walked down the empty driveway to the front door, and Roman got out his key. He’d been proud when he told Remus that he’d gotten his own key to the house, because Logan wouldn’t be back until half past four and Roman would need to let himself and Remus in. That meant they’d be alone for an hour, but it was better than Remus going back to his flat by himself and waiting for Virgil to get home. Virgil usually finished work at seven, but he’d switched around his shifts so he could take Remus to school this morning, and he wouldn’t be done until after eight.

When Roman opened the door, the two of them dumped their bags by the sofa and headed out to the treehouse in the back garden. This treehouse had been their favourite hangout spot since they were kids. It almost felt like they had their own house, away from the grown-ups, where they could make their own rules. It even had proper windows and a door with a latch, which opened onto the small fenced balcony that the sturdy wooden ladder led to.

“Race you!” Remus called as soon as he entered the back garden, already taking off across the lawn.

“No fair, you had a head-start!” Roman whined as he chased after him, though they both knew that Remus was the fastest out of the two of them anyway.

Remus stuck his tongue out, then he climbed the ladder and hauled himself onto the balcony, with Roman just behind him.

The walls inside the treehouse were covered in drawings that the two of them had done over the years, from indecipherable crayon scribbles to more recent pencil drawings of castles and dragons. The chalkboard was still filled with plans for one of their stories – which they’d been struggling with, because Roman wanted the main character, a prince, to go on a daring quest and save his kingdom, while Remus thought it should be taken over by dragons.

As soon as they were inside, Roman made straight for the toybox, shaped and decorated to look like a treasure chest. “We can’t write about this on the chalkboard, Dad would definitely see it,” he said as he pulled out a stack of notebooks. After a moment of consideration, he selected a thick book with a pretty marbled rainbow cover, which the two of them had been saving to write something special in.

Remus pulled his green chair out from the small table in the middle of the room, and reached for the box of pens in the middle.

“You do the writing, I’m no good at it,” he said, shoving a few gel pens in Roman’s direction.

Roman pulled a face at that, but he took the glittery pens anyway and uncapped a red one, securing the lid neatly on the back end of the pen. “Now, we need a plan to make them realise they like each other. I think we should get them to go on a date.”

Remus wrinkled his forehead. “Wait, don’t people need to realise they like each other before they go on a date?”

“Not if we’re clever about it,” Roman said, with a conspiratorial smile. “Trust me, I saw this on Disney Channel. We just need to get them to go somewhere that people go on dates, leave them alone, and boom! They’re on a date!”

“Huh,” Remus said, watching as Roman scribbled something down in the notebook.

“Now, we just need date ideas,” Roman said.

“Ooh, how’s about a haunted house?” Remus suggested immediately. “Dad likes haunted houses, and it’s Halloween soon.”

“Not for a date.” Roman wrinkled his nose. “Dates have to be somewhere romantic... like a restaurant, or a ball!”

“Where are we going to find a ball around here?” Remus asked.

Roman chewed on the end of the pen for a second. “Maybe we’ll leave that one for later,” he said, making a note of it in the book.

They spent a while jotting down more ideas in the notebook, until they heard the sound of the back door opening.

“Boys? Are you out here?” Logan called from the garden.

Roman shot up from his seat and raced out of the treehouse, Remus following quickly behind him.

“Dad!” Roman grinned, launching himself at Logan and wrapping his arms around his waist in a hug.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, but our English teacher is horrible,” Roman complained. “She wouldn’t let us sit together, and she’s given us homework already, even though we’ve only had one lesson!”

“Have you done the homework?” Logan asked.

Roman paused. “No...”

Logan sighed. “Go into the dining room and work on it while I make dinner. You too, Remus,” he said, then he led them into the house.

“I can’t believe you told him, now we have to do homework!” Remus grumbled, but he was glad Roman hadn’t let slip about his detention. There was no way Logan would keep that a secret from Virgil, and Remus really didn’t want Virgil to have to worry about him getting in trouble on his first day of school.

 -----

Roman was done with the homework in no time, since it was mostly things they’d learnt in year six, but Remus struggled with some of it. He hadn’t quite gotten the material when they’d covered it last year.

“How are you boys getting on?” Logan asked after about half an hour, coming out of the kitchen wearing a plain blue apron, with a tea towel slung over his shoulder that he seemed to have forgotten about.

“Done!” Roman announced proudly.

Remus hummed. “I’m stuck on question five.”

Logan came over to take a look at his worksheet, and Remus angled it towards him.

“I don’t get the difference between a simile and a metaphor. They’re both saying a thing is something it isn’t, aren’t they?” Remus asked.

Logan considered that for a moment, then he sat down next to Remus. “I suppose they are, but try to think of it this way...”

By the time Logan had explained that and a few other questions Remus couldn’t get the hang of, the lasagne was ready, but Remus felt like he understood a lot better.

Roman and Remus put their schoolwork away, and set the table while Logan got the lasagne out of the oven. Remus noticed that when he dished it up he left one portion to the side.

 -----

By the time Virgil arrived, it was almost nine o’clock. Remus tackled him with a hug as soon as he got through the door.

“Hey, kid,” Virgil said tiredly, and he squeezed Remus tightly. “Thanks so much for looking after him,” he said to Logan.

As Remus pulled away, he saw Logan smile. “Don’t worry about it. He was no bother at all, I even got him to do his homework,” he said, sounding mildly pleased with himself.

Virgil pulled a face. “What kind of teacher gives you homework on the first day of school?”

“That’s what I said!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil ruffled his hair.

“Anyway, sorry to dash off so soon, but I need to get Remus home before bedtime, and get some tea,” Virgil said.

“Ah, I thought you might be hungry, so I left a portion of lasagne for you,” Logan said.

“What?” Virgil blinked, looking at Logan with something between surprise and awe. “Lo, you didn’t have to do that.”

Logan shrugged. “It was no trouble. The recipe serves four anyway, I’ll go and warm it up for you,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Virgil continued watching the doorway Logan had gone through, a distant look and a small smile on his face, until Remus tugged on his hand.

“Dad, I need to tell you about my day,” he said. Well, he’d tell Virgil almost everything. He didn’t want the detention brigning up.

They relocated to the sofa, so Remus and Roman could tell Virgil all about the big school. After a few minutes, Logan came through with a plate of lasagne which he passed to Virgil to balance on his knee. Virgil gave him a big grin, and he kept smiling when he looked down at his lasagne and Logan went to sit down himself.

Remus knew Logan didn’t usually let anyone eat meals in the living room, but maybe he’d seen how tired Virgil was and decided to make an exception.

“This is really good,” Virgil said through a mouthful of lasagne. “Thanks so much, Lo.”

Logan smiled, but he raised an eyebrow. “Virgil, table manners.”

“I’m not sat at a table. Checkmate,” Virgil smirked, but he didn’t talk with food in his mouth for the rest of the evening.

When it was finally time for them to leave, Remus gave Roman a big hug.

“See you tomorrow,” he said.

Virgil and Logan were standing a bit awkwardly by the door when Virgil cleared his throat.

“Thanks again. Um, you know, for dinner,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“I told you, it was no trouble,” Logan said. He patted Virgil’s arm and nodded.

Virgil nodded back, and put an arm around Remus. “Right then kid, let’s go.”

For the whole drive back to their flat, Remus thought about how nice it would be to never have to leave Roman for the evening.

[rosetintedfever]

love from the spotlight; chapter two

green tea and green eyes.

—

cw for food!

—

After a bit more convincing and a bit of reassuring (not that Logan needed it), he drove himself to the address Remus gave him. Apparently it was one of the bandmate’s homes— which seemed unprofessional, but whatever. Not his prerogative. He parked on the street and walked up to the blue house, glancing up and down the door before he used his sleeve-covered hand to knock on the door.

In a few moments, a slightly taller man threw open the door and grinned. “Hey! You must be Logan! Come on in, mister!”

Logan glanced them up and down quickly, examining the current state of what he was working with. He seemed clean, if not excessively casual, and his nose was instantly attacked with a warm sweet scent. He didn’t hate it, but it was certainly strange in his mind. Who would want a sweet scented candle…?

Patton ushered him inside and shut the door, grinning. “I made some cookies if you want some! They’re for the whole group! Thought we could have a little tea party and get to know each other! What kind of tea do you like?”

That is where the sweet scent was coming from— did they say tea party? Logan wanted to cringe at the childish phrasing but he held his tongue; he was meant to be agreeable. He’d be spending a considerable amount time with these people… “…That is tolerable. Any kind of tea is fine.”

“Perfect! If you continue down the hall and take a left, there’s the living room. You’ll see the others in there the moment ya walk in! Can’t miss ‘em!” Patton grinned, and dashed back into the kitchen.

Logan was a little hesitant, but complied. A slow stroll down the hallway gave him time to eye the decor of the house. There were a lot of photos. Mostly of the alleged Patton growing up, but a few of his bandmates as well. Everything felt so cozy and warm, like a nice tight hug. Logan hated it.

After a few moments of dawdling he made his way into the living room, and was immediately met with four different pairs of eyes on him. One was immediately recognizable— he looked just like Remus but without the creepy mustache— but the other three not so much.

“Ah! You must be Mr. Esther!” His lookalike stood, grinning. “I’m Roman. I’m the lead singer and guitarist. Welcome to the team!” He extended a hand to shake.

“I don’t do handshakes. And thank you. I hope to be a suitable replacement for the time being.”

“Oh— alright,” Roman awkwardly put his hand down. Weird, but whatever. This whole guy was kinda weird. Scrawny, a pretty face, but he dressed like an English teacher. An argyle black sweater overtop a black button up and blue tie and dress pants? Roman thinks this guy missed the school bus.

“This is Virgil Foster! He’s our drummer—” He grinned and motioned towards the purple-haired fellow, who dressed like he was on his way to somewhere between a JoAnn’s Fabric and a Fall Out Boy Concert. Although Logan did appreciate the aesthetic he carried, even if the eye makeup was a bit… heavy for his preference.

Roman leaned down to whisper to Logan, “If you ask me, he’s pretty intense. You’ll get used to him,” He pulled away suddenly, grinning again. “And this is our manager, Janus Drake! He helps book all our gigs and stuff, I don’t really know.”

“…Right.” Logan murmurs. This seems highly unorganized. “Well, greetings Virgil, Janus. I’ve already met Patton so it seems I have become accustomed with everyone here. Wonderful to meet you all.”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Roman grinned. “Here, have a seat,” He motions to the couch, and Logan sits, glancing around. Again, the room was very ornately decorated with framed photos and little trinkets, even some stuffed plushies. Was this Patton’s choice of decor…?

Logan looked up as Patton entered the room, holding a tray in his hand. There was a kettle and five mugs, as well as a plate of cookies. The supposed tea he was talking about seemed to be green tea. “Here, you guys! Dish ‘em out however you want!” Patton grinned, setting it down on the coffee table.

“Oooh!! Wonderful, Patton! Thank you!” Roman grins, taking a cookie. Virgil does the same, while Janus pours himself some tea. Logan just watches… is this normal? He feels very out of place.

“So! Logan— tell us about yourself! Whaddya do? What’s your life like?” Patton asked, starry eyed and smiling brightly, so much so Logan wants to look away from the horridly emotional display.

“Well…” He glanced down. “I am a college student majoring in education and minoring in astronomy. I play piano, guitar, bass, violin, viola, triangle, and—”

“Woah! You play a lot,” Patton grinned, glancing over at the other members. Virgil didn’t seem to be paying all that much attention, neither did Janus, but Roman seemed… He couldn’t decipher the emotion on his face.

“Yes, indeed I do.” Logan nodded. “I also study several languages such as Spanish, French, Italian, and Latin.”

“We gotta real egghead over here.” Virgil remarked, smirking. “Why would a nerdy guy like you wanna be in a band?”

“To put it simply, I don’t. I do not categorize myself as a performer. However, I ‘owe Remus one’ so here I am.” Logan nodded. “I am skilled enough to suffice until you are able to find a permanent replacement.”

“Wow, how straightforward of you, Esther.” Janus murmured, glancing up at Logan. “You seem so dedicated.”

Logan sighed. “I understand I do not seem enthusiastic, but I am treating this as a job. I guarantee you I will put forth my best effort and dedicate all the time and energy to this I deem necessary.”

“Well, that sounds good enough for me!” Patton grinned, taking another cookie from the plate. “What are your pronouns, kiddo?”

“I’m a grown adult, and they are he and him.” Logan adjusted his glasses with his left hand, glancing around. “How about you all?”

“I’m he/they! So is Ro! Virgil is he/it and Janus is they/he.” Patton grinned. “Ooh— here’s another question for you! What’s your favorite color?”

Dear god, he felt like he was being interviewed by a kindergartner. He couldn’t bring himself to be too upset at Patton, though. They just seemed so… wholesome.

“I quite enjoy blue.” Logan hummed.

Patton gasped. “Oh my goodness— no way!!! Blue is my favorite color too!!” He grinned, pointing to his pastel blue shirt. “We’re twinsies, Lo!!”

“…Right.” Logan murmured.

“Do you always wear a tie?” Roman asked suddenly, leaning forward with his hand on his knee.

These were a random variety of questions. Logan did not enjoy it much at all. “I do.”

“It makes you look like a nerd.” Roman snickered, earning a glare from Patton.

Logan sighed. Of course. Even in college he could not escape the dreaded high school insulting. “How insightful of you, Roman,” He muttered, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

Virgil was smirking a bit— glad someone was appreciative of his rebuttal— but Roman was far from impressed. He shrugged. “Just saying. Maybe not the particular vibe for the band… we’re advertising to youth! People who want to let go and get whisked away by the music! Not middle school liberians.”

Logan couldn’t help the slight glare on his face. Roman certainly seemed to enjoy stirring trouble… Before Logan had the chance to reply in any way, Janus was speaking.

“Ehem. Anyway, Logan; I’ve printed you out our rehearsal schedule. We usually rehearse every Friday at around five and get dinner after we are finished. Extra rehearsals may be in the cards, depending on how we feel as a group, or how fast you pick up.” They pulled a piece of paper from their folder, handing it to Logan.

“That is fine. I should not have any conflicts with this.” Logan nodded, glancing down. At least someone here was organized.

“Wonderful. Perfect, then. Do you have a bass?” Janus asked.

He had to think for a moment, but nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“Alright. Then, I believe that’s all the official business taken care of. Before you leave, see Roman for sheet music on your parts.” Janus hummed, throwing a glance towards the aforementioned Roman, who was whispering back and forth with Patton.

It was a certain purple-clad person’s turn for interrogating. “So. L. What gotcha into music anyway?” Virgil asked, sipping some tea.

“Well… I suppose I’ve enjoyed it all my life— who doesn’t enjoy music— but as a child, I had a lot of downtime on my hands. I took many advanced classes and was in high school by the time I was nine or ten. However, graduating and going to college wasn’t possible for my family, even with scholarships, so they decided to keep me in high school, for that reason and to hopefully better socialize me. I took a lot of music centric electives out of sheer boredom.”

“Holy shit. So you’re like, actually really smart.” Virgil chuckled.

“I certainly am.” Logan confirmed. He’d gotten used to the shock and surprise when people found out he was basically a living super computer.

“Can you sing at all?” It asked, shifting their jacket sleeve in between their fingers.

“…If you are asking if I can make musical sounds with the voice, especially words with a set tune, then yes. I can. If you are asking if I can do it well, I believe that yes, I can.”

Virgil blinked at the deadpan answer, but quickly shook it off. “Think you can give Princey a run for his money as vocalist?”

Roman wasn’t paying attention at all, but he had just tuned in as Virgil jabbed at him. “Excuse me! How very dare you, Virgil!”

He just laughed, leaning against the couch. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just funny to see you get all worked up.” He admitted, earning a slap to the knee from Roman.

“Trying to take away my spot…” He murmured with a sigh.

“Okay, okay. Anyways.” Virgil chuckled as he spoke. “Welcome in, Logan. If you can’t tell already, Roman is… a bit much.”

“I certainly can tell. He and his brother have that in common…” Logan sighed.

Virgil laughed. “Oooh, shit, I forgot you live with Remus. My condolences.”

Logan smiled a bit. “Thank you. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him…”

“Yeah. How do you deal with… with him?”

“I am not sure. We typically keep our spaces separate and interact very little, aside from watching crime series together. Other than that, we maybe interact two or three times a day.” He murmured, glancing down.

“Lo! You gonna make me eat all these cookies myself?” Patton asked with a chuckle, a subtle plea to ask Logan to try one.

“Oh. No, of course not. I just simply don’t usually consume treats like this.” Logan said.

Janus glanced up, before back to the side.

“Oh! Okay. Well, no pressure.” Patton grinned, taking another cookie for himself. “Oooh— guys, let’s tell him about our gigs!!”

—

Their conversation had gone well! Logan said he had some business to attend to, so after about an hour or so of talking, he had gone. Patton led him to the door and made sure he got in his car all safe before closing the door, grinning.

“Okay, is it just me, or does Logan seem like a total… a total bitch?!” Roman huffed, exasperated as he crossed his arms.

“What?! Roman, I’m surprised at you!” Patton scolded. “I thought he was a nice young man!”

“Yeah, dude. What the hell is your problem?” Virgil asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as well.

Roman glared. “He’s so… he’s so stuck up. Like he’s better than us all! He’s so smart and ohhh look he knows so much!! He doesn’t even want to be in the band! He just… ugh, I don’t like him.”

“Well, suck it up, Roman. He’s all we got for at least two weeks, so, maybe try to stick it out?” Virgil offered. “Besides, he’s not that bad. He’s a little… quiet, maybe takes shit too literally, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“Yeah! Logan is a little different but I think he’s awesome!” Patton grinned. “I think he just feels uneasy with a new group, is all. Try to make him feel welcome, Ro…” He puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling. “Give him a shot. Okay?”

“Fine. Whatever..” He sighed. “I’m sure he’s… fine.”

They smile again, nodding. “I know you’re stressed. There’s been a lotta change really quick. But it’s okay, Ro! You’ve got us! We’re here for ya, okay, kiddo?”

“Yeah. What he said, I guess,” Virgil murmurs from his corner.

“…Right. Thank you.” Roman sighs. “You’re right. I have been stressed…”

Janus peeks in from the other room, eying the group as they console Roman. He already knows how this is going to unfold, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little excited for it.

—

woo! chapter two is DONE! honestly im speedwriting this bc i cant stop thinking abt it. my writing still feels rusty cuz its been so long, but i hope u guys enjoy anyway!!! reblog if u enjoy, if you wanna be added to a tag list for updates lmk! and feel free to pester me abt my au in my asks <3 ty!

[roseianxiety]

Always You

Summary: As a young boy, Virgil often swooped in to save his geeky and timid childhood best friend, Roman, from his bullies. After years have passed without seeing each other, his friend has come home from abroad and now a completely different person than before, and ready to sweep Virgil off his feet. Virgil, of course, falls head over heels for the other.

AO3 - Part 5, Part 6

Content Warning: Medicine mention, Food mention

Author's Note: It's been a while since I updated this fic so here y'all go! This one is particularly very long, enjoy!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter 6

It hasn't stopped raining for a few days now and it was starting to piss Virgil off. Earlier that morning, he went out to do some grocery shopping and it was all warm and sunny outside but now, it was raining like crazy. Unfortunately, his dumb-ass self forgot to bring an umbrella. And now here he was, standing outside of the grocery store while waiting for the rain to subside (which looked like it probably wouldn't for the next hour).

Virgil groaned as he rubbed his face tiredly. He was cold and annoyed and all he wants is to go home and sleep or have a warm bath.

He was kicked out of his thoughts when he hears faint footsteps approaching him. Turning to look behind him, he spots Roman walking up to him with an ever-so-bright smile. His eyes were shining brightly and his lips upturned into a wide grin. He looks radiant. Virgil's heart skipped a beat after witnessing this.

Roman reached Virgil within a few seconds and smiled widely. "Virge!! Hi!!" He greets him excitedly. "What's up? Everything alright?" Roman queries curiously. Virgil lets out a sigh, looking at him sheepishly, "Um, I dunno, I'm annoyed 'cause I forgot to bring an umbrella and I don't know how to get home now." He admits, scratching the back of his neck. Roman frowns lightly upon hearing that but then his face brightens as an idea popped up in his mind.

"I have an umbrella." Roman blurts out as he pushes his white umbrella toward Virgil. "Huh?" He raises one eyebrow questioningly. "Yeah, we can share it! That way we won't be getting wet!" Roman insists. Virgil shakes his head in disagreement, "It's fine, Princey, you need it more than I do. I'll be fine, I'm sure the rain will end soon.". But as soon as he said that, the rain suddenly poured harder than ever.

Virgil sighs in defeat, "You know what? Fine." He grumbles quietly under his breath causing Roman to smile widely in victory. He then opens up the umbrella and holds it for both of them as they started walking. Virgil hugs his grocery-filled paper bag close to his chest to avoid it getting wet from the raindrops. "What were you doing at the grocery store? You seem to not have bought anything." He says, glancing up at Roman from the corner of his eyes.

"I was going to but then I saw you outside and you looked like you needed assistance. So here I am." Roman answers with a smile. Virgil halts in his tracks, turning fully to face Roman. "You were running errands yet you stopped just because of me. Why did you do that??" He asked incredulously.

Roman shrugged innocently. "Well, why not? You're my best friend. I wanted to help you." He answered simply, still smiling innocently. But his smile faltered slightly, "We're still best friends right?" He questioned, almost timidly.

"Of course we are," Virgil answered in earnest, staring directly into Roman's brown eyes and smiling gently at him. "Anyway, thank you, for assisting me and all." He added, grinning faintly. Roman smiles back at him and continues walking alongside Virgil. The pair of them continue walking in silence, contentedly soaking in each other's company as they made their way back to their neighborhood. Roman then glances down at Virgil who had his eyes staring forward, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Roman couldn't help but study Virgil's features carefully as he walks, noticing the way his raven hair falls perfectly over his eyes and curls slightly. He notices the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly whenever his mind wanders elsewhere, and how his bottom lip was stuck between his teeth as he chews on it unconsciously. Roman just realizes the faint freckles that dusted Virgil's cheeks, how sharp his jaw is yet it also looked soft. He notices every little detail that makes up Virgil and he doesn't want to stop observing.

A sudden feeling of warmth rises to his cheeks when he realized that he was staring at Virgil rather intently. Quickly, he averted his gaze from the other and let out a small cough. Virgil turned around and looked at Roman with concern.

Virgil queries, concerned. "You okay?".

Roman nods his head rapidly, trying to assure Virgil that he was fine. "Y–yeah, I'm good...just...a bit cold." He said, trying to keep up the facade.

Virgil nods, quickly believing his little lie. "Yeah, me too. I'm freezing." He muttered.

Romam then commented, "Oh. Now that you said that, I just realized you're not wearing your signature hoodie.". He pointed out to which Virgil responded. "Yeah, I forgot to bring it along with my umbrella when I left the house." He sighs, rubbing his arm uncomfortably due to the slight dampness of the shirt. Roman noticed the slight shivers the other was emitting and immediately, he stops in his tracks and handed Virgil the umbrella before taking off his coat.

"What are you doing?" Virgil inquired, looking confused. "Here. Take my coat, please." He pleads. Virgil shook his head, refusing the offer. "No, no you shouldn't-". "Yes I should! It's only fair. Besides, I don't want you catching a cold. So please, take the coat. I insist," Roman said, giving Virgil puppy dog eyes. It was hard not to give in and accept the offer.

After debating whether it was worth it or not, Virgil eventually gives in to Roman's insistence and takes his offered coat, and slips it on. It was a bit bigger on him since Roman wasn't exactly skinny but it worked well enough. He was surprised at how comfortable the coat felt though, he liked how warm it feels.

"What about you? Didn't you say you were cold?" Virgil queries softly as he glances at Roman while he clutched the coat tightly. Roman shrugs his shoulders, "Nah it's cool, I could handle a bit of cold." He replied, smiling reassuringly.

Virgil nodded his head in understanding and looks ahead. "Thanks again for lending me your coat. You didn't have to." He thanked Roman. Roman smiled brightly at him. "Don't mention it.".

•••

Virgil stepped inside his room and waddled to his bed, plopping down onto the soft mattress. He sighs in contentment, finally able to relax. And God he was thankful that it hadn't rained anymore because going back and forth from his workplace to home would've been really shitty. He lay on his side, facing away from the wall as he began absentmindedly playing with the hem of his black shirt. He was thinking about what he was supposed to do today. Nothing seemed appealing at the moment, so he settled down onto his back, staring at the ceiling above him, getting lost in his thoughts.

Not even a mere minute have passed, and his phone pinged inside his pocket. He fumbled inside his pockets to retrieve the said device. He checked his phone of it was a message but it was just a notification. Virgil sighs, slightly disappointed. Thinking about messages, he just realized that Roman hasn't bothered him with messages again and it's been almost two days. Not like there's something wrong with that... well, there is definitely something wrong. After all, Roman has always spammed him with messages every single hour. Most of his messages weren't even relevant anyway (no offense though).

But maybe he's busy... maybe he's tired... BUT WHAT IF HE'S IN TROUBLE!?? Virgil shook his head and pushed those thoughts aside. There was no reason to panic and cause unnecessary worry. Roman will text him later, he's probably busy with school and stuff. Yeah... just busy.

Virgil stared at his device screen, contemplating whether or not he should send a message to the other man. Eventually deciding to do it, he quickly typed up a short message and sent it to Roman, and waited for a reply.

*Princey 👑✨ has seen your message*

He watches as a typing bubble appear and disappears for a few seconds. After another minute, he sees the message finally pop up on his screen.

'ello virhil'

'*vigik'

'*virgil'

'srry'

'cant mssge am sik :'('

*Princey👑✨ sent an image*

The photo showed a selfie of a frowning Roman with a cooling pad on his forehead while laying on his bed, he indeed looked exhausted and sick.

Worry bubbles up in Virgil once again as he quickly sat from his bed and dialed Roman's number. He waits anxiously, tapping his foot against his floor. It took a minute or two for Roman to pick up, however, instead of saying hello, he heard shuffling noises from the other line.

Virgil asks worriedly, "Roman? Are you alright?".

He hears another shuffle before Roman replies in a slightly groggy voice, "I'm bitterly jittery and not very glittery. I feel like shit." then followed by a coughing fit and an Italian phrase afterward. "Sorry 'bout that.".

"Hey, do you need me to come over and help you out? I can bring over and heat some leftover chicken soup that Mom made." Virgil offers. "You don't need to go through any trouble," Roman replies, his tone sounding hoarse after all that coughing.

Virgil shakes his head and replies, "It doesn't matter. I'll go get some chicken soup and I'll be there in a few minutes, I'm not just gonna let you cope up in your room and get through your fever all alone.". He rambled, standing up from his bed and grabbing his hoodie before heading to the kitchen.

"Okay... I'll see you soon." He hears Roman say before the phone went dead.

A few minutes later, Virgil stood in front of Roman's front door, ringing the doorbell. Heavy footsteps were approaching and soon after Roman answers the door with an exhausted and sickly face, still wrapped up in his blanket. Virgil greets him with a small smile. "Hi...".

"Hey, Vee..." Roman shoots him back a soft smile and then lets him in. Virgil shuts the door gently behind him. They made their way into Roman's living room, where Virgil set the plastic container filled with soup in the middle of the coffee table. Roman sits on the couch and motions Virgil to do as well.

Virgil complies and sits down before looking at Roman, "How long have you been sick? Have you drank any medicine yet?". He questions as he takes off the lid of the container. "Uhm...no?" Roman responds sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Virgil then stares at him in disbelief.

"Wha– What do you MEAN NO?? You're sick and you didn't even bother taking your meds, wait, do you even have medicine?" Virgil rants in a slightly exasperated tone. "Well, I have a few painkillers and some cough drops in my room, I was planning to drink them but uh... I forgot–" He admits sheepishly. Virgil sighed and handed the plastic container and a plastic spoon to Roman who gladly took it.

"Here, it's still warm. While you eat that, I'll go fetch your meds." Virgil says, getting up to go look for the pills.

"You act like a mother hen." Roman comments as he takes a sip of the soup.

"And you act like a baby."

Virgil retorts without even bothering to look back at the other. He hears Roman let out an offended gasp and he merely giggles before climbing up the stairs. When he finally reaches the top, he went to look for Roman's bedroom and finally found it which was at the far end of the hallway for a while. He steps in and looks around, the whole room screamed "Roman" vibes with all of the Playbill, Disney, and other various posters on the wall.

He walks towards one of the nightstands near Roman's bedside, noticing a prescription bottle that was placed on top. "This must be it." Virgil hums and grabs the bottle and was about to make his way back when he notices something. He snaps his focus back on the nightstand and spots a picture frame. Virgil's eyes widened when he realized what the photo is.

It was a picture of Roman and him, both of them grinning to their ears as they stood side by side. They were in their swimming trunks, seeming as if they just got out of the water, looking happy as ever. They seem so carefree, so happy, Virgil smiles fondly at the sight, feeling nostalgic. Roman still kept this picture... even after all this time.

Virgil sighs before heading out of Roman's bedroom and going back to the living room where Roman was. He places the bottle on the coffee table and sits back down on the couch before glancing at Roman.

"You already finished the soup!? Did you, like, enhaled the whole thing?" Virgil asked with an incredulous expression, raising his eyebrows. Roman gives a nervous laugh and nods sheepishly.

"Well, I was really hungry," Roman chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. "But thanks for bringing me the soup and the meds, Vee. You're always looking out for me."

Virgil smiles softly at Roman, "Of course, Roman. I always will."

There's a comfortable silence that falls between them as Roman takes the medicine, sipping water from a glass. Virgil looks around the living room, noticing how neat everything is despite Roman's current state.

"Have you been taking care of yourself?" Virgil asks, breaking the silence. Roman looks up from a container of mashed potatoes that Virgil had brought along with the soup, "Hm? Oh yeah, I try to. But I don't think I've actually done anything that productive, I mean other than school though." He answers, putting aside the container on the coffee table and turning his full attention towards Virgil. "You know, I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you today, Vee. I know you're probably busy with your own things."

Virgil shakes his head, "No, no, it's fine. I'm glad I could be here for you. Besides, I've been meaning to catch up with you anyway.".

"Oh, by the way, you still kept that old picture of the two of us? The one in your bedroom, us in swimming trunks smiling like idiots?" Virgil points out, smirking. Roman blushes a little, his eyes darting away from Virgil's gaze. "Uh, yeah. It's one of my favorites." He admits shyly.

"Well, I'm glad you still have it. It brings back good memories." Virgil says,

giving a light smile. "Yeah, it does.". There's a pregnant pause as the two of them simply gaze at each other before averting their gaze elsewhere in embarrassment.

They continue to chat for a while longer, catching up on each other's lives and reminiscing about old memories. As time passes by, Virgil realizes that it's getting late and he should probably head back home.

"Well, I should probably get going, Mom probably needs me now. But take care of yourself, okay? And don't forget to take your meds." Virgil says as he gets up from the couch. Roman walks him to the door.

"Yeah, will do. Thank you for everything, Vee. I really appreciate it." Roman says with a soft smile as he opens the door for Virgil. They both stand at the doorway for a moment, not wanting to say goodbye just yet. Virgil takes a step forward and pulls Roman into a tight hug, which Roman reciprocates eagerly. As they hug, they both feel the warmth of each other's bodies and the comforting smell of each other's scents.

They eventually pulled away from the embrace and their eyes locked onto each other's, a sudden spark of something that neither of them had felt before. It was a mix of emotions - confusion, fear, and excitement - all bundled up in that moment of eye contact. Virgil felt his heart race and his mind raced as he tried to figure out what was going on. Roman, on the other hand, felt a sense of clarity and realization wash over him. He knew, without a doubt, that he had feelings for Virgil that went beyond friendship.

But before he could process any of this, Virgil broke the silence. "Again, take care of yourself, okay? Always text me or call me if you need something, or just visit me, I live across from you." He rambled before smiling at him and then turning around to leave. "Bye.".

Roman watched him go, his mind reeling with the realization that he might be in love with his best friend.

Virgil, on the other hand, while he walked towards his house, couldn't help but feel that something had shifted between him and Roman. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt a strange fluttering in his stomach whenever he thought about the moment they shared at the doorway. It replayed in his mind again and again. It was– All of this was so confusing to him.

He arrived at his porch and opened the door and stepped inside, closed it back, and leaned his back against the wooden surface of the door, running his fingers through his hair as he felt his cheeks get warmer. Why did he feel so flustered about this whole situation? And why did it affect him so much? That was normal... he thinks. Right...?

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

Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @extraintrovertedalien (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

[gumnut-logic]

Five times Virgil tackled loopy family members, and one time they tackled him (Part Five)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Oh, this fic owes so much to @the-original-sineater​ @onereyofstarlight​ @gaviiadastra​ and @katblu42​ we’re almost talking shared authorship. Plotting was fun, thank you so much for all your patience and support ::hugs all of you tight::

There is one more chapter after this one and it is likely to be a doozy, but we are nearly there :D I hope you enjoy poor Scotty’s turn on this merry go round :D

-o-o-o-

Scott found out about Alan.

About the incident from Virgil’s past.

And all hell let loose.

Virgil found himself calming tempers all over the house. Scott attempted to eviscerate John for derailing reporting lines. Kayo went after Brie, which lead to Virgil actually yelling at his sister – Kayo was still recoiling from her own drugging incident and not seeing the issue clearly for what it was.

She didn’t speak to Virgil for three whole days.

That hurt.

Alan tried to stand up for Brandon. Eos even climbed into the argument by presenting previous Brandon parties into the equation. There had been at least one marijuana cookie incident about five years ago. Brandon, to his credit, was horrified and so repentant, Virgil actually began to worry about the boy’s mental health. ‘Totally Extreme’ didn’t see a new video for over a week.

Then Gordon stepped into the fray. Gordon who had seen his own far share of parties in his life, took Alan’s POV and brought up Scott’s fancy-free past along with it.

Whenever the bird fought the fish, it was loud. Out of all of them, Scott and Gordon were the most often to butt heads. Virgil ended up raising his own voice and sending them to the opposite ends of the villa.

But for Virgil, the worst was the betrayal in his big brother’s eyes when he found out about that first art exhibition. Scott and Virgil shared EVERYTHING. Or so Scott thought.

It wasn’t the disappointment; it was the worry. The fact Virgil had hit rock bottom and it hadn’t been Scott there to help him out. The fact Scott had been in the Airforce and tackling one of the hardest points in his life at the time, didn’t seem to register, and nothing either Virgil or John said seemed to be able to fix it.

Suffice it to say that the family wasn’t at its best for a while there, so it gave Virgil all the reason more to kick himself when something medically critical was missed.

The world doesn’t stop just because a family is having difficulties. Rescues kept coming in. If part of the argument process occurred high up in the Andes one day and in the middle of the Sahara Desert the next, was just a Tracy Tuesday and handled as professionally as possible.

Still hurt.

Virgil wouldn’t say he avoided Scott for the rest of that week. Hell, a good part of it was spent putting out flare ups between family members, but there was a lack of quiet time and he missed his big brother like a missing limb.

He had no doubt things would heal fast enough, but getting there sucked.

It all came to a head in Iceland of all places.

Virgil was in Mexico at the time, a little ironically doing a similar rescue in a completely different environment. Mexico had volcanoes of a different kind to Iceland, but they were still volcanoes and idiots still chose to climb them no matter how many times the geology departments of any country warned them off.

Virgil was tackling a lovely strombolian eruption versus two idiot climbers. The challenge was to first locate them and then yank them out of danger. John had been swearing since the beginning of the incident as neither he or Eos could get definite readings for reasons unknown. There would be an investigation later, however for the moment it was profanity in several different languages, some of which Virgil couldn’t even identify, but the syllables had some great rhythm.

Eventually, he was able to spot them visually, but Two took some damage in the process due to volcanic debris.

During this time, One was called out to Iceland. Being One, she was there quickly and the climbers attempting to climb Mount Virgil-could-not-pronounce, were located easily in comparison. Scott reported rescue complete about the time Virgil nabbed idiot number two off the side of his volcano.

The silence on comms was nothing unusual at that point.

Until it was.

Virgil should have seen it coming. Virgil kicked himself for not seeing it coming despite being uneasy since the notification of One deploying had flashed up on his dash.

He put it down to the unease he usually felt whenever a brother was deployed and he wasn’t there, but, of course, recent events were also in the equation and instead of checking in with his brother enroute, he didn’t.

And spent the rest of the week cursing himself.

Scott vanished off comms. One was still in Iceland exactly where his brother had parked her to load up the rescuees, which apparently had zero injuries and had asked for autographs according to John.

Virgil could guess Scott’s response to that.

But there was no response.

None at all.

Virgil dumped his idiots in Mexico City and tore off across the Atlantic.

By this time, John was frantic and on the verge of shifting Five’s orbit to chase down their eldest brother. But Thunderbird Five was still caught up with both Four in the Pacific and Three on the dark of the moon with Alan and Kayo.

Two was capable of speed all of her own. Two was ever more capable of speed with Virgil at her helm than anyone else.

He broke several of his own records by the time he flew over Reykjavik.

He would have to apologise to Iceland air control at some point.

He found One exactly where he expected to, but there was no sign of Scott.

“John, where is he?”

His answer was more swearing, this time lacking all the rhythm but sporting much more vehemence.

Virgil flew Two around the volcano, desperately attempting to sight his brother. When he finally did, he dropped his ‘bird out of the sky so fast, he melted a chunk of snowpack and sent it tumbling down the slope.

But Two was secure and he was out and running.

Scott wasn’t wearing his helmet and he was wandering apparently aimlessly through knee deep snow.

Virgil ran up behind him. “Scott!”

His brother turned slowly, a frown on his face. “Oh, hey, Virgil.”

Virgil stared. Scott was flushed and his hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes were sunken with dark patches beneath them.

He looked dead on his feet.

“Talk to me, Scott.”

His big brother blinked. “Why? You don’t want to talk to me.”

It would have had more emotional impact if Scott hadn’t wavered on his feet as he said it. Virgil grabbed at him and held him up with one hand. The other reached for his mediscanner.

“What happened?”

Scott wilted a little. “I’m hot.”

The readouts were enough for Virgil to tighten his grip on Scott’s shoulder. How was his brother even standing?

Because he’s Scott. That little voice in the back of Virgil’s head stated the obvious.

His brother had a temperature of 40.5C, he was dehydrated and likely sporting a low blood sugar level…this hadn’t happened suddenly. His brother would had to have known he wasn’t well.

But I was the only one available! The Scott in the back of his head protested ever so loudly as the Scott under his fingers suddenly folded.

He caught his big brother before he could disappear into the snow. Blue eyes looked up at him confused. “Virgil, you’re melting.”

Shit.

Coherency test.

“Scott, answer me. What is Alan’s birthday?”

His brother blinked up at him again and frowned. “Eyebrows.”

Virgil grimaced. “Thunderbird Five, Code Silver. I’m evacuating Scott to Reykjavik. Symptoms point to a flu, but I’m not taking any chances. He’s having hallucinations.”

Scott suddenly reached up and touched a finger to Virgil’s right eyebrow and started patting it. “Good boy.”

Virgil frowned and the finger drifted down the side of his face, ever so gently.

“FAB, Thunderbird Two. Reykjavik has been notified. You have air clearance. Grandma is on the line if you need her.”

“Send her all his vitals, uploading now. Are you receiving?”

“Affirmative, Thunderbird Two.”

Scott was now stroking Virgil’s hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

Somewhere in another space and time, Virgil’s heart broke in two.

He scooped his brother into his arms, resting Scott’s forehead on his shoulder and holding him close. He was trembling and as Virgil touched his cheek to Scott’s forehead the heat radiating off him was as alarming as the mediscanner had warned.

Walking back to Two with his brother in his arms was heavy lifting of so many kinds. Scott was obviously hallucinating, needed fever treatment as soon as possible, and Two was so far away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“In college. You didn’t call. I would have come.”

He sighed under his breath. “You were busy. It wasn’t important.”

His brother struggled in his arms and Virgil was forced to stop, his boots stumbling. Scott struggled, attempting to get out of his grip.

“Virgil! God, Virgil. No.” And he threw himself out of Virgil’s arms.

Overbalanced and attempting to compensate for a weight that was no longer there, Virgil ended up on his ass in the snow.

It was deep, crept up over the lip of his collar and melted on hot skin.

He really should have worn his helmet.

Scott disappeared into the snow. A moment later his head popped up out of the drift he had fallen into and located Virgil. There was snow in his hair and meltwater running down his flushed cheeks.

As Virgil struggled to sit up properly, his big brother crawled on all fours through the disturbed snow until he sat right in front of him.

Virgil stared.

“You promise, you need me, you call, right?” Scott held up an admonishing finger. “I need to be there.” He frowned, blinking slowly. “It’s so hot.”

He fumbled at his baldric, reaching for the catch that would see it falling to the ground.

Virgil grabbed his hands. “Scott, no.”

Bloodshot blue eyes stared up at him, awareness drifting in an out. God, he needed to get him to Reykjavik. “We need to get you onto Two.”

That earned him a frown. “No. I’m flying One.”

As if it was a declaration of intent, Scott shot to his feet, turned towards One in the distance…and promptly fell on his face.

Virgil prayed there were no rocks under the snow as he hurried to pull his brother out of the drift. Fortunately, there were none, but Scott was now barely conscious and Virgil was ticking off other symptom possibilities if he didn’t get his brother to a hospital now.

Bundling him into his arms, Scott mumbling protests the entire way, Virgil gently shifted him into a more secure grip so he couldn’t repeat his escape attempt and began trudging through the snow back to his ‘bird.

Scott grew quieter and quieter and Virgil pushed his boots through the drift faster and faster. By the time he made it to Two, Scott was completely unconscious and Virgil’s heart was going for an Olympic medal. Rushing him to the cockpit, he unfolded a bed with the nudge of a foot and placed Scott gently on the soft surface. He ran another scan, boosted the results to Five and hurried to get some fluid into his idiot brother.

How had he not noticed this? How had Scott run himself into the ground so far? This wasn’t even a rescue injury. It was totally preventable. How the hell had he flown out here in the first place?

Goddamnit!

Strapping tape to his brother’s hand to secure the IV, Virgil found himself blinking away moisture.

This was not the time.

He could kill Scott later.

IV in place, he ran further checks making sure his brother wasn’t going to throw a cardiac or pulmonary event in the short time he needed to fly him out of here.

Satisfied, he swallowed and hurried to his pilot’s seat. Two launched with her usual grace, followed by a Five controlled One, and a moment later they were banking towards the capital city.

Virgil chewed a hole in his cheek on the way.

-o-o-o-

He was torn from a nightmare where he was yelling into an abyss and no one was hearing him. Startled awake, he nearly fell off the chair he was sitting on.

A hand steadied his shoulder and he looked up to find John standing beside him. That hand squeezed gently and those all-seeing eyes said more than words were capable.

Virgil let his shoulders drop and his body wilted with them.

“About time you woke up.” The voice was quiet and hoarse, but all Scott.

Startled again, he was relieved to see his big brother conscious. Talk about the flu from hell. His temperature had been heading towards convulsion levels and serious damage by the time Virgil dumped Two on the hospital’s helipad. He had disengaged his brother’s bed from the wall and rushed him into the hospital, John spouting translations as he went.

The building had swallowed Scott whole and Virgil had been left staggering in the waiting room. Two hours in that godforsaken white-washed hell combined with persistent nagging from Grandma over comms saw him stumbling back to Two, a shower and change of uniform, minus his heavy baldric and harness.

He returned to the waiting room if not refreshed, at least not stinking the place out.

Another hour in a plastic chair surrounded by either sick or worried people was taxing.

Eventually they ushered him into a ward where Scott had been cleaned up and attended to. There was still a flush on his cheeks, but he was resting quietly. The scanner Virgil had smuggled in agreed with his visual assessment.

Scott was stable.

Grandma was being flown in by Gordon and a returned Alan. Kayo was on point for security. John was…and somewhere between one thought and the next Virgil must have drifted off.

“Scott?”

His brother answered with a cough, but despite being a wan version of his usual self, he looked much, much better.

Virgil pulled out the mediscanner again.

“Oh god, Virg, I’m fine.”

“You will be lucky if I ever believe your estimation of your health status ever again.”

But the results agreed with him.

Virgil let out a breath.

Thank god.

Blue eyes were staring at him.

John’s hand returned to his shoulder and squeezed gently. “He’s going to be okay, Virgil.”

He forced strength into his spine as he stood up. “Good.”

A brief touch to his big brother’s hand, a tighten of fingers before he let go.

“I need to attend to Two.”

He turned and left without another word.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[darth-does-stuff]

Better Things Yet To Come

(but darling, misfortune always has to arrive first)

Four superheroes in the city of Cyrin, a gilded and fantastical city full of exalted and wondrous powers, according to any outsider you asked. To the locals, it’s a city with destruction around every corner, villains rearing their heads in an attempt at building a reputation, and fighting daily. And if you asked the heroes…they’d say that it’s a city that has been their home for years on end and, deep inside them, they feel a need to protect it. But if you were to take a closer look at them, you’d see the heavy burden on their shoulders, for, ultimately, Cyrin is not a city without its prices.

[First] [Previous] [Next] [AO3]

Chapter Three: Tock

a meeting

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

“—and I was like, ‘Todd, you’re hallucinating, literally nothing happened on that night. But he keeps going on and on about how he saw it happen, he swears, but there was no body found when he went to check! No blood, no weapon, the camera footage showed nothing, but he still thinks he saw a murder! It’s kind of concerning.”

Virgil nodded along to his coworker’s story, mindlessly making a drink. 

“Hot chocolate for Deckland,” he called out, seeing somebody shuffle to the front and grab their beverage, and he only bothered to remember their light-ish colored hair as he tuned back in to whatever Haisley was saying. 

“Was anybody reported missing the next day?” Virgil asked absently, already starting on the next drink.

“No! And that’s what’s fucking crazy, and by ‘what’s’ I mean Todd, because he is going insane! Like,” she let out a laugh, “what kind of crime has nothing leading back to it?” 

“A cold case?”

“Nah, this is different.”

Virgil just hummed indifferently, but as he was putting on the lid of the drink, the door to the coffee shop opened, revealing a tall figure with blonde hair, brown and green eyes, a burn mark on the left side of their face, and a smug fucking smile that made Virgil want to punch him immediately. 

Janus fucking Drewitt, just the man Virgil never wanted to see again. 

He heard a crunch noise from his hand and looked down, seeing the lid of the cup completely mangled. They gently set it down, hands shaking, and turned to Haisley. 

“Um, hey, could you cover for me for the rest of my shift? I’m really sorry, but I just remembered I have a…doctor’s appointment I have to get to, it completely slipped my mind.”

Haisley sighed, “Whatever, fine, but you owe me one. And you have to say you believe me and not Todd!” 

Virgil forced a smile, “I believe you, not Todd.” 

Haisley nodded, satisfied, and shooed him off. 

Virgil forced himself to walk away calmly, hanging up his apron, but once he was out of sight, they booked it through the back door. 

“Fucking bastard, why does he always have to turn up when I never want to see him, which is goddamn always—"

“Well, it is nice to see you think so highly of me,” a voice called out from the alley next to the Golden Roast. 

Virgil was in the middle of shoving their arms through his jacket and almost dropped it, jumping 6 feet in the air before landing, a dent in the concrete where his feet now stood. 

“Leave me alone, Janus,” he snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away. Janus smoothly stepped in front of them, giving them a smirk.

“That’s no way to treat an old friend. Come on, Virgil, won’t you give your oldest accomplice a hug?” 

“Fuck off, Jan. I told you, I’m done with you and your whole…deal. I’m out, and I’ve been out for years. I don’t know why you feel the need to show your face now, but go back to skulking in the shadows or whatever the fuck it is you do.” 

“Why do you automatically assume I’m here to persuade you to do something? I can’t just be here for a chat?” Janus raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Cut the bullshit,” Virgil said flatly.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Janus dropped any fun pretense he had been keeping up. 

“Janus.”

“Fine! Listen, I know you told us your whole spiel about how you’re done and whatnot and you’re gonna do better things, butttt, consider this. Remus and I are planning a heist. A big heist. And we’re kind of being looked for right now, not anything serious, but we got spotted last time and it kind of fucked us over. Just a bit. So! We, mainly me, had the absolutely brilliant idea of bringing you back in! We like to operate in the shadows, and part of your whole deal is shadows, so it’s practically perfect. And it has the added bonus of never seeing us again after this heist. Just one. Last. Heist. That’s it.”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, and from a few blocks away, passerby would see clouds gathering and casting a shadow, the ominous rumbling of thunder reverberating throughout the city. 

He stepped into Janus’s space, jabbing a finger into their chest. 

“I am done with both of your guys’ stupid bullshit you try to rope me back into. I’m not helping you with this heist, and I’m not helping you again. Ever. You say that if I do this I’ll never see you again? Try something fucking new, Janus. You’re getting predictable. Take your deal and shove it up your ass,” Virgil jabbed his finger into Janus’ chest again, “When I said I was done, I goddamn meant it. You don’t get to try and bring me back when you aren’t even remotely sorry for how you treated me. You and Remus. So fucking leave.” 

Janus looked shocked, his perfectly crafted mask of indifference for once slipping away into genuine astonishment. 

“Virge—"

“Don’t,” Virgil warned lowly.

“Please just—"

“Don’t! Janus, I swear to any fucking deity out there that if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to freak the fuck out.”

Out of reflex, Janus instinctively took a step forward at those words, reaching out a hand. Virgil jerked back, stumbling over his feet to stay out of arm’s reach. Janus’ face pinched and his hand fell limply to his side.

They nodded tightly, once, before turning away. 

His appearance slipped into a man with brown hair and stubble and grey eyes, a button up and slacks replacing the turtleneck and overcoat they had previously been wearing. He looked side to side before stepping out of the alley, walking off into the streets until Virgil could no longer see him. His shoulders sagged immediately, a long breath escaping him.

“Motherfucker!” Virgil cursed under his breath, leaning his forehead against the brick wall of the building next to the coffee shop. He felt the urge to punch something, scream, cry, collapse on the floor, just do something, and before he had registered it, they had raised a hand to punch the wall. 

A very specific memory of the last time he let his powers get out of control flashed through his mind and he forcefully unclenched his fist, letting it fall against their side. 

Virgil muttered, “Fucking bitch,” with his head still leaned against the brick wall.

a/n: look. look at them. idiots i swear

taglist (ask to be added!): @star-crossed-shipper, @flowercrownsandtrauma, @lesbian-pattonsanders

[edupunkn00b]

Revisions, Ch. 28: Chat Fic

Prev - Chat Fic - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Tags: Angst, Blood Mention, Advanced Hanahaki Disease - WC: 2268 ---

It was just after midnight when Logan brought another cup of tea upstairs from the kitchen, closing his door quietly so he wouldn’t disturb his housemates. Well, the housemate who was home, at least. Virgil. Roman, and Patton were at a concert, and Janus was only four days into his trip. Logan's eyes flicked to the wall separating him from Remus, a sour mix of longing and guilt burning his throat. Remus had been asleep the last he'd checked and Logan needed to finish this last chapter while he could.

Logan coughed again into his elbow, fingers clawing at the edge of his desk and tears pricking his eyes. As the third dose of the serum lost its efficacy, his cough had returned with a vehemence he'd only imagined he would be prepared for.

The flowers trying to punch their way through his lungs were larger than ever before, usually still connected to a thorny, bloody vine. The one currently attempting to make its way up and out of his trachea was stubborn.

And Logan had a story to finish.

After guzzling his tea, Logan pressed his lips together against the wave of nausea that hit him. The return of the coughing had also meant the now-familiar loss of appetite and the twisting ache in his guts when he drank anything. He just had to hold out a little longer before taking his next dose. If he could last another day or so, then he had a chance that he’d still feel the soothing effects by the time Janus got back. He’d be able to see him once more, maybe even have one more night wrapped in both of their arms.

“Hey, Lo Lo…” Remus had murmured at Logan’s doorway the night Janus had left for his trip. “I know Jannie’s not here, but…” Remus had looked away as he'd crossed his arms over his belly, almost hugging himself. “If you still wanna, you’re welcome to… to, y’know…” Remus had stood straighter, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome to sleep in our room.” He’d looked up at Logan, eyes wide and full of hope. “But only if you wanna.”

Logan’s skin warmed and some part of his brain registered how foolish his smile must have looked. But he didn’t care. “I would really like that, Remus. Thank you.” He glanced down at his clothes. He still needed to prepare for bed. “When do you plan to sleep?”

Remus had shrugged with a lopsided grin, his relief obvious as he adopted his usual slouch, leaning against the door frame and crossing one ankle over the other. “An hour or so, maybe?” His smile broadened. “You can come in whenever you want. You could even work on your ‘lesson plans’ in there if you wanted,” he’d added with a little wink and a jerk of his chin toward Logan’s laptop. “I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. Just come by, anytime. You don’t even hafta knock.” He’d laughed, “You know I almost never do.”

That was the first night Logan and Remus had slept wrapped in each other’s arms, silently comforting each other in Janus’ absence.

And so Logan continued to try to stretch the time until his next dose, attempting to wait until the last possible moment to take it, to allow as much time as possible for Janus to return before the palliative started to fail.

Coughing temporarily under control, Logan worked on the last section of the story. It was non-linear, not unusual for a Star Trek story, and formed a loop from end to beginning, with the happily ever after time jump chapter giving the readers hope. He’d originally planned to include an epilogue, but… time had not been on his side and now he wasn’t sure he would actually be able to complete it.

Captain Data checked the communication log from the official disaster record. He had it embedded in his long term memory storage, of course, but it was somehow different seeing the text appear on the screen of the captain’s chair console, just as he’d seen it just before Main Engineering was ripped apart in the explosion. Captain, the warp drive has been disabled. The core will jettison automatically in thirty seconds. Commander LaForge, evacuate now. That is a direct order. Data, there’s no point and you know it. Commander I refuse to lose you. Then text communications failed, along with half the ship's other major systems. It took four days to find Geordi’s escape pod, two days past the time Starfleet had called off the search and ordered the Ghez back to dry dock for repairs. The crew had ignored their orders and most hadn’t slept until Geordi had been found. Without Geordi's selfless actions, they all would have died when the warp core went critical. They weren’t leaving until they’d either recovered Commander LaForge. Or his body.

Logan rapidly completed the final edits, then published. Within an hour, there was a comment from coco&coco19. He smiled at the comfortingly familiar ‘<3 <3’, the only thing that user had ever commented on his stories.

But coco&coco19 commented on every single chapter he’d published on AO3. And he’d seen the user diligently commenting similarly on other stories, as well. Just a quiet ‘<3 <3’ on special stories. He’d checked coco&coco19’s user profile from time to time. No stories of their own. No bookmarks. No real profile at all. Just consistent, positive, encouraging little notes on every single story he’d seen that user add kudos.

Logan suspected this would be the last chapter he could actually finish. It was time to thank this little angel user, whoever they were.

He hit [ REPLY ] and, instead of his usual ‘As always, thank you so very much! <3 <3’ message, he poured a bit of his heart onto the page.

Dear coco&coco19, I wanted to thank you for the support you have shown for my writing. Your kind and consistent feedback has helped keep me going when I was discouraged or thought that perhaps I was writing and sending my stories out into the void. I knew that you were reading my stories and your endearing ‘<3 <3’ comments on every single chapter has fed me in ways these words cannot adequately express. Thank you. Thank you so very much, coco&coco19, for your endless support. Your small, reliable action here made my life better. Data’s story ends here. And so does mine. Thank you for sticking with me until the end. <3 <3 L.L.

~~~~~

A half an hour later and a thousand miles away, Janus’ text alert tone for Remus went off. He squinted at the screen.

-Jannie, what’s Logan’s middle name?-

Frowning, he tapped back his response.

-Llewellyn. Why?-

~~~~~

A few more comments came through while he was writing to coco&coco19. Most were kind words, and there was even one keyboard smash, to which he replied, '<3 Thank you! <3.' One comment, though, made his blood run cold.

What the fuck are you doing, Logan?

Hands shaking, Logan quickly deleted the comment and turned on comment moderation. He gripped the edge of his desk, trying to slow his breathing before another coughing fit started. How did someone find his account? As he panted, fighting for control, a new comment came through.

You wouldn't listen any other way. I thought this was a good way to finally get through to you.

Before he could think better of it, Logan tapped out a response. ‘What other way?’ and hit [ COMMENT ]. He stared at the screen as the response came almost instantaneously. He looked again at the user name, 'edupunk6002,' and shook his head. He didn’t recognize the name from any other comments. He clicked through and, based on the user's bookmarks and writing, they appeared relatively active on AO3 but not at all in the Star Trek Fandom.

Logan was clicking back to his own chapter when he was seized by another coughing spell. He stumbled over to his door and locked it, then went back toward his desk for his tissues, tripping and falling to the floor before he got to them. He was just able to grab a waste bin and coughed into it, half a flower finally making its way out of his lungs.

After a while, there was a rapid knocking at his door and the knob rattled. Remus' voice filtered through the closed door, pitched entirely too high. “Lo? Lo! Are you okay? Do you need help?”

He gasped for air, “I’m fine! I—” managing only a few words before he fell over in another fit. He looked over his shoulder and Remus’ shadow was still visible through the gap under the door. After a while, he expelled the other part of the flower and was able to breathe a bit. “I’m fine, Remus, something…” he leaned back against the side of his bed. “Something just went down the wrong way.” Logan leaned forward, waiting for the spots to disappear from his vision.

“I’ll be there in a little bit, Remus. Okay?”

There was a brushing sound at the door and the shadows shifted but didn’t go away. “Okay, Lo Lo. Tell me if you need anything, okay? Do you promise?”

Logan laid his head on the edge of his bed, tears flowing. “Yes,” he croaked out. “I promise.” Slowly, Logan pulled himself to his feet. There was a new comment.

You know exactly what I’m talking about, Lo. So does Data have android Hanahaki? Will he ever tell Geordi?

He might. He hasn’t decided yet in this timeline.

What about you? Will you tell them?

Logan slammed the laptop cover down as another choking cough tore through his lungs. Logan collapsed as the next flower lodged in his trachea, not allowing air in or out. Soon, Remus was again at his door.

“Lo, Lo… Let me in, please.” The doorknob rattled. “Please, Lo. Please…” Finally, a bloody cough ripped through his lungs and he expelled the flower. Remus’s shadow remained by the door. “Lo?”

“I’m fine, Remus. I’ll be there in a just a minute.” Logan crawled the few feet to his desk, grasping for anything to just reach his top drawer. I’m sorry, Janus… I just can’t wait any longer. I’m sorry… Logan finally pulled open the drawer and reached inside.

His hand came away holding the three empty vials. Scratching at the bottom of the drawer, he peered inside. No fourth vial. Pulling with all of his strength, the drawer came off its rails, pens, pushpins, and post-its scattering to the floor. Logan searched through everything that fell, but there was no blue vial. No. It’s not here, it’s not here. It’s not fucking here!

“Lookin’ for somethin', Mate?” The Doctor leaned against the wall next to his bed, a glint of electric blue in her hand.

Logan twisted around, falling back on his ass with a pained grunt, panting as a new cough threatened to start. He stared at her, eyes burning. “Why," he choked. "Wh—why did you take it back?”

“Mate, the medicine was only meant to give you time to talk with them. Not to treat this house like a bloody hospice, waiting out the clock until this disease takes you. I told you, there’s only one cure.” She stashed the final dose in her coat and pulled her sonic from her inner pocket. She scanned him with a broad, sweeping gesture and looked down at the readings for a long time.

“What?” Logan gasped. “What does it say?”

She crossed her arms, mouth pursed. “There are two ways out of this, Mate, and neither of them are at the bottom of that vial.”

She glared at him, mouth drawn into a single line. “Make the smart choice.”

A barking cough burst from his lips, bloody petals falling to the floor. Logan fell forward, doubled over on his hands and knees as the coughs consumed his every thought, his every movement. All he knew was the struggle for his next breath.

The Doctor pulled a cell phone from her pocket and called 911. She stared at Logan on the floor, flinching as he coughed. Finally, a dispatcher picked up. “Yes, I need an ambulance at 867 Elm Street. He’s upstairs and he can’t breathe. You have to hurry.”

She knelt down next to him, rubbing his back as he choked on flowers and vines. “I don’t think he has much time left.”

A few minutes later, a pounding at the front door finally pulled Remus from his vigil at Logan’s door. He ran downstairs and ripped it open, staring in confusion at the team of paramedics. “Where is he? The man in pulmonary distress?” the shorter one said.

“Wha—what?” Remus blinked at them, slack-jawed.

“Is there anyone else—” Logan’s coughing could be heard from the front door. “Upstairs?” the paramedic asked, pointing to the staircase.

“Yeah, yeah…” Remus said, hurrying after them, scrubbing away his tears. “His name is Logan."

Remus followed after them and watched as they kicked in Logan’s door. “Sir? Sir, are you okay?” one of the medics began their usual script while her partner pulled out a radio.

“Yeah, Dr. Lobel’s gonna wanna see this. Is she on duty tonight at Harborview?”

Remus peeked inside and fell against the door frame, scrabbling for a hand hold as his knees buckled. Bloody flowers littered the floor of his room and Logan lay on the floor, curled around himself, choking on a thorn-covered vine.

Frantic, Remus pulled out his phone and sent a message to Janus.

-JANNIE COME HOME NOW-

taglist: @mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingobur @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @tsshipmonth2020

[warcats-cat]

The Long Road Home (Chapter 4)

A/N: A little bit of a break from the tension, this time we finally get some fluff! In the form of Prince Roman, being his usual Romano-self. Time to give our dear half fairy a little love! (Also, if you’re curious, I included a link to an image of the present that Patton receives, although in a different color.)

Let me know if I need to add any tags, and enjoy the silliest chapter in this fic! :D

Ao3 Link // Previous Chapter // Chapter 1

-------

Prince Roman was alone and he was bored. Logan was out, having finished all of his paperwork and wanting to deliver the summons to the Marquis personally. And Virgil was in the woods behind the inn, using his hunting knives to work out his anger among the trees. His poor storm cloud was filled with emotions lately, of course; the joy of finding a long lost friend, the ever-increasing rage as they uncovered what had been done to said friend. Protectiveness as the fairy healed.

They all wanted to see the fairy healed, and finally taken care of. Virgil said it would likely be a difficult subject to broach with Patton, but the throuple had almost immediately agreed to, at the least, bring him along in their travels if he wanted.

But now, they had been in this little village for almost a week with nothing to do, except wait. They had to do this by the book, to keep anything from threatening Patton in the future. And Roman had never been good with patience at the best of times…

In the meantime, the prince entertained himself in his room by laying backwards on the bed for a while, letting his head and upper back hang over the edge, feeling the world around him become just a little more dizzy and unreal in his headrush. 

A knock at the door made him sit up far too quickly. Roman shook his head a little, as if that would clear it, and opened the door. 

Only to find Patton, his arms now fully healed thanks to whatever magic his brilliant bespectacled boyfriend had mixed up. 

The little fairy squeaked, quickly looking away from Romans eyes and wrapping an arm around his middle in a half-hug. He really is small, the prince thought; Patton only barely came up to Roman’s neck, which would make Logan no longer the shortest in their group. Small, yes, but sweetly rounded and soft. Like a beautiful pearl tucked safely in its clam shell.

“S—Sorry to disturb your Highness.” he stuttered. 

And the light tremble in his arms, the way he carefully avoided Roman’s gaze. Roman wanted to reach over and carefully tuck the younger man into his arms; he wanted to pick Patton up and hold him, and perhaps never let go. Despite the short time he had known the fairy, the way Virgil had spoken of him even so long ago made Roman feel like he already knew at least a little, and still he wanted to know more. 

To treat someone with such a beautiful soul so horribly. 

“No disturbance, my dear guest.” Roman tried carefully, leaning into the doorway and out of the fairy’s space. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Oh, uh, no. B—but I appreciate the offer! Um...” Patton continued to avoid Roman’s gaze, finding something incredibly interesting in the patterns of the wooden floor. “I was—I mean—I’ve just been in my room all day—and that’s fine, obviously!—But I was hoping Virgil would be back… I wanted to ask, uh, well…” he trailed off, and there was a long pause where neither man seemed to know what to say. 

“Well,” Roman said finally, using his most placating voice, “Virgil is off speaking with the doctors in town. But whatever you needed, I would be more than happy to assist!” He flashed a smile despite the lie as Patton finally looked back up, but it seemed only to startle the fairy further. 

With his own, much more false and hesitant smile, Patton fixed his gaze carefully over Roman’s shoulder now. “Oh. No, I—wouldn’t want to bother.” 

Roman carefully stepped to the side, meeting the fairy’s eyes and reaching over to take one of his hands. “There would be no bother at all. Any friend of my beloved is a friend of mine.” he repeated his words from the stockade that had seemed to set the man at ease before. 

And certain enough, though his eyes flicked away over Roman’s shoulder once more, Patton made a face, but his shoulders relaxed, and the fidgeting in his hands calmed somewhat.

“M—My stitches…” Patton said, almost a whisper. 

Roman was suddenly concerned. “Do they hurt? I’m certain Logan could take a look at them if they're causing trouble, or we could send for someone.”

“No…” the fairy hesitated, before flushing red and finally admitting in the smallest voice Roman had ever heard. “They’re itchy…”

Roman broke into a wide grin, before throwing back his head and putting a hand to his chest. “Oh! How dreadful! How terrible! I, too, have known the pangs of healing wounds.” He took a now stunned Patton’s hands in his own, taking one knee before the fairy. “Truly, it is a most tragic situation. For I would assist in easing your pains if only I could! But alas! I am forbidden by Logan himself, fearsome man of the laws of medicine.” 

Patton stared, confused at Roman’s antics, before letting out a small “Huh?”

“Logan would simply tear me to shreds if I disturbed your bandages. However!” Roman lit up, Standing up again and bringing Patton a little closer to him without realizing. “We can find a distraction! They can’t bother you if you’re doing something else!” 

Patton continued to stare, and if he at least no longer seemed terrified, Roman would count it a win.

And the prince had the perfect idea.

“Fair Patton, I would be tremendously honored if you would accompany me into town.” 

The fairy’s blank face only barely changed, one corner of his mouth ticking up into a hesitant half-smile, his eyes wide but no longer completely terrified. “What?”

Roman smiled wider, absolutely giddy. They could go down into town, and maybe help Patton get some actual fresh air, and Roman could finally meet the man for whom Virgil would jump from the roof of a carriage to save (no small feat, Roman didn’t have to explain.) Roman released one of Patton’s hands, holding the other and swinging gently. He looked to the stunned fairy, who was now staring at their joined hands, looking unsure. 

“Patton?” Roman asked, now starting to worry just a bit. Finally, Patton seemed to shake his nerves, and looked up at Roman once again, with a light but still hesitant smile on his face. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” the prince asked.

“Um... Sure.” 

And that was all the permission Roman needed before setting off. Of course, Roman was attentive to his guest; Patton had only had a week of healing, so they ambled rather more slowly than the prince would have alone. The inn wasn’t too far off from the little town, at least, and the weather seemed perfect for a stroll; warm sunshine and light breezes swaying through the grass around them. 

Patton kept pace with the prince easily, which Roman was rather proud of, although the fairy was hesitant to answer any questions about town or himself. After a few non-answers, Roman simply decided to swing their joined hands merrily. 

Finally, the village was before them, and Roman was delighted to see they had entered at the market-side. This would be so fun. 

However, when he looked to Patton to ask where he would want to start, he saw that the fairy had become closed off again; still holding his hand, and standing a little closer to the prince, but his shoulders were hunched just slightly, and he was looking down again. Roman pulled their arms, just a bit, to get Patton’s attention. 

The hesitant smile was back, and the blank eyes.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” the fairy asked quietly.

Roman rolled the words around in his head for a moment, before sighing, and taking both of Patton’s hands once more. “My dear Patton, I fear I let my excitement get the better of me.” He reached up, tracing just under the fairy’s chin, lifting his eyes to his own. “I fear I am so eager to acquaint myself with you that I neglected to ask your opinion on the matter.” 

 Patton’s gaze turned away, but the hesitant smile stayed in place. He shrugged in lieu of an answer. 

Roman knelt before the other man, tilting to meet his eyes. “I must ask your forgiveness that I have made you so uncomfortable. It is a grave error that I would bring harm to such a new friendship.”

“It’s no trouble, your Highness. I just… haven’t been in town… for a long time.” Patton continued to resolutely avoid him.

Damn. Virgil was going to kill him if he screwed this up...

“Well… then…” Roman grasped for something to say, “We should explore together! If you would be interested?” 

The fairy’s small smile seemed to turn genuine, and he quietly responded, “Of course, Your Highness.” 

“Just Roman is fine.” He said as he stood, and they were off once more. Roman felt himself bouncing around the market, keeping one hand in Patton’s at all times. It took time, and a fair bit of needling, but the half-fairy finally seemed to be warming up. Once or twice the shorter man seemed to be almost hiding behind Roman, but he had a smile on his face nonetheless. Roman watched the half-fairy investigate tables outside, swinging their conjoined hands lightly. 

A little time in the sunshine could do well after all.

Patton opened up little by little, occasionally leaning in for a closer look at one of the trinkets, and Roman was simply enjoying watching Patton. There was a special kind of wonder on his face, like he was enchanted by every new object. Roman had seen so much of it before, and really, he knew by now that at least half of the items of ‘value’ would be fake; but Patton acted like it was his first time seeing so much of it. 

Roman offered, several times, to purchase an item that the half-fairy would pick up, but each time the other resolutely refused. He just wanted to look, really, no need to spend any money on excess. 

After a few times, it went from adorably demure to pulling on Roman’s heart, just a bit. 

Roman took it upon himself to very discreetly purchase a handful of trinkets. It wouldn’t do to leave one of his comrades unspoiled. A bead bracelet here, a soft stuffed toy there. Trifles really. 

Finally, it was getting late, and Patton seemed tired without wanting to admit it. And Roman was almost ready to leave, really, he was, when he saw the little tailor shop at the end of the street.

Perfect.

“Most excellent!” Roman said, half under his breath. Patton pulled his hand back from some delicate-looking glass sun catchers and looked back up at Roman. 

“Has something caught your eye, your Highness?” he asked softly. Roman smiled down at him, and squeezed his hand gently. The prince nodded towards the little shop. 

“I love to investigate local tailoring when we stop in towns like this.” he admitted, genuine. “It’s such a lovely form of craftsmanship. And!” his smile brightened further, “Nothing makes you feel more like a new man, than a new wardrobe!” 

Roman couldn't help it, he was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet once more. They had yet to retrieve any of Patton’s clothing or possessions, outside of what had been sent the first day, and from the way the fairy had talked about it, he didn’t have much to collect anyway. His bandages were tight enough against his back that he would have little trouble trying on anything. This could be the perfect way for Roman to give Patton a little of his own freedom. 

The fairy made that hesitant smile again, one half quirked up as if unsure. But when Roman asked if Patton would feel comfortable to enter, he only paused a moment before agreeing. 

-------

Patton wasn’t unfamiliar with the town at large, he just hadn’t spent a lot of time wandering. His Grace had been very strict about his schedules, and that applied to almost everything Patton had done in the last twelve years. Running errands in town were quick and direct; everything from payments to collections had been arranged in advance. The fairy need only walk down, collect whatever package or basket that needed to be brought back, and return to the manor. Even in his free time, there was little reason for Patton to visit. He had almost no money to spend, and the town tended to look down on him in general as the wild, uncontrolled half-fairy that Marquis Wardenthall had taken in. 

His Grace had no small hand in spreading those rumors, of course, but that was beside the point.

Still, as they walked, Patton couldn’t help but appreciate the firm grip that His Highness kept on his left hand. He felt grounded, surprisingly safe, standing next to the Prince. And most of the villagers running their market tables chose to ignore Patton entirely in favor of wooing the Prince into buying their baubles. 

Patton only found himself hiding from a glare twice, and thankfully, Roman didn’t seem to notice. 

The fact that their hands were joined seemed to also put the market at large at ease, and as the time wore on, Patton found himself honestly investigating some of the trinkets that lined the tables. 

There were fresh fruits from all around the region, carefully wrought jewelry, children's toys, and leather crafts. Some stalls offered weapons, others fine liquors. There was so much to take in on such a busy day, and Patton could feel little thrills of delight at doing just that.

Their town wasn’t poor by any stretch, thanks to the Marquis, but Patton hadn’t realized just the extent of all the products people could produce. 

There were a handful of times that Patton caught the eye of a shopkeeper, and when he didn’t see scorn on their faces, he reached to bring something closer. 

Several of those items were stuffed children’s toys, but Patton couldn’t help it. He loved fluffy, comforting things. And the little frog and raccoon toys were just so cute. 

Patton felt a truly wide smile on his face for the first time in a long time, and the Prince seemed to be equally enjoying the excursion. So when they reached the end of the market square, Patton felt that, over all, he had had a really wonderful day. Pun intended.

However, he was tired. This was the longest Patton had been out since being pulled from the stockade; almost three hours now in their wanderings. He was doing his best not to lean on the Prince and risk dragging him down, but it was hard. Patton was busying himself running very careful fingers over stained glass sun catchers when he heard the Prince’s softly spoken,

“Most excellent!” 

Patton looked up with an honest, if soft, smile, seeing bright excitement on the Prince’s face. “Has something caught your eye, your Highness?” he asked. 

His Highness squeezed his hand, and Patton’s heart hummed a little with the niceness of it; something he really couldn't explain. He almost missed what the Prince was saying, just reveling in the feeling, only catching the end, “Nothing makes you feel more like a new man, than a new wardrobe!” 

The buzz was gone.

Patton tried to keep his smile, but it turned a little more cautious. The tailor’s shop. His Highness wanted to investigate the tailor’s shop. And from the way he seemed to be bouncing with anticipation, the Prince would likely be devastated if Patton said no. 

Well. He’d had worse audiences when collecting things from the tailors’. Perhaps he could even admire the Prince as he tried on new garments. So, when he asked if Patton would mind the last stop, it only took a moment for the fairy to steel his nerves before agreeing. 

The little bell above the door rang merrily as His Highness, ever the gentleman, opened it for Patton. Safe, mostly, within the shop, Patton felt comfortable enough to drop the Prince’s hand for a while. The tailor’s wife, Miss Martha, wandered out to greet them, and she seemed almost excited to see Patton. 

“Ah, hello dear!” she said kindly, looking under the counter for a package that Patton knew wouldn’t be there. “I hadn’t seen an order come in, I’m afraid you’ll have to take my apologies to your master.” 

Patton flinched, just barely, and stuttered under the Prince’s now darkened gaze. “N—no, miss, there’s no order. I—I’m just,” he was at a loss for words all of a sudden, and vaguely gestured to Roman with a little bow of his head and a step back. He’d done it dozens of times for other guests of the Marquis. Why was it difficult now?

Miss Martha brightened once more, giving a little curtsey as the Prince introduced himself. 

“Roman Kenrick, at your service.” He was standing taller now, his arms back and confidence in his face. 

Kenrick. The royal family’s name. It took all of three seconds for Miss Martha to realize, wander from behind the counter, and formally curtsey before the Prince, chattering about what an honor it must be for the Marquis to be hosting one of the royal family. Patton let it sort of wash over him, in perfect servant’s position. 

It wouldn’t do to sully His Highness’ reputation, after all. Even in a little town like this. 

Patton could hear his heartbeat in his ears, speeding up just a little, before he realized he was being spoken to.

His eyes flicked up to the Prince’s, and he felt a light flush on his cheeks as he asked, “Sorry?”

His Highness’s gaze was much softer on Patton, and he repeated himself. “Would you like to look around?” he asked softly, almost so Miss Martha couldn’t hear. Patton looked around the little shop with his eyes, wondering what he was supposed to be looking for. 

“Um?” Patton felt so suddenly unsure; what did His Highness want?

And yet, the Prince’s face stayed soft, and he offered his hand to Patton once more, and holding hands with the Prince felt so safe, that Patton was able to take a deeper breath, and look into his eyes without being afraid of not knowing. 

“I don’t understand what you want.” He admitted quietly, and His Highness’ eyes brightened, just a little. 

“I want to purchase some traveling clothes for you,” Roman answered, and continued before Patton could explain that it really wasn’t necessary, “I want you to have something nice. Just one, even. Because you deserve to feel a little spoiled.” 

His face turned almost mischievous for a moment. “I am a Prince, after all. Those in my company should be dressed to feel that honor.”

Patton didn’t quite understand the logic in that, but the Prince was pulling him just a little closer by their conjoined hands, and Miss Martha was still standing there, watching over His Highness's shoulders, and there was a little mix of peer-pressure and pride that bubbled up within his chest as he nodded his assent. 

The tailor already had his measurements on record, so anything he found could be altered if needed, and he could avoid the awkward and obnoxiously long process of being sized up. Still, Patton didn’t let go of the Prince’s hand as they wandered the little shop, looking over already-made garments hanging from ornate stands. The fairy outright refused to have anything made custom; it would be far too expensive, and take too much time, and Patton didn’t want to delay the Prince’s travels any longer than he already had.

Still, it felt strange, wandering the racks. Everything here was of stronger materials, wools and linens and leather cord. The stitching was careful and strong. The shop catered to more of the upper ring of the village than Patton technically belonged to. He found himself, several times, reaching out to feel the fabric of an item, only to quickly look to the Prince for approval. 

In the end, Patton agreed to one change of clothes. A pair of sturdy pants that would befit someone who planned to wear them to the limit and do a lot of walking, and an (incredibly soft) linen shirt colored a pale blue like the sky, or robin’s eggs. The color itself was so different from the rest of his wardrobe; but even looking at it as Miss Martha carefully folded it and slipped it into a bag, Patton thought he might never want to take it off. 

It was at the back of the shop that Patton found his true downfall. 

The Prince was at the counter, paying for the garments as he insisted upon doing, while Patton wandered among the accessories. Things made for much more wealthy men; someone closer to Logan’s or His Highness’s status than his own. Still, it was fun to look at some of them; Lords’ and Ladies’ gloves in all kinds of colors, vests with patterns woven right into the fabric, and more hats than Patton thought he had ever seen in town. 

But there was a stand at the back that drew Patton’s attention the most. There was a strangely made cape of some sort, one that would sit over the collarbone and shoulders, and had a loop on one side for the left arm, while the flowing half-cape hung off the right. Fine ribbons laced up the little collar piece all the way to the throat. It was colored gray, technically, but the fabric had the same shine that Logan’s shirt had, giving the garment the look of liquid silver. 

Patton had never been one for long capes, but this was somehow new. Beautiful.

The fairy was so lost just looking at it that he failed to hear the Prince coming up behind him, and he jumped with a squeak at the feeling of the Prince’s hand on his shoulder. 

His Highness did him the honor of not acknowledging this, or the scarlet blush that followed, instead giving his full attention to the accessory.

“That would look fantastic on you.” His Highness said, feeling the soft material and inspecting the ribbon clasps. Patton spluttered a little, not quite certain how to respond. At his hesitation, the Prince looked back at Patton and continued, “No, really. It would go beautifully with your eyes.” 

Miss Martha came over to assist in pulling the half-cape down from its display, and Patton felt himself tremble, just a little, as the Prince gently draped the collar over his shoulders and tied it securely. That oil on water feeling of the fabric flowed down his entire left arm, and the fairy could do little more than stare at it, feeling the edge of the cape with this forefinger and thumb. 

[Image ID: Patton Sanders, as a three-quarters image, with a warm smile and light pink blush on his face. He is looking down at himself in wonder, and wearing a pale blue shirt with minimal swirling embroidery on the cuffs and down the front. A silver-grey half-cape is draped over his left shoulder and down his arm. His ears have small points to indicate that he is half fairy. End image ID]

Without Patton really realizing it, the Prince had paid for this garment as well, and taken Patton’s hand and led him from the shop. Their hands stayed clasped as they walked back to the inn, the Prince enjoying the gentle breeze and the sunset around them, and Patton enjoying His Highness’s relaxed, beautiful face. 

All too soon they had returned to the Prince’s room, only to find Virgil in a spluttering panic. The mage gave Patton a soft kiss on his forehead, complimented the new cape, and said he would meet Patton in his room so they could have dinner together. 

And then he took the Prince by the ear, and dragged him into their shared room.

Patton couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up while watching them.

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Chapter Five