#virgil just wants to go on a different ride for once

[expolikestoart]

Final day, good ol 7: Imagination.

I think Roman's favorite Epcot ride is Journey into the Imagination. (old one(1983) not currrent) Virgil and Janus go on it are tired of it.

@anaroceitweek

[tagsecretsanta]

From @emtb319

From @emtb319 to @vitanirigatoni

“It’s Time”

Prompts:

Welcoming a new family member Christmas Day

Picking the right tree

All we want for Christmas is mother and father

No preferences on people

Characters:

Kyrano family

Tracy family

Cass McCready

Penelope Creighton-Ward

Parker

-Christmas Eve-

Cass McCready hadn’t expected to see Virgil or his brother today.  This was supposed to be a fun little holiday for her and her rock obsessed son.  Her son Derek had a rather keen interest in fluorescent rocks.  A few weeks ago, he discovered a small town that was known as the Fluorescent Mineral Capital of the World, so he had to see it.  She reached out to a local travel planner.  She happened to be related to the captain of the local fire department and mentioned that she could also arrange some ride-along time for Cass.  It didn’t take long for them to be invited to stay with the Fire Department Captain Babcock and his family.  This would save them the time of having to travel 25+ minutes to the nearest hotel.  Cass always liked the opportunity to visit other fire departments, and this one was in a rural area.  It would be very different from her city department.  Her visit would give her a chance to practice some seldom used skills and maybe she would learn something new.   

While Derek was on a museum tour, the fire sirens rang.  This department had one of those very old fashioned audible alarms, the ones that rang so loud that you could hear them from across town.  Many fire departments had them before they had portable radios, but few departments actually used them anymore.  One of the mines had collapsed and there may have been some people trapped inside.  While the department mobilized, Cass discovered that Derek was safe.  He told her that a few people had talked about going into a closed part of the mines.

“Mum.  I haven’t seen them,” he said.  “What if they’re in there?”

“Don’t worry Derek.  Stay with the group.  We will find them.”  As the search began, Cass and Captain Babcock realized that they may not have the apparatus or time needed to get to the trapped people.  They used drones and  found the group in a deep part of the mines.  This part of the mines was prone to flooding and water had started to seep inside.  They estimated that the trapped people had about 3 hours before they were submerged, but it would take at least 5 hours to get to them with the equipment and the manpower that they had.  The town had closed this mine off many years ago because of the water issue.  Even locals who were highly trained cave climbers would not enter this mine.  It was simply too dangerous to allow people to walk around there.  This group took a huge risk and got trapped.  Captain Babcock weighed his options, but he couldn’t see how they would get to the trapped people in time.  Cass called International Rescue.  It didn’t take long for her to hear the familiar roar of Thunderbird 2’s engines.  

“You’ll see Captain Babcock.  These boys are great,” Cass assured the fire captain.

“I’m sure they are,” he answered, “I’m just not used to having to call them for help.”

“It’s ok.  I know how that feels, but they really just like to help people.  They’re a nice family.  Highly trained too,” she said as she saw Virgil and Gordon approach them.  A short while later, with the help of International Rescue, they were able to get the trapped people out of the mine and close it off.  

Virgil left the tourists with the local emergency medical services.  They were more rattled than injured, but they needed a quick once over.  He thought about the mines and the little museum that he saw near the entrance.  This place was supposed to be known as the Fluorescent Mineral Capital of the World, but it didn’t appear to be a protected heritage site.  

“Captain Babcock, these mines, are they a heritage site yet?”  Virgil asked him.  

“No, they are not.  I wouldn’t know where to start to get them declared that way,” he answered.

“That’s what I thought.  Let me get you the contact information of a friend of mine over there,” Virgil started.   “Lady Penelope would be happy to help you.  If you can get the mines declared a heritage site, the World Heritage Foundation would help maintain them, so that something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“That would be wonderful!  I’d be happy to pass on her info to the history people here in town.”  They talked about the history of the mines and the minerals, as they packed up their gear.  Gordon’s attention turned to the fire department’s parking lot.  He really wanted something.  Virgil saw Gordon’s energy change.

“Gordon, whatever it is, I’m tired and ready to go home,” Virgil said with a sigh.  He was really  tired.  It had been a long day for all of them, and they would be over their flight hours soon.  

“Come on Virg.  Can you imagine the smell tomorrow morning?”  Gordon said/whined, while he bounced.  It took a moment for Virgil to realize what grabbed Gordon’s attention.   

“Gordon, there’s nothing wrong with the tree we already have at home.  And, we don’t have to worry about it becoming a fire hazard after you forget to water it,” Virgil retorted while Cass and Captain Babcock looked between the two of them and silently giggled.  Then came the puppy eyes.  Cass had to excuse herself to laugh out of earshot of Virgil.  Captain Babcock used her as an excuse to step away for some coffee and a snack.  He was trying his best not to laugh in front of Virgil and Gordon.  Virgil saw them slip away and looked back at Gordon and sighed.  He could argue and lose tired, or he could let Gordon take a few minutes to get his tree.  On the bright side, it would support the local emergency services and his little brother would be happy, so Virgil gave in.  

“Fine, but be quick,” Virgil didn’t even get to the word ‘but’, before Gordon shot off.  Virgil turned back towards Gordon and yelled,  “just make sure it’s not a Frasier.”

“I know, I know,” Gordon yelled back, as he bounced across the lot in search of his tree.  There were a few reasons why they didn’t typically do fresh trees at Christmas.  It wasn’t just a fire hazard, but the wrong one could bring back smells and memories that belonged well in the past.  Tomorrow was for them as a family, and it will be a good day.  Virgil and John would make sure of it.  It was their dad’s first Christmas home after his long trip to the Oort Cloud.  Even Colonel Casey made arrangements so that they would not be bothered.  International Rescue had a rare day off.  Colonel Casey promised not to call them unless the world had fallen apart.  

Cass returned to Virgil’s side, having regained her composure.  She grasped Virgil’s shoulder and said, “I love his energy.  Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”  They went off towards the fire department auxiliary’s tent in search of some coffee.  With coffee in hand, Cass went over some tree basics with Virgil and even got him the base that they’d need for it.  

Gordon was happy that Virgil let him get a real tree.  He wanted this Christmas to be extra special.  He and John had worked really hard on their surprise for everyone, and things needed to be perfect when that gift arrived at the island tomorrow.  A fresh tree would make it more special.  As he made his way through the rows of trees, a fire department cadet approached him and offered to help.

“Just trying to find the right one.  Big day tomorrow,” Gordon answered.

“Hmm,” the cadet started.  “How big?  What color?  Anything you don’t want?”

“No Frasiers,” Gordon said a little too quickly.  The cadet looked at him a moment, then decided that it was better not to ask.

“Okay.  We have some really nice Spruces this year,” he said, as he guided Gordon to another side of the lot.  They made small talk, as Gordon looked through the trees.  He told Gordon a lot about the local history.  His own family had been on the department for over 140 years.  

“Maybe something a bit fuller,” Gordon said, as they looked through more trees.  “We have a tall ceiling and lots of room in our lounge.  It doesn’t have to be too tall, but maybe wider is better.”

“Oh!  I know the one.  It’s over here,” the cadet responded.  He grabbed Gordon’s arm and led him further down the row of trees.  The kid was right.  It was the perfect tree.  A nice, hearty Blue Spruce.  Not too tall, nice and full.  The cadet tagged the tree for him and asked some other helpers to wrap it up.  

“Thunderbird 5 from Thunderbird 2.”  Virgil needed to check in with John and let him know about the delay.

“A fresh tree,” John said.  “Really?  He’s not getting a Frasier, right?”

“No he’s not,” Virgil answered.  He looked over his shoulder to see if he could spot the squid. “Looks like he’s by the spruces right now.  Don’t tell anyone about the tree please.  I’m pretty sure he wants to surprise everyone.”

“Understood.  Dad is trying to help Kayo with the decorations.”  That statement earned John a look from Virgil.  Virgil’s medic mode immediately kicked in.  

“Dad should not be carrying things like that yet.”

“He knows,” John answered.  “After 1 trip, he realized his error.  He just wanted to see if he could do any of it.”  John stopped a moment while he checked on the island,  “Right now, he’s in the lounge.  Looks like he’s detangling lights.”

“Wait,” Virgil interrupted.  “Detangling lights?  I thought we put them away well last year.  What happened?”

“We did, but then Dad touched something.  And now,” John gestured, “tangled mess.  So, he’s in the lounge, trying to sort them out.  On the bright side, it’s good exercise for his hands and fingers.”

“True,” Virgil answered.  “That works.  He’s staying out of trouble and exercising a little bit.  I take it Grandma’s keeping eyes on him?”

“Oh yeah,” John said.  “She’s been giving him that look.”  Virgil chuckled at the comment.  They talked for a few minutes until Gordon hollered for Virgil to come over and see his pick.  Cass smiled ear to ear as she watched the boys. It didn’t take long to package up his tree, and the next thing Virgil knew, they were in the air, on their way home.  

“I can’t wait for Penny and everyone to see it.”  Gordon’s excitement continued.  

“Yea little brother.  It’ll be nice.  Now, let’s get home.  We both need showers before we help decorate,” Virgil responded with a stifled yawn.  Coffee or not, it had been a long day, and he looked forward to a nice shower and some down time.   

The ride home didn’t take very long.  Gordon was excited to announce to everyone that they had brought home a fresh tree, as he dragged it in behind him.  “Can’t wait to get her up,” he chirped.  Scott gave a glance towards Virgil, but Virgil’s expression gave him all the answers that he needed.  

“Come on boys, go get washed up and changed.  It’s time to get this tree up and decorated,” said Grandma Tracy from the kitchen, as she wiped her hands on her apron.  Max helped her cook popcorn and hot chocolate, while Kayo brought up the last of the decorations from storage. 

While he waited for everyone to freshen up and come back to the lounge, Virgil reminisced about their mom and some music that she liked to play and hear around Christmas time.  He tried to remember where she had gotten the music, but he couldn’t remember the name of the song or artist.  He sat down at his piano and tried to recreate the songs in his head.  John listened in from Thunderbird 5.  He was about to take the elevator down to join the rest of his family.  John always liked to listen to Virgil play, so it was no surprise when John interrupted his thoughts.  

“That’s TSO,” John said.  

“TSO?” Virgil questioned.

“That music.  It’s from a group called Trans Siberian Orchestra,” John answered.  “Mom loved their Christmas show.  She would play it for us around Christmas time.  Want Eos and I to try to find it?”

“Yes please.  I think it would be nice to play it while we’re decorating the tree, don’t you think?”

“It’ll be nice,” John replied.  “It shouldn’t take us too long.”

With TSO in the background, the boys got to work on the Blue Spruce.  Virgil showed them all what Cass and Captain Babcock showed him about the set up and upkeep.  He reminded everyone that they didn’t want a fire.  By the time the Christmas show was over, they had the lounge and the tree all decorated.  They ended their evening with hot chocolate and fresh popped popcorn.  

Once in his room, Gordon reached out to Penny.  “Is everything set?”

“Of course.  He’s here for the night, then will come with us in the morning.  Are you sure she doesn’t suspect anything?”

“The only other person that knows anything is John.  Kayo doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“I’ll see you in the morning my love.  Happy Christmas.”

“Love you too.”  It didn’t take long for Gordon to fall asleep.  By the time they’d wake up tomorrow, Penny would be well on her way with a very special gift for everyone.

-Christmas Day-

He looked at the old picture.  It was the same picture that he looked at every day.  His girls.  It was taken during a nice day at the wolf preserve.  This particular preserve was dedicated to the wolves that needed long term rehab or the ones that wouldn’t survive in the wild.  When they were done with their tour, they each got a small ice cream cone and sat on a bench overlooking one of the enclosures.  Only 3 copies of the photo were ever made.  The one he kept, the one he gave to his daughter, and the one that he buried with his wife.  

Years ago, he left them all behind because of grief.  He just couldn’t stay there any more.  All he could see was his lost friend.  After Ohana died, his friend was the rock that kept him alive.  With him gone, he couldn’t handle it.  In every person he saw on the island, in every corner, with every sound of the waves.  At first, he tried to stay strong for his daughter and his dear friend's kids, but he couldn’t even stay strong for himself, so he left.  Now, he’s not even sure if this is the right thing to do.  It had been too long.  Parker and Penelope have tried to assure him over and over that it will be alright.  They all miss him, and if he’s ready to come back, they’d all be there for him.  No matter when (or if) that day may come.  He had debated coming back, but it was Parker that pushed him to this moment.  He didn’t know if today meant to stay forever or just for a little bit, but he wanted to be with the people that he loved and missed dearly.  He pushed his nerves aside and got into FAB 1 with Parker and Penelope.

As they took off, he looked over at Parker.  He silently thanked him.  It caught him off guard when Parker had shown up on his doorstep a few days ago.  Parker said only a few words, but it was all that he needed.  He needed his family just as much as they needed him.  Parker was right, it was time, and now he was in the sky and on his way home.  Parker smiled back and returned his focus to the skies in front of them.

It would take them a little while to get to the island from England, so he sat there with his thoughts.  His mind wandered to all of the missed moments, and how he would never be able to get them back.  Penelope saw the change in his face.  She knew where his thoughts had gone.

“Stop worrying.  And don’t try to tell me that I don’t know what you’re thinking.  I can see it all over your face,” she said.  “They love you and miss you.  She loves you and misses you.  It’s time to come home, to be together, to heal together, to move forward together.  It will be ok, you’ll see.”  He considered her words, nodded, and held his head high for the rest of the trip.  He could do this.  The decision was made.  They were right.  It was time.  He thanked Penelope and watched the water as they flew closer to his old home.  

-Meanwhile on Tracy Island-

With Grandma and Max on pie duty, Jeff and Scott cooked Christmas pancakes for everyone.  John manned the proteins, and Gordon made the coffee and juice.  The smell of food brought down Alan, and the smell of strong coffee brought Virgil.  As Gordon sat down, John quickly whispered to him that their package was on the way.  

“Thanks John, “ he responded quietly.  Gordon looked around the room, “say, where’s Kayo?,” Gordon asked.  

“I haven’t seen her yet this morning,” John answered Gordon.

“I’ll go look for her,” Scott said.  “You guys relax.”

“Thanks Scott.  I’m worried about her.  She seemed a little off the last time I saw her,” John said.

“It’s the season John.  She really misses him.  I wish that she’d let us look for him.”

“Yea Scott.  Maybe this year will be different.”

“I can only hope.  I’ll go find her and see if she wants to join us for pancakes.”  With that, Scott went off in search of Kayo.  

Kayo tried to use the boys’ holiday energy as a distraction, but it didn’t work very well.  She didn’t like this time of year anymore and needed some alone time.  Over and over, she told herself that her dad needed space.  She wouldn’t look for him.  When he was ready, he would come back to them.  She was determined to respect his wishes for space to grieve.  John and Scott both offered to find him multiple times, but she always refused.  She was determined to respect his wishes, but with each day, each holiday, each missed moment, it got harder and harder to do,

It was no secret that Jeff was back now.  They tried to keep it quiet for a while, but it didn’t take long for 1 person to make an innocent comment and for the wrong person to hear it.  The next thing they knew, Jeff was in the news.  Public Relations was on it right away, but they couldn’t stop what was already reported.  Jeff improved little by little every day.  He even started to help with Tracy Industries and International Rescue.  The family was sure to keep an eye on him to make sure that he didn’t overdo it, but Jeff watched himself and made sure to tell them if things were too much.

She wished that her dad would come back.  Jeff had asked about him, but Kayo explained what happened after the accident and why she hadn't gone after him.  Jeff understood and respected both Kayo’s and her father’s decisions.  Jeff wanted his old friend back too.  He assured her that if her father wanted to come back, that it was ok.  Whether it would be a visit or permanent, there would always be room there for him.  

She heard Scott enter, but she couldn’t look up from the picture in her hands.  She didn’t know why, but this year felt different.  It wasn’t just her father’s absence that made her sad.  She missed her mom too.  All of the things that she wished that she could ask her, the things that she wished that her mom could teach her, but she was gone.  Grandma Tracy tried her best, but she missed her mom, and with her dad gone too, it had become a little too much.  

It didn’t take long for Scott to find her.  He found her in the library that overlooked the ocean sunrise.  Kayo was focused on something in her hands that Scott could not see.  

“Kayo,” he said quietly, but she didn’t answer him.  “Tan,” he said a little louder as he approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  She looked up at him with unshed tears in her eyes.  He saw what was in her hands.  He recognized the people in the picture.  It was Kayo, her dad, and her mom, shortly before they lost her mom.  “Breakfast is ready, if you want to come down,” he told her.    

“Thanks Scott.  But,” she started, but she couldn’t find her words.  Scott saw her distress and sat down beside her.  

“You miss him.”

“Yea.  I wish that he’d come home.  I don’t care that he ran away.  I just want him back.”  Scott brought her into a side hug and held her as she shed rare tears.  

“You never know Tan, maybe he’ll be ready soon.  The offer to try to track him down is still on the table for you.  If you want me to find him, I will.”

“No Scott.  I don’t want to push him.  Losing your dad, then watching us grieve was a lot.  I understand why he left.  He needs his space, and I will give it to him.”  She tried to be strong, but her eyes told him the truth.  

“But dad’s back now.  We can go find yours too and bring him home.”  She had it in her head that she needed to give her father the space that he needed.  Everyone processes grief differently, but Scott is right.  Jeff is back.  He’s downstairs right now, at the table ready to have Christmas breakfast with his family.  That’s why she was up here in the library today.  She wanted to be selfish, but was it the right thing to do?  She wanted him to come back because he was ready, not because she went and dragged him back.  

“I’ll let you know Scott.  I don’t want to push him any further away.”  Scott gave her a squeeze, then let her go.  Kayo excused herself and took a moment to wash her face. After that, they went to join the rest of the family in the kitchen and arrived to utter chaos.  The tinies had decided that the pancakes needed whipped cream and sprinkles.  So naturally, the entire kitchen had become a sticky mess.  Everyone was covered in something and their laughs filled the whole house.  Scott and Kayo took in the scene and joined them. 

After breakfast, they started on the clean up.  Once most of the mess was cleaned, Grandma shooed everyone to get showered. The cleaning robots could handle the rest.

Once showered, they came down to the lounge to relax together.  Presents would wait until later that day, but Gordon decided that the tree needed something.  It wasn’t quite right yet.  Before anyone knew it, glitter was everywhere.  Gordon’s idea of what the tree needed didn’t mean more sparkly tinsel, it meant sparkly glitter.  Lots of sparkly glitter, which exploded on everything.  This was the scene that their guests saw as they walked in.  Kayo was too busy with a very sparkly/annoyed/mad Alan, so she didn’t notice them arrive.  

Kyrano didn’t know what to expect when he arrived with Penelope and Parker.  The kids were all covered from their heads to their toes in glitter.  Grandma and Jeff looked at them with twin looks of astonishment.  The kids had all grown, but they were still as he remembered them.  He couldn’t contain his laughter.  It took a moment for everyone to realize that there were more people in the room than before.  As Kayo turned her head, she couldn’t believe her eyes.  Barely a moment later, she ran into her dad, and nearly knocked him over.  John and Gordon smiled, the same smiles that Penelope and Parker had on their faces.  

Gordon came up behind Penelope, hugged her from behind and gave her a kiss on the head.  “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.  

“Of course my love.  They deserve this.”  She looked around the lounge and pointed “Glitter?  Really?”  Penelope didn’t need to ask which brother did this.  Yes, Alan has his playful side and routinely helped Gordon with mischief, and they both learned their mischievous ways from their next oldest brother John, but this glitter bomb had Gordon’s name all over it.  

“Yup,” he said, with some extra emphasis on the ‘p’ and a huge grin on his face.  Penelope smiled and sank deeper into their hug.

Lots of tears and many hugs later, everyone settled into the lounge to finish the tree.  After Gordon declared that the tree was perfect, Grandma and Max brought out the pies and ice cream.  

They exchanged gifts.  Little things, made from the heart or found.  The boys always made it a point to carefully pick their gifts for each other.  They didn’t have many rules about gift giving per se, but the boys all seemed to agree that the presents should come from their hearts, not their wallets.  Gordon held onto 1 special gift for Penelope for later.  Today was about Kyrano’s return home.  That was the big gift for everyone.  Tomorrow, so long as Penelope accepted of course, they’d announce that she’d become a Tracy in the near future.    

-Later that evening, on the balcony outside the library-

“I am so sorry Tanusha.  Nothing can excuse my actions.  You should tell me to leave.”  Kyrano rambled.  He had a lot to say, but he couldn’t seem to get the words together, so he rambled.  He hoped that his words would come together enough to make some sense.  

“Dad, stop please” Kayo started.  She gently grabbed his face so that they were eye to eye.  She needed him to stop for a moment, so that he could listen.  “I’ve missed you.  When we thought we lost Jeff,” she paused to collect her thoughts, “we each handled it in the best way we could.  I don’t blame you.  I hoped that with him home that you would too.  I hoped that it would bring you out of your ‘retirement’, but I didn’t know where you went or if you wanted any of us to even look for you.  So, I waited.  Scott and John both offered to look for you a few times, but I wanted to give you the space that you needed.  I’m glad you’re here now.  After Jeff came home, he asked about you, and I explained what happened.  He didn’t hesitate to tell me that if you do decide to come back that you’d have a place here.  We all understand Dad.  I do ask one thing though.”

“What is it my blessing?”  He answered.  Kayo smiled at the old nickname.  

“If you don’t stay, please call more often.”  With that, Kyrano brought Kayo into a tight hug.  After a few moments, he let her go and retrieved a box that was put aside.

“This is for you.  It’s time that you have it.”  He handed her a small box, and Kayo recognized it immediately.  It was one of her mother’s jewelry boxes.  She opened it and saw her mother’s favorite necklace.  It was the same one that she wore that day in the picture.  “She would have wanted you to have it,” he said as Kayo ran her fingers over it.  

“I remember this necklace,” she started with barely a whisper.  “She was wearing it that day at the wolf preserve,” Kayo paused.  Kayo asked Kyrano to help her with the necklace.  Then, they moved over to sit on the balcony bench to enjoy the tropical evening sunset.  After a little while, Kayo broke the silence.

“Dad, I understand if you can’t stay right now, but please come back to the island,” Kayo said, as she placed her head on his shoulder.  She whispered.  “I miss you.”  Kyrano didn’t need to think about his decision anymore.  He knew exactly what he wanted most.  

“I’ll talk to Mr. Tracy.  I want nothing more than to be back with my family,” he replied, placing his head on hers.  It would be ok.  He wouldn’t pass up this chance.  

The picture from the wolf preserve:

[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 120]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53

I have a list of tasks I need to finish, but some of them might take a while. So, expect there to be long breaks between sections.

Chapter 54 (Patton)

“I still can’t believe he’s allowing this,” King Thomas said from next to Patton. The two of them were standing at the edge of the arena outside the horse stable, watching from a safe distance.

“If he hadn’t tried to bite me earlier, I’d think he was a different horse,” Patton agreed.

“He doesn’t even let Logan ride him,” the king said. “At least not ride him and give him directions.”

Patton was very aware of that. Logan did on occasion choose to get up onto Mr. Apples’ saddle. However, Mr. Apples was always the once who got to decide where they went after that. Logan had no say.

With that in mind, Patton, Logan, and every stable hand who’d heard about the prospective riding lessons had tried to convince Virgil to learn to ride on a different horse. Virgil was just as stubborn as Mr. Apples however and had insisted. Logan, being the only one who could be around Mr. Apples without risking being kicked, had become his de facto tutor.

Not even Logan could have expected that within a week, Virgil would be able to control Mr. Apples. Though perhaps ‘control’ was the wrong word. Nothing could control Mr. Apples, but for some reason, Mr. Apples seemed willing to do as Virgil asked.

Even right now Mr. Apples was trotting around the training arena like he was a well-trained trick horse warming up with his rider.

“Logan told him we could go on an actual ride today if the lesson went well,” Patton told the king. The lesson seemed to be just getting over because Logan said something to Virgil and Virgil started to climb off. Mr. Apples was patient and still as he dismounted.

“Do you think he’d mind if I went with you?” King Thomas asked.

Patton shrugged. “Mr. Apples might.”

“Mr. Apples definitely will,” the king replied. “I’ll come anyway.”

Logan had walked over to where Patton and the king were standing while Virgil fed Mr. Apples some apple pieces as a reward.

“I hear you’re going to go riding today,” King Thomas said.

Logan nodded. “Mr. Apples seems to listen to him well enough,” he said.

“I might join you if that’s alright. Where are you kids going?” the king asked.

“I was thinking the main forest path,” Logan replied. “It’s not a particularly difficult route, but it’s also a part of the castle grounds Virgil hasn’t been able to see yet. Loraine told me it has been recently cleared after the winter.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the king said. “Are you going now?”

“Once Patton and I saddle up our horses,” Logan said. “You can come.”

“Great,” the king said with a smile. “I’ll ask for Bella’s saddle to be brought out. I haven’t gone on a ride yet this week.”

He turned then to walk towards the stables leaving Patton and Logan alone.

“Do you think he’s been acting weird?” Logan asked, turning towards Patton.

Patton frowned. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

“I’m just wondering why he wants to go horseback riding with us.”

“He likes spending time with you?” Patton guessed.

“Yes,” Logan said, “but typically in a setting that doesn’t involve Mr. Apples.”

Well, that was fair.

“I mean, it’s not too weird,” Patton said, thinking back through the last couple of days. King Thomas had been a bit… clingy.

“He’s been hanging around a lot,” Logan said, echoing Patton’s thoughts with narrowed eyes. He glanced back at Virgil. “You don’t think Virgil let something slip, do you?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Patton said. “I think your dad would say something if Virgil let slip he was an assassin somehow.”

“Unless he let slip something that didn’t quite implicate himself but invited suspicion.”

“Your dad doesn’t seem suspicious,” Patton said. At least, Patton didn’t think he did. He hadn’t been acting mean in any way. In fact, he might have even been acting nicer.

Logan frowned. “We should keep an eye on him, especially around Virgil.”

Patton bit his lip.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Are we ever going to tell your dad about Virgil?” he asked.

Logan hesitated. “I don’t…” he trailed. “I’m not sure.”

“It just feels weird lying for so long,” Patton said. Patton didn’t lie a lot. Sure, maybe he’d pretend to not know what Mama was talking about when sweets went missing from the kitchens or he’d pretend to not know what Logan’s birthday gift was, but he’d never lied about anything serious before now.

“I know, but,” Logan glanced back at Virgil once again, “even if we did decide to tell, we’d have to convince Virgil everything would be alright beforehand. I don’t think we’re at that point yet. He was terrified of Father until a few months ago, and he’s still cautious around him sometimes.”

Logan was right, of course. Virgil was getting more and more comfortable around the king, but he figured any of the progress made would go down the drain as soon as they brought up telling King Thomas about where exactly Virgil had come from. Patton didn’t know if Virgil would ever be comfortable enough.

“We should go get our own horses,” Logan suggested, and Patton nodded.

Patton and Logan’s horses had already been saddled by the stable hands in anticipation of their ride and it didn’t take long for the king to saddle his own horse, Bella.

The forest path at this time of year was very pretty, Patton thought. The tree branches now had small green leaves on them after having been barren for the entire winter and flowers were starting to grow. In a few weeks’ time it would be even prettier, but it would also be harder for the groundskeeper to maintain as well as it was right now.

Virgil really did seem less anxious around King Thomas now. The path was only wide enough for two horses to go at once, and he didn’t seem to mind that he and the king ended up next to each other while Patton and Logan lagged behind. In fact, he and the king seemed to be having a nice conversation about the local wildlife.

However, if Patton looked close enough, he did sort of see what Logan meant. Virgil may not be anxious talking to the king now, but the king himself seemed just a little bit nervous at least at the beginning of the ride.

He seemed to relax a bit as they rode (even laughing when Mr. Apples tried to bite him when he got too close).

Logan had been teaching Virgil the basics about things like animals, but there was still a pretty big gap in his education when it came to anything that wasn’t about training to fight and kill. King Thomas seemed more than willing to answer any of his questions when it came to the animals and plants around them even if they were sometimes a bit silly.

He’d seen a bird that looked like a dove. (It may have even been a dove, but Patton hadn’t seen it.) This had been a source of endless confusion for him.

“But shouldn’t it live in the dovecote?” Virgil asked.

“Not all birds live in a dovecote,” the king explained again.

“But it’s a dove,” Virgil said with a frown.

“Not all doves live in a dovecote,” the king replied.

“But it’s a dovecote,” Virgil argued. “It’s for the doves.”

“Yes, but there are also wild doves,” the king said.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Virgil replied.

“What about it doesn’t make sense?” the king asked with a laugh in his tone.

“Doves go in the dovecote,” Virgil said.

Patton was starting to have trouble following this argument.

“Dovecotes are made for doves,” the king said, “but not all doves go in dovecotes.”

“Why?”

This seemed to stump the king momentarily, but he still answered after thinking for a bit. “Doves existed before people got to them,” the king explained. “People caught and trained some of them, but there was no way to catch all of them. So, some stayed in the wild and continued with their lives like they had been before humans. Plus, sometimes domesticated doves fly off and never come back. Sometimes they might die, but other times they may have just gotten lost and had to build a new life somewhere far away. Or maybe they even decided that being a trained dove working for humans wasn’t for them, so they decided to go off on their own.”

“You let them do that?” Virgil asked.

“We can’t really stop them in the end,” the king said. “People can try, but it never ends up working as long as they can fly.”

Virgil thought about this. “I still don’t understand,” he said, “but okay.”

“We should take you to the cliffs,” the king suggested.

“What are the cliffs?”

“The castle grounds were built for defense,” King Thomas explained. “The edge of the grounds to the North is a large river and overlooking it is a huge cliff. It’s a good place for picnics and for birdwatching. It’s a bit of a trip, but now would be a good time of year to go.”

He glanced over his shoulder back at Logan and Patton. “What do you boys think about going to the cliffs sometime? Maybe in about a week?”

Logan squinted at his father suspiciously. It wasn’t so much the fact that the king was asking them to go to the cliffs. They did that every so often. However, this time, it only supported Logan’s claims that the king was hanging out with them a lot recently.

“Sure,” Logan said, after a moment.

“Sounds fun!” Patton said cheerily right after, trying to cover for the lack of enthusiasm in Logan’s voice with his own. Judging by King Thomas’s expression and Logan’s tight-lipped scowl, he may have overcompensated.

“Great,” the king said. “I’ll” make sure to make arrangements when we get back to the castle.”

Chapter 55 (Logan)

            Virgil was beginning to be able to read some of the common instructions in magic books, but Logan still made sure to read out the instructions to him at least twice before setting him loose. He’d started to jot down notes to himself about things, though these notes were not words, but various symbols that only made sense to the boy himself.

            Logan had asked about their meaning at one point and received an answer that, while earnest, was unintelligible. The symbols were mostly just pictures of things to represent certain steps in spell casting, but they were filtered through Virgil’s rudimentary penmanship and often bizarre perception of the world.

Though, despite the fact that Logan could not often decipher his chicken scratch, it did seem to help him produce impressively quality charms even as Logan began to introduce more complicated processes to make them. He was a very good student even if he didn’t have the best foundation for learning.

“I add lavender for the next step, right?” Virgil asked, his finger on a word in Logan’s magic book.

“That is correct,” Logan confirmed.

Virgil looked back at the book and mouthed the word ‘lavender’ to himself before turning back to his potion. He grabbed a few sprigs of lavender and threw them into the cauldron.

The liquid popped and bubbled violently, but Virgil didn’t flinch as he once would have, prepared for it now.

After the lavender, Logan knew that it would have to simmer for 5 minutes. Virgil looked down at the boiling liquid, contemplating it for a long moment.

“Can I soak a knife in it?” he asked.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Can I soak a knife in the potion once it’s done?”

“In that potion?” Logan clarified. “In the emergency hand warmer potion?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think a hot knife would be useful,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

Virgil shrugged. “Cooking food on the road,” he said, “burning wood, stabbing someone and immediately cauterizing the wound.”

“That is… not a standard use for this potion,” Logan said.

Virgil titled his head at him. “Would it work though?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Logan contemplated. “Perhaps. The potion can cause burns if one uses too much of it or if it is used without an appropriate layer between it and the skin. If one were to pick a knife with enough surface area and let it soak long enough, it could in theory get hot enough to do as desired. Hmm…” he thought about it. “There would perhaps be the problem of the potion not sticking to the knife very long as it is intended to soak into fabric. However, cardamom could solve that issue as long as it doesn’t interact with any other ingredients. Let me see that spell.”

Virgil stepped out of his way so he could study the page. “Yes,” Logan said after scanning through all of the ingredients. “I think coriander would work for something like that. Let me go find some.”

He turned to walk towards where he kept his supplies of potion ingredients. Virgil followed on his heals.

“Can we use a serrated knife?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Virgil,” Logan said, nodding as he searched through the cupboard that should hold the coriander. “The knife being serrated would help keep the potion stuck to the blade after many uses and would increase the surface area.”

“That was certainly my intentions,” Virgil said smoothly. There was something odd about the tone that had Logan turning to him and blinking at him. Virgil just smiled at him innocently and Logan turned back to the cabinet finally locating the coriander.

“So how are we going to use that?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll put it in right before the last step and let it sit for about 3 minutes,” Logan said. “If it doesn’t quite work, we may need to make another batch. There are options other than coriander, but that’s the first idea that comes to mind and it a lot simpler if it works.”

He continued to speak of the many other options they could try as they returned to the caldron as well as how they could test the hot knife. It was already about time for the next step and Virgil did it without interrupting Logan’s rant.

Virgil listened to his suggestions with interest all while still making sure the potion he was making was progressing well.

Logan did eventually take over to finish the potion with the revised steps he’d come up with and they ended up with a potion that looked perfect except it was a few shades darker than the one they’d originally been planning to make.

“Well, it looks good,” Logan declared. “We will need to acquire a knife to test its effectiveness, however.”

“There are a few good ones in the kitchen,” Virgil pointed out. “I especially like the one 10 inch one with the black and white handle.”

“You have been eyeing up the kitchen knives?” Logan asked.

Virgil rolled his eyes as though that was not a perfectly reasonable question to ask him. “We should steal that one,” Virgil said.

“Do you think we’ll be able to sneak past Ms. Heart to steal a knife from her kitchen?” Logan asked.

“We can’t,” Virgil said.

Logan almost didn’t believe him… and then he remembered the water pouch incident. “It’s the dinner rush,” Logan said. “We should probably wait for a bit.”

Virgil was shaking his head. “The dinner rush is the best time,” he said. “Everyone will be distracted, and all of the knives will be out and in prime stealing position.”

“And if Patton’s mother catches us messing around in her kitchen during her busiest time of day, she will have Father ground us for a week.”

“Then we just won’t get caught,” Virgil said.

“I’m not sure if it’s that simple,” Logan said with a frown.

“You can stay here if you want,” Virgil offered. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“No, I’ll come too,” Logan relented, though he did still have some reservations about the idea.

He let Virgil lead him towards the main dining hall. By now, Virgil knew the kitchens and dining hall very well.

“Stay here,” he said. They were in a hallway a few feet down from the staff entrance to the kitchen. “I’m going to do some reconnaissance.”

“What type of reconnaissance?” Logan asked, but Virgil had already disappeared before his very eyes. With a blink, Logan looked up and saw a dark figure disappear onto a balcony overhead.

Well, Logan really had no choice but to wait there for him. It wasn’t like he could follow him. He could hear the clatter of silverware on plates from the dining hall down the corridor as he impatiently waited. It only took Virgil a bit over five minutes to return. He dropped suddenly from above and landed in front of Logan in a crouch.

“Well?” Logan asked, letting a bit of irritation into his tone so Virgil knew he was displeased. Virgil did not seem to care.

“Got it,” Virgil said with a wide grin, brandishing a large kitchen knife.

Logan flinched back at the unexpected sight of a weapon.

“You said you were doing reconnaissance!” he sputtered. “Not…” he trailed off remembering that while they weren’t in eyesight of anyone right now, they could be in earshot of someone. He lowered his tone, “stealing the knife already.”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” Virgil said with a shrug, “and then I used the information gathered by that reconnaissance to steal a knife.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

Virgil just smiled. “You would have gotten in my way.”

“I would not have,” Logan insisted.

“How many times has Patton’s mom caught you stealing food from the kitchens in the past?” he asked.

Logan pursed his lips. “That is Patton’s doing,” he said.

“Sure,” Virgil said with an eyeroll. “I’ll have you prove it some other day, but for now,” he twirled the knife around in a way that made Logan cringe even though he did seem to have an expert handle over it. “We have a knife.”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a nod. “We should continue the experiment.”

Virgil stored the knife away… somewhere on his person, and they snuck back to Logan’s rooms.

When Virgil handed over the knife, Logan did have to admit it was a perfect specimen for their project: long and saw-like with a heatproof handle.

Logan carefully set it in a shallow dish and proceeded to pour the potion they’d made onto it. They let it sit for a little under half an hour before carefully pulling it out of the concoction with tongs and letting it airdry. Meanwhile, Virgil suggested they set up a testing area with various old sheets and clothing. They’d even found and decorated an armor stand with an old suit that Logan particularly disliked.

“Well,” Logan said once he’d tapped the handle and had not gotten burned by the potion. “I think we can test it now.” For safety, he made Virgil put on thick heatproof gloves before handing him the knife.

“So how do I make it work?” Virgil asked.

“The original potion works through light friction,” Logan said.

“So just start stabbing things?”

Logan went to respond, but before he could, Virgil had already twisted around and sliced through one of the sheets hanging in Logan’s potion room. There was a sizzling noise as the knife cut through the sheet like it was tissue paper leaving two aflame halves flapping about.

Logan leapt forward to tear the pieces of sheet down and the two of them stomped on the flames to put out the fire.

“It’s perfect,” Virgil said with a grin once the charred remains of the sheet were extinguished.

“It does seem to work as intended,” Logan agreed.

“Let’s do it again,” Virgil said.

“Er, well, perhaps we shouldn’t…,” Logan started, but Virgil had already set his eyes on the armor stand they’d set up. That suddenly seemed like not such a good idea to Logan.

He stabbed the armor stand viciously. It went up in flames instantly. Logan’s eyes widened as the blaze only seemed to get bigger as Virgil drew back the knife.

Virgil did not seem to share Logan’s worry as he turned and stabbed another piece of hanging clothing, setting it ablaze as well.

“Virgil, no! You’re going to burn the room down!” Logan yelped.

The armor stand at that very moment decided to fall to the ground. They had, perhaps, not set the testing area up as well as they should have because it fell directly onto one of Logan’s rugs and set that on fire as well.

“Oops,” Virgil said, eyes wide.

Above the sound of crackling fire, Logan heard a tapping on the door between his bedroom and work room. It opened slightly after a moment and Logan’s father’s voice called out as he was sticking his head into the room, “Um, what do you mean Virgil… is burning the room down!”

The moment Logan’s father fully processed the presence of the flames, he was bursting into the room. He at least remembered that there was a fire extinguishing powder stocked in Logan’s work room even though that fact had slipped Logan’s mind in the chaos. (Perhaps Logan should have thought to set it out when they were testing a fire knife, but Logan would just add that to his growing list of regrets.)

The king managed to put all of the fires out within 30 seconds of poking his head through the door, but the fire left in his eyes when he turned to them afterwards was perhaps more dangerous.

Virgil slowly hid the knife behind his back. It was probably a bit late for that.

“What were the two of you doing in here?” the king asked.

“Nothing,” Logan said. Virgil shot him a look that told Logan what the boy thought about his lying abilities.

Logan’s father put his hands on his hips. “‘Nothing’ set the rug on fire?”

“We may have been doing a small experiment,” Logan said.

“What experiment?” the king asked.

“…I don’t wish to say.”

“Logan.”

“Virgil wanted a fire knife.”

“A what?”

Virgil frowned over at Logan. “Your resistance to interrogation techniques is deplorable.”

Father turned to look at Virgil and obviously spotted the fact that Virgil was holding something behind his back.

“Give it here,” Father said, though his tone was a bit gentler with Virgil than it had been with Logan.

Virgil debated it for a moment, but then offered over the knife with a pout on his face. Father gingerly took it and the fire-resistant gloves from him. “Where did the two of you even get this knife?”

“You can’t tell her,” Logan said.

“You stole a knife from the kitchens?!” the king asked.

“We borrowed it,” Logan said.

“Can it be used for cooking anymore?”

“…Well.”

“In the intended manner.”

“No.”

“Then you stole it.”

Logan just frowned and looked away.

“I’m going to go put this in a secure location,” Father said, grimacing at the fire knife in his hands. “No more experiments for you two for a month. I’ll sic Patton on you.”

With that, he picked up what was left of the fire extinguishing powder (just in case) and turned to exit the room.

“Well,” Logan said once he was gone. “That was irresponsible.”

“I could steal it back from him.”

“N-no don’t do that.”

“I definitely could though,” Virgil said.

“I did not hear you say that,” Logan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I am not responsible for any more of your actions in this matter. I am going to the library.”

He walked out of the room then and Virgil followed him to the upstairs library. He said nothing more about the fire knife, but Logan would be a fool to suppose he forgot about it.

Chapter 56 (Thomas)

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs.

So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had actually tried to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a Princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior at this point. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy on the ground, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently scoot all of the cats out of his lap. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The Cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to it, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way.

Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

He still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

84582

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to The Cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

[two-am-outlines-only]

Soulmate September

Series Summary: Written for the Soulmate September challenge. Every day is a different soulmate au prompt and ship.

Part Summary:   Soul tattoos don’t fill in until the other person knows without a doubt that their partner is the one, when everything they are become so ingrained in each other’s lives that their souls become entwined. For Virgil and Logan, this doesn’t happen until well after they’ve been married. When the moments do arrive however, they both know they could never be happier.

Prompt: Tattoo that becomes colorful once you meet soulmate

Ships:  Analogical (Virgil x Logan)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2645

AO3 link

Part Three: A Storm of Stars

Logan’s eyes snapped open as a loud crack of thunder shook the house, rain pelting against the roof and making the tiles creak. His popping joints added to the symphony as he stretched his way into a sitting position. Reaching over to the bedside drawer he fumbled a bit before finding the small remote and clicking on the web of fairy lights strung in the far corner, immediately bathing the room in a pleasant blue glow. He flipped his pillow over to the cool side and took a second to fluff the other pillow a bit, moving it over to be closer to his and smoothing the bedsheets.

The motions were automatic after so many years of practice, going back to he and Virgill’s first sleepover when they were still guaranteed a juicebox and cookies after school. It had stormed then too, Logan waking up to find his bed crowded with a shaking Virgil and his trusty stuffed tiger, who though was quite courageous had realized she was no match for a storm and had convinced her charge to seek shelter with Logan instead. Smiling softly at the memory Logan settled down to wait. He knew as his husband had grown older he wasn’t afraid of storms anymore so much as his anxiety ran with endless possibilities of what they could do to them or the house- which Logan was often inclined to agree with but played his role of devil’s advocate for the sake of Virgil’s well-being.

Right as he was beginning to wonder if he should leave to go and collect Virgil, the floorboards in front of his door squeaked in protest. A moment later a figure bulky with sweatpants and a hoodie slouched into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him and practically diving into the bed and under the blankets. The bed springs creaked along with the roof tiles as they both fidgeted and fussed trying to get comfortable, Logan biting back a small laugh as Virgil nosed his way underneath his chin. His soft hair tickled Logan’s lips as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head and wrapped his arms around him. Finally they were still, Virgil’s breathing slowly matching his own as he made sure to take deep calming breaths.

The rain was already quieting, the storm moving on and leaving the two night owls to their bubble of peaceful warmth. Logan readjusted slightly as Virgil snuggled in further, hoodie sleeves riding up as he snaked his arms around his waist in an attempt to pull them closer. Logan did laugh at this, planting another kiss firmly on the other’s forehead.

“I think if you squeezed any tighter we’d fuse, stormcloud. How are we supposed to compose an email when our absence excuse would be cuddling too hard?”

“No such thing,’” Virgil mumbled. “I’ll cuddle you as hard as I want and they’re just gonna haftadealwibit.”

The last half of the sentence trailed off into near indecipherable gibberish but Logan understood well enough. “You are exceptionally adorable when you’re tired. As much as I hate that storms cause you anxiety, I'm glad that nothing else has changed.”

He grinned as the side of his neck where Virgil’s face was pressed against warmed and quietly congratulated himself through the disappointment that he couldn’t currently see Virgil’s crimson face. ‘Still got it’ he thought to himself as he wiggled a bit to try and find a comfortable spot where Virgil’s rather bony arms weren’t poking into his ribs, failing miserably until he managed a sigh. “I’m sorry stormcloud, I’m getting a bit of a cramp. Why don’t you lay on top of me instead; that’s comfortable for you as well isn’t it?”

Humming in confirmation, Virgil leaned back and let Logan flip onto his back. A moment later he let out a small groan of surprise as Virgil flopped solidly onto him, burrowing into his chest and holding Logan tight by his sides. Smiling, he brought the blankets up over them both and carefully tucked them in, bringing his arms out and resting them on Virgil’s shoulders to make sure it didn’t slide off.

“Thank you for always doing this.” Logan scrunched his brow at the frustrated tone in Virgil’s voice. “And don’t you dare say ‘why wouldn’t I’ because you always ask and I always say it’s because I’m too old to be afraid of storms and then you logic your way around me because I’m too tired to argue. This is just something I always thought I’d grow out of.”

“Sometimes we grow out of fears, sometimes not. The ones that linger aren’t something you can help or should blame yourself for.” Getting no response other than a frustrated huff, Logan continued, beginning to hum and rub soothing circles on his back. “Whether the fear is rational or not- and whether or not the threat is real- I will always be here to protect and support you however you need. Seeing as I’m not exactly in the best shape for fighting crime or fending off rabid dogs, comforting you through a storm is something that I love that I’m able to do. And I will continue to love doing it because I love you and would rather you be here with me seeking comfort than by yourself too stubborn to ask for help.”

“Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“You’re making it really hard to be edgy and self-deprecating right now.”

“Heaven forbid.”

Virgil snorted, knocking the top of his head gently into Logan’s chin until Logan sighed in mock exasperation, craning his neck to kiss him softly on the forehead so he’d settle back down. As he laid his head back down onto his chest a warm, tingling sensation spread from underneath Virgil’s cheek and covered his collar bone and part of his shoulder. Gasping he nudged the other up, poking more insistantly when the stubborn emo refused to disentangle himself. Ignoring Virgil’s confused look as he made to pull off his shirt he practically whipped it across the room and placed a hand to his soul mark, eyes shining as he took in the sight.

His mark had always looked so odd to him, big blobs of shapes over his right shoulder and collar bone with jagged black scars streaking from them and down his chest. He could never even begin to picture what it could be, though a friend suggested once that it might be a warped forest of some sort, doubtful as his tone had been. Instead, his warm fingers traced over jagged streaks of lightning, such a bright purple they nearly glowed in the dark. The blobs above them had filled in with every shade of gray he had ever seen, broken occasionally by shadows of purple and blue where the lightning was. It was unexpectedly beautiful, his vision blurring with tears as he realized what this meant.

“I always knew.” He looked up as Virgil spoke in a hushed whisper. “I always- but you just felt so safe and you never...you always make me feel better about it and so safe and I guess-”

Logan opened his arms and Virgil gratefully dove back into them, catching his cheek with a kiss on the way down. They resettled quickly, the rain nothing more than a gentle patter against the roof letting them rest easy. Cracking an eye open, Logan strained to look down as Virgil laughed and held him tighter.

“Of all the things that keep me up at night, I’m so glad I was right about this.”

Logan smiled and hugged him closer in turn. “I agree.”

----- -----

Virgil sat up slowly, blanket falling from his shoulders and pooling around his waist as he struggled to cross his legs in the tangle. After a minute of failing miserably he huffed and flopped back, kicking both legs up as far as they would go while catching the blanket on the bottom of his feet and then kicking forward violently to dislodge them. Unfortunately the trick failed, landing more fabric between his legs and scrunching his pants uncomfortably in the process. Scissoring his legs just twisted everything around more and by the time he was halfway through attempting bicycles the situation was hopeless enough he considered just going back to sleep and dealing with it when he woke up. He had closed his eyes to do just that when he heard a muffled snort from the doorway, picking his head up to peer at Logan through squinted eyelids.

“Would you like some assistance?” Logan asked while making a half-hearted attempt to school his features.

Huffing, Virgil flopped his head back onto the pillows. “Clearly I have everything under control.”

“Falsehood. Your wiggling was very impressive but the blankets quite obviously won in the end. Was falling back to sleep after a ten hour nap and a failed battle the plan from the start?”

“No one likes a smartass Lo.”

“And yet your love for me persists.” Smiling lightly, Logan made his way to the side of the bed and climbed on, swinging his legs up and over Virgil’s stomach and plopped down gently with his hands splayed over his chest. Grunting out pseudo complaints Virgil reached up and took both of the hands in his own, giving each a kiss in turn before settling them back just below his collarbones. The sight of Logan blushing- bright enough to be visible even in the dim room- was one he would never grow tired of.

“Illogical as it may be.” He agreed. “Is that why you love your darling husband? I’m your most difficult logic puzzle that’s guaranteed to last a lifetime?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “No, that’s absurd. I love my husband because a pain in the ass though he may be- he’s a constant I find myself unable to live without.”

Feeling his own face heating up Virgil longed for his hoodie to hide in, especially once Logan’s expression turned smug from rendering him speechless. “Logan, it’s much too early for you to be this smooth.”

“Virgil, my love, it’s seven in the evening.”

Virgil blinked. “Wow. you weren’t kidding when you said ten hour nap.”

“I never kid. It’s important to be one hundo percent, one hundo percent of the time.”

“Who gave you that one?”

“Patton.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t trust the dad-friend for flashcards, starlight.’

Flushing slightly, Logan disentangled their fingers and rolled off the bed. “Duly noted. Now please get up, we have plans.”

“We do- ah!” Virgil found himself face down in his pillow, having flipped around with Logan’s rather aggressive flourish of snapping the blankets out from around his legs. Remembering that they had, in fact, had plans for the night, Virgil rolled out of bed as quickly as he could with apologies already hot on his tongue. “Logan I’m so sorry I thought that was tomorrow and I had stayed up late for stupid reasons and I hope we aren’t running late do I have time to change-”

“Virgil, breathe.” Logan cupped a hand to his cheek and gently ran a thumb under his eye. “I assure you we have plenty of time and I’m very glad you got the sleep you did. I would have liked you up earlier only to see your lovely face and to make sure your sleep schedule wasn’t ruined. But if you slept that long you must have needed it, and I certainly am not going to fault you for that.”

Closing his eyes, Virgil took a breath and held it for a second before breathing out slowly. Logan’s hand left his cheek and he caught himself leaning forward to chase the warmth, his resulting blush filling that void for the time being.

“Do what you need and then come in the kitchen; I made fried noodles.”

More awake now than ever Virgil hurried to the bathroom. Logan’s cooking was the best he had ever had and he’d be damned if he was late for noodles.

-----

A cool breeze rustled through the thick grass and flipped over the corner of the blanket Logan and Virgil had set up an hour before. Sputtering, Virgil flipped it back from his face, spitting bits of dandelion fluff out of his mouth in the process while pointedly ignoring Logan’s snicker. He pushed his hoodie closer to the corner to prevent further mishap and snuggled closer to his husband for warmth, head resting comfortably on one arm with his other wrapped around Logan’s shoulders.

Logan lay on his side with his head on his shoulder, the bottom of his cheek pressed into the still black soulmark that traced a shapeless blob from the top of his elbow to the nape of his neck. Soulmarks filled in based on the other soulmates feelings- when they truly felt like they had found the one. Of course that was a romantic conspiracy for the most part and to Virgil it seemed to go against the entire idea of fate. If you could choose your own, then what was the point of the marks?

Choosing not to think about it for the time being, he continued staring up at the sky. The night was clear and this far out not much light pollution tainted their view of everything the night had to offer. Stars glittered for miles with barely there colorful space dust in between if you squinted. Logan had told him what it actually was once- something about it being high temperature nebula gas absorbing starlight- Logan had explained it much better in the past.

Logan always explained everything better.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Logan remarked.

“I’m sorry- just thinking.”

“Mm, don’t be sorry.”

They laid in silence for a few more minutes before Virgil decided to speak up. “They always make me feel really small- stars I mean- and I know I am small compared to everything but all that just leads to...existential dread I guess. Seeing everything laid out, it’s beautiful, but it’s also a bit daunting.”

“Virgil, if you’re uncomfortable-”

“Lemme finish first before you do the sweet thing you do where you overanalyze everything for the sake of everyone else’s comfort.” Seeing Logan smile and roll his eyes he continued. “I always feel small looking at them, but it never matters because you make me feel big. Like I could take on the entire world even when the anxiety’s being a bitch.”

He felt Logan smile against his arm...and then it started to tingle. Tiny pinpricks raced up and down his arms from his shoulder to his neck and he quickly disentangled himself and started blindly slapping at his mark to get whatever bugs off that had decided to ruin the moment. Noticing Logan had his mouth covered with his eyes wide in shock staring at his arm he quickly looked down and gasped with his own.

His unsightly black blob of a soulmark, which he had long ago stopped trying to guess at the shape of, was now a glittering galaxy. Striking blue and dark purple swirled in intricate patterns behind stars that shined so brightly on his skin he would swear they had been plucked from the night sky and flicked onto him. The tingling finally stopped, the whole field seeming to hold its breath along with the both of them before Logan finally broke the silence with a hoarse whisper.

“In an entire universe I found you.” Snapping his head up, Virgil saw tears gathering in his husband’s eyes. “I was sure I already knew but- I’m so happy I found you.”

Laughing wetly Virgil dove forward, knocking them both over and half in the grass but neither could bring themselves to care. Under the stars, with Virgil himself wrapped in a galaxy, he had never been so happy to have an impossibly small space in Logan’s arms to call his own.

[goodieghosty]

Hnnnng. Angsty suggestive and manipulative stuff but:

Roman clearly being too eager for love and easily swayed by praise, very handsome and generous with gifts...

Some gods might want to take advantage. String him along and just...

But, if Remus catches on they are introduced verry intimately to his brand of chaos.

If Patton catches on... well heh. They remember that this guy goes ham when angered.

Janus will probably go for a more subtle approach. Like turning Roman's attention to someone else. Once Roman picks a love he sticks to them and only them until the inevitable heartbreak. And by then the God in question has usually moved in to a different game to stave off the boredom. If not J can draw the attention of one of their friends to the situation.

Logan doesnt often feel the need to interfere because by the time he enters the scene most gods have learned that Ro is well protected. If the need does arise he'll remind them he knows everything. Either threatening to expose a secret or to just alert one of the others.

Best for last. Even when they argue, Virgil is not ok with people using Romand heart like that. He doesnt want to know what might become of the idealistic flighty romantic if he gets his heart broken like That. So. If V catches wind of some God being slimy around Roman he makes it so that even just looking in the creation gods direction will bring forth visions of the horrors Virgil will inflict upon them. Knowing everyone's greatest fears and having some influence on the visions the mind conjures subconsciously is a powerful gift. And after a few times he doesn't even have to do it. The mind learned and conjures it's own horrors automatically.

Ro is confused when a God goes from being do sweet to him to being afraid for any of the above reasons, bug he shrugs it off.

Every one of them is a ride or die for Roman and it's wonderful. And Roman is completely unaware. If a god approaches him and they're a slimeball, each and every one of Roman's friends are glaring daggers at them behind his back until they lose their nerve, lol

[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 6)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: Thank you again to @cheshirevalentine for helping with editing and the descriptions of sword fighting, They've got a side blog for this au, go check out @actorau

TW: a little blood and injury and really gay pining

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Virgil had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

Roman was frowning at him, watching Virgil with scrutinizing eyes before sheathing his own sword at his side.

“Have you never held a sword before?” he asked, his hands on his hips. “It’s like you’re afraid of it.”

Virgil huffed, lowering the sword that was steadily becoming embarrassingly heavy to his side, cheeks burning red with shame under Roman's judgment. “I don’t know what you think I was doing in that palace, but it wasn’t sword fighting.”

“But I thought you were raised as a prince.”

Virgil had asked before, once or twice when he was much younger, but it had been shut down almost immediately, and the request had never even made it to his Uncle. He would never be the dashing Prince who charged into battle, brandishing a sword like it was nothing. That wasn’t the kind of prince they wanted him to be.

“Whatever.” Virgil would really rather not discuss this right now, especially not here. “Why are we even doing this?”

“Because you have to learn to defend yourself,” Roman said simply, moving around Virgil to check his stance. “I won’t always be here to save the day, you know. Now, lift your sword again. I’ll fix your hold.”

Roman was behind him, making Virgil’s shoulders tense instinctively, but he forced himself to relax and do what he was told.

“Come on,” Roman urged as Virgil lifted the sword. “I promise this will help you feel more secure.”

Virgil rolled his eyes when Roman moved back around, mostly to cover up how uneasy and inadequate he felt. He wasn't exactly excited to show off how weak he was to a pirate Captain who had already seen him cry twice.

“Running away has worked out pretty well so far,” Virgil said, but kept the sword lifted all the same. “I’m not gonna be any good at this.”

“You don't know that," Roman said quietly, moving beside Virgil. He moved to help him hold the sword and hesitated, awkwardly maneuvering his hands as if he wasn't sure how to place them around Virgil's. “Uh… my apologies. Is it alright if I touch you?”

Virgil only hesitated a second, forcibly shoving down the panic rising against his will. It was just Roman, and Roman had made it clear that he wouldn’t hurt him. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Alright then.” Roman moved slowly, clearly trying not to spook Virgil, placing himself behind the prince once again and gently wrapping his warm hands around Virgil’s own. The weight of the sword lifted considerably with his help. “The way I was taught was rather… untraditional. It’s easier to teach like this.”

Virgil nodded, trying to focus on keeping his breathing steady. “So… where did you learn to sword fight?”

“My brother and I learned a long time ago,” Roman said, curt in the way that told Virgil the Captain would prefer to discuss anything else. “Anyways. I’ll teach you to block and parry first.”

Virgil wanted to apologize for prying, but it was already hard enough to form words with the feeling of Roman’s hands encasing his own, his chest rising and falling against Virgil’s back. He had the sudden, ridiculous urge to close his eyes and lean back against the steady warmth.

“Uh, ok,” he said instead, forcing himself to focus. “Just… be patient with me I guess. I’m kind of a slow learner, so… sorry in advance.”

“Nonsense,” the Captain chided. “You’ll do fine.”

Virgil nodded, his breathing still a bit uneven as he let Roman move his hands to the Prince’s wrists. He guided his arms, first to slowly swing up to block at his left shoulder, and then down.

"When you block, you want to make sure your assailant isn't pushing you back,” he said. “On a ship, that could be the difference between being cast overboard or staying dry." He dropped a hand to pat Virgil's left hip. "It's best to step forward after that, preferably with your non-dominant leg. It will give you a stable base to attack on, so make sure your weight is centered."

Virgil was doing his absolute best to listen to what Roman was saying, but to be fair he was pretty sure he was going to suck at this whether he could comprehend the instructions or not.

But Roman was still holding his hand, warm and strong, and when the Captain moved to touch his hip Virgil could only respond with a slightly panicked, "Okay."

“To attack,” Roman continued, his voice a gentle murmur in Virgil’s ear. “Take another step with your other leg and swing forward-” He stepped with Virgil, guiding their arms to swing at their invisible assailant. "Your sword is an extension of your arm. You don't want to overextend and throw yourself off balance, that will give your opponent a chance to swing at you. Now, back-” He stepped back, gently pulling Virgil with him. "Block, forward, attack, back."

Virgil couldn’t breathe, something he was unfortunately used to, but for once it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

The panic wasn't all consuming and cold, it was warm and it made him feel lightheaded and distant. Roman was up against him, guiding his movements, and although he knew he probably looked absolutely pathetic holding the sword, in the moment it felt like he could do anything.

Other than Patton, no one had ever been so gentle with him. It had been so long since he’d been touched without the intention to hurt.

“Once more,” Roman instructed. “Block, forward, attack, back. Look at you! You’re doing amazing already.”

Virgil’s face grew hot, chest light at the praise. It took him a moment to find his voice, choked and unsteady. “I… thank you.”

“Now we pick up the pace,” Roman said, slowly starting to increase their speed. “You’re doing so well. Just a bit faster now and then I’ll let you try it on your own.”

After a moment of the back and forth, the two almost dancing in the afternoon sun, Virgil closed his eyes for just a second, basking in the warm glow, the feeling of Roman’s hands over his, content and safe.

“Now,” Roman said softly. “Can you show me?”

Virgil’s eyes snapped open, reality slamming back into him as Roman stepped away and the sword momentarily wobbled in the air, the Prince struggling to keep it upright by himself.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He hesitated, face burning for an entirely new reason this time. God, he was so stupid. He could vaguely recall the movements, but… he'd just end up looking like an idiot if he tried it by himself. "Sorry, uh… could you let me watch you first? Sorry I'm just… kind of slow sometimes."

“You’re not slow,” Roman assured, sending Virgil a patient smile. “Some people are visual learners, it's only a matter of preference. I'm a kinesthetic learner, so I have to do it, rather than see it."

Virgil shrugged, still not fully convinced he wasn’t just stupid. “I guess.”

Roman unsheathed his own practice sword and lifted it, turning so he was parallel to where Virgil was standing, and began the back and forth.

“Block, forward, attack, back,” he said, repeating the motions twice, faster the second time. "Ideally, a fight isn't so tense and scripted. You have to learn to think on your feet. And always, always play dirty. A fair fight is sure to get you killed." He lowered his sword, facing Virgil with a smile. "Ready?"

Slightly stunned by how patient Roman was, Virgil nodded and took a shaky breath. The Captain’s patience was bound to run out soon if he didn’t hurry up and get this right.

“I’m ready.”

He began to copy Roman’s movements- block, forward, attack, back. He knew it looked clumsy and ridiculous, and not even close to what Roman was expecting. The sword still felt heavy and foreign in his hands, and he turned sheepishly to the Captain when he was finished, fully prepared to apologize for doing so poorly.

But Roman was smiling at him, wide and genuine. He sheathed his own sword again, placing his hands on his hips.

“You learn quickly!” he praised. “This particular style requires a lot of physical conditioning. Your abdomen, back, wrists, and hands all need conditioning if you're to properly hold your sword. Though, I'm sure we have a rapier around here somewhere that may better suit you."

Virgil furrowed his brow. “A rapier?”

“Something smaller,” Roman explained, eyes softening. “It might be a bit easier for you. Logan prefers lighter weapons, as well.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, arms already growing sore from the strain of the sword. “Maybe.”

“We’ll save that for later,” Roman said. “For now, I need you to take the rhythm you just learned, and I need you to forget it. Falling into a rhythm can mean spacing out, and without the utmost concentration, you're dead. Now! Make like you're going to attack me.”

Roman didn’t move, didn't even unsheathe his sword, and Virgil frowned when he just stood there, waiting expectantly.

“Uh… okay?” He cautiously positioned the sword again and pointed it at Roman, the Captain still unarmed. “Like this?”

Roman nodded, looking Virgil over carefully. "Widen your stance. For you… I think it's best to stave on the balls of your feet. I believe I've been teaching you how I was taught, and since our body types are so different..."

He trailed off, smiling dropping into a small frown, eyebrows drawn together as he studied Virgil’s stance.

"Don't focus so hard on grounding yourself,” Roman instructed. He finally took his blade out with a flourish, spinning it once before he widened his stance, holding his sword at the ready. "Attack me.”

“I- what?” Virgil wasn’t sure if he was more worried about hurting Roman, or Roman hurting him. The latter seemed more likely. “I’m not gonna… I can’t just start stabbing at you!”

“You can,” Roman declared, shifting eagerly on the balls of his feet. “That’s how you learn. I won’t bite, I promise. Now, attack me! If you hesitate in battle, your foe won’t hesitate to take your life.”

“I guess,” Virgil relented. “Okay.”

He pushed down the lingering uneasiness, both from the sight of a much larger man holding a sword in front of him, and the off chance that he might actually end up hurting the Captain. Virgil moved forward, still hesitant, moving to attack slowly with no real intent to hit.

Roman was silent and still, holding his sword at the ready. He stepped forward to intercept Virgil's blade, twisting his own to knock the handle out of Virgil's grip. His sword clattered to the ground between them and Roman took a step back.

“You can do better,” the Captain said. “We both saw it. Again.”

Virgil reached down to pick up the weapon off the ground, keeping his eyes on Roman and the weapon in his hand. "What if I… accidentally stab you?"

“I’ve been stabbed before,” Roman said, clearly biting back a rising smile. “And you’re a fragile ex-prince who’s never held a sword before. I’m not worried.”

Virgil scowled, hoping his embarrassed flush wasn't as obvious as it felt. He still hesitated, this time with a bit more force. “Well, if you’ve gotten stabbed clearly you can’t be that good.”

“Right, and clearly you’re so talented.” Roman parried this time, stepping forward to smack the blade back. “Again. Harder, this time. You’re not going to hurt me, Virgil.”

"What if I do?" Virgil shot back, unable to stop a smile as he attacked again, still keeping his movements a bit slow. "What will people say if you get stabbed by someone who’s never even held a sword?"

"That I was viciously attacked by a vengeful Prince and did nothing wrong," Roman huffed, smacking the blade away once more. "Faster. I can keep up."

"You sure?" Virgil asked, more teasing than anything as he finally let himself relax just a bit, moving forward to attack once again.

“Move faster and we’ll see.”

The friendly banter took some of the tension away, Virgil smiling despite himself, feeling lighter by the second.

Virgil's movements were still definitely a bit more frantic than they needed to be, shoulders tensing as he moved his sword up, glancing hopefully up at Roman when he blocked the attack.

“Good!” Roman said, beaming. “Try not to panic, it’ll make you lose focus. Try again.”

Right. Try not to panic. That was easier said than done, especially when it came to Virgil, who could never seem to react any other way.

But the praise made him feel lighter than ever, and he smiled with a tiny nod before stepping back to try again.

“You’re doing good. Keep it up, don’t stop-” Roman parried and returned the next blow. “Pick up the speed. Push me back!”

Virgil managed to keep his movements a little less panicked this time, taking deep breaths like Patton had taught him and moved to attack again, faster this time as instructed.

"You sure you can keep up, Captain?" he teased with confidence he didn't feel in the slightest, smiling with his eyes still on the swords.

To his relief Roman’s smile only grew, the Captain taking another step forward to block again. “Eyes on me. Watch the weapons, but if you can see where I'm looking you can see where I'm attacking."

Virgil managed not to completely freak out when he blocked Roman’s next attack, still a bit more tense than he knew the Captain would have liked.

It was almost impossible to keep his eyes on Roman, cheeks growing hot whenever the Captain met his eyes, forcing himself to avert his gaze.

Virgil really did not need to be distracted by the blush spreading across his cheeks and the butterflies in his stomach as he moved to attack again.

Roman laughed, Virgil’s eyes lighting up when he nearly lowered his sword before he could block Virgil’s attack. “Come on handsome, eyes up here.”

“I’m trying!”

Roman took another step forward, swiping down towards Virgil’s leg. “When you can’t block, move!”

Virgil just barely managed to scramble out of the blade's way, and he was sure if Roman had moved any faster he would have lost a leg.

“Jesus!” His face was burning red now, both from the teasing and his own sloppy moves. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Roman's grin only grew as he took a step back, spinning his sword. "No, I'm trying to prepare you. Distractions happen. Now come on beautiful, one more time."

Oh, this was so not fair. Virgil’s blush depended, but he forced himself not to look away this time when he attacked. “Careful, or I’m actually going to stab you.”

“I’ve got the experience, darling,” Roman bragged, though he barely got his sword up in time to block Virgil’s strike. “You can’t hurt me.”

Virgil laughed, ignoring the way his cheeks burned at the nickname. He was going to die here. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

Virgil had no idea how long they went on like this for, time nothing but a distant blur, overshadowed by the warm excitement bubbling in his chest. His cheeks burned bright when he eventually managed to start meeting Roman’s eyes, the Captain sending him a teasing smile.

He should have noticed Roman had gotten distracted, should have realized he’d started moving just a bit slower than he had been when they first started.

But he didn’t, and Roman’s sword didn’t move up to block Virgil's next attack.

Roman gasped when the blade cut into his bicep, ripping through the cloth and drawing blood immediately, and the Captain quickly smacked the blade away with the end of his own sword.

"Holy shit!" Virgil dropped the sword without thinking, wincing when it clattered to the ground. He moved towards Roman, stopping in his tracks when he saw how much blood there was. "I… shit, Roman I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I- I wasn't paying attention I'm so sorry!"

Roman looked back up at Virgil, raising an eyebrow at the Prince’s panic.

“I stand corrected,” he said, voice more awed than annoyed or angry. “It turns out you can stab me. Well done.”

“Well done?” Virgil echoed. “I hurt you!”

“It’s fine, Virgil. I’m barely bleeding. I wasn’t paying attention, this is just the consequence.” He looked back to his wound, lifting his arm to inspect it. “Would you mind grabbing Logan for me, though? He should be up on the bridge.”

Virgil nodded and scrambled back, carefully stepping over the swords, grateful for the excuse to get away. It at least meant Roman wasn't angry enough to lash out.

Unless that was Logan's job.

Virgil’s head was spinning and his hands were shaking, but he forced himself to keep going, rushing to the bridge.

The relief was almost crushing when he saw Patton, leaned up against the wall as he chatted with Logan, the two of them lost in quiet conversation. Virgil hadn’t been sure he could handle being alone with Logan, especially when it ran the risk of making him angry.

“Virgil?” Patton called, concern rising as soon as he saw the young Prince. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“I…” Virgil hesitated, eyes glued to Logan. “Roman he- he got hurt. With his sword, it… it was my fault and- and he asked for you. I’m… I’m sorry, I—”

Logan was already starting forward with a sigh, freezing when Virgil flinched back at the sudden movement, arms wrapped protectively around himself, eyes flying instinctively to Patton.

“I’m going to go check on Roman,” Logan explained, keeping his voice low. “I’m not angry with you. Whatever happened was clearly an accident.”

Virgil nodded, still a bit frantic and shaky, stepping aside to let Logan through. Patton moved to follow, pausing to place a gentle hand on Virgil’s hunched shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, the words meant just for the two of them. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Virgil shook his head, grateful beyond words Patton had decided to stay. “I’m fine I just… I- I didn’t mean to hurt him we were just—”

“I know, honey.” Pat squeezed his shoulder, sending a reassuring smile. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you, V. Come on, let’s go see if they need any help.”

They followed Logan back to the deck where Roman was waiting, letting the first mate make a quick stop for a first-aid kit, and Virgil averted his gaze when Roman straightened up at their arrival.

“My valiant knight in black armor,” the Captain greeted, offering his bloody arm to Logan. “Hello, Logan. How has your day been?”

Logan sighed, carefully taking a hold of the injured arm and lowering himself to a crouch. “What on earth are you and Virgil doing?”

“I was teaching Virgil how to use a sword!” Roman announced, and he was beaming when Virgil risked a glance up. “Isn’t he doing great already? I didn’t think he could hit me at all, but here we are!”

Roman rocked back and forth as he talked, gesturing with his free hand, and Logan tightened his grip. “Stay still, please.”

It was clearly a pointless venture, Virgil hadn’t seen Roman sit still once since he’d come aboard, but the Captain nodded and settled for tapping his hands against the floor. He winced when Logan touched the wound but didn't shy away, letting a hissing breath of pain out.

“He’s doing great,” Roman declared again, leaning back slightly to look at Virgil. “You are, you know. This is good progress.”

Virgil tensed, warily glancing between Roman and Logan despite the fact that neither of them seemed inclined to chew him out or make a move to strike him just yet. “I stabbed you. I literally stabbed you!”

“You did!” Roman said, ecstatic. “That’s the whole point! You did it, you got me! And I’m barely even hurt, don’t worry about it.”

Logan sighed again, reaching with his free hand for the rest of the medical supplies as Roman's blood began to soak through the first rag. Virgil looked away, even as he blushed under Roman's praise.

"But I… you’re not mad?”

“Not at all,” Roman assured. “I told you to attack me, didn't I? Sometimes people get hurt when you spar, this was a learning opportunity!" He paused, glancing down at Logan. “I’m bleeding quite a lot, aren’t I? Should I be worried about that?”

“You will be fine,” Logan said, not looking up. “The cut is shallow. Virgil did not land a fatal blow, though I can imagine the temptation was there.”

It startled a laugh out of Virgil, and Roman gave an offended gasp. “He would never! He’s a very good friend, much more so than someone I know.”

“Stay still.”

Roman scowled at his first mate, then winced in pain as he continued to tend to the wound. “It really is okay, Virgil. I’ve been stabbed worse by far more terrible foes, I promise.”

“You seem to have a habit of getting stabbed,” Virgil said, voice still a bit shaky. He relaxed a little when Patton put a hand on his shoulder. “And here I thought you were a master.”

“Even masters occasionally get stabbed. This is nothing,” Roman boasted. “Do I need stitches, Lo? That part does hurt, and I’d recommend not watching if you don’t have a thick stomach.”

Virgil did feel a bit sick at the thought, though it was more the idea of the Captain being in pain because of him than the stitches. The blood didn't bother him all that much- he'd had to get Patton to patch him up like this plenty of times in the past.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I can stay if you need someone to hold your hand.”

It had been a joke, nothing more than teasing, and Virgil absolutely was not half hoping Roman would take him up on the offer.

But Roman grinned, something mischievous in his eyes. He lifted his free hand and wiggled his fingers at Virgil. “Well then you’d better come comfort me, Prince Dreary.”

Virgil was going to kill him. His face flushed again, cheeks on fire. He had no idea how Roman kept managing to fluster him like this, but he wasn’t about to give the Captain the satisfaction of seeing it.

He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward, effortlessly slipping his hand into Roman’s and smirking. “Better?”

“Much,” Roman hummed, and Virgil saw Logan roll his eyes. The Captain just smiled, his thumb stroking gentle lines along the back of Virgil’s hand. “Your hands are very small, you know. Soft, though.”

It was quiet musing, gentle and kind, but Virgil's chest squeezed painfully, suddenly very aware of how much smaller he was than the other three men on the deck, shame and anxiety rising to his throat.

“Yeah okay,” he muttered, gaze dropping back down to the floor. “Maybe your hands are just huge, Roman.”

“I’m not complaining,” Roman said, but his smile softened like he had picked up on Virgil’s discomfort. “They’re soft. Cold as hell, but that’s only fitting for Peter Deadpan, I suppose.”

Virgil scoffed, but his face felt warm, and his smile was quickly becoming more relaxed again. “Well, I didn’t grow up playing with swords like you did. Royal life is kinda boring compared to the life of a pirate.”

“I don’t know,” Roman mused, and he shared an odd look with his first mate. “Royal life can be exciting too. It’s just… a different kind of excitement.”

Logan snorted, peeling the blood soaked cloth away from dark skin. “You would know.”

Roman winced, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “That was years ago, Logan. It’s possible it’s gotten more exciting since then.”

“I’m sure.”

Wait, what?

Virgil didn’t get a chance to ask the questions on the tip of his tongue before Roman huffed, tilting his head to inspect what was left of the wound. “Are you almost done, oh gracious healer?”

“You don’t need stitches, Captain,” Logan said, unamused. “But you’re more than welcome to keep holding the Prince’s hand if you’d like.”

Roman just glared, clearly biting back a smile as Logan gathered up bandages from his first aid kit, still keeping a firm hold on Roman’s arm.

Virgil squeezed Roman’s hand without thinking, scrambling for the right words. “You… you were a royal?”

“A long time ago, yes.” Roman’s smile faded, his thumb going back to tracing soothing lines on Virgil’s hand before he could feel guilty for opening his mouth. “Far from here, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know of me.”

“What kingdom?”

“Lucoria,” Roman said softly. “It’s due East, months away. We’re far from it.”

Virgil nodded, fighting not to lose himself to the flood of memories as he thought back to the history practically forced down his throat since he was a child. He’d heard of Lucoria, could vaguely recall rumors and stories, but history had never really been his strong suit. He’d never really been interested in the past, anyway.

But he could see the tension Roman was failing to hide, and he quickly squeezed the Captain’s hand once more, offering what he hoped was a gentle smile

“I’m glad you got out,” Virgil said, eyes glued to Roman, unable to look away. “It doesn’t seem like you’d enjoy that life.”

Roman returned Virgil's smile easily, tilting his head. "Like I said, it’s a lot more free. It wasn’t… all my choice, but once you're out there's no way you can go back. Leaving was the best thing I could have done."

“Well… thank you,” Virgil said quietly, the rest of the world melting away for just a moment. “For letting me leave too.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, and for the first time since Virgil had met him, Roman was completely still. “Anything for you.”

For what felt like an eternity neither of them moved, everything almost magically quiet. And then Roman hissed in pain, whirling around and yanking on his injured arm, shattering the moment.

“Ow, you—”

“There you are, Captain,” Logan announced, ignoring Roman’s outburst and cutting the rest of the bandage. “Try to be more careful next time.”

Roman winced and pulled his arm away from Logan, scowling. Virgil glanced at Patton, the older man watching them all carefully, expression worried but guarded.

“Yes, yes,” Roman said, the Captain practically pouting. “We’ll be more careful.”

Virgil hesitated to let go of Roman’s hand, eyes now on his freshly bandaged arm. “I’m sorry, again. For hurting you.”

“It’s okay,” Roman assured. “Though, I do think it’s best that we stop for the day. But we can pick this up anytime.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. Today had entailed more physical activity than he’d ever had in his life, his ribs and chest starting to ache now that the adrenaline was starting to fade. “Sounds good, Captain.”

Logan practically had to drag Roman away, guiding the Captain back to the bridge while Patton gently took Virgil by the shoulder and steered them both back to their quarters.

Virgil went willingly, leaning into Patton’s familiar touch, but it took a while for the pleasant warmth to disappear from Virgil’s cheeks.

And if he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot for the rest of the afternoon, Patton was gracious enough not to point it out.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple @fire-and-ash67 @blues-clues-oh-wait @shinekittenace @marrymebishop @all-panic-nodisco @ravenclawunicorn1 @someoneiwasnt @listenherebuddypal @aroace-energy @iinyxtello

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette’s Special guest

           Marinette still smiled brilliantly. She hadn’t lost her excited energy since she walked into the class that morning and wouldn’t tell anyone what was going on. She just said it was a surprise. And all her friends in the class knew that there was nothing like a Marinette surprise. And Marinette was practically vibrating in her seat, so it had to be a good one, right?

           Alya spent most of the morning poking and prodding her bestie for the scoop. Kim promised Marinette unlimited piggyback rides if only told him. (Something to lord over Alix’s head.) Max offered to update her website design. Everyone offered different bribes to Marinette just so the Bluenette would let them in on the secret. But she wouldn’t budge, not even Adrien giving her his most charming smile and big puppy dog eyes affected her. Or Bustier trying to force the Bluenette to be a better role model by not keeping secrets. She had barely been able to maintain control of the class since the day began, and Marinette came, not that she had much success most other days.

           Lila raged inwardly at the attention the brat was getting. No matter what she did, loudly whimpering over the sprain in her wrist, or how many tales she told about the many celebrities she knew, it would garner the class’s attention for a few minutes before their focus would be back on Marinette. It wasn’t fair.

           The lunch came and went. The kids came back to class enthusiastically, thinking of what surprise Marinette could have for them. Then they noticed that their favorite Bluenette, their everyday Ladybug had yet to arrive. She wasn’t just a few minutes late after the bell. But nearly an hour. Alya pulled out her phone, pointedly ignoring Bustier, who meekly asked her to put it away, and called her best friend. “GIRL, where are you? What do you mean you got an excuse? Is this about the surprise? Seriously?” The class listened eagerly. “Wait! I’ll put you on speaker,” Alya said. “Okay, we’re all ears!”

           Marinette had finally cracked, mostly because she couldn’t hold it in anymore. This had been the best day ever, and she knew her friends would be thrilled too. “My cousins back in town. We went out for lunch. We’re at school now and headed to class now. They can’t wait to see you all again!  See you in five.” And with that, she happily hung up the phone. Unaware of the havoc she just unleashed.

           The class sat in silence. No one moving. No one was making a sound. Not even Lila was curious about why her morons were acting so strangely. Slowly horrified looks appeared on the students' faces.

“RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” Kim screamed, picked up Max in his arms, and shot for the door. And just like that, everyone was running, pushing and shoving to making their escape. Some went for the door. Some went for the window. Crawling over each other in a heated battle to get out before…. They came.

           After Kim (and Max) escaped, Bustier blocked the rest from leaving. She attempted to calm her students, standing in front of the door, refusing to budge. “I know we’re all excited for our visitor, but there’s no need for such a ruckus. Everyone should return to their seats, and we’ll greet them in an orderly manner.”

           Everyone paused what they were doing and just looked at their teacher. It was the first time Bustier got a mass “Are you stupid” look. And then went back to what they were doing.

           The kinder kids in class, Nathaniel and Adrien, begged their teacher to move away from the door. They were running out of time. Alix cursed her out. Chloe threatened to have her fired.

“No,” Bustier crossed her arms for once refusing to give in to her students. “This is ridiculous. I am your teacher. I demand that you list-” She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence because she hadn’t seen the punch coming.

           Sabrina, the small, glasses-wearing redhead, coldcocked the teacher, earning surprised looks from everyone in the class, apart from Chloe, who snorted at them, “What you thought I only kept her around because she did my homework?”

Sabrina stepped over her teacher’s fallen body, swung opened the door, “Come with me if you want to live,” Sabrina yelled and led the charge of fleeing students.

           Alya hadn’t hesitated to jump out of the window. She didn’t care if she got hurt or hit her head and ended up in a coma. It was better than the alternative as far as she was concerned. She loved Marinette with all her heart, but she couldn’t do it. Not again. Never again. When Alya landed outside, she booked it. However, she didn’t head home. (Marinette would look for her there). Instead, she fled with no direction mind. She never thought about the friends she left behind. (She could make new ones.). She only spared a thought for her boyfriend. Nino was strong. He’d make it, she thought. And if not…. Luka was cute. Nino would want her to move on.

Rose, with a strength no one realized she was capable up, stacked a few desks together, and climbed out of the vents. Then came back when she realized Juleka never followed but was on the floor balled up on the floor having a panic attack. She refused to leave her best friend behind and tried to get the Goth to snap out of it before it was too late. Eventually, after a well-earned slap from Rose, the two fled through the vents rather than risk running into Marinette in the hall.

Rose was a good friend. Unlike Nino, who blatantly pushed Adrien off his chair and onto the floor, jumped over his friend and fled out of the classroom, all while yelling, “Sorry, every man for themselves, bro.” Adrien had pouted but quickly followed his friend and the others out the door.

Mylene gave her boyfriend a solemn look. She had hurt her foot just last week and couldn’t walk with crutches. They both knew there was no way she could get out time, “Go,” She ordered Ivan. “Save yourself.”

“I won’t leave you behind,” Ivan shook his head, tears burning in his eyes. “Together or not at all.” He promised and used helped her up and allowed her to lean on them as they slowly made their escape.

           Eventually, only Lila and a knocked out Bustier remained in the classroom. Lila was stunned at what she had seen. She looked around the classroom before finally exclaiming, “What. The. Fuck.” However, Lila only allowed herself that moment of surprise before she chose to wisely vacate through the window. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she wasn’t stupid enough to stick around to try and find out. Lila would ask questions after she ran for her life.            Marinette arrived at the classroom seconds later with a bright smile on her face that quickly turned into a frown, “Why does this always happen?” Her cousin(s?) shrugged.

...

You guys can add on if you like and DECIDE your yourselves who’s Marinette cousin/cousins that are visiting. And why the reactions?

 @virgil-is-a-cutie

[doomstypewriter]

Excuse me while I panic

Final chapter, let's GOOO.

This has been a really nice thing to write, so I wanted to say thank you. There has been a lot of support and nice comments to this fic and I can't be appreciative enough about it.

I'd like to specially thank @extraintrovertedalien , @winterwynd and @simplestoryteller for all of their lovely comments!! You guys gave me so much motivation to keep writing this!

Word count: 1402 | AO3 | <<Previous

Chapter Masterlist

Summary: The moment we've all been waiting for, Virgil more than anybody, Roman admits he isn't perfect. Well, no, it's actually them kissing. I will not apologize for all of the flirting that happens in this chapter.

CW: Insecurities, very mild angst.

Getting together, but make it messy and silly

Roman laughed awkwardly.

“What do you mean you already know?”

After a pause where the other just blinked and stared at him, Virgil pulled out a chair and sat straddling it. He leant his elbow on the backrest, committing to a facepalm of sorts and a sigh.

“Princey, I’ve known for ages now. I mean, you’ve been super obvious for, what? A year maybe?”

“But--”

“It’s fine” he cut him. “I get it, so you don’t need to explain yourself. At least I’m glad you told me, even if it’s now”.

Roman frowned and stared at the floor.

“Oh”.

The chair creaked as Virgil leant his chest further against the backrest, following some kind of sunflower logic that required him to get closer to Roman in the least efficient way possible.

“Hey, why are you sulking like that? Isn’t this, like, better for you?”

“Well, that depends, if you’re rejecting me right now, then, no. I’ve only known that I’m in love with you for a few weeks, but, if what you say is true, I guess I’ve been feeling this way for even longer”, Roman paused, rethinking his words. He quickly glanced up at Virgil, gesturing with his open palms. “I mean, I will honour your choice, I don’t want to make you feel like I’m pressuring you into anything”.

Now it was Virgil’s turn to frown.

“But… aren’t you... I thought you just felt ashamed of me…”

Roman observed Virgil’s tense body language, getting the sense the other was feeling quite self-conscious, if anything because he recognised it from seeing it quite often in the mirror.

“What? Why would I ever--”

“Oh, well I don’t know Princey!” he exclaimed, sounding more upset than he intended. “We didn’t exactly start with the right foot, and then you were so unwilling to be nice to me, but then we became friends, and you’ve been getting closer and closer. You look at me with that stupid Hans from Frozen expression all of the goddamned time, but you never make a move, despite being all about romancing people. So, what else could I think? If you weren’t going for it, there had to be a reason”.

“And you thought I was ashamed of you of all things?”

“Well, yeah”.

“But I still hanged out with you anyway”.

“Princey, in my defence I have to say you’re pretty stupid, so it makes sense for you to do something like that instead of just ghosting me”.

Roman smirked.

“I can’t exactly ghost you if you’re haunting me”.

The pair of chapped lips pursed into a line. Virgil’s eyes looked at the top of the armrest with a worrying amount of interest for a plain piece of plastic.

“Virge, are you blushing?”

“Wouldn’t you like that, weather boy”.

“Well… yes I would like that very much, because if you are”, Roman walked up to him and held one of his hands in his, “maybe you like me too” he finished, hopeful.

“Jesus Christ, Roman, how are your hands so soft?” Virgil murmured.

Roman leant even closer to Virgil, bending almost to his eye level. He could feel his breath tickling against his neck. His body quivered at the sensation. When the warm air began to come in faltering intervals, Roman felt worried.

Was Virgil crying?

His hand moved towards the other’s face on autopilot. Before he could cup his cheek, though, Virgil looked up at him.

The smile he received had something so attractive to it, an air in between smugness and tenderness.

“Are your lips just as soft?” Virgil whispered and got closer.

Roman felt like he was made of jelly. His silly feelings had decided to leave Virgil in charge of all of his body strength, not that the Prince complained. How could he under that gaze?

Virgil finally surged forward.

Roman’s heart skipped a beat.

And… he yelped as Virgil bit on his collarbone like a wild animal.

“Ow!” he jumped backwards.

Virgil stood up from his chair holding onto his sides. His torso bent forward erratically, heaving.

When Roman finally saw his expression, his heart felt even weaker.

He bit his lower lip hard, the corners of his mouth were stretched forming a tiny dimple on the right cheek. His eyes arched and crinkled, giddy. Underneath, his eyebags shimmered with a bright shade of purple.

At that very moment, Roman couldn’t help but think Virgil was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he was on that list.

“You are unbelievable” Roman complained not sounding bothered at all.

“And you are ridiculous”.

“You make me ridiculous”, he said without thinking.

Virgil’s laughter slowly died down, settling into something soft.

“I do?” he asked.

Okay. Roman could do this.

Ignoring how shaky he felt, he once again approached him. A smile took over his entire expression all on its own. Roman nodded.

“You’re making the Hans face again, just so you know”, Virgil said while biting some dry skin on the left side of his lower lip.

The prince’s eyes went straight to Virgil’s mouth. If this went on his brain would melt before he’d managed to say anything.

“I am not ashamed of you, Virgil, I--”

“I’m sorry… I just thought that, since you weren’t addressing it, you might not like feeling like that about me. I’m…” he gripped the back of his neck, recoiling from Roman’s gaze. “We’re just so different. It kind of made sense, thinking you wouldn’t want to be with someone who dresses like me and is just so…”

“Come on, Taylor Swift, you’ve always belonged, well… once we were friends. I was just very stubborn, but you were too”.

“Princey, are you admitting you’re not perfect?”

“Hey! I’m trying to make you feel better and you’re attacking me!”

“Well, since you’re putting me at your level… just how badly do you think of me?” Virgil teased.

“I am actually wonderful, so, unlike you, I’m not trying to get sassy, because if I’m perfect then so are you!” the words came out of his mouth with no forethought.

“Oh”.

“I mean…”

“Are you blushing, Princey?”

“What if I am? Red is my colour after all”.

Virgil grinned.

“Not gonna argue with that”.

“You must be in a good mood… is it because of me?”

“I…” Virgil paused. He took one steady breath and rushed to get a hold of Roman’s hands. “Are you sure you want this? We… I am not riding off into the sunset material, and I know you care about that, and… I care about you too… what I mean to say is I like you, but I don’t want it to cost you the fairytale you’ve always wished for”.

Roman took a deep breath. This was going to be something.

“But Virge, I can’t have that without you. Anything we do together already feels like that”.

Virgil blinked a few times, trying to stop himself from tearing up completely.

“Pff… you’re such a sap”.

“You like it”, Roman said, raising his tone a bit at the end to make it ambiguous whether it was a question or not.

“Yeah… don’t let anyone else know, thought”.

A rush of adrenaline took over him. Roman swept Virgil into his arms and pulled him into a dip, leaning about an inch away from his face.

They stared at each other awkwardly, almost going cross-eyed from the proximity. Despite that, it felt kind of magical.

“May I kiss you?” Roman asked.

“You better” Virgil smiled, his eyes still watery.

Both ended up laughing at that. Roman shook nervously whilst cackling. Suddenly, his grip went loose and Virgil fell ass first on the floor, ending splayed face-up. His mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape.

“You dropped me!”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry--” Roman began to apologize.

Virgil got onto his belly in the blink of an eye and crawled. He grabbed Roman’s leg and pulled hard. Roman’s pretty face met the floor in less than a second.

“You childish prick!” Roman said as he got on top of Virgil.

“Takes one to know one” Virgil replied, pushing him to the side.

They rolled around the floor of the room like idiots until they hit Virgil’s chair. Roman felt the wheels sticking into his ribs, as he laid below Virgil, who smirked victoriously.

Finally, Virgil grabbed his hair forcefully and met him halfway in a less than perfect kiss.

<<Previous

Taglist: @itsjust-la-me , @bard-in-blue , @simplestoryteller , @winterwynd , @some-fander , @extraintrovertedalien , @the-sad-strawberry

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Productivity

Prompt: if you’re still open to prompts could you write some Roman-centric hurt/comfort? Maybe with him overworking himself and Logan finding him?

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: Logince, can be platonic or romantic you decide, implied mociet, implied parental anxciet and moxiety

Warnings: Roman’s pretty hard on himself, so self-doubt, self-destructive tendencies, can be interpreted as self-harm if you squint but nothing graphic/explicit, self-esteem issues, sympathetic dark sides

Word Count: 5850

Roman is loud. Roman is extra. Roman is brimming with all the trimmings and trappings of an extravagant parade and it is impossible to ignore him when he walks into a room.

 After all, when you’ve only got 0.5% of a day to make yourself count, you learn not to let a single second of it slip by.

Roman has to be perfect for that 0.5%. He can’t slip up even once or he risks that 0.5% slipping away entirely. He has his ideas, he has his witty barbs prepared, he has his improv skills ready, and he never stops moving. Which means the other 99.5% has to be used very wisely.

 He has to get the ideas thought up, drafted, edited, and ready to be passed off. He has to be primped and coiffed and never look for a second that he’s been caught off guard. He has to work.

 Logan’s the one with the schedule, anyone will tell you that. It’s up on his wall, perfectly ordered and color-coded with half a dozen dry erase markers and post-its next to it, all ready to go the instant it needs to be adjusted. Logan’s discipline is evident in the way he speaks, dresses, acts, it’s right there for the world to see.

 Roman’s discipline is in the hours and hours he spends in front of his computer, or with a pen in his hand, or with the sword at his side. It’s in the way his fingers beat out anxious rhythms against the keys or forget what letters are supposed to look like halfway through writing a word. It’s in the way he can sit down for six hours and write and write and write until his eyes are strained but the words are here.

 Patton worries when that happens, knocking on Roman’s door with his voice full of concern, food, water, even just a hug. Roman always hollers at him to come in only to bounce from one corner of the room to the next as he tries to figure out what to write next, how to hit the next plot point, or barely looks up from his frantic typing as he assures Patton that yes, he’s fine, thank you for asking, yes, he’s taken breaks, he’s just so close to a stopping point then he’ll give him a hug, okay? Patton leaves reassured and Roman’s fingers fly. He doesn’t come by that often so it’s okay.

 He can’t start tasks and not finish them. He has so much to do that it’s not worth starting one thing and leaving it off because he’ll forget it. Better to sit there and see something all the way to the end than get interrupted and start something else and risk forgetting what he was going to do. So he has to work through it, get into that zone where all he has to think about is the rhythmic click-click-click of the keyboard and making sure his words machine is going going going. And if that means sometimes he looks up and it’s only been ten minutes or he looks up and it’s been a whole hour, well. Push through. Once he’s in the zone he can just go. It’s just a matter of getting there.

 Roman’s quite proud of the way he’s built his schedule, if he does say so himself. Once he gets into the zone and works he can get all the projects he needs to get done in a day dusted and dried, set aside for review or further brainstorming. After all that, it’s normally near his 0.5% time, so he dusts himself off and wears that big smile and rides the high of a job well done to fuel his princely persona until the 0.5% is over. If it’s just dinner, it’s done by the time the meal is over. If he’s spending a little time with the others, they normally tire of him before it runs out. If it’s movie night, well…it’s dark. And he can sit away from everyone else.

 It’s a very efficient system. Logan would be proud.

 Except, well…

 Okay. Here’s the thing.

 Roman’s Creativity, yes, but he’s also Passion, Desire, Romance, a lot of things.

 He’s also the Ego.

 That makes him…squishy.

 It’s not that he can’t take criticism, far from it—criticism and feedback is one of the things that makes everyone better. It’s just that he…okay, this is going to sound really stupid, but he’s just…he’s just very bad at receiving any sort of feedback, okay?

 Compliments are wonderful and make his chest all warm and fuzzy but they also make his face flush redder than his sash and make him want to be very, very small. Positive feedback makes him want to skip to the end to find out what else he needs to do or shrink away from the bright spotlight he’s suddenly found himself in.

 No feedback is awful. He wants to make a difference, to do something, talk about something with someone. He wants to be here, to be present, to talk and listen and create. He can’t create in an empty room.

 Constructive criticism is…hard.

 It’s so fucking stupid. He knows everything isn’t perfect. Nothing’s ever really finished, it just gets to a point where you’ve used it to say what you need it to say at that moment and you let it go. And he needs help to get it there before he gives it up, he knows this, he knows this.

 And it’s not even that it comes as only things he needs to work on. It’s always both strengths and weaknesses—sorry, things that could be better—it’s not like it's just a pile of ‘stuff you did wrong.’

 And most of the time it’s good feedback. It makes him a better creator, helps him understand his audience more. And it’s genuinely really insightful, like they obviously took time to understand the work and think about it and want it to be more like what he wants it to do. They care and it’s obvious and it shows and Roman really should understand this because he makes fun of the things that he loves.

 So why, please, Roman would like to know, why is he hunched over his desk with his head on a book as his throat tears itself raw?

 His lungs are screaming at him to get air and he’s gasping at nothing, his nose way too stuffed up to do anything other than dribble horrifically all over his work. His gaze is focused on nothing. The letters in front of him blur into meaningless black squiggles. Spit drips out the side of his lips. His hands clutch at nothing. And his chest aches so so bad.

 One of his hands comes up to clutch at the front of his costume. The sash groans in protest. He can hardly feel the indents of his knuckles. He pushes harder. It still just hurts. Why does it hurt?

 He spent six hours writing this idea from scratch. He poured over and over this thing until his eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head and he worked so hard. And he—he thought he did good.

  It’s did ‘well,’ Roman.

 Roman winces, another wave of—oh hey, he’s crying. When did that happen?—another wave of tears spilling behind his eyes, making them ache too.

 It was the only idea of the last batch that everyone wanted and—and Thomas asked for it to be done and he wanted to have time to work on the other things that Thomas wasn’t sure about and make it so Virgil didn’t have to stress about everything and he worked so hard on it and it was—he thought it was good and he’s being so fucking ridiculous right now.

 Logan has said parts of it were good. He’d complimented Roman on how much he’d been able to write in such a short amount of time. He’d asked if Roman would want to talk about some of this stuff in greater detail at a later time because he’d been interested and obviously Roman had opinions and things to say about it.

 And that counts for something, or at least it should.

 But…but Logan had also said that the framework was wrong.

 The framework was wrong. That—that was the whole point of the story. The framework was supposed to convey the message and the message was supposed to come across and it doesn’t matter that Logan thought some of the stuff was good because it was made to suit the framework that Roman thought they wanted but it’s not which means he has to rework the whole thing entirely because it’s not what they wanted and—

 And Logan said it should be reorganized which is not how a story works because he can’t just cut and paste things to fit where he wants them because he has to make sure it works and it makes sense and if he has to rewrite the structure and the message then he—he—

 He has to start over.

 A wracked sob tears its way out of Roman’s throat, right into the pages of the book. Six hours. Six hours. Down the fucking drain. He could’ve—he could’ve spent that time doing other things or fixing other things or—

 Or, he thinks bitterly, one hand still clutched to his aching chest, you could’ve just done it right the first fucking time.

 God, he’s going to have to do so much work to catch up. He’s—he’s going to have to put off writing that short story, making sure that idea was polished, making sure that—

 He has so much work to do.

 By the time he raises his head from the book, his head is tingling. His fingers lose sensation as he moves and his entire chest feels like it's held together by the weakest threads. He has to let his head drop back to the gross wet spot he’s left in the book just to avoid a horrible head rush. A few slow, shuddering breaths later, and he sits back in his chair.

 He’s actually quite proud of himself, he thinks absentmindedly as he looks for his tissue box. He does remember when he started crying. It was during the feedback with Logan.

 Logan said that entire sections needed to be cut. Something in Roman’s chest had snapped when he heard that. They were…this story was his darling.

 They’re all his darlings, but this one, so new, so…so fresh was still living in his chest, right next to his heart.

 His voice hadn’t slipped once. Even as tears ran down his face he hadn’t slipped. Then Logan had realized it was later than expected and apologetically left Roman in the common space. Had to get to another meeting. That was fine. Roman could get away with a much terser goodbye and Logan didn’t look too hard at his face.

 He has so much work to do.

 If he puts it off he’s never going to want to pick it up again and the dread of it will poison him. Poison Thomas. He can’t have that. They’re already behind schedule. He’s already behind schedule.

 If he starts doing this now he won’t be able to stop. He’s not in the right space and he doesn’t know if he can force himself into the one he needs to be in. Just the thought of looking at his notes, with the handwriting getting worse and worse is enough to make his fingers tremble. The thought of looking at Logan’s precise comments in bright, bold, unmistakably incorrect red pinches right under his throat.

  It’s alright, Roman. You’ve done good work. Especially for a rough draft.

 This wasn’t supposed to be a rough draft.

 He glances at the clock. It’s been too long. He has to do something.

 He doesn’t wash his face off or drink water. He doesn’t eat. He has somewhere to be in half an hour and he has to do something.

 Roman’s fingers are clumsy on the keyboard. The words aren’t words. He opens the draft and shakily creates a copy. He can’t hurt his sweetheart. He can’t.

 He can maim the fuck out of a copy, though.

 Each section that disappears in a merciless click of the delete button makes the ache in his chest worse. So much work. So much time. So much of Roman. Gone. Not right. Worthless.

 He has so much work to do.

 Roman pointedly covers the clock on his computer with a folded up post-it note and sets an alarm for when he needs to get ready to go meet with Remus. He puts his head down and works, blinking when he can’t see the screen through his tears. He…he can’t make this work, not with the corrections that Logan wants, not with the time he needs to make up. He has to start over, almost completely, which means back to the drawing board. New outline, new readings, new interpretations, new everything. Because it’s not what they wanted and Roman has to be what they want.

 Two minutes until he has to go meet with Remus he gets up and blows his nose. Quick glance in the mirror, it doesn’t look like he’s been crying. Grab what he needs to. Make sure this is in fact what he’s supposed to do.

 Roman’s one act of true cowardice is making sure Janus isn’t around.

 Remus doesn’t notice anything wrong, and if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

 Good.

—————————————————————

 Logan sighs, adjusts his glasses, and closes his laptop. It’s been a productive day and he has precisely thirteen minutes before he’s required downstairs to bake with Patton. They’re making blueberry muffins tonight, as requested, and Logan has secured permission to be absent from the movie marathon.

 He gets up and makes his way to his schedule wall, picking up his pack of markers as he goes. Light blue for Patton, dark blue for himself, purple for Virgil, yellow for Janus, green for Remus, and red for Roman. He frowns, noticing that he has to press a little harder than anticipated to get Virgil’s marker to show up.

 Logan sinks out to Remus’s room, ducking a chunk of flying viscera and quickly conjuring an umbrella for himself.

 “Remus?”

 “That is me,” Remus cackles, hanging upside down from…what looks to be a chandelier constructed entirely out of viscera and a partially decomposed sperm whale skeleton. His face appears under the brim of Logan’s umbrella. “What brings you here?”

 “Do you still have the pack of markers I lent you?”

 “No! I used those up ages ago.”

 Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask why?”

 “You remember how we talked about how if you do the simple science experiment of emptying a highlighter into water then putting flowers in it to make them glow in the dark?”

 “...yes?”

 “Did you know you can do the same with octopuses?”

 …now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that…

 “Enjoy your chandelier, Remus,” Logan sighs, sinking out and promptly disposing of the umbrella. He adjusts his tie and makes sure nothing splattered his glasses and starts toward Roman’s room. He would ask Patton but that might lead to starting the baking earlier than expected and, if he’s being honest, Logan does not currently have the wherewithal to do that quite so soon. He just needs to pick up a new purple marker and go back to his room.

 He doesn’t actually know what he expected to find.

 Maybe it was a Roman sprawled across his bed, idly toying with something, or across the floor with several pens strewn about him. Or at the computer, laughing at the screen with his feet up or fiddling with something.

 Maybe it was an empty room, Roman in the Imagination, or even Roman upset about some of the comments he’d made earlier.

 He knocks on the door and frowns when it creaks open.

 “Roman?”

 Logan pushes the door open and looks around. Roman’s not here. There’s water running in the bathroom. He knocks on the door louder.

 “One moment!”

 The bathroom door opens and Roman appears. “Logan. Is there something wrong?”

 “One of my pens has dried up and I’m seeking a replacement.”

 Something flashes across Roman’s face too quick to accurately pinpoint and in a flash, a new pack of markers sits in Roman’s hand.

 “Thank you.”

 Roman nods and turns, sitting at his desk and shuffling through a few papers. When Logan doesn’t move for a few moments, Roman looks back up.

 “…is there something else?”

 “No, I just…” Logan tilts his head. “Are you alright, Roman?”

 “I’m performing within acceptable limits,” Roman jokes, even as his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “just…trying to get this done before the z—um. Before we have to go downstairs. Thanks for baking for tonight, I, uh, I know you won’t be staying for the movies so I should probably say thank-you now, right?”

 “Roman,” Logan interrupts softly, “Roman, what were you going to say?”

 “Hmm?”

 “You cut yourself off. You were going to say ‘before’ something that wasn’t going downstairs.”

 “Was I?”

 “Roman.”

 Roman’s fingers falter on the keyboard for barely a second. “Don’t you want to get in some more rest before baking,” he tries, “I know you’ve expressed that helps you before.”

 “I would, but I would also like to know what you were going to say.”

 Roman worries his bottom lip. “…can’t I just finish working, please?”

 Logan looks around. Something is wrong.

 The door barely squeaks as Logan shuts it, glancing around to make sure no one else is sneaking by or within earshot. He turns back just in time to see Roman recovering from a horrible flinch. Without meaning to, a soft comforting noise escapes his throat.

 “Roman, what’s—“

 “I’m fine, Specs.”

 “Yes, I can tell from that tone of voice that you are completely and utterly fine.”

 “You know I’m pretty sure sass is an emotional response.”

 The corner of his mouth quirks up and he walks closer, setting the pack of markers down on the corner of Roman’s desk and folding his hands in front of him.

 “Roman,” he tries again, “what’s wrong?”

 Roman’s hands tighten into fists on his keyboard. He barely glances up at Logan. “It’s nothing, Specs.”

 “If it’s upsetting you it’s not nothing.”

 “It’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”

 “It’s upsetting you, Roman, that means it’s something for me to be concerned about.”

 Roman huffs. “Give me a little credit, Logan, I promise I can operate under distress without compromising Thomas or the rest of you, I’ve had enough practice.”

 “…I must admit I’m not sure if you expect me to be reassured by that.”

 Silence.

 The clock in the hallway ticks.

 Roman takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders back. “The 0.5%.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “The 0.5%, Logan,” Roman repeats, “that’s what I was going to say.”

 Logan frowns. What—why would Roman say—0.5% of what?

 Roman gives him a disbelieving smile when Logan cautiously broaches that question. “You should know, Specs. Your chart, remember?”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Roman, what—what does that have to do with this?”

 “What does the fact that you’ve only given me 0.5% of each day to run things have to do with me being upset?”

 “Roman you—you’re allowed to do things, I didn’t mean it like that, I just—“

 “Stop, Logan,” Roman says with a soft fury, reaching out to lay his hand on Logan’s arm only to stop. His hand closes into a fist and returns to his side. Goosebumps raise on Logan’s arm and he suddenly feels very, very cold.

“Stop,” he says again, “it doesn’t matter how you meant it. I understand.”

 “But clearly you don’t,” Logan protests, “if you believe that you are only allowed to exist for 0.5% of each day—“

 “That’s not it, Logan.” Roman turns in his chair. “I get 0.5% to exist around you each day.”

 “I don’t see the difference!”

 “It means I have to perform for 0.5% a day.”

  Perform.

 Logan’s mind stutters to a halt. No. No, no, Roman…

 “Roman,” he starts, “Roman, why are you doing so much work?”

 “Well, when you only have 0.5% of a day to present, you’d better have some damn good stuff, shouldn’t you? After all, it’s not like you’ll get much time to talk it through before you have to—“

 “Not…not just that,” Logan interrupts, “why did you call it ‘performing?’”

 Roman stares up at him, his head tilted to the side. “…do you actually believe that I’m…like that?”

 The fact that the ‘yes’ came so readily to the tip of his tongue makes Logan sick.

 “When you only have so little time,” Roman mumbles, “if I don’t…if I don’t take up all the space I can for that amount of time, I’m afraid it will just…slip away.”

 Before Logan can even begin to talk about how awful that is, Roman blusters on.

 “That’s why I have to get back to work. I have to get this done before the 0.5% starts so I can make the most of it. Thought you’d be happy, Specs,” Roman says, flashing the fakest smile Logan’s ever seen, “about how efficient I’m being.”

 Logan is many things right now, and ‘happy’ is not any of them. His mouth opens and closes, trying to look for words, for something, anything to try and override this, make Roman see sense, make Roman see—

 He stops.

 Roman wasn’t expecting him. He’s been surprised.

 His hands are shaking as they type. He keeps having to hit the backspace key. There are twitches in his arms that aren’t normally there and he keeps trying to scoot away from Logan.

 Logan reaches out to cover one of Roman’s hands.

 Roman flinches so hard he almost knocks his laptop off of the desk.

 “You’re panicking,” Logan murmurs, “take a deep breath.”

 He holds Roman still until some of the mania goes out of his eyes. He lifts his hand away.

 “That’s enough work for today.”

 “What? No, no, I’m so behind, I have so much work to do, I have to—“

 “What have you done today, Roman?”

 “Not nearly enough, I have to—“

 Then Logan catches sight of a stack of paper with red annotations. He frowns, moving around Roman to take a look, ignoring the soft noise of protest. This is the feedback he gave Roman earlier, these are his annotations, that’s his red pen he uses for Roman, that’s…

 …oh.

 Oh, no.

 No, no, no, no…

 “Roman,” he murmurs, turning to look at him, “why is this wet?”

 Roman takes a breath and Logan blinks.

 Roman looks so small.

 “…I have so much work to do.”

 Something in Logan hurts. Think. Think. Think.

 He glances around frantically, spotting a stack of looseleaf paper. Aha.

 “Roman,” he manages around the lump in his throat, “if we make a list of things that you have to or have already done today, will that help?”

 Roman nods, watching as Logan hurries to grab a sheet of paper and fetch the red pen out of the marker box. “…do we have to use red?”

 Logan pauses, yet to uncap it. “Is there something wrong with red?”

 The costume makes a few rustling noises as Roman shifts in the chair. Logan holds out the pen until the cap lies next to the bright red sash on Roman’s chest. “Red’s your color, isn’t it?”

 “…wait, that’s why you always use red?”

 “That’s why I use red for you.”

 “…oh.”

 As he makes the list, he keeps an eye on Roman. Has he…have they never truly looked at Roman? Logan’s sure Janus knows at least some of this, if not all of it, and Remus has absolutely no filter any of the time but especially not when it comes to Roman.

 They’ll have to be better about that.

 Roman’s face perks up a little when Logan finally passes him the list, only to fall almost as quickly when he sees the number of things on it. “L-Logan, I—“

 “Have a look at each of them,” Logan interrupts softly, passing him the pen, “and mark off the ones that you’ve done already.”

 “…am I supposed to do all of these today?”

 “Ideally, yes.”

 The grim look of resignation and determination on Roman’s face is enough to make Logan want to take it away, but he can’t. Not before Roman sees.

 Sure enough, as Roman starts to scan down the list, his brow furrows. He glances up at Logan who simply nods toward it.

 “Um…”

 “Read out the ones you’re having trouble with,” Logan offers, “if you like.”

 “…'get out of bed?’”

 “Did you do that?”

 “Yes?”

 “Then cross it off.”

 Bemused, Roman does. He consults the list again. “Are all of these—am I supposed to—“

 Logan nods when Roman can’t finish his sentence. “Check off the ones you’ve done and then we’ll see how productive you’ve been today.”

 It’s strange, Logan thinks as he watches Roman go down the list, he’s never been so…gentle like this before, especially not with Roman.

 Maybe it’s time to be better about that too.

 “All finished?”

 “I think so…”

 “How many do you have left?”

 “Um, just…drink water, save current works, eat dinner, and, um…” Roman squints at the page, then up at Logan, “…receive emotional support.”

 “Well, those don’t seem to be too difficult.” Logan folds his arms and smiles. “I’d say you’ve been very productive today.”

 “But I need to rework the entire idea for tomorrow,” Roman argues, “I haven’t even made a dent in it, I—“

 “Wait, why do you think you need to rework it completely?”

 “…you said the framework was wrong and you need it reorganized. Which is fine,” Roman hastily defends, “you’re not wrong, but that basically means I have to start over.”

 “You don’t have to start over, Roman,” Logan reassures, “and that’s not what I meant. Why don’t we check off the rest of the list now and then we can have a…redo of the feedback session tomorrow?”

 “Logan, I’m really confused right now,” Roman blurts out, clutching the list like a lifeboat.

 “What’s confusing?”

 Logan takes a step closer, resisting the urge to smile when Roman doesn’t back away.

 “…not that this isn’t appreciated,” Roman manages finally, “but I—you—you’ve never done this before.”

 “Perhaps I didn’t realize that it was necessary.”

  Wrong thing to say.

 “Wait, you don’t have to—I can—I’ll be fine on my own—“

 “Not what I meant, Roman, I am perfectly aware that you are capable of taking care of yourself,” Logan soothes, “but…it seems that my actions—or lack of actions, perhaps—has been hurting you. And I apologize for that.”

 Roman swallows heavily, the list still wrinkled up in his hands.

 “I want to have this conversation properly,” Logan murmurs, taking another step closer, “and when you feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s really going on. That’s not now, and that’s okay. Will you take my word if I tell you that you don’t need to do as much work on your story as you think you do?”

 “…sure.”

 “I’m pleased to hear that.” Logan gestures toward the door. “Why don’t you save your work and we’ll go downstairs?”

 “Aren’t you baking with Patton in like—now?”

 “I was, but Janus has also expressed interest in baking tonight, and…” Logan smiles. “I do not think he would be upset to learn that I wished to postpone for this reason.”

 The smallest smile comes to Roman’s face. “…since when have those two been…”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Have you noticed that they— with Virgil—“

 “Oh, don’t even get me started.”

 “It’s like watching a sitcom sometimes, isn’t it?”

 “Quite.”

 It makes Roman chuckle and Logan feels his shoulders relax. Then something passes over his face again.

 “What is it?”

 “Nothing, nothing, it’s just the um, the last thing on the list of receiving emotional support…” Roman absentmindedly smoothes out the paper. “…don’t know how I’m going to get that if, um…well, movie night’s still a thing.”

 …that is not the kind of emotional support Logan was referring to and they both know it.

 “Well,” Logan says, adjusting his tie and valiantly ignoring the heat rushing to his face, “there is another option.”

 Roman’s eyes widen. “…you’re serious?”

 “Of course.”

 “But you…when you ask off movie night, that’s—“

 “Roman.”

 Roman stops. Something flickers over his face. Logan frowns.

 “What?”

 “…you’ve said my name a lot today, Specs,” Roman mumbles, looking away.

 “Is that a problem?”

 Roman shrugs. “…kind of reminds me of when I, um, mess up.”

 “…what?”

 “You, um…” Roman fiddles with the list. “You don’t normally use my name unless you’re talking about me. And you don’t, uh, you don’t normally do that unless I’ve done something wrong. But that’s not your fault.”

 “…thank you for telling me.” Logan tilts his head. “Is there something you would rather I call you instead?”

 “Not particularly.”

 “Princey?”

 “No thanks.”

 “Kiddo?”

 “You’re not Patton.”

 “No, it sounds strange, doesn’t it?”

 “Yeah.”

 “…I’m guessing Creativity would be…”

 “…yeah.”

 “I’ll think of something,” Logan murmurs, “but yes, I would be happy to spend the evening with you.” Roman still looks unsure. “Why the hesitation?”

 “You don’t like being touched,” Roman blurts out, the list in his hands about to rip.

  Ah.

 Logan reaches forward and carefully extricates the list from Roman’s grasp. He sets it on the desk. Roman watches him, eyes wide, as Logan rests his hand on his shoulder.

 “I don’t like being touched when I don’t expect it,” Logan says quietly, “or when it’s not on my terms. When it is…and especially when it’s helping someone, I don’t mind at all.”

 Roman’s staring at his hand like he’s never seen it before. His shoulder feels so…small?

 Is Roman shaking?

 “Hey,” Logan calls softly, “hey, can you look at me?”

 Roman doesn’t move.

 “Come on, just…just look at me.”

 Roman turns his head and oh—

 “Oh, dear,” Logan breathes, his hand moving up on instinct to wipe away Roman’s tear, “oh, dear, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

 Roman’s eyes fall shut as more tears brim on his lashes. He squeezes them tightly and turns his head, almost nuzzling into Logan’s palm, as if he doesn’t believe it’s really there.

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 “You’re touch-starved,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, stepping closer and cupping Roman’s face firmly.

 “Haven’t exactly had time to—“ a breath rips itself out of Roman’s lungs as Logan pulls him closer— “to—to—I—you’re really warm, Logan…”

 “You’ve been overworking yourself,” Logan says firmly, “and you don’t have to. Not ever again.”

 Roman’s eyes flutter open cautiously, staring at Logan with such unabashed hope that it makes his throat clench.

 “Hey,” he murmurs instead, “there you are.”

 “…sorry.”

 “No need to be.” Logan brushes away another tear. “Why don’t we go downstairs, get something to eat, something to drink, and then come back?”

 Roman nods, but his eyes glaze over a little as Logan keeps stroking his cheek. Logan shakes his head, smiling fondly at him. Oh, Roman…

 “Hey,” he calls again, giving Roman’s face a little shake, “hug me.”

 “W-what?”

 “Hug me,” Logan repeats, opening his arms, “come on…”

 The time it takes for Roman to step forward and carefully, carefully place his arms around Logan’s shoulders like he’s afraid of ruining him feels like an eternity. As soon as it’s clear Roman’s not going to do any more than lightly rest the weight of his arms on Logan for just a moment, Logan moves.

 He wraps his arms firmly around Roman’s waist and pulls him until they’re flush. He smiles a little at the gasp of surprise, only to soften instantly when Roman lets out a keen.

 “I said hug me, dear heart,” Logan whispers, the pet name rolling off his tongue before he can stop it, “come on, now, you can do better than that.”

 Poor Roman is shaking so badly Logan feels himself almost thrown off balance. He spreads his feet a little wider and holds him, rubbing his back and lifting his chin a little higher. Roman feels so small and cold in his arms that he doesn’t try and playfully coax him into hugging tighter. Instead, he hooks his chin over Roman’s shoulder and tightens his grip, softly encouraging him to breathe, to relax, it’s alright.

 “That’s it,” he murmurs when Roman finally sags into his arms, “that’s it, dear heart, good, I have you, I have you.”

 Roman turns his head into Logan’s neck and Logan makes a soft sound at the slight dampness. His arms still tremble slightly, but he’s leaning most of his weight onto Logan now, almost hanging off of him with the grip he has on his wrists.

 “I’ve got you,” he promises, “I’ve got you.”

 When his arms start to ache pleasantly from the strain of keeping his grip, Logan eases back, making sure to keep one hand on Roman’s face.

 “If we stand here any longer we may fall asleep,” he whispers, “let’s go downstairs, and then we can come back, hmm?”

 Roman, the poor thing, is so exhausted that all he can do is fall forward a little, just so their foreheads rest together. Logan chuckles.

“Just for dinner, then we’ll come back and I’ll cuddle you some more, okay?”

 “…yeah, okay.”

 “You can have a chance to hug me properly too, hmm?”

 Roman huffs a laugh. “I’ll show you.”

 “I’m sure you will, dear heart.” When the face against his suddenly grows much warmer, Logan tilts his head. “Is that alright? Dear heart?”

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s alright. More than alright.”

 “Then come on, dear heart, let’s get those last few things checked off the list, hmm?”

 Patton, of course, has absolutely no objections. Virgil tips them a lazy two-fingered salute. Remus doesn’t quite tackle his brother into the wall but it’s close. Janus makes eye contact with Logan and gives him a nod. Right. They should talk too. But not tonight.

 When Roman’s door closes again and Roman crosses the last item off the list, Logan takes it from him and sets it aside, holding out his arms.

 “Come here, dear heart.”

 This time, Roman wraps his arms around Logan without hesitation. Logan hides a smile in Roman’s shoulder as he sits them on the bed, lies them down, tucks Roman in close.

 Roman is quiet. Roman is soft. Roman is an excellent cuddler. He fits perfectly into Logan’s arms. He’s perfect.

 It’s been a very productive day.

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[princeanxious]

Why would you hide the Villain remus and Janus thing in the tags, I'd read the hell outta Hero Virgil turned Villain

you mean this??? shdbic aaa Yeah I want to write it, but i also want to write a lot of things. xD but this is def one of those things i’d love to write a short-ish one-shot about just so I can write it.

can you imagine? Virgil, young and anxious, manifesting powers of the light and dark variety, able to manipulate shadows and summon electricity with such fine precision because he’s spent so long fretting over accidentally hurting someone with it that he refused to even dare try and step into the hero scene until he was 150% certain that he’d trained his powers to disconnect from his emotions so that he’d never have an outburst that could even harmlessly shock or scare someone. He’s so in control over his powers that its to an insane degree just because he wants to make sure he cant hurt anybody on accident.

(complete ramble continued under the cut bc boy howdy this got so long it might as well be its own short one-shot)

And, he’s worked so in depth with his powers because of course he can’t just suppress them!(Suppressing electricity based powers doesn’t get rid of that energy, it just makes that constantly generating energy stay put and build, which makes it even more dangerous when it’s finally released, so suppression is a no go) So of course not only does he work extensively with learning how to control his powers, but also how to healthily use them and expend his energy safely, effectively, and skillfully as he grows into them. Might as well push your limits of learning just how much your power can do if you have to learn how to exist safely around others by controlling it, right?

So, by default, by the time Virgil is both old enough and confident enough in his powers to consentingly apply for registry to the worlds heroes association, he’s both insanely skilled with his powers, and also insanely talented(the equivalent to a child prodigy, not that many people in charge of the worlds hero association believe that, though.). The people who had been interviewing him believed the same, thinking him to be just another super teenager boasting about his skills when they couldn’t even sense his power, thinking that what little power Virgil did have was not even worth bothering to report anything substantial about the interview. That he’d oughta go try the villain’s headquarters, because at least they take in wandering powerless for henchmen all the time.

Virgil, feeling pissed but not quite enraged yet, because what teenager wouldn’t hate it to be so invalidated and demeaned at being out right dismissed as a threat, let alone considered more of an invalid for not having powers, starts to display his power. 

First it’s the main interviewer’s phone that they’d been glancing boredly at, drained suddenly of all power. Then it’s the landline of that specific room, then it’s the lamp, the computer suddenly shuts off with zero warning and nothing of it turns on. The lamp in the corner of the room goes dark, bulb by bulb, and the printer in the room dies. Virgil’s eyes are glowing violet but he hasn’t moved any more than the annoyed twitch of an eyelid. the light’s overhead turn off, leaving the lights in the hallway still on, leaving the remaining light in the room coming from the single window in the room and the open doorway. 

He reaches up a hand, and snaps once, and shadows swallow up the light over the hallway and the window, acting as a wall from the inside and out. 

Now the only light in the room is his glowing eyes.

The second interviewer is struggling to summon fire from her hands to light the room, but it doesn’t work. The energy she’s using to summon the fire is immediately sapped by Virgil’s force, there isn’t even a spark. The first interviewer can feel Virgil’s power now, it’s bright and burning. It’s like he has a core in the middle of his being like a sun’s core because its storing so much power, and the only reason they can see it now is because Virgil’s using his power. He has so much control that even on a nonphysical level it’s nearly tangible, the way that they can see his shadow powers conceal even the existence of his power, now that they know what their looking at.

In mere seconds, this kid has tipped the world on their head and put the fear of god into them, an undetected yet undeniable threat in the making. 

They watch his eyes tilt with his head, and the distinct sound of the entire building powering down is unmistakable, shouts of surprise and confusion due to the failure of the buildings many fail-safes failing to trigger. And then, with another snap, all power is restored to normal in the blink of the eye, all machines and lights are functioning perfectly, not an irregular shadow in sight, and all at once Virgil reads as a normal human teenager, not a whiff of power to be sensed. He looks pretty peeved, though.

“Maybe I will try my luck at the Dark Side then, at least they care about the people that look to be taken in. Let me know if you changed your mind, I’d love to have a do-over. With a different set of interviewers, mind you.” before he walks out of the interview room, off to blow off some steam legally and safely.

Imagine his outrage when a week later he’s served a summons to court, deeming him a “Threat to Society” and “better left in jail until the court can be convinced of his good nature” because he’s an “out of control juvenile gifted with an unprecedented amount of power that he couldn’t possibly control without strict legal supervision and interference and cannot be trusted to continue to exist as a normal citizen until the W.H.A deems it safe.”

Faced with possible lifelong inprisonment and zero control over the rest of his life because an association of supers think that they know better and that he’s some stupid teenager that was set loose on the world with means to only cause catastrophe and devastation, or freedom at the hands of some ambiguously grey moral decisions every once in a while and being treated as a normal human being even if he has to be a henchman to another super for a while? 

The decision isn’t a hard one to make.

So imagine his surprise when he’s not only accepted into the Dark Side after being respectfully asked to demonstrate the full extent of his power and his control over it, but instead of becoming a villain’s henchmen, he instead gains the full title of Villain(with another Villain(Janus) stepping in to mentor him and show him the ropes of the rules and everything), and even further: Gets his own henchmen assigned to him. 

A pair, Patton and Logan. 

Patton has a partial shapeshifting ability, but it only really lets him turn into a big frog man, making him perfect for doing any of the main heavy lifting for the team, and also perfect for protecting Logan when under attack. He’s built like a himbo and is absolutely 100% a himbo, heart of gold, super strong, buff dad bod, the whole sha-bang.

Logan has a power that is one part linked with memory, one part linked with technology. His brain can retain information like a computer databank, and he can get any misfunctioning technology to work if he can get his hands on it or a connection to it. He avoids all the quirks that interfere or damage real databanks and technology(like magnets, water, and short-circuiting) and can semi-directly connect with devices he is familiar with, without having to hold/touch/look at one.

All together, they have the beginnings of a well rounded team: the brawns, the brains, and the leader with plans and the power to make it happen. Even before finding out their reasons for coming to the dark side, Virgil becomes ride or die for them. (And honestly, they’re also pretty ride or die for him too, not even starting with the fact that they’re both like 26-27 and Virgil is an 18 year old anxious mess that had to make the decision over being the bad guy or losing any and all autonomy for the foreseeable future, which is gonna fuck up any kid and young adult’s brain. So, lowkey adopt him as a younger sibling even though he’s the boss of them and just barely taller than them.(Virgil is a tol lanky boi, and while Logan, standing at 5′9″, is but an inch shorter than Virgil at the start, Virgil still has growing room and peaks at about 6′4″ by the time hes 22. Patton at his normal height is like 5′6″, but frog man height is like 8′3″)

Oh, and they definitely make the Worlds Hero Association regret not taking Virgil’s existence kindly, Big Time.

[katblu42]

Two

A fic for Virgil's birthday from an unusual point of view. Somewhat covering the "Outside POV" and "Virgil at Work" titles on the birthday challenge list.

Thank you @gumnut-logic for the read through, and for setting up this birthday event to prod me into finishing this one!

The sudden opening of my overhead hatch by remote access wakes me from my slumber. He’s coming. My pilot. There must be a situation. If it were anything else the hatch would have been opened manually, and if it were any other pilot it would be the lower hatch, not the one above my cockpit. He swings down from the end of his chute, his boots hit the checker plate of my cockpit floor and he reaches up to close the hatch. There is an automated close control, so he doesn’t have to do it by hand, but it is quicker and much more satisfying when he does. The solid thunk as it shuts both feels and sounds more secure, more reassuring than the slow, quiet, automatic closure. And it signals the unofficial beginning of our next adventure together. He smiles every time he pulls the hatch closed – there is a certain excitement in the urgency of a launch. Someone needs us, and we have to fly.

My pilot is unique. No one else treats me the way he does, or understands me like he does. He knows me better than any other human, more intimately than even the creator himself. The creator is the one responsible for my original design and build, but I suspect my pilot may have had a little input. He has certainly had a creative hand in upgrades and repairs, and prefers to do as much hands on maintenance work as he can, often working alongside the creator and his robotic assistant when he can’t complete the work on his own. The creator may well know every nut and bolt and wiring loom, every function and capability to the letter of the specifications, but my pilot knows I am more than a marvellous piece of engineering.

He knows me in the air – how I will respond to any weather conditions, any sudden changes, and every little twitch of my controls. My pilot knows my limits in practice, not just on paper and by the numbers. He will push me when it’s needed and knows when I have given all I can. We have nursed each other home battle-scarred and wounded on many an occasion. He will apologise whenever my abilities are stretched beyond capacity, whenever there is damage, and every time he needs to pull me apart for repairs. I don’t need the apologies. He takes care of me, and I will do my best to take care of him.

My pilot feels affection for me. He shows it in so many little ways, like the absent minded way he’ll trail his hand along the surface of my hull as he passes, or contentedly hum along with the rumble of my engines. It’s evident in the way he speaks to me. Barely audible whispers of greeting, or thanks for a job well done. Impassioned pleas to give just a little more in desperate times, often followed by relieved words of thanks accompanied by a loving rub of my dash, or forehead resting against a bulkhead with a relieved sigh once the crisis is over. He speaks to me in words of encouragement and praise. He believes in me and relies on me, and in return I will give him everything he asks of me. For him I will push my limits to do what he needs me to do, to get us all home safe.

He calls me beautiful. I know that I am not, but it is good to hear him say it. Strong and dependable I may be, but not beautiful – except perhaps in his eyes. I am not sleek and shiny like my sister ‘birds One and Three. Nor am I built for speed like them, but I am proud of my capabilities. Still one of the fastest machines in the air despite my grand size and considerable weight, I am versatile and able to carry just about any cargo imaginable. Sometimes I wish I could be faster, but I know that some things are more important. Without me it would be impossible to get specialised heavy equipment to where it is needed, my medical bay is the best equipped and largest in International Rescue’s fleet, and I am capable of carrying a large number of people to safety. If I were to fail in my duties it would make the job of my pilot and his colleagues immeasurably difficult. So, I must not fail.

He sings to me. When he’s working on repairs or maintenance, when he’s tidying the cockpit or restocking the medical supplies, or sometimes, when we’re flying alone. His voice resonates through my systems and reflects off my surfaces and harmonises with my own sounds. I like when he sings. He seems to do it when he’s happy, comfortable – content. None of the others ever sing to me. The Co-pilot – the one who belongs to Four – he sings sometimes, but it’s not the same. He seems to sing as a distraction, to change the prevailing mood in the cockpit, or just for his own entertainment. His singing is loud and raucous, but not necessarily bad.

Others have flown me when my pilot has been unable to. It is never the same. The Commander, One’s pilot, is always trying to rush me, wanting me to be something I am not. He is impatient with me and grumbles that I am not fast enough. He gets frustrated if I do not respond immediately to the slightest adjustment of my controls, and yet he will often take an extra fraction of a second to find the switch or lever he needs because he is used to flying a different ‘bird. I understand his sense of urgency, but flying for him is sometimes hard work, as though he is fighting me instead of working with me.

The Co-pilot, Four’s pilot is better. Four and I are like the closest of sisters in many ways. We are often called to work together as I am able to carry her to locations she cannot reach fast enough alone. As a result her pilot and mine work together often, and he gets to see first hand how my pilot handles my controls. When he is required to take over piloting duties he emulates what he has seen my pilot do, right down to voicing encouraging words when needed. He is a good pilot, but he lacks a little confidence in himself, as though he is afraid of doing something wrong and causing damage to another’s ‘bird. He means well and he is trying to connect with me on some level, but it is not the same as the partnership I have with my pilot.

The little one, Three’s pilot is somewhere in between those two. He has that nervousness about him, the fear of making a mistake flying a ‘bird that’s not his, and he seems to have a desire to prove himself so he’ll try and do things his way instead of feeling and listening to what I need. At the same time he is inclined to want to rush and expect me to respond more like One or Three instead of doing things my way, but he seems more comfortable adjusting his piloting style than the Commander is.

The other – the Voice from the stars – only really flies me remotely. I have no tangible connection with him. Remote piloting is clinical, calculated, precise and impersonal. He does not communicate directly with me through voice or touch, only electronics. He relies on numbers and sensor readings rather than human senses like my pilot does. I know it is necessary at times for this intangible Voice to take control this way, but it is a lonely way to fly.

My pilot’s strong hands are gentle, nimble and sure in their movements across my controls as he completes pre-flight procedures. The module we need for the job has been selected, loaded and secured into place – part of me, but not. The modules, the pods, the machines and equipment I carry are perhaps like accessories or clothing for a human – it is possible to fly without them, but they are still a part of my complete work-ready attire.

The hangar door is opening and we are rolling. My pilot gently caresses a hand across my dash and quietly utters “Here we go, girl.” The launch pad tilts and the countdown begins. I am a Thunderbird, and my engines rumble into a roar. I bring the thunder, and with my pilot, together we ride the lightning.

“Thunderbird Two is go!”

[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 113]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53

Going to work on this for a little bit. Hopefully will get to the end of this chapter!

Chapter 54 (Patton)

“I still can’t believe he’s allowing this,” King Thomas said from next to Patton. The two of them were standing at the edge of the arena outside the horse stable, watching from a safe distance.

“If he hadn’t tried to bite me earlier, I’d think he was a different horse,” Patton agreed.

“He doesn’t even let Logan ride him,” the king said. “At least not ride him and give him directions.”

Patton was very aware of that. Logan did on occasion choose to get up onto Mr. Apples’ saddle. However, Mr. Apples was always the once who got to decide where they went after that. Logan had no say.

With that in mind, Patton, Logan, and every stable hand who’d heard about the prospective riding lessons had tried to convince Virgil to learn to ride on a different horse. Virgil was just as stubborn as Mr. Apples however and had insisted. Logan, being the only one who could be around Mr. Apples without risking being kicked, had become his de facto tutor.

Not even Logan could have expected that within a week, Virgil would be able to control Mr. Apples. Though perhaps ‘control’ was the wrong word. Nothing could control Mr. Apples, but for some reason, Mr. Apples seemed willing to do as Virgil asked.

Even right now Mr. Apples was trotting around the training arena like he was a well-trained trick horse warming up with his rider.

“Logan told him we could go on an actual ride today if the lesson went well,” Patton told the king. The lesson seemed to be just getting over because Logan said something to Virgil and Virgil started to climb off. Mr. Apples was patient and still as he dismounted.

“Do you think he’d mind if I went with you?” King Thomas asked.

Patton shrugged. “Mr. Apples might.”

“Mr. Apples definitely will,” the king replied. “I’ll come anyway.”

Logan had walked over to where Patton and the king were standing while Virgil fed Mr. Apples some apple pieces as a reward.

“I hear you’re going to go riding today,” King Thomas said.

Logan nodded. “Mr. Apples seems to listen to him well enough,” he said.

“I might join you if that’s alright. Where are you kids going?” the king asked.

“I was thinking the main forest path,” Logan replied. “It’s not a particularly difficult route, but it’s also a part of the castle grounds Virgil hasn’t been able to see yet. Loraine told me it has been recently cleared after the winter.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the king said. “Are you going now?”

“Once Patton and I saddle up our horses,” Logan said. “You can come.”

“Great,” the king said with a smile. “I’ll ask for Bella’s saddle to be brought out. I haven’t gone on a ride yet this week.”

He turned then to walk towards the stables leaving Patton and Logan alone.

“Do you think he’s been acting weird?” Logan asked, turning towards Patton.

Patton frowned. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

“I’m just wondering why he wants to go horseback riding with us.”

“He likes spending time with you?” Patton guessed.

“Yes,” Logan said, “but typically in a setting that doesn’t involve Mr. Apples.”

Well, that was fair.

“I mean, it’s not too weird,” Patton said, thinking back through the last couple of days. King Thomas had been a bit… clingy.

“He’s been hanging around a lot,” Logan said, echoing Patton’s thoughts with narrowed eyes. He glanced back at Virgil. “You don’t think Virgil let something slip, do you?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Patton said. “I think your dad would say something if Virgil let slip he was an assassin somehow.”

“Unless he let slip something that didn’t quite implicate himself but invited suspicion.”

“Your dad doesn’t seem suspicious,” Patton said. At least, Patton didn’t think he did. He hadn’t been acting mean in any way. In fact, he might have even been acting nicer.

Logan frowned. “We should keep an eye on him, especially around Virgil.”

Patton bit his lip.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Are we ever going to tell your dad about Virgil?” he asked.

Logan hesitated. “I don’t…” he trailed. “I’m not sure.”

“It just feels weird lying for so long,” Patton said. Patton didn’t lie a lot. Sure, maybe he’d pretend to not know what Mama was talking about when sweets went missing from the kitchens or he’d pretend to not know what Logan’s birthday gift was, but he’d never lied about anything serious before now.

“I know, but,” Logan glanced back at Virgil once again, “even if we did decide to tell, we’d have to convince Virgil everything would be alright beforehand. I don’t think we’re at that point yet. He was terrified of Father until a few months ago, and he’s still cautious around him sometimes.”

Logan was right, of course. Virgil was getting more and more comfortable around the king, but he figured any of the progress made would go down the drain as soon as they brought up telling King Thomas about where exactly Virgil had come from. Patton didn’t know if Virgil would ever be comfortable enough.

“We should go get our own horses,” Logan suggested, and Patton nodded.

Patton and Logan’s horses had already been saddled by the stable hands in anticipation of their ride and it didn’t take long for the king to saddle his own horse, Bella.

The forest path at this time of year was very pretty, Patton thought. The tree branches now had small green leaves on them after having been barren for the entire winter and flowers were starting to grow. In a few weeks’ time it would be even prettier, but it would also be harder for the groundskeeper to maintain as well as it was right now.

Virgil really did seem less anxious around King Thomas now. The path was only wide enough for two horses to go at once, and he didn’t seem to mind that he and the king ended up next to each other while Patton and Logan lagged behind. In fact, he and the king seemed to be having a nice conversation about the local wildlife.

However, if Patton looked close enough, he did sort of see what Logan meant. Virgil may not be anxious talking to the king now, but the king himself seemed just a little bit nervous at least at the beginning of the ride.

He seemed to relax a bit as they rode (even laughing when Mr. Apples tried to bite him when he got too close).

Logan had been teaching Virgil the basics about things like animals, but there was still a pretty big gap in his education when it came to anything that wasn’t about training to fight and kill. King Thomas seemed more than willing to answer any of his questions when it came to the animals and plants around them even if they were sometimes a bit silly.

He’d seen a bird that looked like a dove. (It may have even been a dove, but Patton hadn’t seen it.) This had been a source of endless confusion for him.

“But shouldn’t it live in the dovecote?” Virgil asked.

“Not all birds live in a dovecote,” the king explained again.

“But it’s a dove,” Virgil said with a frown.

“Not all doves live in a dovecote,” the king replied.

“But it’s a dovecote,” Virgil argued. “It’s for the doves.”

“Yes, but there are also wild doves,” the king said.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Virgil replied.

“What about it doesn’t make sense?” the king asked with a laugh in his tone.

“Doves go in the dovecote,” Virgil said.

Patton was starting to have trouble following this argument.

“Dovecotes are made for doves,” the king said, “but not all doves go in dovecotes.”

“Why?”

This seemed to stump the king momentarily, but he still answered after thinking for a bit. “Doves existed before people got to them,” the king explained. “People caught and trained some of them, but there was no way to catch all of them. So, some stayed in the wild and continued with their lives like they had been before humans. Plus, sometimes domesticated doves fly off and never come back. Sometimes they might die, but other times they may have just gotten lost and had to build a new life somewhere far away. Or maybe they even decided that being a trained dove working for humans wasn’t for them, so they decided to go off on their own.”

“You let them do that?” Virgil asked.

“We can’t really stop them in the end,” the king said. “People can try, but it never ends up working as long as they can fly.”

Virgil thought about this. “I still don’t understand,” he said, “but okay.”

“We should take you to the cliffs,” the king suggested.

“What are the cliffs?”

“The castle grounds were built for defense,” King Thomas explained. “The edge of the grounds to the North is a large river and overlooking it is a huge cliff. It’s a good place for picnics and for birdwatching. It’s a bit of a trip, but now would be a good time of year to go.”

He glanced over his shoulder back at Logan and Patton. “What do you boys think about going to the cliffs sometime? Maybe in about a week?”

Logan squinted at his father suspiciously. It wasn’t so much the fact that the king was asking them to go to the cliffs. They did that every so often. However, this time, it only supported Logan’s claims that the king was hanging out with them a lot recently.

“Sure,” Logan said, after a moment.

“Sounds fun!” Patton said cheerily right after, trying to cover for the lack of enthusiasm in Logan’s voice with his own. Judging by King Thomas’s expression and Logan’s tight-lipped scowl, he may have overcompensated.

“Great,” the king said. “”I’ll make sure to make arrangements when we get back to the castle.”

Chapter 55 (Logan)

            Virgil was beginning to be able to read some of the common instructions in magic books, but Logan still made sure to read out the instructions to him at least twice before setting him loose. He’d started to jot down notes to himself about things, though these notes were not words, but various symbols that only made sense to the boy himself.

            Logan had asked about their meaning at one point and received an answer that, while earnest, was unintelligible. The symbols were mostly just pictures of things to represent certain steps in spell casting, but they were filtered through Virgil’s rudimentary penmanship and often bizarre perception of the world.

Though, despite the fact that Logan could not often decipher his chicken scratch, it did seem to help him produce impressively quality charms even as Logan began to introduce more complicated processes to make them. He was a very good student even if he didn’t have the best foundation for learning.

“I add lavender for the next step, right?” Virgil asked, his finger on a word in Logan’s magic book.

“That is correct,” Logan confirmed.

Virgil looked back at the book and mouthed the word ‘lavender’ to himself before turning back to his potion. He grabbed a few sprigs of lavender and threw them into the cauldron.

The liquid popped and bubbled violently, but Virgil didn’t flinch as he once would have, prepared for it now.

After the lavender, Logan knew that it would have to simmer for 5 minutes. Virgil looked down at the boiling liquid, contemplating it for a long moment.

“Can I soak a knife in it?” he asked.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Can I soak a knife in the potion once it’s done?”

“In that potion?” Logan clarified. “In the emergency hand warmer potion?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think a hot knife would be useful,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

Virgil shrugged. “Cooking food on the road,” he said, “burning wood, stabbing someone and immediately cauterizing the wound.”

“That is… not a standard use for this potion,” Logan said.

Virgil titled his head at him. “Would it work though?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Logan contemplated. “Perhaps. The potion can cause burns if one uses too much of it or if it is used without an appropriate layer between it and the skin. If one were to pick a knife with enough surface area and let it soak long enough, it could in theory get hot enough to do as desired. Hmm…” he thought about it. “There would perhaps be the problem of the potion not sticking to the knife very long as it is intended to soak into fabric. However, cardamom could solve that issue as long as it doesn’t interact with any other ingredients. Let me see that spell.”

Virgil stepped out of his way so he could study the page. “Yes,” Logan said after scanning through all of the ingredients. “I think coriander would work for something like that. Let me go find some.”

He turned to walk towards where he kept his supplies of potion ingredients. Virgil followed on his heals.

“Can we use a serrated knife?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Virgil,” Logan said, nodding as he searched through the cupboard that should hold the coriander. “The knife being serrated would help keep the potion stuck to the blade after many uses and would increase the surface area.”

“That was certainly my intentions,” Virgil said smoothly. There was something odd about the tone that had Logan turning to him and blinking at him. Virgil just smiled at him innocently and Logan turned back to the cabinet finally locating the coriander.

“So how are we going to use that?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll put it in right before the last step and let it sit for about 3 minutes,” Logan said. “If it doesn’t quite work, we may need to make another batch. There are options other than coriander, but that’s the first idea that comes to mind and it a lot simpler if it works.”

He continued to speak of the many other options they could try as they returned to the caldron as well as how they could test the hot knife. It was already about time for the next step and Virgil did it without interrupting Logan’s rant.

Virgil listened to his suggestions with interest all while still making sure the potion he was making was progressing well.

Logan did eventually take over to finish the potion with the revised steps he’d come up with and they ended up with a potion that looked perfect except it was a few shades darker than the one they’d originally been planning to make.

“Well, it looks good,” Logan declared. “We will need to acquire a knife to test its effectiveness, however.”

“There are a few good ones in the kitchen,” Virgil pointed out. “I especially like the one 10 inch one with the black and white handle.”

“You have been eyeing up the kitchen knives?” Logan asked.

Virgil rolled his eyes as though that was not a perfectly reasonable question to ask him. “We should steal that one,” Virgil said.

“Do you think we’ll be able to sneak past Ms. Heart to steal a knife from her kitchen?” Logan asked.

“We can’t,” Virgil said.

Logan almost didn’t believe him… and then he remembered the water pouch incident. “It’s the dinner rush,” Logan said. “We should probably wait for a bit.”

Virgil was shaking his head. “The dinner rush is the best time,” he said. “Everyone will be distracted, and all of the knives will be out and in prime stealing position.”

“And if Patton’s mother catches us messing around in her kitchen during her busiest time of day, she will have Father ground us for a week.”

“Then we just won’t get caught,” Virgil said.

“I’m not sure if it’s that simple,” Logan said with a frown.

“You can stay here if you want,” Virgil offered. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“No, I’ll come too,” Logan relented, though he did still have some reservations about the idea.

He let Virgil lead him towards the main dining hall. By now, Virgil knew the kitchens and dining hall very well.

“Stay here,” he said. They were in a hallway a few feet down from the staff entrance to the kitchen. “I’m going to do some reconnaissance.”

“What type of reconnaissance?” Logan asked, but Virgil had already disappeared before his very eyes. With a blink, Logan looked up and saw a dark figure disappear onto a balcony overhead.

Well, Logan really had no choice but to wait there for him. It wasn’t like he could follow him. He could hear the clatter of silverware on plates from the dining hall down the corridor as he impatiently waited. It only took Virgil a bit over five minutes to return. He dropped suddenly from above and landed in front of Logan in a crouch.

“Well?” Logan asked, letting a bit of irritation into his tone so Virgil knew he was displeased. Virgil did not seem to care.

“Got it,” Virgil said with a wide grin, brandishing a large kitchen knife.

Logan flinched back at the unexpected sight of a weapon.

“You said you were doing reconnaissance!” he sputtered. “Not…” he trailed off remembering that while they weren’t in eyesight of anyone right now, they could be in earshot of someone. He lowered his tone, “stealing the knife already.”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” Virgil said with a shrug, “and then I used the information gathered by that reconnaissance to steal a knife.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

Virgil just smiled. “You would have gotten in my way.”

“I would not have,” Logan insisted.

“How many times has Patton’s mom caught you stealing food from the kitchens in the past?” he asked.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Soulmate September

Series Summary- a collection of one shots exploring different ships and au concepts. The list I created and am following can be found here.

Day Three: A Storm of Stars

 Summary: Soul tattoos don’t fill in until the other person knows without a doubt that their partner is the one, when everything they are become so ingrained in each other’s lives that their souls become entwined. For Virgil and Logan, this doesn’t happen until well after they’ve been married. When the moments do arrive however, they both know they could never be happier.

Warnings: none, If there are any please let me know!

Ships: Analogical (Virgil x Logan)

Prompt: Tattoo that becomes colorful once you meet soulmate

WC: 2645

AO3

Logan’s eyes snapped open as a loud crack of thunder shook the house, rain pelting against the roof and making the tiles creak. His popping joints added to the symphony as he stretched his way into a sitting position. Reaching over to the bedside drawer he fumbled a bit before finding the small remote and clicking on the web of fairy lights strung in the far corner, immediately bathing the room in a pleasant blue glow. He flipped his pillow over to the cool side and took a second to fluff the other pillow a bit, moving it over to be closer to his and smoothing the bedsheets. 

The motions were automatic after so many years of practice, going back to he and Virgil’s first sleepover when they were still guaranteed a juicebox and cookies after school. It had stormed then too, Logan waking up to find his bed crowded with a shaking Virgil and his trusty stuffed tiger, who though was quite courageous had realized she was no match for a storm and had convinced her charge to seek shelter with Logan instead. Smiling softly at the memory Logan settled down to wait. He knew as his husband had grown older he wasn’t afraid of storms anymore so much as his anxiety ran with endless possibilities of what they could do to them or the house- which Logan was often inclined to agree with but played his role of devil’s advocate for the sake of Virgil’s well-being.

Right as he was beginning to wonder if he should leave to go and collect Virgil, the floorboards in front of his door squeaked in protest. A moment later a figure bulky with sweatpants and a hoodie slouched into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him and practically diving into the bed and under the blankets. The bed springs creaked along with the roof tiles as they both fidgeted and fussed trying to get comfortable, Logan biting back a small laugh as Virgil nosed his way underneath his chin. His soft hair tickled Logan’s lips as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head and wrapped his arms around him. Finally they were still, Virgil’s breathing slowly matching his own as he made sure to take deep calming breaths.

The rain was already quieting, the storm moving on and leaving the two night owls to their bubble of peaceful warmth. Logan readjusted slightly as Virgil snuggled in further, hoodie sleeves riding up as he snaked his arms around his waist in an attempt to pull them closer. Logan did laugh at this, planting another kiss firmly on the other’s forehead.

“I think if you squeezed any tighter we’d fuse, stormcloud. How are we supposed to compose an email when our absence excuse would be cuddling too hard?”

“No such thing,’” Virgil mumbled. “I’ll cuddle you as hard as I want and they’re just gonna haftadealwibit.”

The last half of the sentence trailed off into near indecipherable gibberish but Logan understood well enough. “You are exceptionally adorable when you’re tired. As much as I hate that storms cause you anxiety, I'm glad that nothing else has changed.”

He grinned as the side of his neck where Virgil’s face was pressed against warmed and quietly congratulated himself through the disappointment that he couldn’t currently see Virgil’s crimson face. ‘Still got it’ he thought to himself as he wiggled a bit to try and find a comfortable spot where Virgil’s rather bony arms weren’t poking into his ribs, failing miserably until he managed a sigh. “I’m sorry stormcloud, I’m getting a bit of a cramp. Why don’t you lay on top of me instead; that’s comfortable for you as well isn’t it?”

Humming in confirmation, Virgil leaned back and let Logan flip onto his back. A moment later he let out a small groan of surprise as Virgil flopped solidly onto him, burrowing into his chest and holding Logan tight by his sides. Smiling, he brought the blankets up over them both and carefully tucked them in, bringing his arms out and resting them on Virgil’s shoulders to make sure it didn’t slide off. 

“Thank you for always doing this.” Logan scrunched his brow at the frustrated tone in Virgil’s voice. “And don’t you dare say ‘why wouldn’t I’ because you always ask and I always say it’s because I’m too old to be afraid of storms and then you logic your way around me because I’m too tired to argue. This is just something I always thought I’d grow out of.”

“Sometimes we grow out of fears, sometimes not. The ones that linger aren’t something you can help or should blame yourself for.” Getting no response other than a frustrated huff, Logan continued, beginning to hum and rub soothing circles on his back. “Whether the fear is rational or not- and whether or not the threat is real- I will always be here to protect and support you however you need. Seeing as I’m not exactly in the best shape for fighting crime or fending off rabid dogs, comforting you through a storm is something that I love that I’m able to do. And I will continue to love doing it because I love you and would rather you be here with me seeking comfort than by yourself too stubborn to ask for help.”

“Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“You’re making it really hard to be edgy and self-deprecating right now.”

“Heaven forbid.”

Virgil snorted, knocking the top of his head gently into Logan’s chin until Logan sighed in mock exasperation, craning his neck to kiss him softly on the forehead so he’d settle back down. As he laid his head back down onto his chest a warm, tingling sensation spread from underneath Virgil’s cheek and covered his collar bone and part of his shoulder. Gasping he nudged the other up, poking more insistantly when the stubborn emo refused to disentangle himself. Ignoring Virgil’s confused look as he made to pull off his shirt he practically whipped it across the room and placed a hand to his soul mark, eyes shining as he took in the sight. 

His mark had always looked so odd to him, big blobs of shapes over his right shoulder and collar bone with jagged black scars streaking from them and down his chest. He could never even begin to picture what it could be, though a friend suggested once that it might be a warped forest of some sort, doubtful as his tone had been. Instead, his warm fingers traced over jagged streaks of lightning, such a bright purple they nearly glowed in the dark. The blobs above them had filled in with every shade of gray he had ever seen, broken occasionally by shadows of purple and blue where the lightning was. It was unexpectedly beautiful, his vision blurring with tears as he realized what this meant.

“I always knew.” He looked up as Virgil spoke in a hushed whisper. “I always- but you just felt so safe and you never...you always make me feel better about it and so safe and I guess-”

Logan opened his arms and Virgil gratefully dove back into them, catching his cheek with a kiss on the way down. They resettled quickly, the rain nothing more than a gentle patter against the roof letting them rest easy. Cracking an eye open, Logan strained to look down as Virgil laughed and held him tighter.

“Of all the things that keep me up at night, I’m so glad I was right about this.”

Logan smiled and hugged him closer in turn. “I agree.”

----- -----

Virgil sat up slowly, blanket falling from his shoulders and pooling around his waist as he struggled to cross his legs in the tangle. After a minute of failing miserably he huffed and flopped back, kicking both legs up as far as they would go while catching the blanket on the bottom of his feet and then kicking forward violently to dislodge them. Unfortunately the trick failed, landing more fabric between his legs and scrunching his pants uncomfortably in the process. Scissoring his legs just twisted everything around more and by the time he was halfway through attempting bicycles the situation was hopeless enough he considered just going back to sleep and dealing with it when he woke up. He had closed his eyes to do just that when he heard a muffled snort from the doorway, picking his head up to peer at Logan through squinted eyelids.

“Would you like some assistance?” Logan asked while making a half-hearted attempt to school his features.

Huffing, Virgil flopped his head back onto the pillows. “Clearly I have everything under control.”

“Falsehood. Your wiggling was very impressive but the blankets quite obviously won in the end. Was falling back to sleep after a ten hour nap and a failed battle the plan from the start?”

“No one likes a smartass Lo.”

“And yet your love for me persists.” Smiling lightly, Logan made his way to the side of the bed and climbed on, swinging his legs up and over Virgil’s stomach and plopped down gently with his hands splayed over his chest. Grunting out pseudo complaints Virgil reached up and took both of the hands in his own, giving each a kiss in turn before settling them back just below his collarbones. The sight of Logan blushing- bright enough to be visible even in the dim room- was one he would never grow tired of.

“Illogical as it may be.” He agreed. “Is that why you love your darling husband? I’m your most difficult logic puzzle that’s guaranteed to last a lifetime?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “No, that’s absurd. I love my husband because a pain in the ass though he may be- he’s a constant I find myself unable to live without.”

Feeling his own face heating up Virgil longed for his hoodie to hide in, especially once Logan’s expression turned smug from rendering him speechless. “Logan, it’s much too early for you to be this smooth.”

“Virgil, my love, it’s seven in the evening.”

Virgil blinked. “Wow. you weren’t kidding when you said ten hour nap.”

“I never kid. It’s important to be one hundo percent, one hundo percent of the time.”

“Who gave you that one?”

“Patton.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t trust the dad-friend for flashcards, starlight.’

Flushing slightly, Logan disentangled their fingers and rolled off the bed. “Duly noted. Now please get up, we have plans.”

“We do- ah!” Virgil found himself face down in his pillow, having flipped around with Logan’s rather aggressive flourish of snapping the blankets out from around his legs. Remembering that they had, in fact, had plans for the night, Virgil rolled out of bed as quickly as he could with apologies already hot on his tongue. “Logan I’m so sorry I thought that was tomorrow and I had stayed up late for stupid reasons and I hope we aren’t running late do I have time to change-”

“Virgil, breathe.” Logan cupped a hand to his cheek and gently ran a thumb under his eye. “I assure you we have plenty of time and I’m very glad you got the sleep you did. I would have liked you up earlier only to see your lovely face and to make sure your sleep schedule wasn’t ruined. But if you slept that long you must have needed it, and I certainly am not going to fault you for that.”

Closing his eyes, Virgil took a breath and held it for a second before breathing out slowly. Logan’s hand left his cheek and he caught himself leaning forward to chase the warmth, his resulting blush filling that void for the time being. 

“Do what you need and then come in the kitchen; I made fried noodles.”

More awake now than ever Virgil hurried to the bathroom. Logan’s cooking was the best he had ever had and he’d be damned if he was late for noodles.

-----

A cool breeze rustled through the thick grass and flipped over the corner of the blanket Logan and Virgil had set up an hour before. Sputtering, Virgil flipped it back from his face, spitting bits of dandelion fluff out of his mouth in the process while pointedly ignoring Logan’s snicker. He pushed his hoodie closer to the corner to prevent further mishap and snuggled closer to his husband for warmth, head resting comfortably on one arm with his other wrapped around Logan’s shoulders. 

Logan lay on his side with his head on his shoulder, the bottom of his cheek pressed into the still black soulmark that traced a shapeless blob from the top of his elbow to the nape of his neck. Soulmarks filled in based on the other soulmates feelings- when they truly felt like they had found the one. Of course that was a romantic conspiracy for the most part and to Virgil it seemed to go against the entire idea of fate. If you could choose your own, then what was the point of the marks? 

Choosing not to think about it for the time being, he continued staring up at the sky. The night was clear and this far out not much light pollution tainted their view of everything the night had to offer. Stars glittered for miles with barely there colorful space dust in between if you squinted. Logan had told him what it actually was once- something about it being high temperature nebula gas absorbing starlight- Logan had explained it much better in the past.

Logan always explained everything better.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Logan remarked.

“I’m sorry- just thinking.” 

“Mm, don’t be sorry.”

They laid in silence for a few more minutes before Virgil decided to speak up. “They always make me feel really small- stars I mean- and I know I am small compared to everything but all that just leads to...existential dread I guess. Seeing everything laid out, it’s beautiful, but it’s also a bit daunting.”

“Virgil, if you’re uncomfortable-”

“Lemme finish first before you do the sweet thing you do where you overanalyze everything for the sake of everyone else’s comfort.” Seeing Logan smile and roll his eyes he continued. “I always feel small looking at them, but it never matters because you make me feel big. Like I could take on the entire world even when the anxiety’s being a bitch.”

He felt Logan smile against his arm...and then it started to tingle. Tiny pinpricks raced up and down his arms from his shoulder to his neck and he quickly disentangled himself and started blindly slapping at his mark to get whatever bugs off that had decided to ruin the moment. Noticing Logan had his mouth covered with his eyes wide in shock staring at his arm he quickly looked down and gasped with his own.

His unsightly black blob of a soulmark, which he had long ago stopped trying to guess at the shape of, was now a glittering galaxy. Striking blue and dark purple swirled in intricate patterns behind stars that shined so brightly on his skin he would swear they had been plucked from the night sky and flicked onto him. The tingling finally stopped, the whole field seeming to hold its breath along with the both of them before Logan finally broke the silence with a hoarse whisper.

“In an entire universe I found you.” Snapping his head up, Virgil saw tears gathering in his husband’s eyes. “I was sure I already knew but- I’m so happy I found you.”

Laughing wetly Virgil dove forward, knocking them both over and half in the grass but neither could bring themselves to care. Under the stars, with Virgil himself wrapped in a galaxy, he had never been so happy to have an impossibly small space in Logan’s arms to call his own.

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[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 1)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: @cheshirevalentine is the reason this au exists, they've done so much to help me create this story and so many others. I owe them so much, thank you for being my muse and letting me ramble constantly <3

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

The Captain swiveled around as soon as the first punch was thrown, watching from his seat at the bar as one of his crew and a drunk local quarreled on the other side of the tavern.

Roman glanced at Logan seated beside him, chuckling quietly at the look on his first mate’s face as the pair watched the drunken fight.

“I could break it up, you know,” Roman boasted, making a face as he took a swig of the drink he would never admit he loathed the taste of. It fit his image- the image of the daring pirate Captain that Roman had read stories of long before he’d gotten his own ship- so Roman kept the drink in his hand and forced down another mouthful. “It’d be easy. Easier than walking.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan said, and Roman knew his friend would much rather be back aboard the ship, safe and warm with a good book. “Sit still and at least try to pretend you enjoy the taste of alcohol.”

Sit still? Roman had never sat still in his life, Logan should know better than to feed him such blasphemy. He let go of the retort on the tip of his tongue in favor of taking another uncomfortable sip of his drink, trying and failing to hide the way his face screwed up in disgust at the abhorrent taste.

Logan watched him, amused, before draining the rest of his glass with ease. Roman resisted the urge to gag. The price of having a reputation as a fearsome captain was, apparently, drinking incredibly shitty alcohol to look cool and tough. The life was exciting, and the bounty was worth the price. But by God, the drink was foul.

Logan rolled his eyes, swapping their glasses. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s for the image, Logan. You wouldn’t understand.” Roman retorted, though he didn’t protest the swap. He wasn’t going to finish it anyways.

Logan didn’t respond, just flashed his captain another deadpan look to which Roman responded with a bright grin before turning his attention back to the fight at the other side of the bar.

They were both clearly very drunk, swaying on their feet, their punches wide and sloppy, so Roman wasn’t particularly worried about anyone causing any serious damage.

Roman didn’t even particularly like taverns, and he knew for a fact Logan only came along to make sure he didn’t get himself into trouble, but bars like this were the best place to sit back and observe the most interesting people.

After weeks at sea in cramped quarters with the same faces, Roman couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night before they left again the next morning.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his ship. He did! He wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. He was the dashing and daring Captain Roman, fearlessly exploring the seas with a wonderful crew and his best friend right at his side.

And yet it never felt… complete. Something was wrong. Missing. It was never quite right, as perfect as it was, but for the life of him he could never voice exactly what was wrong.

A bell rang, barely audible above the commotion, and Roman tore his attention away from the fight to watch the newcomers open the door

Two strangers stepped inside, wrapped in dark cloaks that looked like they cost as much as Roman’s whole ship. They both looked a good two heads shorter than him or Logan, and judging by their clothes, a tavern like this was not the kind of place they frequented.

One of them had their hood draped over their head to conceal their face, the other holding the tavern door open and ushering their friend inside.

A disgruntled yell from the other side of the bar turned Roman’s attention back to the drunken fight, and he saw Logan give the newcomers a brief once-over himself.

Roman watched as the fight gradually slowed down, his crewman clearly a little less adept at handling his alcohol, eventually ending up sprawled out on the floor with a broken nose and split lip. Pity, he thought he taught his men how to hold their own in a fight.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Roman’s attention, and he watched curiously as a man from the other end of the bar got up from his stool and sauntered over to the table where the two cloaked strangers had settled down.

He was tall, about Roman’s height, smirking dangerously with a drink in one hand, the sword tucked into its sheath just barely visible underneath his coat.

He finished his drink as he made it to the table, his eyes on the hooded stranger. Roman could just barely make out what was being said from the bar.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he purred, leaning forward with his free hand resting on the table. “You new here or something?”

The stranger didn’t respond, and while Roman couldn’t see their face from where he was seated, he could see his companion visibly tense, reaching over to touch his arm.

“Yes, I’m talkin’ to you,” the man continued, his smirk growing as he looked the stranger over. “Prettiest thing in town, why wouldn’t I be talkin’ to ya?”

The stranger lifted his head, just enough for Roman to catch a glimpse of a pale face and dark hair, before looking back down at their lap. “I...uh. Thank you?”

“So you’re new here, then?” the man asked again. “You seem so nervous. Let me buy you a drink, it’ll mellow ya out.”

Both cloaked strangers tensed, and Roman’s wariness grew along with theirs. He knew that look, knew that tone of voice, knew exactly the intentions a man like that had.

“No thank you,” the hooded one said, barely audible, his friend’s hand still on his arm. “Sorry, I’m… not interested.”

“You don’t have to be so shy.” The man tilted his head as he leaned in closer, and Roman found himself already getting up from his stool. “Come on, handsome. Let me buy you a drink, it’ll loosen you up. I promise.”

Roman started forward, ready to remind this asshole that no meant no, only to stop with a hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop.

“Roman.” Logan already looked exhausted, and Roman hadn’t even done anything yet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Roman grinned, pulling his arm away with a wink he knew would only annoy his first mate further. “Saving a damsel in distress, of course.”

“But we agreed to avoid any confrontation—”

Roman waved him off and made his way across the bar, all his attention back to the man who still hadn’t left the table alone.

“I said no thank you,” the stranger said, and his voice made it clear he was trembling. “I don’t want a drink.”

“Oh, come on. I—”

“Pardon me,” Roman interjected, sweeping the man’s hand out from under him on the table. “I believe he said no. If you would be so kind as to leave now, that would be wonderful.”

The man gave him a disgruntled look, to which Roman responded with an even smile. “Piss off, prissy. No one asked you, he’s just being coy.”

“He said no.”

The man shoved Roman’s shoulder, scowling when he refused to stumble back. “And I said piss off.”

Roman could almost picture Logan’s eye roll as he squared his shoulders and shoved back, admittedly with a bit more force than necessary. He thought briefly back to what Logan always said, about how his Captain never backed down. And about how it was going to get them all killed one day.

And yet here his first mate was, standing at his elbow, stiff and unmoving as Roman stared his opponent down.

He was a bit bigger than Roman, the alcohol in his system clearly making him a bit unpredictable, scowling at Logan before narrowing his eyes at Roman, who simply smiled again, a cold warning.

“You need to learn the difference between coy and not interested, scoundrel. Leave him alone or I’ll be forced to remove you from the area.”

It was all a show, hopefully enough to get this drunk asshole to see reason and back off before someone got hurt.

But if a fight was what he wanted, then a fight was what he would get. Roman wasn’t one to chicken out of a confrontation, as much as Logan would like him to, from something silly like a little fear. Fear was a secondary emotion! It didn’t rule him.

Besides, he had someone to protect this time. And with Logan at his side, he was unstoppable.

Logan was going to kill him, of course, but that was a problem for later.

The man scoffed and set his empty glass on the table, looking back at the hooded stranger with another smirk. “Give me a second to handle this, alright? We’ll talk after.”

He winked, before winding back and swinging, his fist connecting right with Roman’s jaw. The Captain jerked backwards, stumbling slightly before he threw himself forward, tackling the man to the floor.

The tavern erupted into chaos, drunk bystanders cheering and shouting as the fight became the center of attention. Roman thought he saw someone start towards them, probably one of this asshole’s friends, only to smile when Logan immediately intercepted.

No matter how tired Logan pretended to be of Roman jumping head first into danger, he knew his friend would always be right there with him.

He wrestled with his assailant, blocking a punch to the face and grabbing the man’s arm, pinning it firmly to the ground. The surrounding bystanders continued to cheer as Roman got the upperhand, suspecting that his opponent being a little drunk helped the Captain overpower him.

Roman managed his way on top of the man, straddling him and pulling his gun from his belt. He cocked the weapon and put it to the forehead of the assailant, watching with a satisfied smile as he froze.

“If you dare come near this young man again, I’ll make sure I have a bullet saved just for you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The man glared, scowling as he looked away from Roman’s cold stare. “Crystal.”

“Good.” Roman stood, wiping the blood from his nose and rubbing his jaw, his pistol trained on the man as he struggled to sit up. “Up now, I’d like to see you and your wounded pride leave my tavern.”

He struggled to his feet and spat blood at the floor, glaring daggers at Roman as he limped towards the exit, the crowd parting.

As soon as the tavern door slammed shut, Roman turned to Logan and the young man he’d saved with a smug smile, twirling the pistol on his finger.

“It’s not even loaded,” he stage-whispered, turning back to Logan with a playful pout when the stranger’s eyes widened. “What? Not even a ‘good job?’ Anything?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, ever unamused. “You were reckless.”

“You have no appreciation for your Captain, Logan,” Roman said. “Truly. My splendor would be a waste if I had not been saving a pretty man.”

The resident “damsel in distress” was watching Roman with wide eyes, turning only when his friend took his arm again, leaning in close to whisper, “Can we go now?”

Roman realized he hadn’t even bothered to check in, too busy flaunting his victory to his first mate. He turned back to the table and forcibly relaxed his shoulders, hoping to come across as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he said, cocky smiling softening to something more gentle. “Are you two alright? No bumps or anything?”

Roman had meant to address both of them, it was the polite thing to do after all, but he found himself meeting the wary eyes of the stranger with the hood. His chest felt light, his smile easy and a little excited, ignoring the way Logan was probably motioning for them to leave as quickly as possible.

“I’m fine,” the stranger said, still visibly nervous. He was much smaller than Roman, and definitely the most cleaned up person in the bar. “We’re… both fine. We’re ok. Uh, thank you for… that. Thank you.”

The Captain pressed his sleeve to his still slowly trickling nose bleed, quickly wiping away what he could. “I loathe to say it, but that sort of thing happens in bars like this all the time. Are you two not from around here? Travelers, maybe?”

“I… uh, yes. I’m- we’re travelers. We’re just passing through. You’re… uh, you’re bleeding. A little bit.”

Roman broke his now probably uncomfortable eye contact to glance down at his sleeve, blood splattered on his wrist and knuckles. “It appears I am. A small price to pay, I suppose.”

Logan was suddenly beside him again, and he beamed when his first mate handed him a neatly folded handkerchief. He always seemed to have something on him to clean up cuts and scrapes since his Captain always seemed to get into fights.

He took the cloth and pressed it to the blood flow, turning back to the table with another sweet smile. He should politely excuse himself instead of making conversation but… well, he wanted to keep talking to the cute stranger he’d saved.

“Where are you two heading, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The stranger blinked, glancing briefly at his friend before answering. “Uh, we’re not… really sure yet. We just wanted to see the city, you know?”

“Sightseeing?” Roman echoed, brightening. “Oh, this city is so beautiful, especially at night! Perhaps Logan and I could accompany you before we set off for Deigh in the morning?”

“That’s… really nice of you to offer,” the stranger said, eyes bright. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, of course! Where are my manners?” Roman smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake. “Roman. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

The stranger accepted the offered hand, his touch a little cold and timid. “Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Roman repeated, smiling brightening as he took Virgil’s hand and gently raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “A beautiful name. How about that trip around the city, Virgil?”

Virgil’s face went red, much to Roman’s delight, and he gave a small nod. “I’d like that, Roman. If you have the time.”

He was sure his own face was flushed similarly, even as he unfortunately had to let go of Virgil’s hand. “For you, darling? I have all the time in the world.”

He led Virgil outside, watching as he sent his friend a reassuring smile before exiting the tavern, Logan following close behind.

“Any requests before we head off?”

“Wherever you want to go,” Virgil said, hesitating outside the tavern doors. “You’re the expert, right?”

Roman offered Virgil his elbow, like a gentleman should, his smile widening and Virgil accepted the gesture. "Well lucky for you two, you're partying with the best."

He’s full of shit. He doesn’t know this city, he’s not from here. He’s only been here a day and a half.

It was fine, he’d figure it out despite having absolutely no idea where he was going. It didn’t matter anyway, because Virgil smiled at him as the Captain led the small group down the street, and Roman’s heart had never felt so full.

“I’m not exactly the best navigator,” Roman admitted. “But I’m sure the city can’t be that difficult to walk around.”

All he could do was hope Logan would know the layout of the city and jump in to help. Roman didn’t know where they were or how to get anywhere.

His first mate never did offer any assistance, and Roman suspected it was some kind of petty revenge for starting a bar fight. Logan and Virgil’s friend (whose name Roman soon learned was Patton) fell a few paces behind to talk, leaving Roman to guide Virgil around the city, improvising a lavish tour.

He was fairly certain Virgil could tell everything Roman was saying about the city was absolute bullshit, and that he had absolutely no idea where they were, but he seemed to enjoy the show the Captain was putting on.

Virgil was laughing and smiling, genuinely lighting up with each joke and story Roman told, eyes widening whenever Roman would mention his adventures out at sea.

By far, this was the best time Roman had had on land in a long while. Virgil was a little jittery, sure, but he was slowly relaxing, his smile never faltering. Roman adored being able to make someone smile like this.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end. Eventually, the moon high in the late night sky, Roman led the group right back to where they’d started, his heart aching as he slowed them to a stop outside the tavern.

“It really was wonderful to meet you, Virgil,” Roman said, his playful smile softening. “Thank you for allowing Logan and I to accompany you around the city.”

Virgil hesitated, fiddling with the cloak around his shoulders. He glanced at Patton- who had been giving Roman a harsh side glare nearly the entire tour- before turning back to the Captain, visibly nervous.

“Where did you say you were heading?”

Roman smiled again, ridiculously relieved Virgil wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get away from the Captain. Roman knew he was charming, sure, but people often found him a bit...obnoxious. It had been a while since someone besides Logan had really enjoyed his company.

“My crew and I set off for Deigh first thing tomorrow morning,” Roman said. “It’s a ways away, so I thought it was best to give them a day to rest before we head off.” It was starting to feel more like polite small talk now, but he’d take whatever would let him talk to Virgil for just a little longer. “And you? Any idea where you plan to go after this?”

Virgil met his eyes, and Roman left breathless at the beautiful brown and gray. He seemed to steel himself before answering. “I was…actually thinking of visiting Deigh. Is there any way you could give us a ride? I’d pay you, of course. I have the money.”

Roman brightened, his face splitting into a grin, but Patton spoke up before the Captain could answer.

“Well, hold on now kiddo. I thought—”

“It’s a far journey, you know,” Roman interrupted, too excited to let him finish. “And we aren’t exactly a passenger ship. But I’m sure we could work something out for you!”

He glanced over his shoulder at Logan, his first mate staring with a displeased frown. This was a terrible idea, of course. Pirates don’t take passengers. They’re pirates!

But not only was he offering to pay, he was also incredibly cute and sweet and funny and he made Roman’s heart do somersaults. And he made that quiet, sick sort of feeling of missing something go away. So really, it was an all-around win.

“That's really kind of you,” Virgil said, soft and just as excited as Roman. “Are you sure it’s okay? I know it’s last second and everything.”

“It’ll be fine,” Roman assured. Oh, Logan was going to murder him. Logan was going to smother him in his sleep tonight. Which would be easy, considering they’d be rooming together. Not that Logan knew that yet. “I assume you’ve been on a ship before. You’re not going to freak out two days in because you can’t see land, are you?”

“Of course I have!” Virgil matched Roman’s excited grin as he rushed to his own defense. “I’ll be fine.”

“Perfect!” Roman stepped back, sending the small group a dazzling smile. “We’ll get you to Deigh, traveler. I’m sure the crew will love you.” He turned towards the direction he and Logan had come from, the docks just a short walk from the tavern. “Shall we be off, then?”

He glanced between the two travelers, determined to avoid Logan’s stare. Virgil glanced at Patton, his friend shifting on his feet a bit, fiddling with the sleeves of the sweater he wore under his cloak, just barely visible through the dark cloth.

“Patton?” Virgil asked, turning away from Roman for a moment. “You’re… good with this?”

Patton startled, quickly plastering on a bright smile. “I’m good to go kiddo, don’t look at me. Where you go, I go. I’m just… a little worried, is all. I know how you get… seasick.”

They seemed to be having a silent conversation in their stares, entirely separate from what Roman and Logan were hearing, and the Captain quickly averted his gaze, watching his boots as he waited.

“Right,” Virgil said, quiet and hesitant. “I’ll be fine, but I- I know you don’t love… boats. And you really like this city.”

Patton laughed, the sound weak and full of deflated cheer. “I like you more than I like the city, Virgil. And it’s another adventure! Where you go, I’m going too. Always.”

Roman remembered having a similar conversation with Logan more than once, and his smile had turned soft and almost wistful by the time Virgil turned back to him, his own excitement rapidly returning.

“Okay,” he said. “I think we’re ready, if you’re sure there’s room for us.”

“There’s plenty of room! Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

Roman started down the street, fairly certain he knew where he was going, forcing himself to slow his excited pace when he realized no one else was able to keep up with it.

Apparently, he did not know the way as well as he thought he did. It became clear he’d gotten them lost when they passed the same building twice, and Logan took the lead with a quiet sigh, bringing the group to the docks.

Roman’s excitement only grew the closer they got, practically jogging by the time the water came into view, the temptation to bound up the gangplank and reunite with his beloved ship nearly overtaking him.

Flooded with adoration as they approached, Roman turned to face the group with his arms swept out, motioning towards his ship.

“There she is!” he announced. “The Calypso, in all of her splendor! Isn’t she gorgeous?”

She was, of course, but he felt a swell of pride in his chest when he took in Virgil’s wide eyed, almost starstruck stare.

“She is,” Virgil said, sounding a bit breathless. “Wow.”

The Calypso had been his home for many years, sanctuary from the wind and rain, from the waves and the land, every moment on her deck an adventure waiting to happen. Roman occasionally felt the pang of homesickness in his gut, but he’d been content for a long time.

He beamed at Virgil and Patton, still carefully avoiding looking at Logan, who was being oddly quiet. “I’ll show you two to your room and let you get settled.”

He offered Virgil a hand, and the other young man didn’t hesitate this time before taking it. Roman felt like Virgil’s hand belonged here, entangled in his own.

He led the four of them onto the ship, careful to make sure Virgil kept his balance when he first stepped on board, easily falling into stories of his adventures, eagerly telling his guests about the exciting life of a pirate- and probably overselling it. Just a bit.

Roman brought them below deck, stopping in front of the door to the Captain’s quarters, realizing he really should have at least mentioned this part of his last minute plan to his first mate.

“And, uh… this is your room,” Roman told their guests, motioning at his own door. “Logan and I will be right across the hall.”

He could practically feel Logan staring at him, just inches away where he stood quietly. His first mate was going to flay him alive for this.

Well, they’d talk about it later. In detail, seeing as how they’d be sharing a room for the foreseeable future.

Virgil reluctantly let go of Roman’s hand, seeming to pick up on the unspoken tension. “Thank you, but Patton and I can really stay anywhere if this is inconvenient. I know this is all spur of the moment.”

“Not at all,” Logan spoke up, to Roman’s surprise. “It makes more sense for you to be comfortable than staying with the rest of the crew.”

“A room change won’t kill us,” Roman added, grateful Logan was at least pretending not to be furious in front of Virgil. “And spur of the moment is my specialty, I can assure you.”

Virgil still hesitated, clearly worried and a little overwhelmed, but he relaxed just a bit when Patton reached over to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again, and Roman knew even Logan couldn’t resist someone so genuinely grateful. “I… I really, really appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem,” Roman said, placing a reassuring hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “But it’s getting late, we should all turn in.”

Virgil relaxed under his touch, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he nodded. “Goodnight, then. And… thank you again. I mean it.”

“Goodnight, you two,” Roman said, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulder. “Sleep well.”

He turned, swiftly making his way across the hall and letting himself into Logan’s room without another word, leaving the door open for his first mate to follow.

Roman heard Virgil and Patton step inside their room and close the door behind them, followed by Logan moving to stand in the open doorway, hesitating a moment before stepping inside.

His friend sighed, and he sounded exhausted. “What the hell are you doing, Roman?”

“I’m just helping!” Roman turned around to face him, hands wrung in front of him. “He said he wanted to get to Deigh! It’s not like it’s even out of our way, I’m not changing course. We'll still be on schedule and on par for where we should be."

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Roman started to pace the length of the cabin. “Roman, we do not take passengers. You just met this man in a bar.”

"And he needed to get to Deigh! He's paying us to take him, Lo!” As he walked, he fidgeted with the (still unloaded) gun on his hip, starting the process of taking it apart. “This isn't the end of the world."

He watched as Logan closed the door behind him, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and watch Roman move. “I don’t understand. We never take passengers, and you insisted on giving these two your room.”

After years of practice, Roman could dismantle his gun with ease by now. His hands were constantly moving, taking things apart and putting them back together, especially when he was nervous. As he walked, he disassembled it, turning every few paces to walk in the other direction, his eyes downcast towards the weapon.

“I just… they needed a ride, Logan. I wanted to help them.” Roman started, his voice making a valiant attempt to catch in his throat. “I know I… should have talked to you first. I can sleep on the deck, it’s not an issue.”

“You’re not sleeping on the deck,” Logan said. “You're sleeping in here. I'm not angry with you about the rooms, I just want to know why you were so willing to change your plans for a stranger.”

Roman didn’t respond for a moment, steadily reassembling his gun and tucking it back into his waistband. “I didn’t change my plans, the plan is exactly the same as it was. The passengers were simply an added surprise.”

“An added surprise you usually would never allow,” Logan pointed out, and Roman resorted to fidgeting with his collar as he paced. “And giving up your room? Logically, you would put them with the rest of the crew. Why do Virgil and Patton get special treatment?”

Roman paused for a moment, his back to Logan, but he was back to moving almost instantly. “They… seemed like they wouldn’t do well with the crew. And I’d rather not cause a disrupt right before we leave. Too much trouble.”

Roman was quickly running out of excuses, but Logan didn’t seem inclined to drop it. “They seem polite enough. I’m sure the crew wouldn’t have had any issues.”

The Captain just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Roman,” Logan said. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m pacing, Logan,” Roman retorted, quickly buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “Come on, four-eyes, you aren’t that blind.”

He heard Logan sigh, his first mate clearly biting back his own rising frustration. “The Captain of my ship just gave two complete strangers his room, and I cannot understand why.”

Roman finally stopped pacing and turned to face Logan, eyes on the floor as his hands dropped to his sides, shoulders falling. “I just… I want to take care of him. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, Logan. I don’t want him to have to stay with the crew, he should have a space.”

A beat of silence, and he glanced up as Logan blinked at him. “Why?”

“We do this every time I have a crush,” Roman said, going right back to pacing, his hands running through his hair. “You’re so smart and you really can’t see that I… he… you saw him! Did you see him, Logan? Christ!”

“I… saw him,” Logan said slowly. “And he is here, in your room, because you… have romantic feelings for someone you just met in a bar tonight?”

“Yes!” Roman stopped again, face buried in his hands. “Thank you, Captain Obvious! I'll pass you the reins- you're the captain now! You got it! It only took you forever—”

“Roman you know nothing about Virgil. His name might not even be Virgil. Besides, you’ve just given up your room. If you decide to pursue him—”

“Pursue him?” Roman whirled around, eyes wide and face burning. “Logan I’m- that’s not… I’m not pursuing him! I just think he’s cute!” He glanced towards the door, lowering his voice to a whisper. “And keep your voice down, I don’t want them hearing us.”

Logan tilted his head, studying his Captain’s face. “Why? If you have romantic feelings for someone, isn't the best case scenario for them to be made aware?”

Roman groaned and lowered himself to the floor, covering his reddened face in his hands once again. “No, it’s not.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan said again. “He’ll be staying on your ship for an extended period of time and you… don't even plan on mentioning your feelings? That doesn’t seem logical.”

Feelings were never logical, especially love. Roman just didn’t know how to explain that out loud. “I don’t know, Lo. We aren’t even one night in, just… give it time, ok? I just let him on my ship and I don’t… I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something for it.”

The room was plunged into heavy silence, everything achingly quiet, but at least Roman knew Logan understood now.

“Ah.” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Apologies, I’m not… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Take your time, Roman.”

“I know, it’s ok.” The room was silent for another moment before Roman pushed himself to his feet, brushing himself off. “It’s late, you should get to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“You’re the one always talking about your beauty sleep,” Logan said, watching as Roman made his way to the door. “Where are you going?”

“I just need some air, that’s all. I’m always beautiful, a little lost sleep won't change that, I promise.”

“Roman—”

“Get some sleep,” Roman said, aware he was being uncharacteristically closed off. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He turned the handle and slipped outside, quietly closing the door behind him, the quiet deck and crisp night air waiting with open arms as he left the rooms behind.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers

Masterpost

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~4k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, vague description of an anxiety attack, implied heavy restriction (ED), school setting, inner monologue-style anxiety description, food mention, eating, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <<>>

...

Logan did not know what to do with himself. The past week had thrown him off his figurative rhythm far more than he could have possibly anticipated.

First, a lead actor who he'd already been trying his best not to look at - with his accursed pretty hair and handsome face and big muscles - decided to attempt to court him? Logan felt mocked. There is no conceivable possibility that such a beautiful - and might he add, quite pompous and bothersome - man would have any sort of real interest in him, romantically or sexually. He shuddered slightly. He really should have taken the apple his roommate had offered him for breakfast that morning, but it was too late now.

And wouldn't you know, just a week later, a - dare he say - equally pretty man with mesmerizing blonde curls and a cheeky smile takes an interest in him at his own school . After years and years of having never been asked out, no one having taken an even remote interest in him, not one second glance, Logan had two men asking after him in the span of a single week. Men who he found atrociously gorgeous, in fact. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses riding up his forehead a bit.

This alone would have been enough. But he just had to go into that little sewing shop for his dear friend Patton's birthday present, and that boy with the purple bangs who stumbled over his words and his feet was completely and undeniably flustered by Logan's presence. Perhaps he was simply experiencing an ego boost from his two previous encounters that week with pretty men, but he felt that the attraction the boy seemed to have for him was unmistakable.

And now here he was, pacing down the sidewalk toward the library, headed off to meet - Janus, if he recalled correctly - for their first study session. He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking when he asked to meet Janus again, the very next day no less... perhaps he felt the need to seize the moment while it was present, or however the saying goes. Regardless, while his actions had been quite uncharacteristically spontaneous, he saw no logical purpose in redacting his decision; Janus seemed to be an individual with plentiful intellect, and studying with fellow students had generally proved to be a beneficial tactic in Logan's (albeit minimal) experience and (far less minimal) research. Meeting with Janus, even if it wound up simply being this once, should be no different.

Logan avidly ignored any simmering feelings that he wanted something more than to spend time with Janus just this once.

He was shaken from his thoughts when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He examined the screen, noting the time - 2:49 PM, he wasn't late for his engagement with Janus just yet - as he checked who was calling. It was an unknown number, but the area code was local. Logan frowned, pressing the answer button.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

-

Virgil was kind of panicking.

His boyfriends each happened to meet this super-cute space-nerd guy in the span of a week, and the second they'd talked to him they were all heart-eyes. Not that Virgil was complaining; the guy sounded really cute.

He knew first hand now, that he was in fact super cute . That was the problem.

Virgil's lunch break came and went, most of which he spent gnawing vaguely at a sandwich and staring anxiously at the contact card that had been in Logan's wallet. It simply had his full name and phone number on it, nothing else. He tapped it on the desk in front of him, glancing between the numbers and his own phone, set face-up beside his elbow.

And then his lunch break had ended, and he had several more hours of worrying before he had to convince himself to call Logan.

Something occurred to him, during those hours. Should he tell his boyfriends?

What would he even say? There wasn't much to tell, at least not that warranted calling them before he got home. If he was going to make any calls, there was one he was under obligation to make first. And if he were to seek comfort in them for his obligation, what would they say?

Roman was probably the lesser option; he'd been whining about Logan all week, and now that he knew Janus was meeting with him again today, tensions were especially high. He'd be no help whatsoever, Virgil was sure of it.

And speaking of Janus meeting Logan again today... that also meant no. Calling your boyfriend who was about to see the guy you were nervous to call made the situation all kinds of awkward. No, everything would be easier if he'd simply call him.

So, shaking his shoulders out a bit, he did. He stepped into the break room, grabbed his phone and the contact card, and dialed the number.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a few seconds too long. He cursed under his breath and looked away as he pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. it rang twice, and then a slight static preceded a familiar voice.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

Virgil was glad he'd drew in a breath to hold when he'd pressed the call button, because he wasn't sure he could recall how to breathe properly.

"Hey, this is Virgil, um, from the knitting supply shop? Uh, you kinda left your wallet here..." Virgil managed to cough, voice not breaking as much as it could have. His chest felt cold and constricted, and he wrapped one arm around himself to fight off the burn of the icy spears stabbing through his lungs.

"Ah, hello Virgil. I am currently on my way to a separate engagement, however it should not take long. At what time would it be acceptable for me to return to your place of business to retrieve my belongings?"

"Oh, uh- I'll be here till four," Virgil stuttered a bit, surprised at how fast Logan jumped to planning mode, as well as realizing he knew the precise nature of the so-called separate engagement Logan was about to attend.

"That is adequate. I will make sufficient efforts to arrive before that time. See you then."

With that, the line disconnected, and Virgil was overwhelmed by the eerie silence of the break room. He glanced at a half-empty box of donuts their manager had brought in yesterday.

He could have said that the shop actually closed at six, and that Logan could get his wallet from Emile, but his train of thought hadn’t been screwed on properly when he’d been speaking, so he could grant himself a little slack- wait, he was mixing his metaphors now...

Suddenly, the door swung open, Emile peeking out from behind it.

"Virgil, could you get back out here? We've got a little rush," and he ducked out, gone as quickly as he’d arrived.

Virgil sighed, shuddering away his anxieties, grabbing a donut hole and popping it into his mouth before heading out to join his colleague.

-

Janus was sitting at a table set between the rows of shelves, reading pensively beneath a subtle desk lamp where Logan found him. He glanced up and smiled gently when Logan arrived, who set his things down beside a chair opposite from Janus'.

"Apologies, Janus, but I must cut our studying session short in about 45 minutes - i left my wallet at a nearby shop this morning, and must retrieve it before 4pm." Janus' eyes sparked with something Logan couldn't place, and he hid a smirk behind steepled gloved fingers. Logan gulped imperceptibly. "Perhaps we can set up another time to study as well- um, to make up for it, I mean?" He rushed his words out in a short breath, running his fingers through his hair to collect himself. Janus' smirk broadened very slightly, and Logan found himself watching the lines of Janus’ face as they shifted.

"It would be my pleasure." Janus averted his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. “Perhaps we should exchange information, so that I might- so that we can settle on a proper time for another engagement.” Janus reached into his inner coat pocket, producing his phone and tapping away for a moment, before passing it to Logan. He took it carefully, recognizing a blank contact screen, and quickly entering his information into it. He handed the phone back to Janus with a tight smile, and Janus returned it, sliding his phone back into the same pocket before resettling himself in his seat more properly.

Janus set aside his book to pull out a few textbooks for their critical thinking class. "If we are cutting our study session that precisely short, that would provide me with a chance to surprise-" He faltered for a moment, tone changing, though it was so subtle Logan almost thought he'd imagined it - "a friend of mine after his shift. Now, where did your class get to in the lecture today?" He started thumbing through the pages of a particularly thick but small book, holding it by the spine with one hand.

"Ah... Professor Cauley was stopped short on page 461 when he became distracted with his electric pencil sharpener malfunctioning, and class ended a few moments later. He did inform us that the other class had made it to page 465, so if you need me to catch up to you, it should only take me a few minutes." Logan was rifling through the pages of his textbook intently, not noticing Janus' surprised expression.

Janus reached a hand out, cautiously setting his hand on Logan's wrist, just beneath his wristwatch. "Don't fret," he breathed, "it appears we share the same class period. If I recall correctly, Professor Cauley’s face went positively red with rage, and he nearly broke the poor sharpener worse as he tried to unjam it." Janus chuckled shyly through his words as Logan met his eyes, smiling after a moment.

“Fascinating. I wonder how I have not noticed you in class before?” Logan tilted his head very slightly, and noticed something swimming warmly in Janus’ eyes. They were quite a very lovely golden brown, he thought.

Janus shifted, looking down to adjust his own texts, but the smirk that was growing less snarky by the second never left his lips. “It is a rather large class. It can be easy to lose faces in the crowd. I’m not sure I can pick out more than three people with whom I share that  class if they were to pass me in the halls. But no matter.” Janus glanced at Logan’s textbook and notes, readying his pencil. “Shall we begin?”

-

Logan was talking animatedly as he hunched himself over his notes, Janus glancing up to watch his face behind its shield of deep brown bangs intermittently as he scribbled in his own notebook to (at least attempt to) keep up. Janus’ gaze was averted, however, when a repetitive chime sounded from Logan’s phone, sitting face down on the desk just beside his right forearm. He stopped mid-sentence, adjusting his posture and picking his phone up, flipping it over to view the screen. He sighed, deflating slightly, as he tapped the screen once, setting the phone back down.

“My apologies, Janus, but it appears that it is time for me to depart.” Logan stood, a colder, sharper version of himself taking the place of the one that holds a deep passion for learning. The beautiful ice crystal, despite its beauty, is still the twin of the icy shards that cut sharper than knives or spears, Janus thought.

Janus stood swiftly, joining Logan in his gathering of his personal belongings, shoveling his own texts into his own bag. “It is quite alright, I assure you, Logan.” They met eyes as Janus spoke Logan’s name, and Janus could swear he saw a subtle, blotchy pink settle in Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll be headed down Main Street, then. Perhaps-” Logan cleared his throat, glaring down and to the side at nothing in particular as he retried his statement. “I will be expecting to hear from you, Janus.” They walked side by side out the front of the library, stopping just past the doors to say their goodbyes. But Janus had a small realization, and felt the creeping suspicion crawling its way up his sides returning. He resisted the urge to shake or twitch it away, grinding his teeth a bit.

Instead of continuing to suppress his stimming, he cleared his throat, speaking to Logan. "I am headed down Main Street as well. I hope it is not out of- I hope that it isn’t inappropriate for me to ask, but...will you allow me to accompany you?" Janus asked, nearly moving to offer his arm to Logan, but deciding quickly that that was far too forward. He settled on spreading an arm out, gesturing to the concrete path before them that led to the sidewalk.

Logan offered a small smile. "That would be adequate, and not inappropriate in the slightest. I, I would enjoy your company.” A beat of silence, and Logan cleared his throat. “Just this way," and Logan set off, at an impressively brisk pace that Janus nearly had a hard time keeping up with, having been caught off guard.

They walked in stride with one another as they made their way down the street. Janus became increasingly suspicious of the scenario the closer they got to the sewing shop. From what he knew of Logan's situation, there was no conflicting evidence that would disqualify the possibility that Logan was headed, in fact, toward Virgil's workplace. Janus held his breath when they turned onto the very same block, watching Logan's body language soften as they did.

Janus took a deep breath, glancing at the sign of the sewing shop a pace or two ahead.

"Logan, there's something I wish to discuss with-"

Janus glanced at the sewing shop's sign once more as they passed, but didn't move to stop before the door until he realized Logan had done so, standing a bit stiff a few paces back.

"This would be the establishment I spoke of," Logan's eyes looked a bit hazed, vaguely pointed towards the door handle. He seemed not to have heard Janus’ beginnings of a confession. Janus’ eyebrow quirked ever so slightly.

"Interesting," he breathed quietly, and Logan met his eyes then. "Allow me." Janus reached a gloved hand out to open the door for Logan, bowing slightly as he held it open.

"Much appreciated," Logan commented, stepping through the doorway smoothly.

-

Virgil was sitting slouched behind the counter, typing random numbers into the cash register out of boredom. He was half considering going to bother Emile, but he was busy doing inventory. And besides, Virgil needed to stay behind the register in case any customers came in. One person behind the counter at all times, that was the rule. He sighed, bringing his hand to his face and tapping on the tip of his nose absentmindedly.

The bell chimed, and Virgil looked up from behind his mop of purple hair. His heart gave a few beats a bit harder than usual, and he felt his throat constrict slightly.

There was Logan again. And the whole rest of the world became background noise.

The line of Logan's mouth widened, creating a crease or two on each side. Virgil realized that not only was he staring at Logan's lips, but as well that Logan was smiling. At him.

"Hello, Virgil," He spoke softly.

"Hi," Virgil practically coughed, the scratch in his throat making it borderline painful to speak. "H-how was your, your day?" Virgil asked, pursing his lips as soon as his words had left them.

Logan inhaled, raising his eyebrows and averting his eyes from Virgil's intense brown ones. "It has been satisfactory." The door chimed again behind Logan as it shut, and Virgil suddenly recognized that there was another person in the room. A person whose presence felt immediately familiar...

"Ah, my apologies," Logan stepped to the side slightly, allowing the person to come into full view. There, with a small sheepish smile, stood Janus. "Allow me to introduce-"

"Logan, dear, that won't be necessary," Janus rested a gentle gloved hand on Logan's shoulder, and Virgil couldn't tell if he was about to pass out from gay panic or just regular panic. "We are... quite well acquainted." Janus smiled tenderly to Virgil, and Virgil's whirring brain slowed if only slightly. He was safe.

…but… was he though?

-

"Oh, is this the friend you spoke of earlier, whom you meant to come and meet? How coincidental, that we were on our way to meet the same person without either of us having any prior knowledge of it." Logan was caught up in his fascination so much that he did not notice Virgil beginning to hyperventilate, knuckles white as he gripped the counter, or the way Janus was watching, practically frozen.

But, as Logan's commentary came to a close, it was as though a flip switched inside Janus’ mind, and he quickly strode around Logan. He stepped quickly behind the counter and over to Virgil, all while nearly whispering little nothings like "oh oh oh," "hush now love," and "come here dear."

Logan's brain took a moment to catch up, and soon he was simply standing there, watching as Virgil clung to Janus' coat rather desperately. Virgil’s body shuddered in silent sobs as Janus wrapped his arms around him, tight and secure. Janus was still whispering to him, but it was inaudible to Logan now.

Logan didn't quite know what to do, and so he just stood there, feeling rather stuck for a long time. At some point, he set his backpack and the gift bag he'd gotten from this very store earlier that day down against the counter on the floor, folding his hands before him. At some point, he registered Janus giving him an apologetic look, which confused him.

And then Janus kissed Virgil on the forehead, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. Logan thought from the way Janus was nodding softly and the way their chests moved together, that they may be doing a breathing exercise. He couldn't focus on much else, so he tried to follow along and copy them as well. 4, 7, 8. 4, 7, 8.

Sooner than later, Janus was leading Virgil carefully back out around the counter, both looking slightly worse for wear, but at least Virgil was far calmer. Janus smiled meekly at Logan again, and he still couldn't quite understand what was happening. It appeared that Virgil had had an anxiety attack, but the way Janus had rushed to comfort him so quickly, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do-

"Here you go, Logan," Virgil's voice was a bit scratchy as he reached out his hand, Logan's familiar black leather wallet between his pale fingers. Logan cleared his throat.

"Thank you," He spoke a bit more quietly than he meant to. He suddenly felt his headache flare again in full force, and had to fight not to shake as he reached his hand out to retrieve his wallet from Virgil's hands. He barely succeeded, but Virgil seemed to notice something amiss - he was watching Logan's wary eyes with some mix of suspicion and concern.

Janus, however, had been staring at the floor, and did not notice Logan's onset of fatigue. He sighed, clearing his throat softly. "Logan, I suppose you deserve some kind of explanation. One I tried to give before we’d come in, but regardless." Suddenly Virgil's eyes were on Janus, and far wider than Logan thought possible. Janus just glanced at him, nodding gently, and Virgil's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Virgil and I are..."

Janus laced their fingers together, and Logan's vision went blurry, everything around him fading to static fuzz as he tried to remember to breathe. He'd eaten more than enough today for this to be happening, surely? ...Had he eaten today? He couldn’t recall. He could always remember ... He vaguely registered Janus still speaking in the background, but he couldn't care enough to force himself to refocus. He got the jist. He and Virgil were romantically involved, and Janus was interested in nothing more than a friendship with Logan. That was perfectly fine. He didn't mind. He forced away the roiling feeling in his gut and gulped down the sting starting to tingle in his eyes, forcing himself to nod.

"Understood," He blurted, voice a bit raspy. He turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. Before he fully exited, he threw over his shoulder, "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." And with that, he was gone.

He made his way down the block briskly, trying to shake the haze that clouded his vision. The only thing he could think to do was go and see Patton. He knew nothing worked magic on his body like a good black coffee.

-

"Virgil and I are..." Virgil looked down as Janus laced their fingers together, and looked back to Logan, whose face seemed to have gone paler than it normally was, which was quite horrifying to see. Considering Logan was already so white that his skin tone bordered on inhuman, now it was devoid of any pricks of red coloring and looked almost like an empty tinted gray, pronouncing his cheekbones and eye bags even more so. Janus looked between them, continuing after a moment, "...we have been romantically involved for several years now, and even longer with our partner Roman, who you may recall from the community theatre? He's expressed to us that he's quite taken with you, in fact... And I know this may be a lot to spring on you right now, but I thought you deserved to know... it felt wrong to pursue anything with you romantically when we- when you didn't have the facts straight, and even regardless, it's important for you to know that all three of us are-"

"Understood," Logan cut Janus off, nodding. He didn't speak harshly, in fact his voice was quite quiet, but it was curt and forward as Logan always was, and so cut through Janus' words like a frozen blade.

Janus looked at him in awe, and opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil gripped his arm before he did. Logan was already at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t really look at either of them. "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." Janus and Virgil watched as Logan walked out the door and straight down the sidewalk through the shop window.

Emile, who apparently had been standing there for at least a few moments, cleared his throat awkwardly. Janus and Virgil looked at him in unison, matching exasperated looks on their faces.

"U-um, Virgil, I was just gonna check in, see if you've clocked off." Emile wrung his wrists between his fingers awkwardly.

"Um, no not yet," Virgil bit the corner of his lip, muttering a 'sorry' as he stepped past Emile and paced quickly to the back room to clock off. Janus stared blankly at the floor where his boyfriend had just been, eyebrows knit in thought.

"You feeling a-okay there, Janus?" Emile dipped his head a bit to get Janus' attention gently. Janus blinked a few times, engaging with Emile as he re-centered himself in the present moment.

"Yes, Emile, I'm fine, thank you," Janus rubbed his gloved palm with his thumb anxiously. He couldn't think of anything to add, so Emile smiled carefully, nodding and stepping away to resume whatever busywork he needed to attend to.

Virgil was back again shortly, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He gave Janus a strange look, some kind of combination of pity and sadness and confusion. At least, that's how it looked to Janus.

"Ready to...?" Virgil gestured vaguely towards the door, leaning into Janus' personal space a bit. Janus offered him his arm, clearing his throat and holding his chin high.

"Yes, love. Let's get home to Roman."

As they walked to the bus stop together, neither had any clue what they’d say to their Prince. He’d be distraught, they were both sure, and significantly more so than he already was, which would be… intense. Janus squeezed Virgil’s hand in his own slightly, and smiled somberly at him sideways.

They’d figure this out. They always did, eventually.

Janus took his time on the bus typing out a message to Logan, Virgil watching from the seat beside him as his head laid on Janus’ shoulder. Janus settled on something simple.

To: Logan L It's Janus. I'd love to meet up to study, or perhaps discuss other things, some time this week. Let me know if Thursday or Friday works better for you.