#dad!patton

~~~

"So you aren't mad at me? And you're not splitting up?" "Oh, no! Of course not, kiddo! Remus and I were just having a disagreement. He's just gets a little bit passionate when I'm assertive." "Yep! No need to be alarmed or think that I will actually murder him." "But what about what Ven overheard about breaking up?" "Breaking up peanut brittle, honey. Remus was cracking the sheet of—" "Ehehehehehehehehe~" "Anyway… you don't have to worry about us getting a divorce. We might disagree sometimes but that doesn't mean we don't love each other." "And to be honest, Daddy has the final call. He wears the pants in the relationship after all." "REMUS!" "I'm being honest. The kid needs it." "That does make me feel better." "Hugs?" "Hugs!" "Don't forget about me!" "Remus… wait– the tentacles!" "Too late!" "Hugs~!"

~~~

@intrualityweek

   Lita had joined him on the couch, curled up next to him as he had his feet on the couch to hold the laptop at drawing level, hunched over the screen and focused in on the canvas. He didn’t feel like he could think about anything else. Roman normally would have turned on music or something to draw so that he wouldn’t just sit in silence, but pulling himself away from the mercat art felt impossible. He’d used computer art programs in the past, but they never had as many options as this one. It made him feel like he can create something awesome.

   The sounds of dishes and chatter didn’t really register with him other than passively hearing them while he looked up reference photos for marine plants to help populate the background, copying the ones he thought would blend well with others and make new underwater flora for the mercats to stalk. One sneaking through the seagrass and hunting a cricket-fish seemed really adorable, too. He had so many ideas for this that he wasn’t sure he could keep up with them all.

   The pen didn’t make any sound against the screen as he worked, which amplified the unnatural feeling. It seemed like it took more effort to do what he could with normal art supplies, but finding out how to get there was so interesting, it was hard to be frustrated while being focused fully on the art. Roman stopped thinking about all reality. He wasn’t even aware of his hand, only noticing the intersection of where the pen and laptop screen met and the colours that bloomed there.

   Something touched Roman, and he automatically shrugged it off and went back to drawing. There was a change in colours behind the tablet, but it seemed familiar enough to not worry about, so populating the world with plants was still more important. Then a hand with black nail polish pushed down the laptop and flicked Roman in the nose.

   “Virgil, seriously?” Thomas asked, and Roman shook his head a few times, blinking moisture back in his eyes. Virgil just shrugged back at Thomas and flicked Roman in the nose again. Roman scrunched his face up and rubbed his nose, trying to get rid of the horrid crawling feeling spreading across his face.

   From the indignant expression, Virgil most likely signed, ‘See!’

   “What’s up?” Roman asked, looking around to see where he was. It registered as somewhere he knew, but he couldn’t really place where. He blinked and cinched his face tight once more before releasing and shaking off.

   “Are you okay, Roman?” Patton asked with that awful concern dripping from his words.

   “Yeah, why?” Roman took a deep breath, and it almost felt foreign. There was a sudden well of panic that he stopped breathing until he realized how stupid that was, since he was still alive and all, letting it out slowly. “Fine, right, what’s going on?” Roman asked again, saving the canvas he was working on.

   There was a brief pause of Patton looking over Roman with a tight smile before he responded. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for a while, and you weren’t responding at all,” Patton asked, stepping a little closer to Roman.

   “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Thomas asked as well. Virgil rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back and lolling his head.

   “I’m feeling like I want to draw. I’m fine. What do you need?” Roman asked shortly, not appreciating being coddled like this.

   “Remember how we talked about going to the cat café?” Patton covered his mouth with one hand, holding the other arm. What is with them?

   “Not really. When are we going?” Roman followed up, glancing at the clock on the laptop to see the time. He saw the numbers and didn’t know what they meant, though. The hour was in the double digits, and the date seemed wrong.

   “Now, ideally,” Thomas said, looking amused at Roman with a little smirk.

   “Oh, okay…” Roman trailed off slightly, closing up the laptop and putting it beside him on the couch.

   “You can take the laptop if you want to keep drawing while we’re there. Just make sure you keep a hand on it while we’re out. It will take a bit to get to on a bike,” Thomas told him, looking like he was holding back a much bigger smile. He liked the Sanders, but damn, could they be weird sometimes.

   “You’re sure?” Roman asked hopefully, putting his hand back on the laptop. “Wait, I don’t have a bike as far as I know,” he pointed out, even more confused. Fuck, his brain was in a fog, and he was not functioning, but he was very aware of his hand on the laptop.

   “We told you that you’ll both have to ride in the tow-behind.” Patton’s eyebrows stayed locked in deep concern, and Thomas put his hand on Patton’s shoulder comfortingly.

   “He doesn’t remember, but that’s fine as long as he still wants to go.” Thomas smiled at Patton, slightly shaking his head. Virgil huffed loudly, tapping his foot. “Come on, Virgil seems impatient,” Thomas said, pushing Patton out the door. Oh, there would be live models at the cat café for the mercats. Roman got off the couch in a hurry, sliding the laptop pen back in place and holding it close to himself. Virgil smiled briefly and nudged him with his shoulder, and followed Thomas and Patton out the door.

   Thomas waited for Roman to pass to lock up behind them, and Patton was wheeling out a bike with a large tent-like attachment hooked to the back. Roman got closer to look at it, and Patton pulled out the bottom pad that was caked in dog fur to replace it with a new one, then motioned with a smile to the open pod.

   “You’re serious,” Roman said flatly, and Thomas chuckled, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

   “It’s the safest way, but one of you can stand on the back pegs of my bike the whole way, if Lita’s journey submarine is too tight a fit for you two,” Thomas suggested reassuringly.

   “It’s fine with me, but…” Roman looked over at Virgil, who just shrugged and climbed into the pod, scooting to the side and patting the pad. “I guess Virgil’s cool with it,” Roman commented mildly and climbed into the pod as well. A wide rubbery-looking mesh made up windows between the supports, so it wasn’t exactly claustrophobic, but Roman and Virgil sat close enough to each other that they were touching. Roman was so used to Virgil needing a wide berth that it was weird.

   “Great!” Patton enthused, zipping up the tent and moving towards the bikes. “Roman, let us know if either of you need us to stop or do anything else, all right?” Patton asked, leaning down to talk into the pod.

   “Sure,” Roman said, still feeling like this was completely surreal. Virgil didn’t act like this, right?

   Virgil nudged Roman, and he looked up to see Virgil signing ‘You’re a cranberry fuck nut’ at him, and Roman just raised his eyebrow at that. ‘Eat bees and die’ came soon after. Okay, that made sense. He was being over-dramatic again.

   ‘Shut your face, pickle-tits,’ Roman signed back with a smirk.

   “Boys,” Thomas said flatly, his hands on his hips outside the tent. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but as usual I am questioning the tone it’s taking,” he looked at them with his lips pressed into a flat line.

   “We’re simply exercising our creativity,” Roman said, finger-spelling out ‘tacky sea slug.’

   ‘Snooty snot licker,’ Virgil signed back, then stuck out his tongue, wriggling his head from side to side.

   “Virgil.” Thomas sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Never mind, as long as it’s good natured,” he changed his mind and pivoted away with a flourish, walking into the garage and pulling out another bike while Patton mounted the one with the trailer on it. Virgil made a breathy snickering noise and leaned against the tent, pulling out his phone.

   Roman took that as a good enough sign that he could go back to drawing, so he flipped the laptop open and converted it to a tablet, returning to drawing out the underwater flora. The bikes took off soon after, and Roman adjusted a few times to draw more comfortably while maintaining Virgil’s space.

   Even after finding a comfortable spot, the bike kept bumping about, so it was hard to draw while getting jostled. Focusing while moving around so much was also a struggle, and he felt a little trapped with the tent flap closed, so Roman sighed and closed up the laptop again, holding on to it with both hands against his chest while he watched the streets pass. He was still thinking about ideas, though, wondering about different applications of the tools. Roman was pretty certain he could make the ribbon tool spin plants underwater for him. He was not paying attention in the least as to why they were going to a cat café, but if Virgil wanted to go, Roman wouldn’t stop them by wanting to hang back to draw either way.

   Glancing over at Virgil, it was clear he was nervous. Virgil balled up tightly and scrolled on his phone, gripping his legs to his chest, buried with his hood up in the oversized hoodie as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Patton and Thomas were chatting about what to order at the café, so they must have been before. Roman felt the edge of the laptop with one hand and reached into his pocket for the fidget with the gears stashed in there, feeling it between his fingers to find the right angle and push the cogs quietly in his pocket.

   The further they got into town, the heavier the traffic on the road next to them got. If Roman had to guess, that’s why Virgil’s foot was now tapping so hard he could feel it in his whole body. Wanting to go somewhere that required passing a lot of cars with Virgil’s phobia seemed odd, but Roman could understand feeling cooped up or just wanting to see cats. Or maybe Virgil wanted something from the menu. Who knows. But Roman couldn’t help but monitor Virgil. He was getting increasingly agitated and Roman had to help somehow. Maybe Roman should ride on the pegs on the way back so that Virgil can spread out. Or maybe he wanted Roman nearby? It was impossible to tell with Virgil. Roman knew basically nothing about him.

   Roman regretted not asking how long the ride would take, getting increasingly restless. Maybe he had time to pull out his phone, too. Roman laid the laptop on his thighs and fished out his phone, still spinning the cogs as he fought the phone open. Roman huffed and put down his phone to pull the glove tighter with his teeth to be able to use the touch screen, and the press registered this time for him to enter his passcode and look up some underwater ruins for inspiration.

   There was a tire screech nearby that made Roman jump, looking up at the car that must have been going too fast for the stop sign. Roman sighed and looked back at his phone, scanning the ruins. The pod was shaking, and Roman leaned over to see what they were biking over, but it was the same urban streets as before, so he looked around for what else was wrong. Virgil’s face was pale, and his forehead was sweating, his hand still positioned like he was holding his phone, but it had fallen out. Oh, shit. The car that was bad at braking. Fuck, does Virgil want him to get Patton and Thomas, or does he want to deal with this himself?

   Virgil didn’t respond when Roman signed at him, even after tapping Virgil’s knee to get him to look. He was still staring straight ahead and breathing hard, coming in as little as shudders rather than deep breaths. Roman put his hand flat on Virgil’s knee and squeezed slightly, and Virgil’s eyes shot to it, then Roman in short order.

   ‘Do you want them?’ Roman signed quickly, and Virgil shook his head, pulling in his knees tight to his chest. Roman’s phone went off with an alert, and Roman grunted, pulling up his phone to see what was so damn important. It was just his breathing alarm, so he turned off the notification and threw it to the side. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s face and the discarded phone as he hyperventilated while Roman tried to figure out what to do.

   “It’s just my breathing alarm,” Roman mumbled, racking his brain with how to help Virgil. He couldn’t just let him stay like this. Oh. Breathing. “Oh, uh, shoot. Got to do my breathing. You know. Deep breaths as slow as you can. So annoying. Anyway,” Roman was aware how not-subtle he was, but as long as nobody else noticed but Virgil. Virgil just stared at him. Okay, time to be even less subtle.

   “In,” Roman started and took in a deep breath. Virgil lagged, but started soon after him. Thank fuck. “Hold,” he instructed, keeping a hand on Virgil since Virgil hadn’t shoved him off yet, and if he was panicking, he’d love to have something to focus on himself. “Out,” he said, slowly breathing out at the same time. Roman started over with instructing him, but in ASL this time, still performing each exaggerated breath as an example. For once, his minimum length of the exercise didn’t seem like a bad thing. He vaguely remembered Patton calming him down from hyperventilating like this, so it probably wasn’t counter-productive at least, but he had no idea if this would help at all.

   Virgil followed, which was almost as surprising as him letting Roman be so close to him. But the shaking slowed down to a shuddering halt under Roman’s hand, and Virgil’s eyes went from dinner plates back to only a little wider than the normal tired expression, so it must have been doing something. Roman ignored timing the exercise at all, just going to keep at it until Virgil is no longer as stiff as a statue.

   He did eventually sag against the tent, nodding his head, which Roman understood as meaning to stop guiding him. ‘You good?’ Roman signed, letting go of Virgil’s knee as well. Virgil nodded slowly and continued to breathe deep on his own, though there were still a few shudders.

   Virgil looked at Roman oddly before signing, ‘no smoke?’

   Roman blinked a few times and sniffed at the air, smelling nothing but tarmac, spent rubber, car exhaust, and a hint of fast food oil. ‘No,’ he signed back and Virgil nodded again, sighing heavily, slumping against the tent to lie down, feet pushing against the tent door in an uncomfortable position. Virgil was too tall for this thing. Roman shifted Virgil to his side by his hoodie, letting Virgil bend his legs into where Roman was sitting, and Roman tucked his feet behind Virgil’s knees to give him a little more room. Virgil didn’t move from the floor, just adjusting his hood and closing his eyes.

   Confirmation that he was okay would have been nice, but whatever. Virgil was breathing better, and that’s what was important. Roman put on some Lo-Fi to help mask the sound of traffic, though it wouldn’t drown out the peal of tires. It just felt better than doing nothing. Roman sighed and leaned his head back on the tent wall, looking up at the arch. He hoped the cat café would be worth it for Virgil. Roman wasn’t exactly going to brave the choking factory tour for fancy chocolate at the end.

   But then again, cars were kind of more unavoidable than the smell of whiskey and hands around your throat. Virgil had it rough. Roman glanced out the side of the tent, seeing a shopping center glide past. It was still bright out, so they must have eaten dinner early today to make sure they weren’t out too late. The Sanders put a lot of forethought into things. They were considerate people, which left a bittersweet feeling in his heart. They pulled into a small strip center and parked their bikes on the rack on the sidewalk.

   Neither Roman nor Virgil bothered moving until Patton came around to unzip the tent, exclaiming, “We’re here!” Roman lifted his legs up for Virgil to get out of the tent first. Virgil rubbed his face with his hoodie sleeves and rolled to get up, adjusting his hoodie as he got out. He stretched while Roman crawled out of the opening, holding on to the laptop carefully and making sure his phone was situated tightly in his pocket. He swept the tent to make sure he had everything and grabbed Virgil’s phone, passing it off to Virgil silently. “It’s nice to see—” Thomas put his hand on Patton’s shoulder and shook his head with exasperation, cutting Patton off. Virgil and Roman both looked at Thomas in confusion, along with Patton, but Patton seemed to trust whatever that was and zipped the tent closed.

   “Let’s get a table.” Thomas smiled brightly and headed into the café covered in garish cutesy decorations. Roman grimaced, wondering how they got boys to come in here normally. Roman had nothing against the design, but he wouldn’t want to get photographed next to it. Virgil tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket and hunched over, following Thomas in while Roman looked at the exterior. He swallowed and headed in, followed closely behind by Patton.

   The café smelled amazing. The smell of hot chocolate and baked goods smacked him in the face as soon as he entered. They decorated it with lots of pastels, soft spots for the cats to recline, and a very complex-looking series of cat-platforms up the walls. The café was very casual with bench-seats at the tables and a self-service counter. Roman wondered how the cat hair from the ten-odd cats he spotted in the small café wasn’t an issue, but maybe that was just something you had to accept as a patron here.

   Thomas walked up to the counter and smiled at the person behind it. “Give us a sec. Get two things each, boys. Roman, don’t look at the prices and just order what you actually want to eat. We came all the way out here, so let’s enjoy it the best we can, yeah?” Thomas said pointedly, and Roman huffed, crossing his arms over the laptop as he rolled his eyes. Thomas really up and called out Roman in front of the person at the register?

   Virgil looked up at the menu quickly and signed at Roman ‘Dark hot chocolate and chai cheesecake,’ without hesitation. Geez. Maybe he’d been here before. That was a few seconds, tops. Thomas looked at Roman expectantly. Fuck, making choices is garbage. Roman scanned the menu as fast as he could. The hot chocolate was the only thing that wasn’t a smoothie and didn’t have coffee, so at least that was a given. There were way too many choices of desserts, though.

   “Two dark hot chocolates and two chai cheesecakes,” Roman said, just opting to follow what Virgil chose instead of making them wait any longer. He wouldn’t enjoy himself if he panicked about the menu, that’s for sure. Suck on that, Thomas. Virgil headed over to a table and Roman followed, not wanting to hear the total when they finished ordering. Roman didn’t like dark chocolate so much he’d order a mug of it, but maybe with the cheesecake it would balance out the bitterness. He didn’t care as much about eating food he didn’t like as much as others did, so it wasn’t as big a deal to Roman as Thomas made it out to be if he got something he only kind of liked.

   A white cat and a tabby cat came up to them as Roman sat down on the bench next to Virgil, the tabby cat hopping up on the bench across from them and the white cat going under the table to rub against their legs. Virgil smiled and leaned down to put his hand out for the cat to sniff, petting the cat after it greeted him. Roman watched the tabby with interest as it stared back. Maybe Roman failed the vibecheck, because it hopped up on a shelf on the wall, climbing up high with lithe movements. It was exactly what Roman was looking for, though. Roman flipped open the laptop to sketch the escaping cat on a fresh canvas.

   Virgil snickered, turning to the side and focusing on the cats while Roman sketched the tabby. He moved on to sketch a black cat partially falling off a shelf while lazing, then the white cat when Virgil got up to play with it with one of the provided toys. The jumping around was perfect, so quick gesture sketches of the cat were exactly what Roman was looking for to impart that weightless feeling to the mercats. When Virgil returned, Roman picked a few gestures to fill out to put in the underwater scene, wondering how best to paint the cat fur.

   “Hey, buddy, don’t let your hot chocolate get cold,” Patton said, rapping a knuckle on the table. Everyone had already taken their seats and had partially eaten their desserts, with Roman's untouched in front of him. He sheepishly and saved the canvas to hold in his lap while he ate his treats. The hot chocolate was leaking onto the saucer with soft whipped cream and adorable half-melted cat-shaped marshmallows. That must be why Virgil got the dark. All the sugar on top would make the milk chocolate too sweet.

    Roman picked up the mug and leaned over the table to stay over the saucer a bit to take a drink, dribbling a little on his chin and cleaning up with the fabric napkin under the cheesecake plate. Virgil smirked and made a show of taking a cleaner sip, and Roman rolled his eyes, going for a bigger drink this time. It was definitely the homemade kind from real chocolate and not any packet mix. The cocoa was the perfect temperature right now, and if you let it cool too much, the thick stuff will settle in at the bottom of the mug somewhat, and he didn’t want chocolate sludge.

   The cheesecake was more spiced than sweet, but it was really delicious with the hot chocolate. Virgil once again absolutely knew what he was doing with unexpected flavour pairings. ‘Good taste, Virgil,’ Roman signed at Virgil, who just shrugged in response and kept eating. Thomas looked at him oddly, but he wouldn’t up and admit out-loud that he just ordered what Virgil did just so he didn’t have to make a choice.

“Dahahahad stohohohohp!” He cackled, scrabbling to get away from his dad.

“Nope,” Patton said, popping the P. He heard his husband come into the room.

“Ah, Patton, I see you have caught Virgil,” Logan said, smiling softly at the pair. Virgil reached out for him, making grabby hands.

“Pahahapahaha! Hehehehlp mehehe!”

Patton slowed, and Virgil finally broke free of his hold. He ran forwards towards his Papa, grabbing at his pant leg. His head was nearly at a ninety degree angle to see him, Logan was already very tall for an adult. When standing beside his three foot toddler, well, he was a giant.

He crouched down and grabbed Virgil under his armpits, binging him to his chest and standing up. Virgil clutched him around the neck in a quick little hug, before turning slightly to look at his dad.

“See, Papa didn’ le’ you,” he stuck his tongue out at Patton.

Patton stood up and approached the two, bopping Virgil on the nose.

“I guess I’ll have to try harder next time then,” he winked and Virgil set off into more giggles.

“It’s time for dinner,” Logan told the two of them, carrying Virgil towards the kitchen. His son perked up, both his hands beginning to quickly pat his papa’s shoulders in excitement.

“Mac Cheese?!” He shrieked. Logan laughed.

“No Sweetheart, it’s mashed potatoes and chicken nuggets for you tonight,” Logan said. Virgil stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, but nodded with a squirm. He was placed into his chair, and the kid immediately adjusted to sit on his knees to see over the table better. He insisted he didn’t want something that would make him higher, claiming that he was a “big kid who didn’t need baby seats.”

Logan sat at the end of the table, and Patton sat beside him. Patton dished out Virgil’s food onto a plate, and the child immediately began to dig his plastic spoon into his potatoes.

“Honey, I know you don’t need to chew potatoes, but please try not to inhale them,” Patton said worriedly.

“Wa’ is inhel?” Virgil said around his potatoes.

“Virgil, don’t speak with food in your mouth,” Logan reprimanded. Virgil nodded and closed his mouth. He swallowed before repeating himself.

“What does inhale mean, Papa?”

“It means to breathe in,” Logan said, stabbing his fork into his chicken.

Virgil considered the word for a moment, but ended up brushing it off. He began eating his food again, potatoes getting all over his face and a few pieces of nuggets hitting the floor.

Patton laughed at his son’s messiness.

“Sweetheart, you’re cleaning up your mess if you make one,” he told his son. Virgil nodded.

“Uh huh,” he agreed, already scooping some of the fallen nugget bits up with his tiny hands. Patton smiled fondly at his son.

Dinner went without a hitch, and Virgil was looking a little sleepy by the time he was done.

“Come on buddy,” Patton said, lifting Virgil out of his chair, “let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“I’ll clean the table,” Logan told Patton, stacking everyone’s plates up. Patton gave him a peck to the cheek, carrying his son up the stairs to give him a bath.

By the time the towel was being run over Virgil’s black hair, the child was nodding off. His head was laying against Patton’s chest sleepily, and his breathing was slowing.

Patton helped him get dressed and carried him to his head, tucking him in with a kiss to his head. Virgil turned his head and returned a kiss to his dad’s own forehead, making Patton chuckle softly.

“Goodnight, Baby,” Patton said as he clicked off the lights to his son’s room.

“G’night… papa…” Virgil said, before falling asleep.

Patton walked down the steps to where Logan was sitting in the living room, reading a novel. Logan looked over his glasses at him.

“Is he asleep?” He asked his husband. Patton curled up beside his husband, and Logan wrapped his arm around his shoulders, putting his book down on the couch cushion beside him.

“Yeah, all that running around today exhausted him. He nearly passed out in the bathtub, poor thing.”

Logan chuckled, kissing his husband’s cheek.

“You did run him in circles today,” he pointed out. He carded his hand through Patton’s dark hair.

“He’s so full of energy, I had to sit down a few times to catch my breath, he just doesn’t stop,” Patton said.

The two of them sighed softly, holding onto each other and just enjoying the silence of the house.

They stayed like that for around an hour and a half. At some point Logan had gone back to his book, and Patton read over his shoulder. It was some mystery novel and it all went over his head, but every once in a while he’d give some commentary.

They did this often, and a few times Patton has figured out the mystery before Logan or the protagonist did. Logan didn’t know if he wanted to be frustrated or kiss him senseless when that happened.

“We should probably go check on him,” Logan commented. Patton nodded, groaning as he stood up and stretched. He gave Logan a hand and pulled them up, and the two of them made their way to Virgil’s bedroom door.

Patton flicked on the hallway light and turned the handle, poking his head in, Logan right behind him.

There was a lump under the blankets. Patton smiled back at Logan, before stepping into the room.

He pulled back the blankets, expecting to see his son’s black hair and sleeping face.

He was met with a pillow.

His eyes widened and he began to panic, turning to Logan. Logan had moved farther into the room.

“Patton? Patton what’s wrong? Where is he?”

Patton shook his head, looking around the room. He checked under the bed, in the closet, and behind the cabinets.

His eyes started to tear up as a horrible realization hit him. He turned towards the window.

The lavender curtains were blowing against the wind, the window itself open.

He ran to the window, noticing the way it was open enough to fit a kid through. The bug screen was popped out and lay on the ground outside.

“Virgil!”

-

Virgil was snuggled under his covers, forehead tingling still from where his dad had kissed him. He had a content smile on his face.

His dads were the best thing ever. They gave him hugs and kisses, held him close when he cried, and gave him band-aids when he scraped his knee.

He loved them, very, very much.

He had even given his dad a card! It had all three of them drawn on the front, all holding hands. Virgil was very proud of his crayon work.

He wanted to be an artist when he grew up, and his papa said he was talented enough to get there.

Virgil pulled the blanket up closer to his chin, almost completely asleep.

A small tinkling noise caught his attention, and he opened an eye.

The sound of a bell chime came from his window, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked out the glass, noticing a little blue light. The light darted around on the other side of the glass.

Eyes alight with curiosity, Virgil raised to uncover himself and dashed to the window, tugging it open. The bug screen kept him and the little wisp separated, but now he was close enough to get a better look at it.

“Hello?” He asked the little wisp, "Are you a fairy?”

The wisp made another bell noise, and Virgil thought it sounded like laughing. He got the feeling that it wanted something from him.

“What do you want?”

The wisp began to move in the direction of the woods.

Virgil needed to follow it.

He doesn’t know why, but he needed to.

He pushed on the bug screen, surprised when it fell out. Huh, it was much harder last time he did that.

He dangled his legs out the window first, grunting as he crawled down. He yelped as he missed his footing, tumbling the rest of the way. He landed in a bush, with nothing more than a scrape on his elbow.

The small child dusted himself off, and immediately got back up, running to the wisp.

The wisp kept moving in front of him, guiding him into the forest.

The moon was bright and full, shining down on the field and lighting Virgil’s way.

He followed it into the woods.

“Hey! Where we goin’?” He asked the wisp, but it didn’t answer.

They travelled for some time, and Virgil began to regret following it. His dads were gonna be mad…

The wisp stopped in the middle of a clearing, and blinked out of existence with a puff of blue sparks.

“Fairy?” Virgil called after it. When nothing responded but the dense silence, he began to cry.

“I don’ know where I am,” he cried, burying his head in his knees.

A shadow suddenly loomed over him, and a cold hand brought his chin up.

“Hello little one,” said the thing, “and what might your name be?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Virgil answered the strange person. The being chuckled.

“You are young, so I suppose you are right. But a name is all I need,” the thing said.

Virgil whimpered, his dads had always told him not to give his name to strangers, but he didn’t have much of a choice now, did he?

“V-virgil.”

The creature smiled, a too-long mouth stretching across its face.

“Well, Virgil, we are going to have a lot of fun, alright?” The being laughed.

Virgil cried out as suddenly a ring of flowers and mushrooms appeared around them. Sparks and wisps of lights and colors shot from each plant, wrapping around them in a lattice pattern.

“Have you ever wanted to go to fairy-land, kid?”

-

Three months.

It had been three months since Logan or Patton had seen their little boy.

It was all over the local news, in all the papers, on all the bulletin boards and in posters.

The police had searched for weeks, accompanied by half the town population. No sign of Virgil or where he went.

An Amber Alert was released, and suddenly their little boy’s face was added to the many on the “Missing Person” board in the grocery store.

Patton was long since the point of crying, taking to staring blankly at whatever blank surface was in front of him.

He was sick of the phone calls. Sick of the interviews. Sick of the accusations.

Logan was the same. He was so tired. He hadn’t slept well in the three months Virgil had been missing. He just wanted to wrap his arms around his son again. Just wanted to hear his little high pitched laugh.

Today, the couple was free to do as they pleased. No interviews, no search parties, no calls, nothing. It was an off day.

Every moment they spent not doing anything made guilt chew on their insides, but they really needed a break. They needed to rest. They couldn’t search for Virgil if they were too tired to walk.

They were cuddled up on the couch, same way they were the night Virgil had gone missing.

They didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. All words had already been said.

A knock on the door shook them from their stupor. They looked at each other, confused about who on earth that could possibly be.

“I’ll get it,” Logan said.

He got up, kissing his husband on the forehead like he does every time he leaves him on the couch, and walked to the door.

He opened it to reveal a tall teenager standing on their front porch.

Immediately, Logan was hit with the feeling that something was Different about the kid. His skin was too clear and flawless, his hair too black, his grey eyes too intense and piercing. The kid held himself with a kind of elegant grace that seemed unnatural.

“Ye-,” Logan started to ask, before he was cut off. The kid had lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Logan. He felt his shirt grow wet with tears.

“Uhm, hello?” He asked the teen, arms held hesitantly away from his trembling form.

“Papa, papa it’s me,” the kid cried. His voice was deep, and had a melodic quality to it.

Logan’s eyes widened, “what?”

Patton rounded the corner then, staring at the scene in confusion.

“Logan, who is this?”

The teen shot off of Logan, appearing terrified suddenly.

“It’s me, it’s me Papa,” he repeated, tears pouring down his face as he sobbed, “it’s Virgil.”

Patton’s eyes widened, “Virgil?”

The teen nodded. Patton slowly crept forward, taking the teen’s face in his hands, wiping his tears away. He took in the teen’s face. His jawline, the shape of his eyes. He had spent three years nurturing and taking care of this face, he knew it well.

“Virgil?” He said again, warm tears escaping the corner of his eyes. The teen gulped, and nodded.

“Dad.”

Patton lurched forward and wrapped his arms around the kid, falling to his knees and taking Virgil with him.

Logan watched in barely concealed terror. What happened? Virgil, his little, three year old boy, was just that three months ago.

His little boy was standing in front of him, a full grown teenager.

What??

-

The two fae watched from behind the tree line.

“He isn’t leaving us, is he?” The one with fluttering monarch wings asked the other.

“No, he said he just wanted to talk to them,” The other whispered back, yellow-green scales glittering against the sun.

“Did the deal really end?” The monarch asked, “I thought my brother had asked him to stay longer than thirteen years.”

“It did, but Virgil said he would stay longer than that. He said… he said he loved us,” the snake gulped, “and he was telling the truth.”

The monarch nodded with a sigh, “I hope you’re right.”

“Yeah, me too.”