88. The one stumbling to the other’s front door after getting hurt/beaten up etc prinxiety (PS UWU)
(hi crustachan, hope u like it!)
When Virgil heard a knock on his door at two in the morning, his first thought was burglar. His second thought was, why would a burglar knock on the door? His third thought jumped around from random supervillain to angry debt collector, and his fourth was screw it, he wasn’t taking any chances.
He grabbed one of his swords off the wall and considered throwing on his costume, too. But that’d completely screw with his secret identity, and besides, why would he need it? He didn’t exactly give out his address to every villain he fought. Nobody knew who he was.
Except that wasn’t true, was it?
Virgil carefully crept towards the door. Whoever it was hadn’t knocked again. Maybe they’d left.
Maybe they were just waiting for Virgil to open the door--
Maybe it was a villain after all, and Virgil was in no mood to fight right now, he had a test tomorrow and he’d been bingeing conspiracy videos on the couch. He’d probably get his ass kicked. And then there was the problem that if they knew he was here, that meant they knew where he lived and maybe his secret identity and then maybe they could get to his friends--
“Okay, breathe,” he told himself. It was probably some burglar. He was fine.
And yeah, his mind kept going back to when he’d mentioned his general address in a fight three weeks ago, but Princey had like zero long-term memory and probably had better things to do than piece together exactly where Virgil lived--
Virgil took a deep breath.
The door was silent as he approached it. He thought about looking through the window, but what if something looked back? He thought about dropping the sword--very lowkey to have a sword, totally not a superhero thing, most normal people definitely grabbed swords when threatened--but it was the only thing keeping him from panicking. He’d explain it away if he had to.
Virgil took another deep breath and pushed the door open. Swung the sword out at the person standing on his doorstep. And blinked.
“Hi,” said Princey, awkwardly, giving him a little wave. “What’s up, Stormcloud?”
“Um--”
Virgil looked again. Nope. Still Princey, in that stupid red-and-black outfit, hugging himself, grinning sheepishly at Virgil like it was somewhat normal for Virgil’s nemesis to show up in full costume at the door.
Okay. Virgil hadn’t actually thought it was gonna be--what?
“Sorry about the short notice,” Princey continued. “Er--the absolutely no notice, if I’m being honest. Could you--um, put the sword down?”
Virgil looked down at the sword and back up. “No. What are you doing here?”
“I’m--” Princey shifted from foot to foot. “I’m beginning to realize how much of a bad idea this was.”
“Oh, really, you don’t say?” Virgil’s voice pitched up. “How’d you even get my address?”
“You told me the street name, and this is the only house with a Nightmare Before Christmas poster in the window.”
Virgil made a mental note to burn that poster.
“Anyway, I can--I can go,” Princey said. “I just wanted to--I’ll figure it out.”
And he stepped back down the stairs, slowly, arms pressed to his chest and looking more lost than Virgil had seen him.
“Dude,” Virgil said. “What the heck? You can’t just go without explaining--are you gonna share my address?”
“What? Of course not!” Princey looked offended by the very idea. “I would never be so unchivalrous!”
“Well, how do I know that?” Virgil almost yelled in frustration. “What are you doing here at my house? I was watching videos and I don’t have time to try and figure out whatever evil plan you’ve got going on or whatever--can you, like, actually tell me what’s happening before I stab something?”
Virgil’s sword waved at Princey. Princey eyed it warily before taking another step back. He was on the sidewalk now, and Virgil remembered very suddenly that Princey had super speed--he’d be out of here before Virgil could get an answer out of him, and then where would Virgil be--
Before Virgil could stop himself, he grabbed Princey’s arm. Princey looked down at it and back up at Virgil with wide eyes.
“Why are you here,” Virgil gritted out, “and you’re gonna tell me, ‘cause I’m tired and pissed and about to run you through with a sword.”
Princey opened his mouth, and for a second, nothing came out. “I--”
Virgil shifted his grip from Princey’s arm to his sash and tugged him closer. “Yeah?”
Princey blinked again, and Virgil realized suddenly that they were really close. And yeah, they’d been close before--fighting in close quarters, pinning each other down, and Princey had an irritating tendency to tug Virgil closer while teasing him--but they’d never been so close like this. The only lights were Virgil’s windows and the streetlights, and they played off Princey’s face and left him glowing gold, a nick in his lips and a flash in his eyes and--
And something wet was on his sash.
Virgil looked down. And how the heck hadn’t he seen the--
The blood.
“Is that what--” Virgil swallowed the rising panic. “Dude, you’re hurt--who did that--are you gonna bleed out, why didn’t you go to a hospital, why are you here--”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Princey said in a lie so obvious he trailed off during the middle of it. “It doesn’t--”
And then he stumbled.
And then he was falling, falling toward Virgil, and Virgil was holding a sword, he couldn’t catch a supervillain right now--
Thankfully, Princey steadied himself before Virgil could accidentally skewer. He pulled himself back, out of Virgil’s grip, and Virgil was left with a bloody hand as Princey wrapped a hand around his waist and stepped back again.
Like Virgil would hurt him.
And Virgil would--Virgil had--Virgil was supposed to, or he definitely wasn’t supposed to help him, heroes didn’t help their villains--
“You got hurt,” Virgil said, his voice raspy. “Is it--is it bad?”
“Not very,” Princey assured him. “I’ll be out of your hair now, apologies for the disturbance--”
“You’re hurt,” Virgil said. “And--and you came here--”
“I thought you might--” Princey swallowed. “As I said. Never mind.”
Virgil stared at him, sword limp in his hand.
“You--” Virgil found a lump growing in his throat. “I--I have some bandaids in my bathroom--what am I saying, you don’t need bandaids--I have some bandages! And some gauze. I get beat up sometimes during fights, I can help you wrap it--”
Princey stared at him, again, like Virgil was doing something completely unexpected. And that made Virgil feel like crap--that basic kindness was unexpected.
“You don’t want to do that,” Princey said slowly.
“Uh, yeah, I do?” Virgil waved a hand at himself. “I’m pretty damn sure of what I want? Now come on, Princey, I haven’t booby-trapped the door.”
“You’re actually--” Princey looked around. “Look, I don’t want to--to intrude, or anything--”
“Like I said. I was watching videos. You aren’t, like, interrupting a marriage proposal.” Virgil watched him for a second before softening. “Look at it this way, if it really bothers you. You know my address and what I look like. I’ve gotta keep you hostage or whatever.”
“Hostage?” Princey repeated. “Not a very heroic move.”
“What can I say, I’m complicated.” Virgil shrugged. “Does that work for you?”
“I don’t know that much about you--”
“My name’s Virgil,” Virgil interrupted. “I’m studying graphic design in college, I like black coffee, and all my swords aren’t actually as sharp as I pretend they are. There. Now you know way too much information about me.” He smirked. “So guess I gotta take you hostage, and while we’re at it, patch you up before that blood ruins your outfit. Too bad, Princey. You don’t get a choice”
Princey watched him for a second longer, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then his mouth twitched in a smile.
“I’m--I’m Roman,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”
Virgil opened his mouth to say we’ve already met. But--yeah. Yeah, this was new.
And maybe not a bad kind of new.
“You too, Roman,” Virgil said, and stepped aside to let him in.
Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!
