#moxieceit

Some of the priestess fled, forsaking their Gods and deciding their chances would be better as blasphemers out in the wilderness. The remaining priestesses, Virgil included, retreated into the temple and shut the stone doors. 

Inside the temple, patrons and priestesses alike rushed about in panic. Some tried to arm themselves with the ceremonial armament that normally hung from the wall as tributes from the city’s greatest warriors, some prayed at the feet of the two twenty-foot stone statues of the Gods for their delivery from peril, and some drank the sacrificial wine, fermented in the temple from the finest grapes grown in the valley beyond the temple for the Gods to enjoy as they may, hoping to be so senseless by the time death came for them that they would be none the wiser at the end. Virgil watched the blasphemy impassionately. 

Unlike most of his fellow priestesses, Virgil had been brought to the temple as a babe, he had been tribute to his Gods, and he was raised on nothing but Them. He did not try to arm himself, nor did he beg for his life or defile his Gods’ tribute, instead, he wandered deeper into the temple. He ignored the sounds of running feet and the fearful yelling and came to a halt only once he had reached the mosaic tile fresco of The Snake and The Frog, there he fell on his knees and prayed. The fresco was not generally considered to be a formal prayer site, but it was where Virgil had always felt closest to his Gods. 

He did not pray for his life, for his life was worth nothing if it was not spent in worship of his Gods. He did not pray for the city, for the city was worth nothing whether it was populated by his people or by the invaders’. He did not pray for his fellow priestesses, for they had already disrespected their Gods. 

No, Virgil prayed for the temple. He prayed that no invader would defile what belonged to his Gods, that the temple would stand no matter how much fire the invaders brought with them, that the temple would stand long after the invaders perished, whether by war or old age. 

And as the invaders reached the temple’s stone doors and began to beat on them, he continued to pray. He prayed that his Gods would always have tribute and that their cult would go on long after Virgil and the priestesses were cut down. 

As the stone doors gave and the screaming began, Virgil prayed that the beauty of the temple not be diminished as it was decorated with the blood of the slain. 

Screams and footsteps echoed around Virgil, but he did not move from his supplication. He was afraid of the invaders and he was afraid of dying, but more than that, he was afraid of abandoning his Gods. He remained, unmoving before the fresco, quiet prayers falling from his lips. 

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” 

Virgil could not stop his flinch of fear as a dark voice croaked with glee behind him, but he continued his prayers. 

“Beg your false gods for their mercy,” the invader laughed, seizing Virgil by the hair with one hand and bringing his knife to his throat with the other. “They cannot save you.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and added one last prayer that his blood would only add to the fresco’s beauty, if his Gods allowed it to sully Their imagery at all. 

The screams in the temple behind him seemed to change pitch as he waited for his executioner to strike. But no strike came. 

The invader’s laughter was cut off with a strangled gasp as the knife fell to the ground near Virgil’s knees with a clatter. Then the hand untwisted from Virgil’s hair, and a body fell to the ground with a heavy thump!

Virgil’s eyes snapped open as a cool, gloved hand cupped his cheek. Before him, clad in black and yellow vestments, stood a man– no, not a man. A God. His God, to whom his life was but a humble tribute. 

His God — Janus, God of lies, secrets, and selfishness — stood before him in the guise of a half-man, half-snake. The human half of His face was all sharp angles and smooth skin as though cut from the same stone as His statue in the temple’s gallery, and the snake half of His face was decorated with a mosaic of yellow and green scales that put the fresco behind Him to shame. His human eye was brown as the bark of the trees in the forest, as the jasper inset in the temple walls, as the dirt from which all life grew, His snake eye was as yellow as the sun and almost seemed twice as bright. 

A smile graced His lips as He swiped His thumb gently against Virgil’s cheekbone. 

“As stunning as your blood would look decorating Our temple,” He said in a smooth voice that was almost as mesmerizing as His eyes and was sparked with humor and affection, the source of which Virgil could not fathom. “It would not be worth even half as much as it is coursing through your lovely veins.”

Virgil blinked dumbly, awed and confused by the emergence of his God. 

The God smiled a little wider and reached for Virgil’s hands, still clasped together in prayer, with His free hand. He pulled Virgil to his feet before snaking His arm around Virgil’s waist and pulling him against the God’s stone-like body, trapping his clasped hand between them. 

“Look at you, precious,” the God cooed reverently. “So devote, even when Death has you in Her grasp.”

A scream started just down the passageway before being cut off suddenly. Unable to help himself, Virgil tried to turn to look, but his God’s hand held fast upon his cheek. 

The God’s smile lost some of its humor but none of its affection. “Now, now, precious, Patton will be done soon and then you won’t need to worry any longer.”

None of this made any sense to Virgil, he was but a speck of dust to his Gods, something to be washed away when he became too much of a nuisance, not something to be held close and called precious. 

Janus continued to smile affectionately at Virgil and pet his cheek gently as the screams and cries died down until the temple finally sat silent once more but for Virgil’s quiet breathing. 

“I hope you’re not planning on keeping him all to yourself, love,” another voice, this one light and musical, broke the silence from close behind Virgil.

Janus held Virgil’s face fast, but allowed His own eyes to lift to view the newcomer with the same affection He had been sending Virgil’s way. 

“Of course not, darling,” He answered, rubbing His hand up and down Virgil’s spine possessively. “He is Ours after all.”

Another body, softer and warmer than Janus’s pressed into Virgil’s back. “Our most devoted priestess,” the voice cooed affectionately. “Safe in his salvation.”

“I-I didn’t ask for salvation,” Virgil stuttered quietly, afraid to contradict his Gods, but even more afraid to let them misunderstand his prayers. 

“Of course you did!” Patton — God of truth, morality, and selflessness — exclaimed, turning Virgil around in Janus’s grip. Janus allowed His hand to drop from Virgil’s face, but His other hand stayed firm around his waist, resting on Virgil’s stomach as Virgil faced His Husband. “You asked that no invader defile what was Ours.”

Patton had chosen to dress Himself in full human form and blue vestments, though His height might be pushing what man could reach on their own. He chose softer lines and a fuller form than His Husband had; His eyes sparkled blue as the ocean as it melts into sky, and were twice as deep as either. His gaze, trained firmly on Virgil despite the fact that at his back was His Husband, was full of a naked affection that made Virgil’s knees weak — not that it mattered, the way Janus held him firmly. 

“You are Ours, aren’t you?” The God asked, though He clearly already knew the answer. 

“Yes,” Virgil answered. Though the appearance of his Gods confused him, of this he was certain: he was Theirs, however They wanted him. 

Patton smiled and cupped Virgil’s face in both of His large, soft hands. “Then as long as Our cult goes on, no harm shall befall you, and as long as you are Ours, Our cult shall go on.”

“I am always Yours,” Virgil swore. “My life will always be spent in devotion to Your divinity.”

Patton’s smile grew wider, and he leaned down to kiss Virgil on the forehead. 

“Our divinity now, precious,” Janus corrected him gently, though Virgil did not understand what difference there was. 

“Our divinity,” Patton agreed, leaning over Virgil to kiss His Husband. “Yours, Mine, and Our most devoted priestess’s.”

Then He leaned down once more, but instead of kissing Virgil on the forehead, He claimed his lips instead. For just the briefest moment, Virgil worried about what His Husband would do, but Janus gently thumbed at Virgil’s stomach and rested His free hand on Patton’s hip, pulling His Husband even closer, and pressing Virgil more firmly between Them. 

Only when Patton slipped one hand from Virgil’s face and used it to hold to His Husband did Virgil allow himself to sink into the kiss, to allow himself to become lost in this new form of prayer to his Gods. 

And when Janus grew impatient and turned him to face Him once more, Virgil prayed to Him as well. 

In the temple of Truth and Lies, which no power could reduce to rubble be it man or beast or time, lived a priestess who prayed to his Gods with his every breath in every way he knew how. 

~~~END~~~

It took me a real long time to find the word “vestments” cuz I wanted the word “vestiges” which is not the same, though you can have vestiges of vestments

I’ve been meaning to write this fic for a while and last night I just went feral and didn’t sleep

General taglist

Now, the groom-to-be was alone with his thoughts and a raising heart rate. He could do this, there was no reason for the flush of nervousness that sent a cool tingly sensation to the tips of his manicured fingers and toes (styled like miniature galaxies, of course, his brother was an exceptional artist, even with nail polish). There were less people out there than in any of his lectures, and all of the audience would be close friends and family, and yet...and yet…

He startled when someone softly knocked on the door, looking over his shoulder to see his brother, and best man, peeking in.

“You almost ready?” Virgil asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. With what was likely a pitiful expression, Logan turned and reached for his older brother. Virgil didn’t hesitate to step closer, gathering him close. He cupped Logan’s face, smoothing his thumbs over his brother’s cheeks and drawing him close to touch their foreheads together. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, LB. The love of your life is waiting for you out there, annoying as ever, but looking damn good too. Just don’t tell him I said that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Logan huffed a small laugh, both at Virgil’s never-ending rivalry with his fiance, and the childhood nickname he would never shake - not that he wanted to. LB. Logan Baras. Little Brother. Logan Berries. Lotsa Binch. Really, it was getting ridiculous at this point, but it was an in-joke that had been evolving since they were in grade school. It was also part of the reason why Logan had asked to keep his last name, or hyphenate the two, after the wedding; he couldn’t bear to part with such an ingrained part of himself. Thankfully, Baras-Sanders rolled off the tongue quite nicely, in his opinion.

He raised his hands, mirroring his elder brother’s position to cradle Virgil’s face in turn. “I swear that will remain between you and I, else I will never hear the end of his gloating over your compliment either.” The pair chuckled before Logan trailed off with a sigh. “I .. I am…” A second shaky exhale. “I’m anxious, VB.” Virgil Baras. Very (Big) Brother. Vigilant Bro-tector. Vain Bastard. An eye for an eye, as they say. “I know our friends and family support our relationship, but many of them are unaware that I will be wearing a dress and make-up! Not to mention how unorthodox our choice of venue is - I can’t believe I let him talk me into hosting our wedding at his theater, and -”

“Hey!” Virgil’s low voice cut him off with a small shake of his head. “Hey... it’s my job to be the worry-wart here, remember? Deep breaths, okay? And stop chewing on your lip! Do you know how long it took me to get that ombre just right?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but obliged; he really didn’t want to sit through another session of his brother’s perfectionist fussing.

“Now, you look fucking amazing. Like damn gurl, slay it.” Virgil’s deadpanned drawl in a mockery of their mutual friend, Remy, had Logan snorting a giggle. “But seriously, LB, I can promise you that everyone out there is going to be stunned at how gorgeous this dress is, and how radiant you are… and no one more than that idiot you fell in love with. You’re gonna walk out there, and Za is gonna be with you to walk you down the aisle, and mom will be crying, and I’m gonna waiting on stage too, but you’re only gonna have eyes for the man you are marrying today.”

With a shaky smile and watery eyes, Logan lunged forward to wrap is older brother in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of the other’s shoulder. “The proper pronunciation is ‘going to’, and I love you so goddamn much, VB.” Pulling back, he cycled a deep breath, and squeezed Virgil’s upper arms gently. “Thank you. Now, I believe we have a wedding to attend.”

Walking out of the dressing room arm-in-arm, the brothers snuck around the side doors so they could enter the theatre from the foyer with the rest of the wedding party. The assorted group of groomsmen, groomsladies, and friends of honour turned as they approached, the other best man breaking away to sweep Logan into a hug.

“Oh Lolo! You look stunning!” Patton pulled back, stars in his eyes as he looked over the whorls of colour covering the ballgown-style dress. “Wow…. This dress is absolutely perfect on you! And it matches your pretty make-up! Oh!! This is so wonderful!!” He fanned his face, trying to hold back the tears that were already threatening to fall. “I can’t believe you two are finally getting married!”

A blush graced Logan’s cheeks with a soft smile. “I cannot either; it feels like a dream come true.”

“Speaking of the wedding - we really need to get that started here, people!” A voice cut in, drawing the group’s attention to the ring-and-flower bearer of the ceremony. Denali approached the trio, slipping their hands into both Virgil and Patton’s. Their outfit was a delightful mix of both their genders: the tighter bodice giving way to a flared coattail-skirt with striped pants matched well with their colourful make-up - done on only one half of their face. The ensemble was completed with a wide-brimmed hat topped with an extravagantly flowing feather. “I love that you’re all being cutesy over here, I really do, but I don’t want to have to listen to Roman whine later that we left him standing at the altar. So-” They raised their voice, addressing the wedding party as a whole. “I need everyone to buddy up and line up! We have some gay nerds who need to get married!”

With a wave to cue the sound operator, the music began. A chuckle rippled through the crowd as they recognized the entrance music as a slowed version of the Lord of the Rings’ iconic theme. Virgil and Patton grinned at one another and planted a kiss on both of Denali’s cheeks simultaneously before linking arms and striding into the theater. Two by two, the rest of the wedding party followed, walking down the center aisle through the audience, and parting at the stage to walk up the stairs on each side. Their lines met once more to either side of Roman and the officiant, an array of suits and dresses in colours accenting the grooms’. Denali completed the proceeding on his own, tossing flower petals with a flourish so grand one would almost believe this was their wedding.

Then, the room faded into silence, and, as the opening notes of the original 1963 Doctor Who opening theme (stylized for a wedding procession, of course) played out, Logan rounded the corner. Arm linked with his Za, and a bouquet accented with peacock feathers held in his other hand, the groom looked ethereal in the spotlight. The blues and greys of his dress and make-up sparkled as he made his way past the most important people in his and Roman’s life, and if he had been able to look away from Roman’s eyes for a moment, he would have seen only love and awe radiating back from them.

Logan hugged his Za tightly as they stopped in front of the stage, smiling with tears in his eyes as his beloved parent tipped his head down to kiss his forehead. When Roman stepped down the stairs at center stage, his burgundy suit and silver filigree circlet lending him the regal air of royalty he had always hoped to achieve, his soon-to-be Za-in-law pulled him into a hug too. Ze guided the grooms’ hands together, squeezing them gently with a smile, and stepped back to sit with zir wife to watch as they officially welcomed another son into their lives.

Ever the gentleman, Roman helped his beloved up the steps, ensuring the skirt of his dress didn’t get caught under the practical blue flats Logan had chosen to wear. Thankfully, there was no train to wrangle, as it was an excess of fabric that Logan had no desire to waste or trip over. As they took their places, Virgil stepped forward to take the bouquet, letting the grooms hold both hands with matching smiles.

Clearing his throat, the officiant - and theater owner, and close friend of Roman’s - Thomas, began the ceremony.

“Mawage.” A smirk was tugging at his lips as both grooms’ jaws dropped. “Mawage is wot bwings us togeder today. Mawage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wifin a dweam…” Slowly, Logan began to grin, Roman already biting his lip to muffle his giggles. “And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva..” Of course Thomas had chosen to quote the movie they had watched together on their first date. “So tweasure your wuv.”

The entire wedding party was giggling now, as well as a fair number in the audience. Thomas, looking far too pleased with himself, continued in his normal, exuberant tone. “I truly believe the pair standing before us today not only each embody the beautiful magic that blossoms in the heart when one has found true love, but they choose each and every day to work together to care for those precious gardens. They shared carefully tended clippings made from their vulnerabilities and strengths, their fears and their trust, and lovingly incorporated these parts of their partner into their hearts. At times, yes, there were weeds which needed to be pulled. Some just needed to be identified to deal with, while others required both of them pulling with all their might to remove. Those deep roots could have left holes in their gardens, but instead, our handsome grooms chose to fill in the spaces so new seedlings could begin to grow. The literal fruits of their labour have culminated here today, as they promise themselves to one another for the rest of their lives.”

Smiling widely, Thomas retrieved a ring box from the pocket of his suit and held it out. “Roman, I can tell you are absolutely bursting with the need to profess your love right now. We’ll let you say your vows first then.” A laugh rippled through the crowd, Logan snickering too as his betrothed shrugged with a sheepish smile but did not deny the claim.

With his fingers cupped under Logan’s, cradling and supporting them, Roman held up their joined hands and kissed his knuckles. “Hey nerd,” he began, drawing another laugh from their friends and family, and a smiling eye-roll from his beloved. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be the one standing up here with you today. When we first met, you thought I was a pompous airhead and I thought you were nothing short of insufferable. If anyone had told me then I would one day spend my mornings waking up in your arms and kissing your illegally handsome face, I’d have told them to take a long walk off a short pier. But, by Julie Andrews, here we are, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you by my side. You are my greatest joy, my strongest support, and my deepest love. I swear, with every fibre of my being, I will spend everyday striving to be the same for you. I swear to care for you through the good and the bad, to celebrate your victories like they were my own, and to provide for you safety from the noise of the world when all you need is someone on your side. I love you, Logan, this I swear to you.”

Delicately plucking a ring from its satin cushion in the box, Roman cradled Logan’s hand and slipped the band over his left finger. The silver band was inset with three small red stones set on a diagonal, mimicking Orion’s belt - the only constellation Roman could confidently identify for years, frequently and loudly, much to their joined amusement. Woven through the gemstones was a simple silver filigree, and all of which perfectly complemented the engagement ring already at home on Logan’s finger.

If at all possible, Thomas was smiling wider, eyes damp. “Logan? It’s your turn.”

With a sniffle, Logan looked from the wedding band up into the eyes of his love, determined to make it through the ceremony without ruining his make-up. Tenderly, he shifted Roman’s hands so both cradled Logan’s left, around his rings, around their promise. Right hand freed, Logan reached up to cradle Roman’s cheek and smooth his thumb over those sharp cheekbones, accented today with a glittering highlight.

“Roman,” he began, voice a little strained with emotion. “Gods above, Ro, only you and that ridiculously handsome smile of yours could make me forget every carefully planned out word I wanted to say.” The couple shared a chuckle, Roman’s hands tightening briefly around his. “You are every bit the royalty you claim to be. Even now, I cannot recall which one of us began to pursue the other, but I will surely never forget how patient you have been with me through every step of our relationship. Not once have you ever asked more from me than I was willing to share, and nor did you get angry or leave when I requested we slow down because I was scared of how quickly I found myself falling for you. I used to relish in my solitude, in the silence of my own company, but somehow you managed to worm your stubborn way over my walls. You have become a vital part of my life, and I find it unnervingly quiet when you are not around. I cannot even enjoy star-gazing alone anymore! Roman, I need you to know, I would never have it any other way. I swear to care for you through the good and the bad, to celebrate your victories like they were my own, and to provide for you safety from the noise of the world when all you need is someone on your side. I love you, Roman, you truly are the prince of my dreams.”

There was not a dry eye in the theater as Logan retrieved the matching ring to his own from the box and slid it delicately onto Roman’s finger. The equally silver band sat alongside Roman’s engagement ring like it were expressly created to be there. The filigree crept around another trio of gemstones in the same position as Logan’s, though these were coloured a deep blue.

Clutching a hand to his heart, Thomas wiped the tears from his eye. “Roman James Sanders, do you take Logan to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Unable to look away from his love, Roman nodded with a wide smile. “I do.”

“Logan Wilson Baras, do you take Roman to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Logan nodded and squeezed their rejoined hands. “I do.”

“Then by the powers vested in me by the province of British Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and husband! You may kiss the groom!”

Logan had only a moment’s notice at Roman’s shit-eating grin, before he was swung around into a dip, his husband’s - husband!! - knee supporting his back and arms around his shoulder and neck. “You are positively ridiculous,” he muttered, before tugging Roman by the tie to share their first kiss as a wedded couple. Cheers and applause erupted around them, including a wolf-whistle that could have just as easily been from any member of their wedding party.

Straightening, the couple leaned together, Roman’s arm around Logan’s back, hand resting comfortingly on his opposite hip. They grinned, their friends and family standing as Thomas’ voice rang out once more. “Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, for the first time ever, I present to you Mr. and Mr. Baras-Sanders!”

As a second cheer arose, Virgil stepped over to hand Logan his bouquet again, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “Congrats LB,” he whispered, before standing back and applauding the newly weds.

Another day in the mindscape.

It was evening already and while Thomas prepared for a relaxed evening of watching a show and taking care of himself, his sides did so, too.

 “I got the popcorn!”

 Roman placed yet another bowl on the coffee table. The other sides cluttered the couch already. The sight already elicited feelings of comfort and warmth.

They were all pretty much cuddled up. Remus actually managed to dress somewhat neatly (a pair of soggy jogging pants and a badly stained shirt, but hey! Small steps. At least he didn’t smell bad.) while Logan was in a more comfortable set of clothing. The rest was in the onesies they had worn for some videos before.

 Well, almost everyone.

Patton noted the absent of only one side. No one else.

He looked around, scanning the couch and trying to count it out multiple times, only to discover he was actually right.

 “Hey, kiddos. I think someone is missing.”

 He gave them an awkward smile which Roman returned with a bright beam.

 “Oh padre, don’t be silly! We are all here!”, he stood before the couch and loudly started naming everyone before stopping abruptly, “See? There is me - the wonderful prince Roman - Three Days Gays, Alphabelicious, your adopted gremlin rat and you, padre -”

 Roman blinked at the error and silently counted to himself. His fingers formed into fists and one by one rose up and stretched out. When he completed one hand, confusion came to settle on his face in exchange for concentration.

 “What the heck! In the name of the holy Broadway, we are missing Janus!”

 Patton gasped until his words hit him and guilt shadowed over his features. How had he not noticed this before? They were missing a whole side and he had not even understood who it was! He was a bad da-

No. It was okay, he reminded himself. Things happened and he could make up for it.

 Logan glanced up at them, sipping his iced coffee. The drink was sweeter than Patton’s soft compliments, Roman knew as much. He had made the mistake of trying the hell of Logan’s beverages before. All of them were just as disgustingly sugary.

So much about healthy eating and drinking. Hypocrites be wearing ties -

 “Guys, this is an issue. We wanted to meet up and all spend a nice day together. And now Janus is missing. We are not complete if it is not all of us together.”

 Logan clicked his tongue at the comment.

 “Well, one might have to add that we are metaphysical presentations of Thomas’ areas of functioning, his personality and motivations. It is not like we can really disappear. At most, some of us could be heavily repressed but I think we made substantial progress in that regard.”

 Something rustled.

Eating noises could be heard. Wet, loud sounds of chewing.

 “Yeah, Thomas knows better than to repress us~ But if he so wants, we can arrange to do away with some of you and finally have him do all the fun things I suggest he pursues!”

 Patton scowled at Remus.

 “Nu-uh! You know, that is not the kind of nice behaviour we are promoting here.”

 Remus pouted in return but Logan offered him the bowl of crisps which seemed to have him deeply enraptured. He hugged the bowl and started cronching on the crunchy delights instead of eating away at his deodorant.

Why would anyone even eat deodorant?

 “Well, Patton. I think we will be quite able to locate him. At worst, all we have to do is produce a falsehood in order to summon him. We might as well just visit his room in order to be less intrusive. If we want to be friendly and show him we are trying to invite him, he might be more inclined to join us.”

 Patton nodded softly, his hands were wrapped around one another in front of his chest. His eyes looked wide and warm, if not wet. Logan blinked at him and offered him a hesitant smile before dipping into his comforting voice.

 “It will be okay. Maybe he forgot.”

 A smile returned to the dad figure’s face.

 “Thank you, Logan!”

 The moral side curled back against Logan, who was sandwiched between Patton and Remus by now. Virgil was next to Patton and carefully sat up while Roman took the seat next to him and drew a blanket around them.

 Virgil cleared his throat.

 “Not to be too distressing, but the emotional support liar is right here.”

 He tapped his neck where a big piece of golden jewellery seemed to adorn his rather dark features. In fact, around his neck, there was.. there was Janus.

Patton leaned in, a huge beam taking over his features.

 “Oh! Janus, excuse my silliness! I did not see you there! I am so glad you slithered in~”

 In the background, Logan drowned his groans in another jug of cold, plain coffee. The snake bleped at Patton before sliding over Virgil’s arm to Patton’s body and onto his shoulder. Patton gently brushed over the small head. Janus slowly sunk onto his shoulder, neither moving nor stirring in any way.

 “Did I hurt him? Is he asleep -”

 “He likes it warm. You keep him warm, he relaxes, Popstar.”

 Patton nodded and gently cupped the little boopnoodle with his hands. His fingers were arched in a way they formed some kind of bowl for the small Janus to reside close with him.

 “Aw, I will keep you warm, little noodle!”

It was Saturday, and Patton had grown to love Saturdays. He got to spend time with his partners, outside of meetings and family time. It was time for just the three of them. Time for himself.

It had taken a while for him to learn that he deserved to have time for himself and do what he wanted. Virgil and Deceit had helped, in some way.

Speaking of his partners…

Hmm. They were supposed to meet him in the commons room. Sometimes they could forget things, though, so he headed to Virgil’s room first, since it was closest.

He stopped outside the door, and he could hear coughing and sniffling from inside. He frowned and knocked on the door. “Virgil, honey?”

There was a groan, then more sniffling, and then shuffling. Virgil opened the door, looking a bit under the weather.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a little guilty. “Hey Pat. Don’t think I can go out today,” he said.

Patton cooed just a little bit, hands reaching out to grab Virgil’s. Virgil allowed this, just as he allowed Patton to feel his forehead. He hummed, feeling the cold against hot.

Patton let his hand trail down to Virgil’s cheeks. “You rest, then. I’ll tell Dee and get you some medicine.”

He gave him a quick kiss and pulled away to go do as he said, but Virgil caught his wrist. “I don’t want you guys to call off today because of me,” he said.

Patton just smiled. “I’m sure Dee won’t mind.” He pulled away again, heading first to the Other side of he mindscape. He could pick up the medicine on the way back to Virgil’s room.

He arrived at Deceit’s door and knocked, stepping inside with permission, and closing the door behind himself.

“Oh, Dee,” Patton said upon seeing the named Side in bed. He walked up to the bed, placing a gentle hand on his forehead. Deceit hissed softly and Patton barely refrained from cooing, knowing Deceit disliked it more than Virgil did.

Dee coughed into his arm. “I apologize,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to attend today’s outing.”

“That’s alright, honey-dee,” Patton replied, booping his nose and smiling when Deceit subconsciously blepped. “Virgil’s sick too.”

“Oh?”

Patton nodded. “Mhm. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you both, okay?”

Deceit nodded, and Patton placed a kiss on his cheek before leaving the room and going back to his side of the Mindscape, grabbing medicine, a glass of water, and one of his stuffed animals from his room. He went back to Virgil’s bedroom door.

Hands full, he stuck his tongue out in concentration as he tried to maneuver everything into one arm, so he could knock.

The glass fell to the floor with a loud shatter, and Patton grimaced, his heart dropping with everything else that landed at his feet.

“Patton?” he heard Virgil call out from inside.

“I’ve – I’ve got it,” Patton called back, half-willing Virgil to stay in bed, but another part of him half-hoping he’d come to help.

The door opened, and Virgil looked down at Patton trying to pick up the glass, the moral Side’s face burning from embarrassment.

Virgil kneeled down to help, ignoring Patton’s protests of “You need to rest!”

Virgil picked up the pieces. “I’m fine,” he dismissed. They walked into Virgil’s room and he threw the glass away. “Where’s Dee?”

“He’s sick, too,” Patton explained, leading Virgil back to his bed and setting the medicine and the stuffed animal down. He noticed Virgil start to flap his hands just barely, in slight worry. “You’ll both be fine!” Patton assured him. “Right as rain in no time.”

Virgil just nodded, climbing back into bed and taking the medicine given to him. “Don’t overwork yourself,” he told Patton.

Patton just pat his arm with a soft smile. “I’ll go get you a new glass of water.” He left with the medicine, deciding to give Deceit some as well, before getting the water.

Deceit had the same words for him as Virgil did. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

Patton waved a hand. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“Because you’ve always been so honest with your feelings,” Deceit said in what was probably supposed to be a drawl, if his voice wasn’t so scratchy.

Patton’s hands stilled in pouring the medicine. “I’ve been working on that, haven’t I?”

A sigh. “You have,” Deceit agreed. “I apologize.”

“That’s alright,” Patton said. “You must be tired.” He gently ran a hand through Dee’s hair.

Deceit hummed, taking the medicine but then also Patton’s hand, causing the other to smile softly.

“I have to go get Virgil some water.” Deceit reluctantly let go of Patton’s hand. “I’ll be back, though. Before you know it.” Patton booped his nose again and giggled, leaving the room with the medicine.

He was in and out of their rooms throughout the day, making sure they were comfortable and recovering. The two were better after a few days.

Patton, however…

There was a knock at his door, and Virgil poked his head in. “Oh,” he said, like he expected this, and he and Deceit stepped inside the room.

“Hey, you two,” Patton said, sitting up and trying to look not-sick.

Virgil and Deceit shared a glance, and Virgil shook his head almost fondly. “I’ll go get the medicine,” he said, leaving the room as Deceit approached Patton’s bed.

“You two don’t have to worry about me,” Patton said softly.

“You spend so much time taking care of others,” Deceit said, lifting one of Patton’s hands and bringing it to his lips, “It’s about time you’re the one being taken care of, don’t you think?”