#prinxiety oreo

Roman laughs, before turning to lift up the seat. Beneath it was a storage compartment. 

He pulls out another helmet, slimmer than his own, and instead of being the same white and gold as Roman’s, this one was just a solid black. He hands it to Virgil with a comforting smile.

"You ready to go?" Roman asks, as he swings himself over the motorcycle seat, pushing up the kickstop with his foot. 

Virgil watches him as he does so. "Yup." 

"You know how to ride a motorcycle, right?" 

"Yes, Roman.” Virgil rolls his eyes. He feels his chest tighten. 

Roman smiles at Virgil’s bitterness, looking at Virgil expectantly, before placing his helmet on his head. Virgil runs his thumbs over his own, before he slides it on too, and climbs onto the motorcycle after. Nervously, he slides his arms around Roman’s torso, heart racing. Once again, the motorcycle revs, before Roman’s wrist rolls forward and it starts up, pulling forward and away from Virgil’s house. 

The wind against his body makes him shiver, his hoodie flapping around him. Without thinking, he pulls himself closer to Roman, chest leaning against his back for warmth. 

Despite the chill, Virgil’s smiling wide beneath the helmet, eyes observing the blur of buildings they pass by. 

But, the ride is over in a matter of minutes, as they pull into the parking lot of a small, local diner. Virgil slips off the motorcycle first, Roman following suit. They take their helmets off and hang them on the bike handles, before Roman’s fingers brush against Virgil’s, subtly slipping them between Virgil’s own.

Virgil is too exhilarated to notice. 

Roman keeps a hold of Virgil's hand as they walk in, leading them to a booth. Slowly, he pulls his hand away, and sits on the bench opposite of Virgil so they could sit across from each other. 

A waitress comes over, and hands them menus with a soft greeting. Roman smiles at her. Virgil looks down. 

His eyes scan over the menu as he attempts to appear busy, while Roman makes small talk. He compliments her nails, and asks where she got them done. His eyes briefly flicker up to look at them, and he notices how genuinely Roman smiles at her. 

She smiles back at him, glancing at her nails herself as if she’s admiring them in a new light, before she shakes her head slightly as if to dismiss the topic, asking instead if they’d like anything to drink. 

“Just water,” Virgil responds, awkwardly, as he flips the menu open. Pancakes, burgers, chicken tenders; the choices were endless. 

“Just water?” Roman asks, one eyebrow raised as he smiles, plotting. “Are you sure you don’t want anything more exciting? They have hot chocolate, tea… milkshakes! Wouldn’t you rather have a milkshake?” Though he was partially teasing, there was a soft air to his voice. He was genuinely asking, though also somewhat encouraging Virgil to agree. 

The waitress looks towards him.

“I mean… I guess. A milkshake then.” 

The waitress’s pen taps against her notepad, prepared to write. “What flavor? We have the classic vanilla, chocolate, strawberry…” 

“What about a cookies and creme variant?” Roman prompts. 

Virgil flushes at the notion, and the reminder of why they were on this date in the first place. He dreads the waitress’s response. 

“Oreo? We do. Is that fine with you?” She directs the question towards Virgil, who wants to groan into his hands. 

“Sure,” comes his response, through gritted teeth. She smiles, scribbles it down, and then turns towards Roman. 

Roman nods to her, before tilting his head towards Virgil. Voice low and playful, he asks "do you wanna be cliche with me? One shake, two straws?"

Virgil snorts, finally meeting Roman’s eyes. "That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard come out of your mouth, which is surprising, considering I've heard you introduce yourself." 

Gasping dramatically, Roman places a hand over his heart."Are you calling me stupid? How dare you!” The waitress laughs at Roman’s theatrics, and even Virgil can’t help the grin that rises to his face.

"You figure it out," he quips, matching Roman’s playfulness. 

Despite not getting a solid answer, Roman turns to the waitress and asks for one large shake with two straws, turning to Virgil afterwards. 

“That way, if you decide to want to share, we can always toss one out,” Roman muses, and Virgil’s cheeks go pink at the idea, huffing as he shoves his menu towards Roman. 

“Shut up,” is his only response, but Roman laughs lightly regardless.

Virgil laughs along with him. Something about Roman’s own happiness seems to be infectious. 

He doesn’t notice that Roman’s smiling at the sound, not used to hearing Virgil actually express his enjoyment. Sure, they don’t hang around each other often, but whenever Roman’s able to observe him, the most he ever sees is a slight upturn to his lips. Never… this. 

Smiling really suited Virgil. 

"Quit staring at me, jock," Virgil suddenly says, after a moment. It startles Roman out of his daydreaming state. Virgil’s eyes are narrowed, but he’s still smiling, cheek resting on his hand as he stares into Roman’s forest-green eyes

Roman smirks in response, puffing his chest out as he exclaims "I couldn't help myself. With a face as pretty as yours, it's almost impossible to look away." 

Though, instead of the typical huffy or flustered response Roman’s used to seeing by now, Virgil laughs again. “That was super cheesy. Does that ever work on anyone?”

"I don't know; did it work on you?"

Virgil snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hell no." 

Roman sighs, sounding mockingly disappointed. Eyes closed remorsefully, Roman laments “well, it was worth a shot nonetheless.” 

Eventually, the waitress comes back with the Oreo milkshake and two straws. She sets them down on the table, and winks at them as she leaves. Virgil rolls his eyes in response while Roman chuckles, reaching forward to hand Virgil a straw of his own. 

Both of them tear the paper covering, with Roman sliding his to the edge of his straw and blowing it at Virgil, before the two of them stick their straws into the milkshake.  

Roman’s the first to take a sip, and he smiles immediately after doing so. "Oreo was a great choice. This tastes amazing." 

"It's just an Oreo shake, you dork," Virgil responds, as he takes a sip. “There’s nothing overly special about it.” 

"Maybe it's just being here with you that makes it taste better." 

Virgil smiles briefly, before his smile drops and he sighs right after. "You… you really need to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

Virgil fidgets with his hands under the table. “All the flirting. You know I don’t like you. And I know you don’t like me.”

Roman’s smile falls as well. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Virgil shrugs, casually taking another sip of the shake. His shoulders were tense though. "Your posse says enough." 

Frowning now, Roman leans back. "They don't speak for me. I never said I didn't like you. The things that Remus says shouldn’t be internalized. He’s mean to everyone.” 

Virgil just shakes his head and looks away, almost disappointed. He uses his finger to stir the straw in the thick milkshake.

Roman looks on, confused, as he tries to think of anything he could have done that might have upset Virgil, along with anything he could say to aid the situation.

Unable to come up with something, Roman changes the topic. 

"I didn't see your parents when I picked you up. Were they just inside?" Roman asks, hoping the out-of-the-blue question will lead to a lighter conversation. He wanted to subdue the otherwise thick tension between them. 

Virgil shakes his head. “He’s on vacation.” 

"When will he be back?" 

Shrugging at the question, Virgil turns his attention fully back to Roman. He sees nothing wrong with that answer, but Roman gasps, less dramatically and more serious this time. 

“You don’t know?” 

Face flushing with humiliation, Virgil shrugs again. "He never told me. He just said he’d be back; he didn't say when. It’s not like he’ll be gone forever." 

"So…so you've just been alone?" Roman prods. 

Virgil awkwardly clears his throat. "Not really. He left two days ago. I spent the first night alone, and then I spent the night at Janus’s yesterday, so I haven't been completely alone.” 

Roman nods, not completely convinced, but understanding nonetheless. "Are you spending the night with him again?"

"No," Virgil responds, huffing slightly. “He and Logan are hanging out tonight, and I don’t really feel like intruding.” Virgil’s fingers tap against the table, before he snorts. “Besides, the last time I spent the night over there, I woke up with a boyfriend.”

Grinning proudly, Roman goes “and that’s such a bad thing?”

"Considering you’re the boyfriend I woke up with, yes. That’s a horrible thing.”

It’s Roman’s turn to roll his eyes, as he pulls the Oreo shake closer to him, taking a sip himself, and dramatically sticking his tongue out at Virgil afterwards.

"Do you like being alone?" Roman then asks, after a moment.

Virgil hesitates, before sighing. “Not really, but there’s not much I can really do about it.” 

Roman frowns, but doesn’t ask any follow up questions, instead taking an obnoxiously loud sip of the shake. 

Then the waitress comes back. 

“Have you guys decided on what to eat?” she asks, and both Roman and Virgil exchange a wide-eyed glance. 

Roman laughs awkwardly. “No, sorry! We haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the menu,” he admits, while Virgil hurriedly flips his menu open and scans the items on it. 

“Chicken tenders,” Virgil suddenly blurts, before his face goes red with humiliation as the waitress turns towards him, confused. 

He clears his throat, and clarifies “I’d like the chicken tenders, please.” He sits stiff, rubbing his hands together beneath the table. “Just a normal basket, with fries maybe.” He then looks towards Roman, who gets the hint and quickly opens his own menu. 

“Would you like any dipping sauce?” the waitress prompts, writing down his order.

“Ranch?” It’s more of a question than an answer, but the waitress seems satisfied as she makes a note of that as well. 

She then turns to Roman, who sets his menu down as he proclaims “I’d like a burger. Please. With no tomato.” 

“Fries on the side?”

“Yes please.” Roman gathers the menus together and hands them to the waitress, who accepts them with a thankful nod. 

As she tucks them under her arm, she asks if he’d like any sauce for his fries, to which he politely declines. She then turns and walks away. 

Virgil sighs in relief as soon as she's gone. 

Roman laughs. “That was panic-inducing,” he jokes, musing at Virgil’s uttered reply of “no kidding,” before Roman pushes the shake back towards him. Virgil accepts it with open arms, and takes a sip, absentmindedly picking a straw. 

They finish the shake together in the time it takes for their food to arrive, chatting every now and then, as the sky outside begins to grow dark. 

When the waitress comes back, she has two plastic baskets of food with her, a checkered and flimsy piece of paper inside of it, on which their food sits on. Both of the platters are stained with grease, but both Roman and Virgil offer thanks to the waitress as they look towards their food. 

Roman’s the first to pick his food up, taking a large bite of the burger, leaving Virgil to laugh as juice runs down his chin. 

Quickly, Roman grabs a napkin and wipes at his mouth, but he chews quickly, laughing once he’s choked it all down. “Wow,” he mutters, smiling. “This is really good.” 

Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Virgil picks up a chicken tender, and dips it in the ranch. He’s a lot more courteous with his bite, but there’s something so appealing about the warm taste of greasy food. Despite the slick residue it leaves behind on Virgil’s fingers. 

“Pass the ranch?” Roman then asks, meekly, leaving Virgil to huff and roll his eyes as he sets the small container of ranch between them. 

Roman immediately reaches forward to slather two fries with it, before popping them into his mouth.

They eat their food in mostly silence, with the occasional comment or short exchange every now and then, but really both of them are content with just eating for now. Surprisingly, there’s nothing weird about enjoying a meal in the other’s company. 

When they’re finished, Roman waves the waitress over and requests the bill. He pays with his card, before pulling out a hefty stack of cash from his wallet and setting it on the table. Virgil meagerly pulls out a few bills and lays them aside Roman’s pile. 

Once he gets his card back (and sees the way the waitress’s face lights up with pure joy), Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, and pulls him outside.

By this time, the dark blue of the sky has gradually faded into a warm gold as the sun sets. The ombre of colours draws Roman’s eyes. Virgil watches the wide-eyed way he stares at the sky, how his pupils trace the merging of the colours, before his head lands facing the sun, a warm smile on his face that contrasts the chilliness of the evening. 

“How much do I owe you?” Virgil asks, drawing Roman out of his enraptured state. 

Roman looks at him, puzzled, a confused smile on his face. “What do you mean? You don’t owe me anything.”

“My half of dinner,” Virgil clarifies, as he’s handed his helmet. He holds it firm as he stares back at Roman, who merely shrugs off Virgil’s statement. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Roman replies, as he raises his helmet above his head. “Consider that my thanks for such a nice evening.” 

He then promptly pulls his helmet onto his head, effectively ending the conversation, and any of Virgil’s further protests. 

Climbing back onto the motorcycle, Roman then slowly pulls out of the diner, and drives a bit slower towards Virgil’s neighbourhood. Even after pulling up to his house, Roman’s slow to park the bike. 

Sooner than Virgil would have liked, they’re stopped on the curb. 

Virgil slides off, pulling the helmet off of his head and handing it back to Roman, who pushes the kickstop down before getting off himself. He sets his own helmet on one of the bike handles, before tucking Virgil’s back under the seat.

"I guess this is where we part ways, huh?" Roman says, laughing slightly, as he looks between Virgil and his house. 

Virgil scoffs at his dramatic lamenting. "I'll literally see you tomorrow," he responds, unamused, but with a small smile on his face. “Now shoo. I need alone time to recoup.” 

Roman sighs, smiling. “I guess I’ll meet you by your locker, then.”

Virgil snickers, backing up towards his door. “Don’t count on it,” he teasingly calls out, before unlocking his door and heading inside. He kicks the door shut behind him, locking it after, and then leans back against it, letting himself slowly sink to the ground as he sighs.

Roman had essentially been flirting with him the entire time, had paid for their entire (albeit cheap) meal, and had given him a (very fun) ride both to the diner and back to his house. 

This sucked.

Roman was being a genuinely good person. He’s been polite and respectful. Thinking about it, Virgil realizes he has little reason to hate him.