#ts fic

Patton chewed on his bottom lip, his leg bouncing up and down as he took another sip of his water. He’d already finished the jug.

He wasn’t even late. Patton was just… early. Crazy early.

He was being silly. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure, it was a first date, but… It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.

“Why, hello, gorgeous.”

Patton startled slightly, his head snapping up to stare as the seat in front of him was suddenly occupied. Two bright green eyes met his, a wide, toothy grin between them that Patton knew like the back of his hand.

“Hi,” Patton said, and he could feel his face heating up. Remus’ grin widened impossibly.

“You alright there?”

Patton nodded. “Mhm! Just— I got here early. You look nice.”

His friend— His date— laughed. “Why, thank you! You like this little number?” He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor so he could twirl. He was wearing the closest thing to a suit Patton had ever seen him in, with tight, jet black trousers and a dark green button-up made of some kind of shimmery, shiny material. He didn’t have it buttoned all the way up — he barely had any of it buttoned at all, leaving it hanging open down to just above his belly button, his thick chest hair bursting through the gap.

Patton smiled at him and nodded. “Is it new? I haven’t seen it before.”

“The shirt is,” Remus answered, sitting back down. “The pants are old as hell. You give me a twirl now, my turn!”

Patton let out another laugh and shook his head. “No way!”

“Why the fuck not?”

The man hesitated, staring at him. “Well— I’m not gonna twirl in the middle of a restaurant, Re!”

“Why? I just did it!”

Patton scoffed disbelievingly. “I’m not you!”

“So? You’re something way cooler, Patsky. You’re you. Give me a twirl, lemme see your ass.”

This time, Patton just stared at Remus, eyes huge and face burning, and he swallowed thickly. Remus waited a second, and then his grin faltered.

“Sorry.”

“No, it— Fine, okay, here.” Patton stood slowly, and turned around.

He wasn’t dressed as well as Remus was, nowhere near, but he’d tried. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, buttoned up to his neck and tucked into the nicest pair of jeans he owned. He had a suit jacket, too, but he’d slung it over the back of his chair.

Remus cackled, cheering loudly enough that several other people looked at them, and Patton sat back down, grinning past his blush.

“You suck,” he laughed.

“Oh, I can show you just how much I can suck later, if you want me to, Pattycakes,” Remus said, winking.

“Shut up,” Patton giggled.

The waiter came over then, taking their inital orders — a bottle of wine and a lemonade and a Bloody Mary — and the drinks menus away.

“So! What food we looking at, huh? This place is pretty fancy, eh?”

“Um— I think so. What’re you thinking?”

“Get a couple things and share?” Remus asked.

Patton nodded. “Sure!”

They both looked down at the menu, and Patton faltered. He didn’t know what any of those words meant.

Oh, goodness, he was wearing jeans.

“Shit, Pat, didn’t realise you were gonna take us to Paris for our first date,” Remus said lowly.

“I— I’m sorry,” Patton choked, and the joking expression slid from Remus’ face.

“Woah!” he said. “Hey, now! What’s the matter? We can google translate this shit, it’s all good!”

“I just— You hate fancy food, and fancy restaurants, and you bought a new shirt—”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Remus teased. “I didn’t buy this for you. I just bought it and happened to wear it for the first time tonight.”

Patton snorted, but his face was burning and he wanted to cry.

“C’mon, Pat, what’s wrong? We can blow this place off. I thought you wanted to come here?”

“I thought— I mean— This is a date. We’re not— Aren’t you meant to go somewhere fancy on dates?”

“What? What d’you mean?”

“Like. That’s what you do.”

“It isn’t what I do. I take them bowling. It’s fun and you can talk and get drunk at the same time.”

Patton stared at him, eyes wide. “You hate this,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Oh, Re, I’m so sorry.”

“What? I don’t hate it!”

“Of course you do! You want to be having fun and getting drunk and— Oh, God, I’m so stupid—”

“Patton! What the fuck? I take strangers bowling, yeah. I could be sat watching paint dry with you and have the time of my life.”

“Don’t be— That isn’t true.”

“It is! Of course it is, you’re my best friend! Come on, let’s google some of this rich people shit and order and we can make fun of their tiny rich people portions and get fucking tacos or something after. C’mon. I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

Patton’s face was on fire, but he nodded, biting his lip and looking down at the menu again. “Okay,” he whispered. “Sorry.”

“Stop being sorry!”

Patton winced and nodded. “Right. Sure. Okay. You look up the stuff on this page and I’ll do this one. Remember any that sound good, okay?”

In the end, they found six dishes they actually wanted to eat. One was basically chicken tenders, and Patton had no idea why they were calling it whatever that said, and the others turned out to mostly be mixes of vegetables. Patton didn’t want any of the stuff with fish — because, ew — and that knocked out easily three quarters of the menu, which was around when he realised he should have researched the place first.

Patton really did have a great time, though, mocking the names of the dishes and the sizes of the plates and wheeze-giggling as Remus made fun of the serious-looking couples around them.

The ruckus they were causing made the waiter come over and ask them to leave. Remus’ expression of genuine shock was enough to send Patton all the way over the edge, and he practically screamed with laughter. They ran out of the place, giggling and throwing more money on the table than they could have possibly owed, and rushed into the street, their fingers intertwined.

“So! What do you think, now?” Remus asked.

“I picked that awful restaurant. You get to pick now.”

Remus snorted. “Hm… Follow me.”

He kept Patton’s hand in his own as he started dragging him down the street. Once Patton fell into step beside him, he swung their joined hands back and forth between them, and Patton stared at the side of his face, bathed in the golden light of the streetlamps and grinning like he’d won the lottery, and he let him talk and talk about how stupid that restaurant was and how he should’ve robbed all those stuffy couples before he left. Patton didn’t think he could have replied if he wanted to, too busy giggling and gasping at the more vulgar insults he would spit out.

Then, Remus stopped suddenly, and Patton turned to look at where they were.

“Uh— This is my apartment building,” Patton said slowly.

“Sure is.”

“I’m… Is this… Do you want tonight to be, um… over?”

“Nope! I wanna go inside.”

“Right,” Patton said, like he understood. “Is this— Are you… Were you only doing this for, um… sex? Because I don’t want that yet—”

“What? No. Of course not. I just want to go inside. We can watch a movie and order real food to be brought to your place like real rich people do. Or we can play games, or just talk.”

“But— But that’s just what we do anyway,” Patton said slowly.

“Yeah, so? Patty, I don’t want you to be a different person just ‘cause we’re dating now. We aren’t even dating, we’re just… trying it out. I don’t need to do the getting to know you bullshit that we have to do on most first dates. I know you. I love you. You’re my best friend. You took us to that restaurant because you thought you had to make us different to what we were before. I don’t want that. You don’t either. We can still be us. Nothing has to change, except I get to kiss you when I want to instead of pretending I don’t want to.”

Patton stared at him. Remus was still holding his hand, his thumb tracing Patton’s knuckles in a way he wasn’t sure Remus knew he was doing.

“Do we get to stay best friends?” Patton asked. “This won’t make it… weird?”

“Of course it won’t. You’ll be my best friend till I die, even if you kill all my family and get sent to prison and I’m not allowed to visit you. I’d think about you every day until I went crazy and started hallucinating you. Who cares if we call them dates now? We’re still us.”

“What if we decide this is a bad idea?”

“Then we go back to not kissing. It doesn’t matter. We’ll still be us.”

Patton stared at him, sniffling as tears began to burn in his eyes. “Do you promise?”

“Oh, you’re so lame, with your soft little feelings and your big wet eyes. ‘Course I promise.” He dragged Patton into his chest and hugged him tightly. “You’re stuck with me for life. This is just the first date. It doesn’t mean anything. You’ve been stuck with me for three years already — what difference could one first date make?”

Patton laughed wetly, burying his face in Remus’ bare chest. He sniffled, and pulled back to look up at him. “You— You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Like, all the time.”

“Right now? When I’m all covered in snot and tears?”

Remus snorted, but released Patton from the hug so he could grab his face and press their mouths together. Patton gasped into it, and his legs went just a little bit weak despite the tender gentleness of the kiss. Remus pulled away, just a little bit, enough to whisper, “All the fucking time. I wanna consume all your fluids at least once.”

“Oh, ew, you’re so gross,” Patton laughed, wiping his face on his hands. “I wasn’t even actually snotty.”

“Then that’ll have go back on the list,” shrugged Remus.

Patton laughed, but reached up on his toes, kissing Remus again. “C’mon then. You can pick the movie.”

“You pick the movie, I pick the takeout. You lost food choice privileges.”

Pouting, Patton turned away and moved to unlock the door to his building, shooting forlorn glances over his shoulder as he did so.

“Aw, c’mon. Obviously I was gonna pick pizza anyway. I know your favourites, Pattycake.”

He had to admit he had a little too much fun walking into the toy store fully clad in his villain uniform—he had Roman wear his own mask too, just in case—and then strolling about the store quite harmlessly, pushing a shopping cart in Roman’s happy wake and blithely ignoring the stares and murmurs of the other shoppers and employees. Instead he focused on Roman’s chatter and on answering his every single hesitant “can I—?” with an immediate “Yes,” no matter what.

The cart filled up quite rapidly as a result of this strategy, and though Virgil did his best to encourage Roman, eventually the child took notice of how many items he’d already chosen and clearly reigned himself in, much to Virgil’s chagrin.

“Um—” Roman hesitated, no longer bouncing around. “I think I’m done. This is plenty.”

“It’s not a problem,” Virgil assured him.

But Roman nodded his head. “I’m done.” He assessed Virgil’s face, where he likely found some trace of worry or dissatisfaction, because he then added comfortingly, “I mean, if it’s really important to you, it would definitely be okay for you to get me more later.”

This startled a laugh out of Virgil. “Good to know,” he said, allowing Roman to lead the way to the cash register.

***

Logan took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

“Patton, baby, can you get it?” he heard Janus call from inside.

“Okay!” Patton responded; there were thumping footsteps, and the noise of the lock unbolting.

Logan set down the bag he was carrying, letting it lean against the wall, and braced himself as the door swung open.

Patton’s jaw dropped. “Uncle Logan?” He sprung into motion almost before he finished talking, and even though Logan had been prepared for it, the impact of Patton literally leaping into his arms sent him stumbling back a half step.

“Uncle Logan!” Patton repeated in a happy shriek, a little too close to Logan’s ear for comfort, his voice now bearing the undertones of a croak and the texture of his skin going from warm peach-fuzz to clammy and cool in the span of only a second or two.

Logan pressed a kiss to the little boy’s temple. “Hello, Tadpole,” he greeted, shifting to hold Patton more securely—the child was really too big to be picked up at this point, but his frog powers made him more than strong enough to climb anyone he pleased and hold on for as long as he wanted, so this made little difference. “I’ve missed you.”

“Well, I missed you, missed you, missed you! Which is more,” Patton said, nodding decisively. “You got too busy.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Logan tousled Patton’s hair. “How has—”

“Um, did you know Daddy got a boyfriend?” Patton interrupted. “It was a long time ago now, um, his name’s Remus. He’s really fun and cool.”

“I did know that, yes. He works in my lab.”

“What?” Patton shrieked, once again testing the strength of Logan’s eardrums.

“Indeed.” Logan pried Patton off himself and lowered the child to the ground.

“I didn’t know that!” Patton hopped in place. “So you’re friends with him?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Logan picked up his bag and offered Patton his hand. “How has school been?”

Patton lit up again. “I can jump twelve feet high!” he started, and was off in an eager babble. Logan led him through the door, closing and locking it behind them, and sat on the living room couch, where Patton stood before him, still clasping Logan’s hand, hopping back and forth from foot to foot, seeming too energized to sit down as he continued eagerly telling Logan every little detail that came to mind.

Logan listened and nodded along, interjecting the occasional comment or question. Across the open floor plan, in the kitchen, he could see Janus and Remus; Remus’s back was to the living room, his arm was around Janus’s waist, and Janus was gazing up at him with an unguarded, adoring look, leaning up every so often to exchange tiny kisses in between the quiet conversation they seemed to be holding.

Logan, seeing that his attention was unlikely to be needed there while the pair of them were so engrossed in each other, looked back to his nephew and allowed himself to focus fully on Patton’s excited ramble.

At last, when Patton’s frog features had mostly faded away into relative calm and he had talked himself out for the time being, he drew in a huge gasp, turned on his heel, and flopped backwards to lay on the sofa beside Logan. “Do you think Remus’s mustache is silly?” he inquired, looking at the ceiling. “I think it makes him look like a hipster.”

Logan could not hold back a startled snort of laughter at the comparison.

“A WHAT?” Remus demanded at the top of his lungs from the kitchen, not turning around, sounding absolutely scandalized.

Patton bounced to sit upright at once, giggling. “It does!” he insisted. This, from both of their tones, was clearly an ongoing argument.

Logan could see where the child was coming from; he himself had, on occasion, devoted the occasional amused thought to pondering what percentage of Remus’s income must be devoted to mustache wax. The young man seemed to always have a container on his person, and spent a not-insignificant amount of time every day fiddling with his mustache, ensuring that its upward-curled tips were never less than pristine and perfectly pointed.

“You are the most pernicious, mischievous, slanderous little delight of a rapscallion I have ever—” Remus cut off very suddenly as he fully turned towards the sofa and caught sight of Logan. “Doc?” he said after a moment’s flabbergasted staring.

Well. The fact that he had immediately recognized Logan, despite never having seen his unmasked face before, was—well, since it was Remus and Logan trusted Remus, it was a good sign. Though it would have been disconcerting in most other circumstances.

Logan waved. “Hello.” He cleared his throat. “It’s—Logan, actually.”

Remus drew in a breath of realization, looking back to Janus. “That’s why you pronounce ‘Logic’ so weird sometimes?”

“It’s—listen, it’s not my fault his supername is so similar to his real name,” Janus said, flushing with embarrassment. “I—” She looked over at Logan helplessly. “I’ve never actually let it slip! I promise!”

“I know,” Logan assured him. “I would have known, and we would have had a very long conversation about it, if you had ever done so.”

“That’s not really reassuring,” Janus muttered with a roll of their eyes.

“Good,” Logan retorted lightly.

“Here, let me—” Remus moved around the kitchen counter into the living room and offered a hand to take the bag from Logan. Logan handed it off, and Remus hastened back to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter and unloading the food inside it.

Janus made a pleased noise, picking up the container of deviled eggs and transferring it to the fridge. “Ooh, my favorites.”

“I’m aware,” Logan said, offering Patton his palm to drum on. “That is precisely why I brought them.”

“I mean, I would hope you wouldn’t bring something I didn’t like on purpose.” Janus moved to the stove and lifted the lid of a pot simmering on it to check whatever was inside.

“I would not,” Logan agreed, “nor would I do so by accident, since I am very familiar with your tastes.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know everything about everyone, I get it.” Janus replaced the lid and reached up to set a timer on the microwave.

“Not quite,” Logan felt he ought to correct, though he was pleased by the flattery. “I do believe I know very close to everything about you, specifically, though.”

“Hey! I’m mysterious!” Janus put their hands on their hips.

Logan only bothered to dignify this argument with “I have known you since you were fifteen years old.”

Janus rolled her eyes, clearly trying not to smile. “Whatever. Shall we play a game before dinner?”

“Yes!” Patton answered first, followed by slightly slower (Remus) and quieter (Logan) agreement from the rest of the room. Remus followed Patton to the shelf tucked in the corner of the room, while Logan set about clearing space on the coffee table.

“Oh, this puzzle looks super sick,” Remus commented, picking up a box and hefting it consideringly.

“Nope!” Patton grabbed it right back and hastily returned it to its place on the shelf. “We can’t play puzzles with Uncle Logan,” he explained in a loud whisper.

“Oh, I see,” Remus whispered loudly back—his clearly a deliberate stage whisper rather than an accident born of youth. “How come?”

“It makes him go like this.” Patton hopped over to sit next to Logan on the couch and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clutching his head with both hands, making an exaggerated face of despair.

Remus looked over at Logan, clearly not sure if he was allowed to laugh; Janus, displaying no such qualms, was already in fits of delighted giggles at Patton’s imitation.

Logan smiled in spite of himself; Patton was simply too adorable. “Well. I try my best not to do that,” he commented mildly. “But sometimes it is very hard.”

“He’s toooooooooooo smart,” Patton explained to Remus. “And it bugs him watching everyone else do the puzzle wrong.” He scooted back across the couch until he could dangle over the arm to reach the shelf once more and pulled out a board game. “We should play this one instead! This one is lots of fun!”

Janus had by now composed himself, though slower and more dramatically than Logan thought was strictly warranted. (There had been a bit too much overexaggerated dabbing tears of laughter from her eyes for Logan’s taste.) “That’s a great choice, baby,” she told Patton, dragging the armchair from the corner over to within arm’s reach of the coffee table and relaxing into it.

Remus sat himself cross-legged on the floor by Janus’s knee and busied himself helping Patton to unpack and set up the game.

Janus was right, Logan noted—the game was indeed a good choice; he’d played it with Janus and Patton a handful of times before. It was a cooperative game with enough complexity to entertain on repeat playthroughs, while remaining simple enough that explaining the rules to Remus didn’t take too long. Patton was able to handle most of it during the setup.

“Coolio,” Remus commented at last, leaning against the side of Janus’s armchair. “I think I got it.” He picked up the green player token and moved it to the start point.

“There is plenty of room on the couch, Remus,” Logan pointed out.

“I’m good,” he said, reaching over and patting vaguely at Janus’s shins by way of explanation. “Thanks, though.”

Logan nodded and didn’t push it. He calculated that probably at least 70% of Remus’s motivations, if not more, truly did lie in being as close as possible to Janus—but he also detected just a hint of tension and apprehension in Remus’s demeanor.

It took very little thought to find a likely reason. Janus had said they weren’t telling Remus or Patton ahead of time that Logan was coming; Patton was, of course, more than accustomed to Logan’s presence, but Remus until now had only known him within the context of Dr Logic. Perhaps Logan wasn’t the only one feeling minor trepidations about adjusting to each other’s company in this new setting. And at least Logan had known to expect it. Remus, by Logan’s best estimation, must be trying to guess if this was truly a casual environment, or if he was expected to continue to behave with a semblance of professionalism in front of Logan, even outside of work.

Logan would simply have told Remus outright that all was well, but this would likely have inspired some defensiveness from Janus—he could tell they hadn’t yet realized anything was amiss with Remus, and the realization would certainly be an unwelcome one, what with how fond and protective of him they were. So Logan decided to wait for an opportune moment to speak to Remus, and in the meantime turned his focus back to the game and to Patton, who had easily taken his place as tiny director of the team.

“Remus, you can be focused on the forest,” Patton was saying, “and, um, for that, the bluebirds are pretty good, but the mushrooms are definitely the most important in the forest. And the hedgehogs are okay if you get one, but don’t, like, try to get them, they really don’t matter so much. The foxes are super cute but we don’t want them, try and trade them for owls if you can. Okay?”

Remus nodded seriously, palming the two forest die from the pile of supplies in the middle of the board. “What’s our policy on squirrels?”

“Oh, those are good too, but not as good as the mushrooms still.” Patton eyed the board critically. “Uncle Logan, you can do the water cycle like you normally do,” he suggested. (Logan found this greatly amenable and accepted the little bag of tokens with a smile.) “Mama, I want a turn running the market, so can you do the maze?”

“Sure, baby.” Janus took the spinner and balanced it on the arm of his chair, then went back to winding Remus’s curls around his fingers.

Patton beamed, lining up the different stacks of cards on the marked spaces in the market section. “Perfect! So I get to go first, because I’m the youngest and it’s the weekend.” He waved the rulebook, though nobody challenged the statement.

“So wait—” Remus pointed to the round base placed on the center of the board. “Who’s in charge of building the tree?”

“Everybody is,” Patton explained, rolling the basic non-forest dice, consulting Janus’s spinner, and marking down the results on the chart whiteboard. He moved his token forward a few spaces, passed a card from the market to Remus, and drew two for himself. “Technically everybody does everything whenever they need to, but Daddy and Uncle Logan and me figured out it gets a lot easier if each person keeps track of one section of the game the most. But everybody builds the tree, it doesn’t work otherwise.” He frowned at the cards. “I can’t put down any trunk pieces yet, so I guess I end my turn.”

Logan was next, and with a lucky roll from both the dice and the spinner, not only was he able to place the first trunk piece on the tree base, he also collected an owl and a card from the market, and he even scheduled a rainstorm for his next turn. A highly satisfactory first-round turn, if he did say so himself.

Gameplay continued on; Remus only had to be talked through his turn for a couple of rounds before he really started to get the hang of it. Logan clocked the exact moment—during his own turn on the fourth round—when Remus noticed the pride flag Logan wore on his watchband. He barely reacted, really hardly more than a blink, but that was still enough for Logan to notice it happen. The lack of fanfare was a tremendous reassurance—much greater than Logan had expected, in fact. Remus was clearly surprised, but not deeply so. It was news to him, but unremarkable news. Logan could practically hear the way he might say, “Oh! Neat,” before shrugging and moving on.

Well, there was that out of the way. Simple, quick, and relieving. Logan had, of course, known his nerves over coming out to Remus were overblown, but it was delightful nonetheless to be proven so thoroughly right.

The timer went off; Janus tossed the spinner at Logan’s head and slipped back into the kitchen.

“I can take that, Doc,” Remus offered quickly.

“Thank you, Remus.” Logan, who had rolled his eyes and made no effort to catch the spinner, picked it up off the couch where it had landed after bouncing off of him. “And you are welcome to call me Logan here,” he added, catching Remus’s gaze to make direct eye contact as an underline to his sincerity. “When I am out of my suit, my intent is that my ‘work hat’ is fully off. I intend for this to be more of a ‘casual’ setting, if you will.”

Remus bit back a smile. “You don’t need to do all those air quotes, I get it.” He situated the spinner on the table to the side of his various other game pieces. “Thanks,” he added, with a hesitant, “Logan.”

“Of course.” Logan nodded once, feeling hopeful that this exchange would successfully diffuse the slight awkwardness that had been in the air between them.

“Daddy, it’s your turn!” Patton called.

“You can skip me,” Janus responded.

Patton wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. “Can I do your turn for you?” he suggested instead.

“Sure.” There was a clattering of silverware. “Dinner’s ready in, like, maybe three minutes, though.”

“You want help, babe?” Remus hopped to his feet without waiting for an answer and made for the kitchen.

“I think that may be our cue to pause the game,” Logan informed Patton, who was busy moving about Janus’s tokens and cards.

“Okayyyy,” Patton agreed, not with enthusiasm. “Can you sit next to me at the table, too? I still have so much stuff to tell you!”

“I would be delighted to,” Logan informed him wholeheartedly.

***

By the time Roman and Virgil made it back to the lair, in addition to the clothes, toys, art supplies, and school supplies, they were also laden down with a bucket of red paint, some brightly-colored bedding and curtains, new snacks and sweets, and several boxes of furniture—a desk, some shelves and cupboards, hooks to hang on the walls, a bulletin board and some tacks, and further such things—that Virgil hoped would be more useful to Roman than the current setup of his room was. 

“Can we paint my room now?” Roman asked the moment they walked in the door, eyeing the paint bucket as Virgil set it on the countertop.

Virgil glanced at the clock. “I think not tonight,” he said, with some regret at the general concept of refusing anything to the kid. “It’s pretty much time for dinner. And it wouldn’t be good to sleep in a room full of wet paint. We can work on it tomorrow, or I can just have it done on Monday while you’re out at school. Or a bit of both. Whatever you want.”

“I want to do the painting!” Roman insisted. He twisted the paint bucket around until he could see the label and began reading it with interest.

“Sounds good. Tomorrow, then.” Virgil pulled up his calendar on his watch and checked his schedule for the next day. Pretty empty; one pending fight request from a hero whose name only sounded vaguely familiar. He opened that up and hit the decline button, then blocked off a few hours of his schedule for the painting escapade. After a moment’s consideration, he increased the length a bit, figuring that the chance of needing a shower afterward was high. Satisfied with this, he saved the calendar.

Roman had rapidly lost interest in the small print on the paint can, and was now rummaging through the bags. “Is this seriously all mine?” he inquired a little suspiciously.

“I don’t think that raincoat would exactly fit me, buddy,” Virgil wisecracked. “Yeah. All yours.”

“Wow,” Roman breathed, just as he obviously spotted the Lego bag amid the pile; he dropped the raincoat like a hot potato and pounced.

“What do you want for dinner?” Virgil asked hastily, before Roman could get too lost in that.

“Um, anything,” Roman said, clearly more focused on ripping open the box he’d selected. “Can I do this out here?” He looked up to gauge Virgil’s response. “Or does my stuff have to stay in my room?”

“Here is great,” Virgil said with a smile, and went to go see what he had in the fridge.

-

Plastering a smile onto his face, he clapped his hands. “Everyone ready?” He asked cheerfully, plopping into the driver’s seat. “AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!” Roman and Remus crowed in unison, to which Logan rolled his eyes. Janus slid into the passenger’s seat next to him with the grace of a lethargic cat. Patton dutifully kept his eyes on the rear view mirror as he pulled out of the driveway.

“I’m trusting you on aux, Jan,” Roman called from the back. “You better not disappoint!” Roman was usually the DJ of their road trips, as he always called dibs on shotgun (“dibs” used loosely, as he’d fight anyone who dared take his place as the resident passenger princess), but he had graciously relinquished his seat to Janus for this particular trip.

In fact, all of them had been exceptionally kind to both him and Janus for the past few weeks; Virgil had dropped a homemade loaf of sourdough at his apartment last week, saying that he “made too much”; Logan had told Patton that he’d pay the gas bill that Patton’s minivan was racking up for this trip; and, of course, Roman wouldn’t hear a word against Patton and Janus taking the master bedroom in the beach house they were renting.

It would melt Patton’s heart if it didn’t make his stomach twist with guilt.

He knew exactly where it was all coming from: they were expecting a proposal soon.

When Patton and Janus had first started dating in junior year of college, they could sense the wariness in their friends; they had all been inseparable since they first met in freshman year, and their concern that it would ruin the group dynamic was palpable.

That had been six years ago, though, and it really had only brought them all closer together. Janus and Patton had earned the nicknames “Mom” and “Dad”, respectively, and the others had all delighted in the prospect of one day being uncles to their kids.

And so, six years on in their relationship, everyone was clearly trying to contain their excitement about the proposal that they knew had to be coming soon.

So no, they couldn’t just tell the others about the breakup.

When it happened two months ago, Patton had fretted for days over how to break the news. Their trip to the beach, which had been a yearly tradition since they were sophomores in college, was looming, and he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking their hearts. His own was shattered already.

So when Janus showed up to move his stuff out of their apartment and suggested that they not tell the others until after the trip, it seemed like the best course of action at the time.

Now, the reality of the situation was really settling in as he drove on the freeway. He was facing down a week of playing lovebirds with his ex-boyfriend, actively deceiving the people in his life who knew him best, so yeah, you could say his resolve weakened a bit.

“Just to confirm, to avoid any confusion,” Logan began for what had to have been the fifteenth time that week. “Patton and Janus will be staying in the master bedroom. Roman and Virgil will take the first guest room, and myself and Remus will be staying in the second one, correct?”

Patton caught Roman’s eye in the rear view and exchanged a wry glance. Logan was clearly reiterating the sleeping arrangements over and over again in a futile attempt to get out of staying with Remus. Based on the way that Virgil had flushed bright red when Roman declared that they could room together, though, Logan’s efforts were completely in vain. Patton smiled a little in spite of himself. Virgil’s massive crush on Roman was one of the worst-kept secrets in the group; everyone knew about it except, of course, Roman himself, who was almost impressively oblivious.

“Yep,” Roman replied. “That’s what we all agreed on two weeks ago, L.” Logan said nothing in response and turned to stare out the window.

Their planning day two weeks ago was the first time that Patton had seen Janus since he had moved out. It also served as their “test run” for their charade, and it was just about as soul-crushing as Patton was anticipating it would be. He sat as close to Janus as he could bear, and forced himself to keep smiling, even as Roman showed them pictures of the room that they’d be sharing—he wasn’t really paying attention, as he was too preoccupied with the proximity of Janus’ knee to his. A wisp of blond hair escaped from Janus’ bun, as it often did, and Patton fought the urge to tuck it back. Instead, he gulped down a glass of the wine Logan had brought a bit too eagerly and studiously ignored the look it got him from Janus, who had the audacity to look amused.

Easy-peasy, he thought to himself, desperately avoiding Janus’s gaze.

All he’d have to do is make it through the week. One week, and then they could drop the charade and stop the lying and nothing would ever be the same in the group again.

He’d poured himself another glass of wine.

“Are we almost there?” Remus whined from the back row of seats, jolting Patton back to the present.

“Still another hour or so, Ree,” he responded, glancing at the GPS. Remus let out an anguished groan.

“Would you like a book to pass the time?” Logan asked, reaching into the bag at his feet. Every year, they’d all place bets on how many books Logan would read on vacation. His record was currently sitting at twelve.

“I’d rather have my arm torn off by wolves, no offense.”

“You’re quiet, Janus,” Virgil remarked.

“Hm?” Janus said, jolting a little beside him. Patton gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, but it filled him with a grim satisfaction to know that at the very least, he was on edge too. “Oh, just lost in thought. I’m ready to get into bed.”

“I’ll bet,” Remus grinned devilishly.

“Shut up, Remus,” Virgil laughed, smacking his arm.

“Anyways, we’ll be there soon enough,” Patton said, hoping that the frantic pitch in his voice came across as embarrassment. He could feel the hot blush creeping across his face. “And I’ll make spaghetti once we get there!”

“You don’t have to do that,” Janus said, and Patton startled. “You just drove, the least we could do is cook dinner.”

“Oh,” Patton managed. “That’s alright, I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll order pizza,” he said decisively, and Patton felt a mix of annoyance and appreciation. He’s so thoughtful. He always had been.

“Okay, if that’s alright with everyone else,” he replied unsteadily. “Thanks, honey.”

The pet name was out before he could stop himself, a habit the product of six years together. He thanked his lucky stars that he was driving, so he wouldn’t have to look at Janus.

“Of course, dear.”

His face burned.

Easy-peasy.

~

The house was stupidly perfect. Nestled in the heart of a picturesque beach town, it stood behind a picket fence, with white shutters and blue trim, framed by yellow rose bushes. It looked exactly like the kind of house he and Janus had always talked about moving to once they got married, and Patton’s heart gave another painful twist.

Everyone clambered out of the car, Remus darting forward to unlock the front door, everyone else grabbing their luggage. Patton breathed in the sea air and tried to steady himself.

The interior was just as lovely as the outside; light blue wood paneled walls decorated with paintings of the beach, with a pristine white couch that Patton had no doubt somebody would spill some brightly colored beverage on by the end of the week. Roman was breezing from room to room, showing everyone around, clearly quite pleased with himself for being the one to pick out their lodgings.

“You can choose which bed you want, I don’t mind either way,” he was saying to Virgil, their luggage piled in the center of their room.

“The place is beautiful, Ro!” Patton exclaimed as he poked his head through the doorway. Roman swelled with pride.

“Wait until you see your room! Here, lemme show you—it’s the one upstairs, at the end of the hall!”

“There’s an upstairs?” Patton asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yep! You and Janus will have the floor all to yourself,” Roman said, throwing a playful wink at him. Patton hoped that the giggle he forced out was convincing. “Here, let me help you get your stuff upstairs.”

They trudged to the top of the stairs, bags in tow. As Roman pushed open the door to the room at the top, clearly awaiting his reaction, Patton schooled his features into what he hoped resembled joy.

The room was lovely. There was a seafoam green loveseat in the corner, a big window thrown open to reveal a clear view of the bay on the far side, white linen curtains dancing in the light breeze, and in the middle, of course, there was a plush king sized bed, covered in throw pillows shaped like seashells.

He had known that there would only be one bed. Obviously there would only be one bed. It was the master bedroom and him and Janus had been together for six years, of course they’d be sharing a bed.

But knowing that beforehand and seeing the bed in person were two entirely different things.

“Oh, Ro,” he managed. “It’s…it’s lovely. Thank you.”

Janus appeared in the doorway behind Roman, holding his own luggage.

“Of course, Pat,” Roman said, squeezing his hand. “I knew you’d love it. I’ll let you two get settled!” And with that, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.

The silence stretched out, filling the room. It dawned on Patton that this was their first moment alone together in months. He felt uncomfortably warm. Finally, as the silence threatened to swallow them whole, Janus huffed. “You,” he began, “are a terrible actor.”

Patton opened his mouth and closed it. There was so much to say, and yet he could find no words at all. The tension was unbearable. He wanted to take Janus’s face in his hands, to search his gaze until he could fix whatever had broken between them. Instead, he pursed his lips and turned away, hoping that Janus wouldn’t hear the waver in his voice. “You knew that already.”

“I did,” Janus responded.

Patton cleared his throat. “There’s only one bed.”

“I’ve noticed.” Patton hated how utterly unbothered he sounded. So calm, cool, and collected while Patton was unraveling at the seams. As if six years down the drain meant nothing to him.

He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “So…?”

“So?” He could hear the edges of amusement creep into Janus’ voice, and his face burned.

“So, what do you want to do about it?”

Janus sighed. “I could sleep on the floor, if you want.”

“What? No! You—I wouldn’t make you do that!” He stammered out.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You sleeping on the floor for a week because of me would make me uncomfortable, Janus,” Patton shot back. “Please, let’s just—it’s fine. It’s a big bed, and it’s only a week.”

Janus was silent for a moment, staring at him. Patton tried not to squirm under his gaze.

“Fine. If that’s what you want,” he said finally.

“It is,” he responded, certain that his face was spectacularly red. “Um. I’m going to—grab my things.” He headed for the door.

Janus raised an eyebrow towards his luggage already piled in the doorway but said nothing.

He flew down the stairs, cheeks on fire, and into the kitchen, where Virgil was busy unpacking the food for the week.

“Oh, hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Patton responded, unsure why he was already so out of breath. “Um. I’ll cook tonight.”

“I thought we were ordering pizza, like Jan said?”

“I know, I know, I just—have a lot of energy right now, I want to keep myself busy.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Uh, alright. Everything okay?”

“Yep!” he said, wincing at the strain in his voice. “I just had too much coffee this morning before the drive, so. You know.” Terrible actor, indeed.

Virgil looked unconvinced. “Okay, if you’re sure. Just, uh—take it easy, alright? It’s supposed to be a vacation.”

“Says you,” he said, grinning a little and poking Virgil’s arm. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“This isn’t about me.”

“It is now!” Virgil huffed.

“Just…take care of yourself, okay?” he asked, his voice softening a bit, hints of real concern in his eyes. “You’ve been a little…uh, off, lately—“

“Off?” Patton’s stomach twisted.

“Not off,” he amended. “Just…tightly wound? And, y’know, I get why, but—“

“What?” He asked, panicked. If Virgil already knew…

Virgil looked abjectly confused, holding up his hands. “Just, y’know…” he lowered his voice a little bit. “The proposal?”

Oh. Yeah. That made more sense. It did nothing to ease his nerves, though.

“Right,” he choked out. Virgil stared at him for a long moment, his eyes searching his face. Finally, he looked away, sighing.

“All I wanted to say was that I want you to take care of yourself. It’s a vacation, and none of us want you to spend it working yourself to the bone for our sake.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know, Virge. Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he said resignedly, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the countertop. There was an uncertain air between them, and Patton did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t have Virgil worrying about him—he wouldn’t have it. Otherwise, what was this whole charade even for?

He helped Virgil unpack the rest of the food, trying his best to diffuse the tension between them. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when Virgil finally retreated into his room, resting his face in his hands.

He shouldn’t have come here. He should have pretended he had the flu, or told them that his apartment was robbed, or that his dog had gotten into chemical waste and was now a mutant wreaking havoc on the city, or—or something.

But then, that wouldn’t have really done anything—the others would have just rescheduled the trip for him, and then he’d have felt doubly bad.

He glanced at the clock, blinking green above the oven, sighed, and uncorked a bottle of wine.

Whatever happened tonight, at least he wouldn’t be sober for it.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be removed!)

@moceit @lily-janus @instantromannoodles

It seemed he’d lingered too long already as he stared at the alluring blaze, people yelling and scurrying to save possessions more than themselves. Their small forms were easily hidden by the growing flames. Half the wooden buildings were already entirely consumed, the husk roofs and dry paneling only added kindling now, growing the cloud of black smoke towering over the town like a tidal wave cresting.

It was hot even from where Janus stood from the treeline as an on-looker and really wished he knew why he didn’t just walk away now before he somehow got caught up in it. How he’d spotted a scampering child in the chaos of fleeing carts and denizens and domestic animals, he did not know, but they’d caught his attention.

Perhaps it was because this was the only living thing running towards the flames and not away.

No one was trying to stop him as he shoved past hurrying pairs of legs and almost tripped another.

…Only to dart into a weathered house that looked like a repurposed old storage. With the thatch roof and half the side up in flames. Janus gaped and tried to see if anyone else saw that, but they continued on with their own cares. Was literally no one going to stop the senseless half-pint?

It seemed the universe had unfortunately promoted him to active participant now because he’d gone and made the mistake of being a witness. Curse the guilt that clung to his soul, he owed no one anything. Who was his conscience to tell him what to do? How easy it’d be to turn and just leave if not for the threat of knowledge haunting him for the rest of his short life. He couldn’t get involved, he…he was already across the ditch that separated the trees from the dirt road.

Janus didn’t know when he’d fought his way out of the brush to stand outside the door the kid had run through. No one had spared the child a second glance and Janus realized for too long a moment he had already disappeared well inside. Sure, this building on the end of the row slightly back from the others hadn’t caught quite like it had already razed most of the quaint town, the sky amber and raining soot from all the wooden structures the flames devoured and grew from, reaching for more. It would happily take the boy too.

The house wasn’t large at all, at most just two rooms within it. What little had been in it was all but enveloped in flame and at the back of the room was the boy in all his three-and-a-half feet of feral fury, frantically trying to claw and yank his way through a solid door not yet taken by the flames, but close to it.

Janus didn’t know what the hell was so important, but as parts of the thatching fell through flaming, his only goal was snatching the kid and getting out un-barbecued.

Shouldn’t take more than 10 seconds, right?

Within 4 he had crossed the living space with burned hazards like what could’ve been a low table mistaken for a campfire. The kid looked scruffy, in an old green tunic a few sizes too big on his scrawny frame. Janus noted the bedraggled mostly brown hair he didn’t look to have ever attempted combing. He seized the child under their arms, worryingly lighter than he’d anticipated. Oh well, all the easier for him, no time to dwell. Back they went.

Or so he thought.

His plan was thwarted as the child exploded into a fury of limbs now trained on him, entirely ungrateful for Janus’ charitable rescue. A kick to his shin even as he held the child out had him swearing he’d be selfish and jaded the rest of his days.

Janus held the child away from him like you’d hold an angry cat you couldn’t put down, cursing internally. “ You dastardly little heathen, unless you want us to learn what the afterlife is like—“

Janus was cut off by a rather feral snap at his arms.

“Let GO!! I’m getting Roman! I’ll bite your hand off!” he screeched at Janus as if he were kidnapping him from his fiery demise.

Janus gapped at this, brain short-circuiting to process that. Well, it wasn’t because the kid was scared of his scar. “You… what?? Who—“

“MY BROTHER’S IN THERE, I’m not going yet!!” he snarled, desperate trying to throw himself free using his little weight against the traveler, and Janus’ mind stuttered again.

But they didn’t have time for him to leisurely consider that. Okay, so he had to readjust his previous timeframe with this new information. Would a minute work? Two? It would have to, because he didn’t have time and their other exit was far more perilous now.

He all but dropped the kid back onto his feet and grabbed the brass doorknob. The door didn’t budge, either blocked by a collapsed support or from expanding in the flames. Janus hoped it was the latter, otherwise, he didn’t think they’d be getting out alive at all.

“Hello? Kid, you conscious in there?” Janus called through the door even as he pulled up his sleeves. There was no reply, which didn’t help his hopes any.

With one more glance down at the child and seeing an insistent wave at the door and intense pointed stare of shockingly red eyes– had he just been lured by some sort of demon pretending to be a child to his admittedly deserved slow death after all? Was that why no one else had been stupid enough to follow? -- Janus stepped back and rammed his shoulder into the wood with all of his weight. He did it again while trying the doorknob and was relieved when he felt it give inwards, the pain of bruises he could feel blooming again, having him cursing himself for being here.

But if not him, no one, and then two children would be gone because no one had cared. Well, it’d be all three of them now, but they weren’t goners yet and so he wasn’t entertaining it.

Let it never be said that Janus didn’t try once in his life, though.

He coughed from the effort and how hard it was becoming to breathe, the hot air burned his eyes. Heat licking at the back of his neck, He took a step back and ran the four feet of room he had into the door with all his weight. It slammed open with a crack and he fell to the floor due to his commitment to his momentum, groaning.

Smoke billowed at the ceiling but the holes in the roof seemed at least to help in not choking them here. He was really banking on the thickness of the roof’s slats to buy them time before it fully collapsed in, but that thickness would also trap them if it fell early, the weight of it not enough to crush them, but a slow way to die from the surrounding smoke and flames. Janus grimaced.

The rotten goblin child scrambled in over top of him, the audacity. As much as he would rather stay splayed on the relatively cooler earthen floor, he knew he had to get up as the very real possibility of the half-burned roof trapping them at the bottom of what could become a bonfire grew with each passing second. He pulled himself up while grabbing his fallen hat as his shoulder let him know just how reckless it thought he was.

Janus pushed the plank door closed against the inferno behind them. It wouldn’t be a viable exit anymore anyway and might as well buy them time, futile and minuscule as it was.

The air was suffocatingly arid regardless and Janus needed to identify their new exit preferably soon.

The child to his credit was standing on the old bed frame trying to shove the window’s frame outwards and struggling due to his height, back to Janus.

Janus frowned and whirled around, expecting to see another kid occupying the little room. There was an old rumbled thin bed with no sheet and lumpy pillow that looked like a burlap bag stuffed with scrap cloth and wool. A worn brown blanket that looked like it was made the same way a sack would be (was it just a cut sack?) was rumpled on the floor beside the bed, discarded.

Perhaps he was hiding by the old wardrobe that was catty-cornered opposite the bed? But when Janus checked the place over, there was absolutely nowhere for another person to effectively be hidden away, no matter how short. The bed was high enough Janus saw the floor beneath it, also child-free.

Janus’ eyes snapped again to the only kid actually in the room, confused. The kid looked unbothered by a lack of this “brother” around, and only now Janus noticed a little crocheted doll in the crook of his arm, inhibiting his attempts to open the window as he refused to put it down.

Janus blinked a few times as his brain drew a conclusion just as the kid seemed to reach the latch. He gave a gap-toothed grin at his achievement and shoved it open before hopping down quickly and wiggling under the bed.

“I— you—!!“ the caped man sputtered as realization sparked a fiery fury, his blood pressure suddenly louder in his ears than the fire. “You made me break into a room in a burning building to get a doll??!” he hissed, unable to mask the vitriol in his tone.

“I didn’t ask you to come too! I’m his brother, of course I had to get him! Roman can’t move,” the insane child’s muffled voice replied with the tone of someone having to argue the grass was green.

The kid squirmed back out holding a curved circular object that looked like an oversized wooden plate in his hands. It was too shallow to be a bowl and had badly attached leather straps that looked like they were one good tug away from falling off. He then made a grab beside the bed and didn’t seem to be listening as he set the two items down.

Janus had half a mind to chuck the doll in his fury, but as it was they’d already committed to the damn thing, and causing a fuss now would absolutely delay their departure. He wasn’t so sure his rescuee wouldn’t go charging into the fire after it before Janus could grab him. Later, then. He could chuck it back through the window once they were safely outside to teach the child a lesson in self-preservation priorities. “A doll is replaceable!! What, you think you’re indestructible?! Last I checked you're a squishy little brat! Neither of us is fireproof!!”

The mini menace just glared and had the nerve to wiggle past Janus as the adult looked on incredulously.

He shoved the circle out the window first then quickly went for the other on the bed.

“Oh, yes, please do take your time packing, the blazing roof over our heads will wait for you.”

Janus lurched after the kid with his goodwill and patience all but abused and spent. He’d be chucking the kid out at this point because clearly he had not been born with any survival instinct. At all.

The child barely managed to wrap his free hand around the stick of the wooden sword before Janus was hiking him bodily over his shoulder and they were — with as much grace as a fawn on fresh ice— tumbling through the narrow window. It was all Janus could do not to squash the kid as they landed in the dirt.

They had landed and then rolled five feet from the fire and Janus couldn’t find it in him to move any further. Janus could only lie there, somewhat dazed, and coughed faintly. If death somehow still got him at this point, then so be it. Though he somehow forgot he wasn’t the only person here in that too-brief moment.

The kid sat up after 3 seconds of recovering from the rough landing.

He peered down over Janus, tipping Janus’ hat back onto his forehead from where it had rolled off. “Are you dead?”

Janus stared up and blinked slowly as the punctual roof finally fell in, throwing burnt hay and smoke up in the wind. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“Oh. Okay~” the now homeless child shrugged, sitting back beside Janus. The doll was held loosely in his arm as they watched the fire burn down everything manmade in front of them. “I’m Remus!”