Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Logan admitted, uncertainty coloring his words.

“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?” Remy asked with a pout.

Logan raised and eyebrow that the other couldn’t even see.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Remy admitted, “But think about it this way. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to end up driving at least once. This way at least you're watching over me versus someone less responsible, or, like me driving completely alone with no one watching over at all.”

“How would you even get a car?” Logan protested.

As he bantered with his cousin, he stared lazily up at his ceiling from where he and Remy were sprawled across his bed.

“I know where my dad leaves his keys, and it can’t be that hard to figure out. I’ll watch a video or something.”

“You live in a heavily populated neighborhood with narrow roads.”

“Exactly why you should let me drive with you versus subjecting my neighborhood to the terror that would be my driving,” Remy pointed out as he flipped over to face Logan.

And really, neither knew why they were still arguing this. Logan had already said that he would let Remy try driving a few days ago.

“Fine,” Logan grumbled, as if he had lost some great battle, “Let’s go.”

He stood up from his bed and grabbed the jacket that he had thrown over his desk chair.

“Hell yeah. Gurl, this is gonna be awesome,” Remy said, pumping his fist towards the sky.

“I think you mean that this is going to be a disaster,” Logan corrected.

“Okay, okay, okay, I just take my foot off the pedal?” Remy confirmed for the billionth time.

“Yes,” Logan repeated, patient as ever, “Just take it off slowly and we’ll start moving forward. Hit it and we stop. Hit the other pedal and that’s the gas.”

“And the other pedal is where?”

“Just to the right of your foot. If you shift your toes that way you can still feel it as you hold down the break.”

Silence fell over the car as Remy presumably did exactly that.

“Right okay, just take my foot off, yeah I can do that,” Remy insisted.

He didn’t move an inch and the panicked look on his face just grew stronger. His knuckles were stark white against the wheel and his shoulders were tensed up.

“What’s the thing in front of me?” he asked after a moment.

“Which thing?” Logan asked. He fiddled with his jacket string as he talked.

“The tall rectangular dark thing,” Remy clarified. He lifted one hand to gesture in it’s vague direction. It wasn’t really necessary considering it really was straight ahead.

“That’s a building, but it’s really far away. Hundreds of feet away. You’re nowhere near it, and definitely not going to hit it. You’re not near anything you can hit. You’re fine.”

Another tense silence fell across the car. Logan fiddled with the jacket string some more.

“So I just take my foot off?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Gurl imma do it,” Remy warned.

Nothing happened.

“Y’know, you don’t have to drive a car,” Logan said, “I mean, it’s more than fine wi-”

Logan’s breath caught as the car not only started to move forward as Remy eased his foot off the break but then speed forward as he pressed down on the gas.

The car went lurching forward much faster than either of them expected.

“Shit!” Remy yelped, and then slammed on the break.

The car stopped immediately with a jolt, sending both of the teens careening forward only to be caught harshly by their seatbelts.
A moment later and they were back in there seats, breathing heavily and with sore shoulders.

“You can be a lot, gentler, with the pedals Rem,” Logan commented. The advice was more than a bit redundant at this point.

“You’re telling me that now!” Remy yelped. His voice bordered on hysteria.

Logan sighed.

“Can I touch you?” he asked

Remy gave a shaky nod.

Logan reached over and put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” Logan instructed. He waited until Remy did so. “I promise you, this is safe,” Logan said, “I wouldn’t be letting you even sit in the driver’s seat if I didn’t think it was. You just need to slowly ease off the break. Start with that and the car will go forward slowly. Then- if or when you feel ready- softly press down on the gas. That’ll speed you up. If you want to stop or slow down, switch back to the break. Try not to slam it, but slowly press down until it won’t anymore. Break is your left, gas is your right. Got it?”

Remy nodded and stared straight forward. He adjusted his sunglasses and nodded again.

“Okay,” he said eventually, “I’m ready.”

The younger of the two gently let off the break, and for a few seconds the car slowly rolled forward. Then, Remy started to press down on the gas, letting the car steadily climb in speed. When it reached twenty five, and Remy showed no signs of stopping, Logan spoke up.

“Rem, you’re at 30 miles per hour, try to steady out here. This is the speed limit for residential streets.”

“But we’re in a parking lot?”

“Still, it’s your first time driving, you really don’t need to be going any faster. Plus, you’re also supposed to drive slower in parking lots. It just doesn’t really matter right now because it’s completely empty”

“Oh come on,” Remy complained, “you’re no fun.”

“Show me how to break and I’ll let you go faster.”

Remy did so, numerous times, and once Logan was quite sure he could break consistently and more smoothly, he let him drive faster.

“Holy shit,” Remy breathed out, as they raced down a long stretch of empty parking lot, “You could like, kill someone with one of these.”

“Slow down and break soon,” Logan told him, “You’re approaching the end of the lot.”

Remy did as told.

“Of course you can kill people with cars,” Logan said, “That’s why there’s so many laws and regulations. It’s not like you haven’t been in a car. You know they’re dangerous.”

“Did you know I was hit by a car once?”

“You were what?” Logan yelped.

“Yeah, it was like, third grade? Mom was backing out of the driveway, didn’t see me, barely bumped me. She felt horrible about it, and I mean I was absolutely fine but yeah.”

“Please don’t do that again,” Logan insisted.

“It’s not like I was trying to,” Remy complained, “I was playing in the dirt or something, I dunno.”

Logan rolled his eyes but dropped the subject before speaking up.

“Let’s turn again, and you can drive fast one more time before we go home.”

Remy made the turn as Logan instructed, but before racing back towards the other side of the parking lot, he turned to Logan.

“He Lo?”

“Hm?”

“Can I drive home?”

“Absolutely not.”

Chapter Text

The first time it happened was after a movie night at Patton and Logan’s dorm. A regular occurrence, nothing out of the ordinary, except there was one major difference. Roman had been invited to join them. Virgil was still apprehensive around the other boy. They would get along for a minute or so until one or the other go snippy about something and it was back to arguing again. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Virgil couldn’t trust him yet. He had barely started trusting Patton and Logan themselves.

They held movie night, and like always, watched movies for way longer than they should have, even if tomorrow was still the weekend. And so, due to they way to late- or early depending on who asked- hour, Patton had suggested Roman and Virgil stay. And because he didn’t have a good reason to say no, Virgil said ‘why not.’

Now here he was, at some unknowable time of the day, sitting in the corner of the room, scrolling through his phone to pass the time as everyone else snored around him.

It’s not that Virgil didn’t want to sleep. It’s just. He couldn’t. Roman was here. And Virgil didn’t trust Roman. And if Virgil was asleep, who knows what could happen? After all how many times had he fallen asleep on a shabby cot and woken up somewhere else.

~~~

Metal bed, thin mattress, one sheet. Not that Virgil was complaining. That was the first thing he learned not to do, complain. Virgil, like every night before that, fell onto the bed, exhaustion creeping through him. In seconds he was asleep.

And seconds later, or so it seemed, he was awake. But the ceiling wasn’t the same. In fact, there was no ceiling above him at all. Wait what? Virgil sat up, heart racing as he tried to figure out where he was. He looked around, taking in the densely packed pine trees and dark sky. So it was still night. And he must be in the forest just outside the compound.

Could he- Could they have let him go? Did they dump him the forest, leaving him? Holy shit, was he free?

At that thought, Virgil scrambled to his feet quickly and looked around in all directions.

“Hello?” he called cautiously, not quite believing the possibility of freedom yet.

No response.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. They did leave him. He was free.

At that thought, Virgil let out a laugh and ran.

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was running or if he was even running in the right direction, but it somehow seemed to be the only choice. He wasn’t sure if there even was a right direction, all he knew was that he was finally, finally-

SNAP!

Virgil fell flat on his face as his feet were pulled out from under him.

He let out a cry of pain as his nose rammed into the ground, quickly spurting out blood. He held his sleeve up to him and whipped around to see what tripped him.

A chain. A chain that was attached to is leg and then traveled across the forest floor and then attached to a tree.

The small shred of hope Virgil had been holding onto shriveled up and fell away. Goosebumps started forming across his body and he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him.

Frantically, he looked around, searching for someone- something. He didn’t know.

He didn’t find anybody, but he knew they were watching. They always were.

He thought about trying to get the chain off, or maybe somehow getting it off the tree. There were rocks around, he could try to smash it. And did he want to. Oh, did he want to.

But it wasn’t worth the risk.

If they tied him here it had to be some sort of test, had to be some sort of reason to it. Not worth it, he decided. So he sat there. And sat. And sat.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but due to the lighting fading and brightening once again, he knew it had to be at least a day, not more than two. That’s when the came and got him. Unchained him, cleaned his nose up, whispered sweet words as they hugged him close.

They were so proud that he hadn’t tried to escape. That running thing at first had them a bit scared, but that was just him being silly, right? He didn’t mean it, right? He knew they loved him, right? Right?

~~~

When Virgil came back to the present, Trixie was laying on top of him and licking at his hand. He praised her softly and pet her as a few tears leaked from his eyes. They stayed like that for a while, in their solitude. Or what he thought was solitude.

“Virgil?” Patton asked.

Virgil gasped at the noise, whipping towards the boy who had made it, heart speeding up.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton just offered, posture relaxed.

Right. Patton’s dorm. All was good. He was safe.

“Hey Patton.”

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

Virgil shook his head mutely.

Patton just, “Hmm’d” and didn’t question him further. Virgil appreciated that.

They sat there, staring at each other, now in a different sort of solitude. They could hear the wind whistling outside and the faint noise of laughter before it was cut off with a ‘shh’ from a group still awake down the hall. Otherwise, it was completely silent. It was nice, Virgil decided.

“Uh, Virgil,” Patton eventually said.

Virgil focused on his friend.

“Would- Do you mind going over to my desk drawer and grabbing my meds?” the boy asked, still in bed.

Virgil looked up at him, still sort of processing everything around him after his flashback. Noting that all of this, this room was real.

“Virgil?” Patton called again when he showed no indicator of having heard.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that,” Virgil agreed. He directed Trixie off him but had her stay right at his side. He walked over to the desk and opened the drawer Patton indicated. The bottle was easy to find. Not locked anywhere- which Virgil guessed made sense he had just never really had that option himself. Too risky. Too easy.

“Do you want me to grab you some water?” Virgil asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Patton said back.

Virgil nodded and retrieved some, before bringing both things back to Patton.

He took the pills with practiced ease, a trait Virgil recognized in himself.

After, the two once again fell back into silence.

“Can’t sleep?” Patton spoke up.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. Patton didn’t say anything in response, so Virgil assumed he was in a similar boat.

“Do you wanna talk?”

Virgil gave him a look. Was this a ploy to get him to open up? He could never tell with Patton. Sometimes Patton was so earnest and willing to listen to what Virgil had gone through, never mind that Virgil himself wasn’t really ready to share that. Other times, Patton literally just wanted to talk. About literally anything.

“About?” Virgil asked, because that was always a safe way to test the waters with Patton.

“I dunno,” Patton said with a shrug, “Anything?”

Virgil thought about it.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

It was the first sleepless night of many the two shared together. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Chapter Text

It’s when Virgil first notices the greying around Trixie snout that he realizes he’s going to have to get another dog. And really, he should of been prepared for this. He’s gone through the process once before now. But he didn't prepare, and he didn’t expect it, and then one day, it hits him.

Trixie’s getting old.

She’s what, nine now?

Virgil knows the life expectancy of a Dutch Shepherd. Knows that she’s not supposed to live more than 14 years at the very most. If she hit 11 and died, it wouldn’t be an anomaly, just bare average.

It’s then he realizes that he might only get two more years with her.

He gulps and his eyes sting a little.

At the action, Trixie perks her ears up and raises her head to look at him. She shuffles a bit closer to him from her own spot on the couch and drops her head in his lap. He lifts his head to automatically pet her, and then pulls out his computer to start looking up service dog training programs.

Both Dolly and Trixie were trained in Utah. Now that he’s in Florida he’s going to have to find a new place.

He doesn’t quite have it in him to start looking for a new dog yet.

He brings it up at dinner a week later.

“I’ve started looking into getting a new dog,” he tells his husbands.

Roman almost drops the salad dressings he’s passing.

Logan looks towards Trixie, settled in the corner.

Patton just breathes out a, “What?”

A lump settles in Virgil’s throat.

“Trixie is nine now. The life expectancy for Dutch Shepherds are 11-14 years. Training a new dog can take up to two years. It only makes sense to start looking for a new dog now. I’ve already begun to look into training as well.”

The room fell silent after Virgil’s brief explanation.

“Verge, you okay?” Patton asked softly.

Was he? Getting a new dog meant replacing Trixie, replacing Trixie because she was getting older and was going to die. Trixie was going to die. Was that okay?

“Virgil,” Logan’s voice cut in, “Trixie probably has at least two years left. While I don’t think it’s a bad idea to start looking for your next dog, you need to remember that Trixie is still here. She’s here and you have at least two more years with her.”

Virgil glanced over to where Trixie was. She raised her head at his glance. He called her over and had her set her head in his lap. He stroked her silky ears, grounding himself. Logan was right. He had at least two years left with her. It was pointless to start grieving now.

That night he started researching breeds.

Dolly had been a Bernese St. Bernard mix. Her large size allowed Virgil to feel protected and safe.

Trixie came next, smaller, longer lifespan, much more energetic, and always ready to perform.

Labs, German Shepherds, Poodles, and Golden Retrievers are all common choices for service dogs due to their loyalty, energy, working drive, and intelligence.

Remy had a Labradoodle due to their work ethic and being hypoallergenic. When he got his second, he had gotten the same breed through the same breeder who specifically bred dogs to be Guide Dogs.

Virgil’s situation was different. While his dog had been trained to respond to his own cues perfectly, it wouldn’t need to go through nearly as much training as any of Remy’s dogs. Breeds for PTSD dogs had always been laxer. After all, any dog could hypothetically be a service dog if they could handle the training.

And that’s why at this exact moment, Virgil was stuck. He really could go with any breed, and he didn’t know which one to choose.

Roman leaned over next to him on the couch to watch what Virgil was doing.

“Every thought about just going to a shelter?” he asked casually.

Virgil looked up at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked, “I mean, there’s obviously a lot of variety there. And shelters get so full and dogs get put down all the time. Plus, don’t mixed breeds generally have a longer lifespan and less medical complications anyway?”

Virgil gave him a soft shrug, but started looking up shelters.

Four weeks later, he had a plan.

“Hey, Roman, want to come with me?” Virgil asked casually one day.

Roman looked up from the kitchen table from where he was probably scrolling through social media on his phone. He gave a blinding smile to Virgil.

“Where too?” he asked, as if he hadn’t already gotten up and grabbed his shows, ultimately deciding that he was indeed coming.

“Pet store, need to get food for Trix,” he replied. Roman nodded.

He then slipped on his shoes and grabbed the keys for the car before Virgil- who was literally about to grab the keys- could get a chance.

“Fuck you,” Virgil responded as he reached for Trixie’s harness instead. He held it out and allowed her to slide into it,

A minute later the two plus the dog clamored into the car.

“So,” Roman said after a second, “What are we really doing? Because Trixie isn’t low on food.”

Virgil sighed and nodded, expecting the question sooner or later. Admittedly, he had been expecting it a bit later consider he didn’t realize Roman apparently paid attention to how much food Trixie had.

“We are still going to the pet store,” Virgil admitted, “But there’s a rescue group there today, and we’re going to go look at some of the dogs.”

“Really!” Roman asked, almost hopping out of his seat. HE turned to grin out Virgil, eyes sparkling with the idea of looking at all the dogs.

“Yes,” Virgil admitted, “But please please do not crash the car.”

Roman refocused on the road with a pout. This was exactly why Virgil had wanted to drive.

“I looked into shelters like you recommended,” Virgil continued, “And shelters are great. But there’s a lot of dogs at a lot of different shelters. And I’m looking for a dog that’s going to be able to do a lot of things that a fair amount of dogs can’t do.

“So I looked further and found a few rescue groups. And what they do is they go to shelters and take in some of the excess dogs that they think they can find homes for. Generally very interactive and friendly seeming dogs. I thought going through the rescue groups would hopefully be faster as well as maybe cutting down the amount of dogs that wouldn’t work because they just wouldn’t be able to meet the skill level.”

“That’s kinda harsh,” Roman admitted after a moment.

“I know,” Virgil sighed, “Which is why I brought you, and not Patton. Look, dogs are great. I obviously love them. But I’m not looking for a pet, I’m looking for a partner. I need a dog that if it comes down to it, can keep me safe and alive. I need the dog to be friendly, intelligent, and have a strong work drive. The rescue groups look for some of these exact traits when they take in the dogs. So…”

“Fair enough,” Roman agreed.

What Virgil had said had been very true. He wasn’t looking for a pet that didn’t necessarily need to know how to stay put, or not bark, or heel. He was looking for a partner who would respond to the slightest change in his body language and breathing. That required a different level of dog.

“And chances are, I still may not find what I’m looking for here,” Virgil admitted, “but I liked your idea, so I decided to try this before going to a breeder.”

Roman nodded as they pulled up to the pet store. He parked quickly and ran around to open Virgil’s door before he could do it himself, giving him a goofy smile as he opened the door. Virgil just rolled his eyes and shook his head at the action, but did give him a peck at the corner of his lips.

“So,” Roman started once Virgil and Trixie had exited the car, “That all sounds good, but why am I here?”

“There’s a lot of dogs, and a lot of people,” Virgil said. And correct he was. In front of them, the pet store was swarming with people and barking, “Chances are, Trixie will get distracted, either because the sheer amount of dogs, or people trying to pet and distract her. You’re here as Trixie’s back up.”

“Great,” Roman mumbled, “My life’s goal, to be a backup service dog.”

Virgil gave a short laugh, but even so he was trembling slightly.

Roman held out a hand, which Virgil took.

“I got you,” he promised, “If things get too much, we’ll just leave and go home. You’re safe, and everything’s okay.”

Virgil gave him a grateful smile and a small squeeze of a hand before charging into the crowd.

They spent a good two hours looking at dogs and talking to people working there. Trixie did end up getting distracted, mostly by the overwhelming amount of people who blatantly disregarded her ‘Service Dog: Do Not Pet’ vest. Plus, dogs were running everywhere, and no one seemed to have any real control over any of them. Even with Trixie slightly distracted, she never physically left Virgil’s side, followed every command Virgil gave her, and never barked.

Later, once Virgil had had time to calm down from the crowd, Roman knew he would be proud of her behavior.

Even after the two hours, they did not end up finding a dog for Virgil.

They went home with the rescue groups business card, a few extra treats for Trixie, and thoughts racing through their heads.

The next week they tried again. And then the next. And then the next.

 It was week six when a dog caught Virgil’s eye.

A puppy. Small for now, but would get to a medium to large size. Mostly German Shepherd and Boxer. Male. House broken at the age of four months, a sign of intelligence and quick to learn new skills. Playful but quiet, not yapping like the rest of the dogs around him. Attentive and healthy.

“I think this could work,” Virgil admitted as they played with the puppy, “Trixie, what do you think?”

Trixie seemed completely uninterested In the dog, her focus solely on Virgil and Virgil alone.

“Yeah, this could work.”

They went up to the front to ask about the dog and possibly apply for adoption.

“Oh yeah, that’s Bowser,” the lady working, “A lot of people came by and liked him today, but I can definitely put you down.”

They filled out the many forms and were reminded to not get their hopes up before leaving for home.

A week later and they were informed that they had the chance to foster the dog for two weeks, and if they still wanted him after that, they could keep him.

The decision was immediate and they picked up Bowser the next day.

When Virgil brought him home, Patton and Logan immediately melted for the puppy in the same way that both Virgil and Roman had a week earlier.

Trixie, now off duty, inspected the pup for the first time. The tiny pup batted at her nose and she jumped back in surprise, before leaning forward slightly to sniff and nudge him gently. The room laughed and an atmosphere settled over the room. An atmosphere that just seemed natural.

Two weeks later, Virgil made his decision. He would be keeping the dog that had now been renamed Kit. Virgil had absolutely refused to keep the name Bowser, even though Roman found it hilarious. Kit was playful and sweet. Trixie doesn't seem to mind the small rascal, and the four of them had all fallen in love with puppy. Things were good.

And just like that, Kit became part of their family.

Chapter Text

Look, Remy hadn’t planned on getting his ears pierced. He also wasn’t planning on greatly upsetting his dad by getting his ears pierced.

Both things happened to be unplanned, great choices, and incredibly successful.

It started with Remy taking Cha-Cha for a walk. Meaning it really started because Remy had finished his homework- for once- and was now trying to avoid his dad at home. Taking Cha-Cha for a walk was the perfect excuse. An excuse that also included making an inevitable detour towards Starbucks- the nearest one on his current path being in the middle of the mall.

Once he had acquired said drink, he started to leave, tracing the familiar path out of the mall. As he was doing so, he suddenly heard a loud screech from just off to his side.

“CLAIRE’S!” a young child screamed, “Mom, can we please go in, please, please, please??”

After calming down from a child screaming his fucking ear off, he came upon a realization.

“Cha-Cha,” he instructed, “Find a chair.”

She did so for him, and after he checked to make sure there was indeed no person sitting in it, he took a seat.

He stuck an earbud in one of his ears and pulled out his phone to google his question. His question being “age to pierce ears without a parent.” Okay, so it wasn’t actually phrased as a question, but the intent was there.

His phone gave him an answer. 16. He had to be 16 to get his ears pierced without parental consent.

Remy had turned 16 a few months ago. He may not have a driver’s license, but hopefully his school ID would be good enough.

He walked back over to the store he thought was Claire’s- judging it based on proximity of the young child’s earlier screech- and had Cha-Cha find a door.

He ducked inside.

When he and Cha-Cha entered, he asked her to find a person. A search that did not take long as she just led them a bit towards the left.

“Hello?” he called, “Do you work here?”

“Yes, how can I help you?” a friendly voice piped up, growing a bit louder as the person walked towards him.

“Is this Claire’s?”

It seemed to be, there was a lot of sparkly things covering the walls as well as stands throughout the store.

But, best to confirm where he was first, so he did actually get his ears pierced instead of accidentally buying some weird modern art piece or something from some random store.

“Yes,” the worker confirmed.

“You do ear piercings, right?”

“Yes,” the worker said again, “We do. We have a few different kits you can choose from, and there’s no appointment necessary. You can just have whoever come in and we can do it right then.”

“Can you do it right now?” Remy asked. It was now or never, and Remy was feeling it. If he really did hate them he could just take them out and let his ears close up.

“Yes, we absolutely can. Who’s ears are we piercing today?”

“Mine.”

“Oh,” the worker said, surprise apparent in her words, “Uh, do you have a parent with you?”

“I’m sixteen,” Remy explained.

She asked for ID, which Remy provided with his school card, which indeed counted. She then went to show him his different options. She did this, of course, by grabbing his hand and tugging him forward.

Remy startled at the grasp and pulled his hand away. He then explained to her that wasn’t how you guided someone who was blind. He showed her how to correctly guide him with her elbow/upper arm, and they continued to the ear piercing selections. Which was confusing. Because he apparently couldn’t just choose any earrings. Weird but whatever.

She described each one to Remy, and let him actually hold examples, which he was grateful for. He studied all of them, bringing each up close to his eyes, hoping to find something shiny. Eventually, he did find one that seemed to not only catch the light but also wasn’t in an ugly shape like the weird flower ones.

“What does this one look like?” he asked, not able to tell much besides the fact that it was a dark dot.

She explained that it had a small black gem that was held by silver. According to her it was simple, shiny, and would go with everything. Perfect.

Remy nodded his approval and they got to work.

He learned that day that getting your ears pierced stung like a motherfucker.

After, he left with two new holes in his head, strict instructions on how to clean his ears, and a growing smile.

Leaving the shop he then headed home, of course, not without stopping by Starbucks again.

It was in this way that he entered the house.

“Remy,” his father said, the minute he entered the house, “You’re back.”

“Yep.”

“You were gone for a long time,” his father fretted.

Remy raised an eyebrow and flipped open his watch, running his fingers across it.

“I’ve been gone for less than two hours,” he defended.

“And what is that?” his father asked, stepping closer to him.

Okay so he had probably noticed the piercings that he had definitely not told his father he had been planning on getting. Well, not that he had even been planning. He just sorta did it. Without asking his father. Who definitely would not- and seemingly did not- approve.

Time to play dumb.

“Starbucks,” he answered, lifting his drink up, “New drink. It’s seasonal I think.”

He then slipped past his father and moved to make a run for his room. He was halfway up the stairs when his father had finished sputtering at his comment and found his words.

“The earrings!” he screeched afterwards, “I meant the earrings!”

“What earrings?” Remy called back, before closing his bedroom door behind him and Cha-Cha.

Chapter Text

It started with Patton.

Which was unusual, considering most illnesses in the house tended to stem from Virgil, considering he both worked in a petri dish of germs (ie. a public high school) and had a compromised immune system due to his transplant. Both of these things meant that he got sick often, got more sick than most, and needed to be watched because even a simple cold could lay him out for weeks or develop into pneumonia.

But, in this particular case, that was not what happened. Instead, it was Patton who woke up to a fever and an aching body. Or well, a body that ached more than usual.

When he woke, Patton immediately knew that he was sick. His first instinct was to push through, even though he felt quite awful. After all, he had things to do, even if he was sick.

But those things would have to wait, he had to tell himself, because he was sick. And yes, they were important, but pushing himself while he was sick was already not going to help him and would also just worsen the flare up he could already start to feel.

Why did he have to think that? Because now he was paying attention to his body and it hurt.

“Pat?” Logan mumbled at his side.

He was probably starting to get up and also noting that Patton wasn’t.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sick,” he admitted to his husband as a wave of nausea rolled through him.

“Ah,” Logan said.

“Flu,” he added.

“Right,” Logan nodded, “You stay here and I’ll get you some things. Do you feel like you might throw up?”

“Nauseous, but no.”

“Is the nausea due to pain or the flu?” Logan asked.

Patton thought about it, debating the nasty swirling in his stomach.

“Dunno,” was all Patton replied with, keeping his eyes screwing shut.

“Okay love. Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.”

Logan then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Patton’s head. Patton hummed a bit at the contact before realizing what his boyfriend was doing.

“Lo,” he protested, “You’re going to get sick too.”

“Patton, you’ve probably already been carrying around the virus for a week or more now. If I’m going to get sick, the virus would already be in me at this point. Giving you a kiss won’t change that,” he pointed out.

“Think you just wanted an excuse to kiss me,” Patton remarked, smile growing on his face. His face which was still shoved into a pillow.

“Mm, maybe.”

Patton then couldn’t help feel like he was forgetting something important. Kind of like Neville with the Remembrall. He just couldn’t remember what.

Then it hit him.

“V?”

“Yeah,” Virgil answered.

“You gotta leave the room, you can’t get sick.”

“I’m fine Pat, let’s just worry about you right now.”

“Virgil, Patton’s right,” Logan insisted, “You really can’t risk getting sick.”

“Didn’t you just say that the germs have been around for about a week now,” Virgil huffed.

“Still Virgil, it’s an extra precaution. And you wanted us to focus on Patton, right? We can’t exactly do that if we’re worrying about you risking your health in the process,” Logan argued.

Virgil grumbled a bit in response, but Patton assumed he had listened. Logan wasn’t always right, but in situations like these he tended to be.

“I’ll stay home and watch over Pat today,” Logan continued. Patton assumed he was responding to Virgil’s grumbles. “I’ll disinfect everything too. But you need to stay out of the bedroom completely, okay?”

“Fine,” Virgil agreed.

Patton couldn’t faintly hear him shuffle away. Knowing Virgil, he had just scooted right outside the door and therefore was technically following Logan’s rule. Logan huffed, which proved Patton’s assumption correct.

“You don’t need to stay with me,” Patton insisted once he had processed Logan’s words, “You have work.”

“My schedule is flexible,” Logan reminded him, “And you’re not feeling well and probably approaching a flare up. I don’t mind staying home. It provides me comfort, and I would assume it would provide Roman and Virgil the same. Let me stay home?”

How could Patton say no to that?

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

“Hey, uh, are you getting up?” a new voice asked.

“Patton’s sick,” Virgil explained, “He and Lo are staying home.”

“Oh. Okay. Pat hun, you okay?”

He was probably running a fever, everything seemed a bit muddled, his stomach was upset, the nausea was increasing, and he hurt pretty much everywhere.

“Eh,” he offered.

Roman made a sympathetic noise in response.

“I’ll make you some toast and tea?” he offered.

“No,” Logan cut in. Which rude, Patton had wanted toast and tea. “I’ll make it.” Okay good. “You and Virgil need to get ready for work, we’re already running behind a bit.”

“Okay,” Roman replied, a bit hesitant, “Feel better Pat, I love you.”

“Love you too Ro,” Patton mumbled into the pillow.

“Better not die,” Virgil added in.

“I’ll try V.”

“You’re not going to die,” Logan told him, but without the sarcasm Patton and Virgil had held.

“Sarcasm Lo,” Patton acknowledged.

“Oh. Thank you for clarifying.”

Virgil then spoke up again with a soft, “I love you Pat.”

“I love you too. And I’m going to be fine. Go to work.”

After that, the other three muttered there own goodbyes and “I love yous.”

After they had exchanged such words, neither Roman or Virgil spoke again. Patton assumed they had left, not being able to tell considering his current position of squashing his face into a pillow.

“Would you like some toast and tea?” Logan asked, now being the sole person left.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, “That’d be nice Lo.”

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll be right back,” and he took his leave as well.

After the food, Patton’s day only got worse. He had been hungry and was glad he had attempted at getting nutrients in his stomach, but said stomach did not agree and it all came up an hour later. From then on his day turned into trying to eat and hydrate, sleeping for a bit, throwing it all up, sleeping for a bit more, eating and hydrating again, and on and on.

In summary, he was pretty miserable.

The worst part, it wasn’t just a nasty 24-hour bug. Patton woke up the next day feeling just as sick.

And come the next morning, Virgil was sick too.

According to Roman he had gotten sick in the middle of the night. They had already quarantined him to the guest room, but now Logan was also with him in said room to help him through the sickness as well as the nightmares that tended to increase in occurrence and intensity with the fever.

The only good news from all this, was that in the morning Virgil made his way back into the room to curl up with his equally sick boyfriend.

Logan had protested, insisting that it was still better for his health to keep him separated from Patton. In response, Virgil had given him an attempt at puppy dog eyes that looked a little bit too haunted to be found cute. Logan caved in response and Virgil had joined Patton in bed.

“Missed you,” the younger man whispered in his ear.

Patton blinked at him a bit- trying to compute exactly why Virgil had missed him when they shared a bed.

“Oh, right, you were kicked out by Logan,” he muttered eventually, brain finally making the connection.

Roman- who had switched out Logan for staying home with them- snorted a bit at the comment.

“Yeah, he’s mean,” Virgil agreed.

“He’s trying to keep you from dying Virgil,” Roman said. Amusement tinged his words even as the corner of his eyes wrinkled a bit in concern.

“Trying to keep me separate. I don’t like it. Locking me up in the cellar,” he muttered, burying deeper into the covers.

Patton sat up just enough to share a worried look with Roman.

Sure, Virgil claiming Logan was mean for keeping him quarantined was unfair, but still an understandable comment considering he was sick and miserable. But Virgil actively relating Logan- who he loved and knew would never intentional hurt him- to his abusers was a lot more serious and meant that Virgil’s brain was playing a lot worse tricks on him that any of them had realized.

“Hey V, you with us? You seem to be dissociating a bit. You’re getting things mixed up,” Patton offered gently.

“Hmm,” Virgil sniffled, and then seemed to drift back off to sleep, a sheen layer of sweat covering his body from the fever.

Patton just watched him carefully, fighting the urge to reach out to him. Virgil didn’t appreciate being touched without consent in the first place, and in his current state he probably wouldn’t appreciate it at all. Nonetheless, Patton’s heart still panged with worry.

“I’ll watch him Pat,” Roman insisted, presumably latching on to his worried musings, “Try and rest okay?”

“M’kay,” Patton agreed easily, and then he was falling asleep again.

He woke up to an empty bed. He blinked slowly around the room and spotted Virgil off to the side. Patton felt like there should maybe be someone else there as well, but besides the two of them and Trixie, the room was empty.

“Virgil?” he called.

His eyes darted to meet Patton’s, but they were glazed over with fever.

“Gotta, gotta get out of here,” he insisted, breath coming out in harsh gasps, “I’m gonna die.”

Trixie whined at his side, reaching up to nudge at his hands and legs with her snout. She jumped up next, tapping his chest gently with her paws, but her cues had no effects.

“Hey Virgil, you’re going to be okay,” Patton soothed, “It’s- Everything’s alright, okay?”

He was pretty sure he was supposed to say more than just that, but his body was achy with fever and the consequentially flare up. Plus the sickness was making his memory even worse than usual and his thoughts were slipping away from him.

Wasn’t, wasn’t someone else supposed to be here?

It was at that exact moment that Roman reentered the room. And that’s what was wrong it was Roman who was supposed to be here. He had stayed home to take care of him and V.

Roman’s eyes instantly fell to Virgil, then to Patton, then back to Virgil, and finally to Trixie.

Virgil was still mumbling to himself and breathing unevenly.

“Virgil, love?” Roman called.

Virgil’s eyes passed over him, seeming to not notice- much less recognize- his boyfriend.

“Virgil honey, I think you're dissociating,” Roman said softly, “Can you listen to Trixie? Your dog? She’s at your side, you see her?”

Virgil looked down at the dog who was still trying to cue him. He blinked at her a few times before turning back to Roman, eyes a little bit clearer.

Patton just looked on and try to calm the bits of panic racing through him. It was hard to see Virgil at times like this, when he was so out of touch with reality around him. In all honesty, it scared Patton to think that Virgil could get stuck inside his head like this. Could easily- if unwilling- be brought back to his worst memories in life. It hurt to see his boyfriend in such pain.

“Don’t feel so good,” Virgil said suddenly, face going pale.

Roman seemed to realize what was happening a moment before Patton did, and raced to grab and place a container in front of Virgil as he puked just seconds after. When he finished, he started to collapse, Roman catching him before he could hit the ground.

Roman helped him back to bed, seeming a bit hesitant to touch his boyfriend without asking, but not having an other option least he let Virgil fall down.

Patton fell back asleep just as he heard Virgil whisper Roman’s name.

The flu continued to keep a hold on him for a third day, though by late morning, the puking had significantly decreased. His fever still hadn’t broken, but Patton was at least able to keep a bit of food down at this point.

The downside is that feeling less sick meant that he was more awake and aware which lead to the realization that his entire body hurt. He was more prone to flare ups when he was sick, but knowing that he was having one did nothing to increase the pain. Actually, acknowledging it made it about a thousand times worse.

Virgil also seemed to be doing a bit better in terms of sickness. His fever had decreased even though he continued to be terribly sick. The worst of the dissociation also seemed to leave.

The nightmares, on the other hand, seemed to cling a bit harder, but were easier for Virgil to deal with as he had both the comfort of Trixie and his boyfriends.

Now, towards midday, Patton was starting to feel better. Which meant he was very much aware when the front door made a noise at it closed. The front door that shouldn’t be opening in the first place.

Roman and Patton shared a look before the former got up to investigate.

There was muttering in the hall for a moment before Roman reappeared in the room, this time with Logan in tow.

“Bed,” Roman said fondly, gesturing Logan gently in the direction.

Logan nodded, the same feverish sheen the covered Virgil and Patton apparent on his skin. He climbed under the covers and seemed to instantly fall asleep next to Virgil. Virgil shuffled a bit at the action, but didn’t wake up.

A good thing, since this seemed to be the first substantial period of rest without nightmares that Virgil had had in the past two days.

And Patton’s brain was drifting. What had he been thinking of? Logan. Logan?

Patton threw a puzzled gaze in Roman’s direction.

“He got sick at work,” Roman explained, “Didn’t even realize he was running a fever until then.”

Patton shot a worried look at said boyfriend just as Roman’s phone alarm went off.

He fumbled to silence it quickly before it woke the two sleeping members in the room. Virgil moved a bit, but he luckily stayed asleep. Logan didn’t even stir, which was impressive considering he had been awake just moments earlier.

After he silenced his phone, Roman shot an anxious look at his boyfriends. Patton quickly put together his dilemma.

“Go pray,” he insisted, “We’re fine.”

“Are you sure? That’s just the window opening. I have time,” Roman said.

“Yes,” Patton insisted, “We’re good right now. Who knows how long that’ll last.”

Roman hesitated for a second, but eventually nodded and left.

Patton turned back to his boyfriends. He scooted closer towards them.

That action seemed to be the final thing that disturbed Virgil from his slumber.

“Pat,” he mumbled.

“How you feeling V?” he asked.

“Mmm, bad, but not as nauseous.”

“That’s good.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah he got sick too.”

“Mmm.”

“Can I cuddle you?”

“Mmmhmm,” Virgil agreed, nodding his head against the pillow.

Patton smiled a little bit at the adorableness of it before shuffling even closer and wrapping his arms around Virgil.

At the action, Logan cracked his eyes open. He shifted closer as well, encasing Virgil’s other side, and wrapping one of his hands around Patton’s own before settling his head against Virgil’s neck. The three of them snuggled closely together in the haze off half consciousness.

Eventually, Roman rejoined them, and seeing them all cuddled up, also elected to slide into bed instead of continuing to work on his computer. He spooned Patton from behind, one arm sliding under him to make contact with Virgil, while the other settled over Patton’s soft stomach. He then threw one of his legs to the far side so he was just barely touching Logan.

It was in the embrace of his loved ones, Patton fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

Trixie liked to think she was a Good Dog. She did her best to please her Person. Plus, whenever she did well, her Person was sure to say the words or give her a treat. Trixie liked being a Good Dog. Being a Good Dog meant that she had done her job well. And her job was really really important, because she kept her Person safe. She had done a lot of training to make sure of it.

Now, years into being Partners with her Person, she was pretty confident in her abilities. Of course, sometimes she lost her focus or things got distracting or her Person told her to take a Break, but otherwise she was really good. Good at her job and good at being a Good Girl.

Trixie had signs she watched, see. When her Person started breathing different, moving different, scratching his arms, smelled different (especially when he smelled like metal), fell to the floor, and many more, Trixie knew it was her job to Task. When she wasn’t Tasking but was On Duty she had Watch Me and had her eyes on her Person.

To keep him safe. She had to keep him safe.

Currently, she was lying in the corner of the Bedroom, doing exactly that, with her head resting on her paws. She was relaxing a bit, but even so, always keeping Watch Me on her Person. Aware but relaxed. On Duty but not Tasking.

Currently, her Person was lying down on his bed, Roman-Boyfriend on top of him.

Roman-Boyfriend was doing something with her Person’s body that she had never seen before. He kept commenting encouraging words in a sweet tone as his hands moved across her Person’s body. Virgil was responding in a similar tone with wide eyes.

Trixie wasn’t sure what they were doing, but maybe they were playing? It sort of looked like when Trixie got to wrestle with other dogs. Except, softer somehow. Well, whatever it was, it looked fun.

That’s when her Person’s breathing started to change.

He started panting a bit. Unlike herself, Trixie knew that panting was one of her owner’s many signs to Task.

She perked her ears up and examined him a bit closer. After all, panting didn’t always mean Task. Panting sometimes just meant her owner was tired, so Trixie had to look for other signs too.

The next thing she noticed was that her Person smelled different. Trixie had to pay attention to her Person’s smells, because they could mean all sorts of things. Usually they were normal things, like smelling like Outside after being out all day or like Dust when he cleaned or Fresh after he was in the Shower-Bath.

But this smell was off. It wasn’t like anything Trixie had ever smelled before. It was like a mix between Sweat and something else. Almost like Fear, but sweeter. Trixie wasn’t quite sure what the smell was, but Sweat and Fear scents mixed together were another sign that she was supposed to Task.

The scents made her worry.

She started to evaluate if she needed to Task. She Tasked to keep her Person safe. Which meant that if she needed to Task now, that meant her Person didn’t feel safe. That always made her sad.

At least he had Roman-Boyfriend, she noted. Roman-Boyfriend was leaning over Virgil muttering sweet wordings as he thrust forward, Roman-Boyfriend would help.

But then, then her Person whimpered.

Whimpering was absolutely not good. Whimpering meant that her owner was not feeling safe at all. Trixie leapt in immediately.

First she went into a Block, separating Roman-Boyfriend from her Person. Roman-Boyfriend may be good most of the time, but when her Person whimpered it meant Block. She had to get the separate.

Roman-Boyfriend might mean well, but during moments like these he hurt more than he helped. Even though Trixie knew that Roman-Boyfriend was safe, sometimes her Person’s thoughts confused him and he wasn’t able to remember that safe people were safe.

But it was okay, Trixie would help her Person for Roman-Boyfriend.

After going into the Block, Trixie settled into a Cover on top of her Person. She tried to spread her body across him as best she could from the awkward half-lying down position he was in. She set her head on his chest and whined to let him know that she was here and would protect him.

From behind her, Roman-Boyfriend started to laugh.

Which was odd. Usually when Trixie Tasked her Person’s My-Boyfriends would start to smell like Fear and Worry. Roman-Boyfriend didn’t smell like that. In fact, he had the same sweet Sweat scent that Virgil did. And he seemed happy. Usually her Person’s My-Boyfriend’s were a bit sad when Trixie had to Task.

Trixie understood that. She was also sad when she had to task, because it meant her Person wasn’t feeling safe, and he deserved to feel safe.

Her Person groaned at Roman-Boyfriend’s laughter. The sweet Sweat smell was still pretty strong, but his breathing was going back to normal fast and he wasn’t whimpering anymore. Trixie took that as a good sign.

“Trix,” he said, groaning once more.

Trixie perked her ears. That was her name!

Roman-Boyfriend continued laughing.

Her Person shot him a glare and told him to shut up as his face went red. Trixie continued to lay on top of him, doing her best to hold the Cover until he told her Up.

“I can’t believe- I- wait until I tell Pat and Lo-” Roman-Boyfriend continued to chuckle.

“You are not telling Pat and Lo!” her Person protested, “Ohmygod this is so embarrassing I never thought- I mean it makes sense I guess, sex and panic attacks aren’t that different.”

“Sex and panic attacks aren’t that different,” Roman-Boyfriend parroted, shaking his head as he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Not like that!” her Person protested, “I meant to Trixie! They exhibit in a bunch of the same ways!”

That was her name again!

Trixie just kept laying on her Person.

He wasn’t wearing any clothes Trixie realized after a moment. Which was weird. Humans almost always wore clothes. Unless they were in the Shower-Bath. Had her Person been in the Shower-Bath? He wasn’t wet. A little bit greasy in some spots, but not wet.

Her Person just groaned again and dropped his hands over his eyes and onto his face.

“Okay, Trix,” he said again, not even bothering to uncover his face, “Trixie Good Girl, you did so good, Good Dog.”

Yes! That was exactly what Trixie wanted to hear!

“Up,” he told her.

Trixie’s ears perked up at the Command and she carefully climbed off her human and jumped down off the bed. She sat right next to it, not bothering to go back to her own bed in case her Person needed her again.

“I’m going to put her Outside so she doesn’t do that again,” her Person then said, this time speaking to Roman-Boyfriend.

Outside! Virgil loved Outside! Were they going to go Outside!

“You sure V?” Roman-Boyfriend said, “I don’t want her to not be able to get to you if you need her to. It’s not a problem. We can just stop for now or figure something else out.”

“Roman, it’s fine,” her Person reassured, “I want to have sex with you. I don’t want her Tasking again. I’ll just put her Outside, it’s okay.”

Were they going Outside yet?

“If that’s what you want,” Roman-Boyfriend agreed, “I just want to know that it’s your choice.”

Her Person smiled and then leaned over to give the weird Human mouth kisses to Roman-Boyfriend. Trixie still didn’t get that. Tongue kisses just made so much more sense.

“I know. Thank you, love.”

Her Person then climbed off the bed, which meant he was probably taking her Outside! Oh wow! She was so excited!

Her Person walked outside of the door and she followed. He had her Sit right outside and then said Break.

Yes! This was it! It was Break now! They were going Outside!

The door to the bedroom shut in her face.

What? No Outside?

Her ears dropped at the betrayal.

Oh well, maybe she could go find a toy or lay on the couch. Maybe she could even look at the birds! Or the bees! It wasn’t quite Outside, but the birds and the bees would have to be good enough for now.

Chapter Text

The idea came to Roman when he was scrolling through Instagram mindlessly. This should have been everyone’s first warning that it probably wasn’t the best idea. But, it’s not like his boyfriends could read Roman’s thoughts. The had all definitely wished they could at one point or another, considering Roman seemed to have a lack of common sense and self-perseverance. This meant that he did a lot of genuinly dumb things.

The most prominent example that came to mind was the day when he first met Patton. He had given himself a concussion and had almost broken his nose by falling off a desk. Why was he on a desk? Because he was an idiot. A horrible idea indeed. He- of course- later argued that it was a smart and fully sound decision because how else would he have met any of the loves of his life?

Virgil then proceeded to point out that the two of them already knew each other, even if it was only a vague relationship that consisted of arguing about every single topic that came about in the literature class they shared during both of their freshman year. Roman choose to ignore this fact.

But, in this very moment, he had an idea, and to complete said idea, he would need an accomplice. An accomplice that should be in the kitchen at this very moment. Which was exactly where he went in hopes to find his victim.

“Virgil?” he spoke up.

Said boyfriend gave him a hum in reply from where he seemed to be grading papers at the kitchen table.

“Can I borrow Trixie?”

This time Roman spoke, it actually caused Virgil to turn and look at him.

“Uh why?” Virgil asked, taking a minute to look at the dog in question who was splayed out on her back over in the corner of the room, presumably taking a nap.

“Reasons,” was all Roman offered, giving that trademark grin of his that blared mischief but also oozed fondness and love, making it impossible to deny.

Virgil shook his head fondly, but mumbled out a, “yeah, you can borrow.”

Roman had assumed that’s what the answer would be in the first place, considering grading papers wasn’t really a thing Virgil would need her for, but he always liked to ask and check. After all, Trixie was Virgil’s dog, and more importantly, Virgil’s partner. She helped keep him safe. Roman loved her to pieces, but she wasn’t his dog and he respected that.

“Trixie girl,” Roman called.

The dog raised her head up, peering at him over her belly from her position on her back. She quickly rolled over and stood before shaking out. After she had done so, she marched over to Roman and lolled her tongue out.

“Hey girl,” he cooed at the sweet pup, “Ready for an experiment?”

“Roman,” Virgil warned- obviously overhearing them- not that Roman was trying to be quiet about it- “You better not kill my dog.”

“No promises!” he cheered, and then he and Trixie left the room, leaving Virgil to wonder exactly what that meant.

Now that Roman successfully acquired his partner in crime, he started to do research.

“Okay,” he said to himself, “This can’t be too difficult, right?”

Trixie just cocked her head and gave him a look.

“You shut up,” he said, “You don’t get to complain, you’re just here to participate.”

Trixie sneezed.

“I’m taking that as agreement,” Roman told her. He looked back at his phone, “Yeah, this’ll totally work, you already know downward dog and everything.”

He turned back to Trixie.

“Bow,” Roman instructed.

Trixie leaned her front legs down, nose coming to touch the ground.

“Yes! Perfect!” he cried, “Good girl. We’re going to be absolute pros at this.”

They were not in fact pros- something that Roman was now learning as he was trying to get Trixie to literally jump on top of him.

“Come on girl, it’s okay,” Roman encouraged, tapping his legs.

Trixie whined a bit and shifted her hind legs but didn’t move.

Roman was currently laying on his back with his legs up and bent. It looked like he was sitting on a chair, if the back of the chair was on the floor. From this position, Roman was trying to get Trixie to jump up onto his legs. She had put her front paws onto him, but was now refusing to go any further, even when Roman tried to tempt her with treats.

“Come on, Trix, you can do it,” Roman encouraged, “You can do it. Just jump up.”

Trixie shifted a bit more, looked at him, and then leapt.

“Oh shit,” Roman swore as she jumped up and put her entire weight on him. A weight that Roman had been hoping for, but hadn’t really been expecting.

It was also at this moment that Roman realized that this had definitely been a bad idea.

His legs collapsed beneath him, falling to the ground, and ultimately bringing Trixie with them. Trixie stumbled to catch herself as she careened forward. In her attempts to regain her balance she painful stepped on his stomach.

“Uhggg,” was all Roman could say to that. Luckily, Trixie quickly stumbled off of him.

Roman watched her, a bit worriedly. She looked fine, but she had just fallen off of him. She shook herself off and then returned to cover his entire face with kisses.

Roman just started laughing.

This was when Virgil entered the room.

“What are you two up to?” he asked. He then noticed that his dog was covering his boyfriend with kisses and his face softened. “Okay, this was a lot less ominous than I was expecting.”

“Oh no,” Roman tried to say, even as Trixie continued to lick him. In his efforts he got a mouth full of dog tongue which had him spitting and turning over to try and escape the dog. “Trixie stop,” he begged.

The dog did exactly as asked and turned to sit down and wag her tail instead.

“V, you missed the best part!” Roman exclaimed as he attempted to wipe all of the dog slobber off him, “Me and Trix did yoga together. Didn’t we girl?”

Virgil just blinked at him. He then seemed to catch sight of Roman’s phone and the image that was on it.

“Please tell me you didn’t try to do that,” he said, gesturing to the picture of a woman that was in the position that Roman previously held. The true highlight, her dog was resting on her legs.

“Uhhh, we didn’t try and do that?” Roman tried, but his face, posture, and current position on the floor clearly gave away the lie.

Virgil groaned and put a hand to his face, “Roman, that dog is maybe twenty-five pounds. Trixie is twice that size.”

“Well I mean, humans do it and they’re bigger than dogs so I thought it would be fine,” Roman offered in his defense.

Virgil just groaned some more.

“And how did that go?”

“Admittedly, pretty terrible, but it was fun!”

Virgil just looked at them for a minute longer before rubbing both of his hands firmly across his face. He left the room without another word.

“Well Trix- guess it’s just us,” Roman said, turning back to Trixie.

But Trixie had already taken to bounding after Virgil.

“Traitor,” Roman gasped, “Don’t think I won’t forget this.”

Trixie just ignored him and kept walking, her tail wagging swiftly behind her.

For a bad idea it had turned out to be pretty alright, and had certainly been a lot of fun.

Chapter Text

Logan knew there was a reason that online shopping was invented. Turns out, the reason was his boyfriend and friends.

They literally started cheering when they pulled into the Ikea parking lot. Cheering.

Logan was currently regretting every single thing leading up to this moment. Ever single thing. Maybe he could just pretend not to know them? Or better yet, drop them off and leave.

Even as he had these thoughts, he knew they were impractical. He had to stay with them. If he didn’t they would buy literally everything except for the things they needed. It had happened before.

So with a sigh, he put the car in park and clamored out with them.

Moving in with them was great. Patton and him had lived together for the past year, so it wasn’t much different. Adding Virgil and Roman to the mix was bound to be interesting but certainly fun. Logan was really looking forward to it.

Buying furniture for their new apartment was much less exciting, but it seemed to be a necessary evil. They had bought what the could online and at thrift stores, but some things needed to be bought new and in person. Logan just wished that his friends and boyfriend would stop behaving like absolute children. He had hoped that Virgil at the very least would act maturely. He had been sorely mistaken.

“Ikea!” Roman shouted, eyes gleaming in excitement.

Logan just winced at the loud noise and shoved his hands in his pockets. He scrunched his shoulders up and considered putting on his headphones.

“Ro, volume,” Patton was quick to remind, giving glances to both Logan and Virgil.

Roman apologized quickly, turning to check on both of the two in the group who were sensitive to noise. Virgil brushed him off and Logan wanted to too, but he didn’t really have it in him.

Everything was just a lot of a lot right now.

He was excited about the new apartment and finally getting the chance to live with all three of his boyfriends. He really, truly was. But it was a big change. A very big change. He started to worry the inside of his lip. Buzzing filled his ears.

Suddenly, Roman was at his side.

“Hey, Specs, you alright?” Roman asked.

He tried to figure out how to answer.

“I-” he started, “I’m uncomfortable moving in together.”

Roman’s frown was immediate.

“I thought- Lo if you didn’t- if you weren’t ready for this-”

A cart clattered on the other side of the street, the sharp sound drawing Logan’s attention for a moment before he pulled it back to answer Roman’s question.

“No,” Logan interrupted, hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. “I want to move in together. It’s just-”

“Oh,” Roman realized, “Yeah I get it.”

“No,” Logan protested, “No you don’t get it.”

Which was the truth. Roman didn’t get it. He didn’t understand everything Logan was going through right now. How could Roman possibly understand the sense of wrongness that came with moving in together even as Logan knew it was what he wanted?

Then came his next sentence, which was so hard to admit, because he had been taught for so long that it was just an excuse or him trying to be special. But it wasn’t that. It was the truth and it was important.

“I’m autistic, and right now this is something that is really hard for me. You might be nervous or something. I’m not nervous it’s just- change! And change is, it’s not my routine. I want to live with you but it’s different and not normal and uncomfortable.” Logan’s fists tightened in his pockets. “And it’s really loud,” he admitted.

This was different for him than it was for Roman. Roman wasn’t autistic. Logan had to remind himself that that’s all it was, and that was okay. He could admit that this was something he was struggling right now, and his friends would accept it and help him with it instead of just telling him to get over it. Right?

They had said they would, that they understood things were different for Logan at times. Things that came easily to them could be almost impossible to Logan. They had told him that was okay. But that was in theory. Logan didn’t know how long that would last before they started to get sick of accommodating him.

“Oh,” Roman said, “Okay. Yeah, you’re right, I don’t understand that. That’s not to say what your feeling isn’t completely valid, but you’re right in the fact that I don’t get it. I’m sorry for assuming I did.”

Logan offered a sort of hum response and Roman carried on.

“Uh, well then let’s figure it out. It’s going to be okay. We’ll make this work out.”

Logan desperately wanted to ask, ‘How?’ but he kept his mouth shut. He shrugged. Another cart passed them with an irritating rattle.

“Well if it makes you uncomfortable, let’s try to make it- not that?” Roman offered.

Logan just raised an eye at Roman desperate attempt to try and figure this out. Roman didn’t look at him and just seemed to be puzzling whatever out in his head.

“Yeah,” Roman continued, seemingly agreeing with himself, “Let’s make it comfortable instead. I mean it's the apartment we’ll be sharing. Maybe, try to find things that comfort you? Things you like just because you like and it’ll make it a bit more familiar instead of different and looming?”

Logan said nothing, instead just took to thinking about what Roman had said.

“Or not,” Roman said, taking his silence as a bad sign, “I mean I don’t know. I don’t know how to help with this. But I’m here to support you however I can, okay?”

“That’s actually- I like that idea a lot Roman,” Logan admitted.

Roman gave him a blindly smile that made Logan blush a little.

“Okay! Great! Plus, I know it’s a change, but you do have Patton with you. And that’s going to stay the same at least, right?”

Logan nodded. That was saying the same. The fact helped focus him a little. Patton and him were still going to be living together so that was a little bit of familiarity he could hang onto. It wasn’t all different. Plus, Roman and Virgil had crashed at Patton and his old apartment many times. It was pretty much just that, but long term.

“And I know you said that it was loud and that loud places can be too much for you sometimes. But you have your headphones. And if you need to take breaks or go home and do this a different day, or not do it all. That’s okay, alright?” Roman added, “It’s like- Logan this is supposed to be nice. I mean shopping for furniture probably won’t be that fun. But it also shouldn’t be an active stressor, y'know?” He paused. “Does anything I’m saying make sense?”

“Yes,” Logan agreed, because it did make sense, as well as set Logan at ease.

It was reassuring to hear, that if he needed to he could say he couldn’t do something. It was still something he was learning how to admit, and to have people who supported that, who understood that- well, Logan was just very grateful for Roman at the current moment.

Roman’s words truly did make Logan feel better. Everything still seemed a bit off, and that was still daunting, but it seemed less so than before. It became more manageable instead of impossible. It was okay. Logan was okay. He slowly unclenched his hands.

“Thanks,” he said to Roman.

“‘Course Specs,” Roman was quick to respond, giving him another smile.

A smile that did a funny thing to Logan’s stomach. Roman’s smiles always seemed to do that.

“And now, onward to Ikea!” Roman proclaimed, charging forward and through the group towards the door.

Patton giggled as Virgil snorted and wrapped his hoodie closer around him. Logan could already tell it was going to be a long day, but at least it would probably be a good one.

Chapter Text

When Virgil woke up he knew it was going to be a bad day. He woke up with static in his brain and no way to turn it off. He hated that it was a familiar feeling, though today was already much worse than usual.

Nothing had happened to cause it. There was nothing stressful in his life at the moment, he hadn’t had nightmares recently (that he remembered at least), and there were no other prominent triggers in his life. There was no reason Virgil should be having a bad day, but he was anyways.

It was a fuzzy sort of bad day. The type of bad day that had Virgil feeling like the connection from him to the rest of the world was just giving feedback. The days when he was always dissociating at least a little bit.

It was a bad day, but he knew how to cope with bad days. He had things to do. He knew how to do them.

Work today. Office hours. Kit to the vet. Cook dinner.

So with a sigh he got up and started.

Kit grounded him all through work. He was at his side almost the entire day, pressing up against him or encouraging him to thread a hand through his fur. He continuously reminded Virgil that he was here, in the present, even as Virgil’s brain seemed to struggle with that concept.

Virgil got through work. He got through office hours as well, but he could barely remember it. Kit got dropped off at the vet to be picked up later.

Virgil went home after. He didn’t really remember doing that. He dropped off Kit at the vet right? He needed to drop off Kit at the vet. Kit wasn’t here, so that meant Virgil had done that, right.

“Hey Virgil, doing okay?”

Virgil blinked and noted that Patton was in front of him a few feet away. Virgil had to look up to see his face. Why did Virgil have to look up? Wasn’t Virgil standing?

He looked down. Apparently he was sitting on a couch. When had he done that?

He wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. He began to cry. When that didn’t seem to solve anything, he began to cry more. He was scared. He was scared and he didn’t know why.

“Patton,” he said, because Patton was here, wasn’t he? “Patton I’m scared.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Can I come over there?”

Virgil didn’t remember answering, but a minute later Patton was at his side. Everything was sort of hazzy and out of focus. Virgil did feel a bit of relief though. Patton understood forgetting things. Patton understood lost time. Virgil’s situation was different than Patton’s, but Patton could still relate more than Logan or Roman.

Patton held Virgil for… some time. Virgil wasn’t really sure how long. Virgil thought that maybe Patton was talking to him as well, but he couldn’t be sure. Everything was fuzzy and felt far away and Virgil didn’t know how long had passed or where he even was anymore.

“Okay. Okay. Virgil, I’m going to be right back. I’m going to leave the room, but I’m not leaving you and I’ll be right back, okay?” Patton said, and this time Virgil thought he heard him.

Virgil whined around his tears but nodded.

Patton gently escaped his grip and stumbled to his feet before heading towards the kitchen. It took it a minute for him to return, and when he did he carried a bowl with him. He curled back into the couch as Virgil continued to struggle to breathe.

“Hey Virgil, see what I have?” Patton asked as he pulled an object out of the bowl.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, voice sounding distant and far away even to him.

“Can you tell me what it is?” Patton asked him as he started to pick at the object.

Virgil blinked slowly at him, breath still coming in slower gasps even as his brain floated elsewhere.

“Virgil, can you tell me what I’m holding?” Patton repeated again.

Virgil just continued to blink and that’s when the smell hit him. He continued to look at Patton’s hands, and now with the smell assisting his brain he could tell that Patton was actually peeling an-

“Orange,” Virgil said, “you have an orange.”

“Yup,” Patton agreed. He dropped something- the peel, Virgil recognized- into the bowl. “Can I have your hand?”

Virgil blinked and nodded but didn’t move.

“Can I grab your hand?” Patton rephrased.

“Sure.”

Patton did so, and if Virgil hadn’t been dissociating he probably would have recognized the slow and careful movements that Patton was using as he gently grasped Virgil’s hand and dropped a piece of the orange peel into it.

“Can you smell that?”

“Orange.”

“Yes. It’s an orange,” Patton agreed, “I put a piece of the peel in your hand. Do you feel it?”

Virgil moved his hand a bit and stared down at it. He could feel the peel, but he couldn’t. He could see the peel, but he couldn’t.

“Can you bring your hand to your nose? Do you want me to help you?”

Virgil didn’t move.

“Okay, I’m going to help you Virgil. I’m going to bring your hand up to your nose.”

Virgil didn’t move but then he was moving. But he didn’t think he was moving and then- and then he was smelling orange, stronger than before.

He blinked and looked down. There was something near his eyes. He pulled it away slightly and realized it was his hand. A hand that was holding an orange peel. He brought it back to his nose and smelled it more.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing right now Virgil?” Patton asked.

“I-“ Could Virgil tell him? What was he doing? Wait he knew what he was doing, he was- “I’m smelling an orange peel.”

“Yeah. You are,” Patton agreed, “I’m almost done peeling it. What’s it smell like?”

“Orange.”

Patton made a noise. Laughter maybe?

“Okay that’s fair,” Patton said, “Anything more specific? Synonyms maybe?”

“Synonyms?”

“Mhmm,” Patton agreed, “to the orange smell.”

Other things smelled like orange?

“Synonyms?”

“Yeah. Can’t think of any?”

Virgil could not. He didn’t answer. He continued to smell the orange. It smelled like an orange.

“Okay. That’s okay. I finished peeling the orange. Do you want to try it?”

“I’m smelling it.”

Virgil thought that was maybe important, but he couldn’t remember exactly why.

“Yeah, you are smelling the orange. Do you want to try and eat the orange too?”

Maybe. Virgil don’t know.

“How about we try and eat the orange. And then if you decide you don’t want to, you don’t have to?”

Virgil thought about it.

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“I’ll help,” Patton promised, “We’ll take it step by step.”

That didn’t sound too bad.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Keep smelling the orange. I’m going to grab your other arm and place a piece of orange in your hand. Okay?”

Virgil didn’t protest. He smelled his orange peel. It smelled like orange.

“Hey Virgil. I put the orange slice in your hand.”

He did? No he didn’t?

“I’m holding the orange peel,” he said, “I’m smelling the orange peel. It smells like orange.”

That was important to remember, important to keep doing. Or he thought it was important, but he wasn’t sure why he thought that.

“Yeah. You are doing that,” Patton agreed, “But I’m actually talking about your other hand. That’s the one that’s holding an orange slice.”

Virgil had two hands?

“Right here,” Patton said, “I’m tapping your hand. Tap. Tap. Tap.”

Virgil looked down. Something was tapping his hand. Patton’s hand? And then there was something orange in it. An orange slice.

“Oh yeah. I do have two hands.”

“Mhmm. Wanna eat the orange?”

Virgil struggled to consider that. He wasn’t really sure of his wants right now.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. Can you eat the orange?”

“How?”

“Pick up your hand. I can help.”

Virgil tried. He thought maybe Patton was helping. He wasn’t really sure who was doing what or if either of them were doing anything.

“Awesome. Now we’re going to bring your hand to your mouth.”

Virgil tried. Something touched his face?

“Your hand is touching your mouth, Virgil. The orange slice is on your hand. I'm gonna move the hand that’s smelling the orange away just slightly so you’re hands aren’t bumping into one another.”

“Too many hands,” Virgil noted.

“Yeah. It’s getting in the way, isn’t it? Still smell the orange?”

Virgil could. It smelled a bit less orange now.

“Now we have to get the orange in your mouth. Can you open your mouth?”

Virgil tried.

“Awesome. You did it.”

Did he?

“Hey Virgil, you’re crying again. Are you still smelling the orange?”

Was he?

“Okay. Virgil. You need to breathe. Hey. Shit. Okay. Okay I’m going to move your hands again.”

Virgil wasn’t sure what Patton was saying anymore. His mind was drifting further and further away, leaving his body-

“Virgil. What are you doing right now?”

He didn’t know. What had he been doing?

“I-”

“Your hand is by your nose. You’re-”

“Orange. Smelling orange.”

Virgil thought that Patton maybe sighed, soft and sweet.

“Yes,” Patton agreed, “You’re smelling an orange. What’s it smell like?”

“Orange.”

“Right good. I’m sorry Virgil, I think I made a mistake, did too much too fast. Still smell the orange?”

Virgil ignored the first part of what he said and just nodded to the second.

“Okay. I think it would help you to eat the orange.”

“I’m smelling the orange.”

“You are. I think it would also be good to eat.”

“You can’t eat the orange peel.”

“I think it would be good to eat a slice of orange. I have some. Not to eat the peel.”

“Oh. That’s- can’t eat the peel.”

“Right. So we eat a slice instead.”

“Slice instead of peel.”

“Yup.”

“Orange.”

“Yup.”

What was Virgil doing?

He was smelling the orange peel. It smelled citrusy and well- like an orange. Patton had peeled it for him. He had gotten off the couch and grabbed an orange for Virgil.

Why an orange? They weren’t Virgil’s favorite fruit. But he always tried to have at least one. Why did he always have one? They were good for grounding techniques weren’t they? Why would Virgil need a grounding technique?

“Oh. Oh. Patton.”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m dissociating,” he realized.

“Yeah I think you are too,” Patton agreed.

“Oh.”

The knowledge seemed to help Virgil a little bit. His mind was still drifting, but there was something sharp attached to it now. He recognized what was happening even if he wasn’t able to control it.

“Want to try and eat the orange? I think it will help ground you more. You’ve been smelling the peel for a while now. I think eating it might help.”

“The peel?”

“You’ve been smelling the peel. I think you should try to eat a slice.”

Virgil thought about and recognized that he was getting to a point where he was actually able to think about decisions again. That was good. He wasn’t quite aware enough to recognize what would continue to help, but Patton seemed to know, so he’d go along with that.

“Yeah. Yeah. I think that would help.”

“Okay. Need my help?”

“I- can I have the slice?”

“Yup. It’s in your hand that isn’t smelling the orange.”

Right, hands existed. Virgil blinked a few times before lifting his hand to his face, and pulling away the one that was smelling the orange. He put the orange slice in his mouth.

He focused on the juice and the texture and the scent. It was slightly bitter with that citrus bite. It was also sweet, like sugar and juice. It tasted good.

With a rushing zoom, Virgil blinked and he was back.

“Oh wow. Oh- that’s. Okay.”

“Back with me?” Patton asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“How much?”

“No- completely. Just- shit. My head hurts.”

“Yeah. I bet it does.”

Virgil blinked and met Patton’s eyes. Patton looked back at him, a bit concerned, but mostly bright and warm.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Glad the orange worked.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. He reached into the bowl and grabbed another slice. Patton had separated all of them which was nice. He popped it in his mouth and continued to focus on how it tasted and felt. He curled more into Patton’s side focusing solely on the orange, and let everything else go.

Chapter Text

This had to be the one of the most awkward experiences of Virgil’s entire life. It wasn’t that it was even a bad experience. Just awkward. Virgil had no idea what to say.

What do you say after more than ten years? What do you say to someone who went through hell with you? What do you say after all that time, all those memories?

Deceit seemed to be at an equal loss. Virgil didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

They were both just picking at their food, awkwardly staring at each other.

Today was supposed to be their chance to talk, to reconnect. For real. They planned to get lunch, an equal ground, an equal standing. They would finally get to talk to one another after years. It seemed monumental.

And here Virgil was, having zero fucking clue about what to say.

They had exchanged pleasantries, a few simple questions, but nothing actually substantial to talk about.

“So…” Virgil drawled, trying to force his brain to come up with something. Anything.

Deceit just looked at him.

“I- Uh, how’d you get into theater?” Virgil asked.

That was something right? An interest- or probably an interest- of his. That was a good question, right? It was something Deceit could probably talk about.

“Theater?” Deceit asked, as if in confirmation.

Virgil nodded.

“Oh. I started reading Chaucer. And when I had read my way through Chaucer, I moved to Shakespeare. And Shakespeare led to Miller, Williams, Chekov.”

“How’d you get into reading that?” Virgil asked. Because Virgil recognized most of the names himself, it sort of came with teaching, but it certainly wasn’t an easy list by any means. Popular sure- but most people didn’t just read them.

“Oh I got The Canterbury Tales as-” Deceit stopped, sighed, “No- you’d-“ he muttered. He straightened up and spoke. “There was a decent library at the center I went to after I got out, and I found Chaucer. I had a lot of free time. Even though it always seemed-”

“Busy,” Virgil said, finishing Deceit’s sentence at the same time he did.

“Yeah,” Deceit agreed, watching him carefully.

“Yeah. The first place I was at had barely any books, but the second had a decent amount. A lot of restrictions though. Every book had to be approved and the screening process was a complete joke.”

Deceit nodded. It was careful, calculated, as if he was unsure or couldn’t quite figure something out.

“They had like- ten copies of The Bible though.”

Deceit just stared at him. Virgil shifted, a bit uncomfortable at the continued lack of response.

“Okay,” Deceit eventually offered as if he didn’t know what else to say. Then, “You just got a new puppy, right?”

Virgil brightened instantly, all uncomfortableness forgotten.

“Yes,” he agreed, “Yes his name is Kit. I just got him two months or so now? Wanna see some pictures?”

“I- uh,” Deceit said, hesitating, “Sure?”

Virgil nodded and pulled out his phone, quickly going to his photos. It was filled with pictures of his dogs. He pulled up the most recent picture of Kit and showed it to Deceit. A small smile crept across Deceit’s face. Virgil pulled up another photo, and then another.

“He’s very cute,” Deceit remarked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “Yeah he is.” He showed Deceit a few more pictures and then pulled his phone back. “We’re just working with the basics right now with him, but one day he’ll take over for Trixie.”

Deceit’s gaze fell to where Virgil’s dog was mostly under the table, carrying out a perfect tuck. She was doing so well. It was lunchtime on a Saturday afternoon and while the place wasn’t packed it was certainly busy and more than a few people had tried to distract Trixie. Virgil was sure it wasn’t all intentional- but that didn’t make it any less distracting. Trixe had ignored it all. She was so good like that.

“Did you have another dog before Trixie? Because I mean- there- she can’t be that old. There had to be some time between,” Dee paused for a fraction of a second, “When you got out and when you got her.”

“Yeah. Yeah I had another dog- Dolly. She- I got her about, I wanna say a year or two after I was found.”

Deceit nodded.

“Yeah. Dolly was really sweet. She- uh- I really needed her at the time. I mean I still need Trix and I’m going to need Kit. But each of them are… different in a way. Does that make any sense?”

“Uh- I.” Deceit paused, gritted his teeth and took a breath. “Can you repeat that?”

“What?”

“Can you repeat what you said?” Deceit asked once more.

“Oh- yeah sure,” Virgil said and he was about to when something clicked. Deceit’s continued hesitance, the confusion, how he didn’t carry conversations from where Virgil left them off. “Are you hearing any of what I’m saying?” Virgil asked before realizing that that might be considered rude, “Sorry. Is that rude to ask?”

Deceit tensed. Virgil could see it. The way his face tightened, and his jaw, and how his whole body stiffened. Virgil shrunk slightly smaller involuntarily.

“I can’t hear very well when there’s a lot of background noise,” Deceit said slowly, controlled.

“Oh,” Virgil said, because he hadn’t known. “Well. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Deceit hesitated, still tense.

“Can you repeat that?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Where there isn’t as much background noise?”

They were both almost finished with lunch anyways. But Deceit still looked hesitant.

“There’s a park near here,” Virgil said, “We can talk and let Trixie run around.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Deceit finally relaxed, and so did Vigil.

They finished and left lunch, heading to the park. Trixie was by far the happiest of all to see it. The minute that Virgil let her have a break she was sprinting off to a far point on the lawn before making a wide circle and returning. Virgil rolled his eyes a bit at the sight. She made it seem like he never walked her or anything.

Deceit and him took a seat on a bench.

“You were saying something about your dogs?” Deceit said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. He turned slightly, following Trixie’s movement, “I was-”

“Can you face me when you talk?”

Virgil blinked, and turned back.

“Okay,” he said.

Dee gave a slight nod.

“I was just saying that each of my dogs have just been very different. In their own special way. They’ve each been what I've needed during that time. Does that make sense?”

“I understand that,” Deceit said, “They obviously mean a lot to you. They spend everyday with you, go with you everywhere. They’re lives are intertwined with yours. Yeah that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, “Do you have pets?”

“I have two snakes.”

“Snakes?”

“Yeah. Ball pythons. They’re neat.”

“I remember you caught a snake once. It was small, brown. Maybe had stripes?”

“I remember that, yeah I named him-”

“Terror,” Deceit and Virgil said at the same time.

“I was a weird kid,” Deceit admitted.

“You were?” Virgil asked, “If you were, what did that make me?”

“You just kept trying to eat shit at first,” Deceit commented.

“You were the one who said I could eat the berries!” Virgil protested.

“The ones you knew what they were, not random berries. You don’t eat plants you don’t know.”

“Well I didn’t know that! I didn’t know any plants yet. I was seven!”

Virgil had been seven.

Had he really been that young?

Virgil pushed past that. This wasn’t the time for that- this wasn’t- Virgil didn’t need to go down that path.

“Yeah so, guess it was really only so long before you got to actually keep a snake for a pet,” he said instead.

“Yeah,” Deceit agreed, “I’m worried about their terrariums though. I mean I’ve had them for awhile now. I was kind of surprised they made them out of glass. I should of gotten acrylic ones, but I guess I’ll have to replace them eventually anyways.”

“Is glass bad?”

“I mean- it’s going to warp eventually right? Even if it’s really slow. And the heat lamps probably don’t help.”

“I- don’t think glass does that?”

“Well not super fast but it’s a liquid so-”

“What?”

“What.”

“Deceit. Glass is not a liquid. Not at room temperature.”

Was Deceit serious right now?

Dee just looked at him for a moment.

“Yes? It is.”

He was. He was serious. He genuinely didn’t know. (And really how could he- both him and Virgil had been taught about phase changes but no one actually sat them down and showed them how molecules moved).

“No. It’s not,” Virgil insisted.

Deceit looked at him dubiously.

“I’m serious,” Virgil said, “Look it up.”

Deceit’s look stayed, but he pulled out his phone anyways and searched it up. After a moment he looked up, and then back at his phone, and then back to Virgil.

“I feel like a fucking idiot,” he said, completely deadpan.

Virgil couldn’t help it, he laughed.

Deceit seemed shocked by the noise, but gave a small smile in return.

“I can’t believe you thought glass was a liquid.”

Virgil could actually believe that. Deceit hadn’t even seen glass until he was about 18. It was one of those small things that would have been written off, never addressed in treatment because why would that ever come up?

“It’s thicker at the bottom of all those old windows! And most glasses! And there was- it just makes sense!” Deceit protested.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well yeah, I know that now. We just didn’t have glass. I never saw it until I was an adult and then it was everywhere when I got out, no explanation given. How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe because glass is obviously solid.”

“It’s actually an amorphous solid apparently,” Deceit pointed out, gesturing to his phone.

“Still.”

“It’s clear!”

“Other solids are clear.”

“I…” Deceit just groaned, shoving his face in his hands.

Virgil laughed by his side and somehow, somehow he knew things were going to be okay. They were going to be okay. Virgil and Deceit could make this work.

Chapter Text

Logan fell in love with the ocean at five years old. He fell in love with fish a year earlier, at age four. Space joined in when he turned six.

The ocean and space were two particular special interests that Logan hung onto for his entire life. Space was more in the background, a special interest to fall back on when nothing else held his attention, but the ocean had always been at the forefront.

The ocean was amazing, it was brilliant, it was mysterious, and it was beautiful.

Logan loved it. He loved it so much that it often overwhelmed him, wrapping him up and sending energy throughout his body. He’d stim to get it out, but sometimes it was still too much, pushing down on his brain and coating his body until he could no longer cope, spiraling into a shutdown.

Logan loved the ocean so much that sometimes he could barely function.

His spouses knew that of course, it was hard to know Logan and not know his special interests. Not everyone knew that’s what his interest in the ocean was, sure, but everyone could recognize Logan’s infatuation even if they thought it as an annoying obsession versus an acute, intensive love.

Logan had spent a childhood pushing down his special interests in a desperate attempt to be normal. Nowadays, he felt no such pressure. It was relieving. His spouses- while maybe not caring about the ocean as much as Logan did- certainly cared an extraordinary amount about Logan, and were thus agreeable to listening to him infodump.

Which was what Logan was doing now, rapidly explaining how rising tide levels affected coral reef ecosystems. His eyes were bright, and his hands waved both as a stim and in use of explanation.

Roman was paying rapt attention, playing with a fidget cube as he smiled softly at Logan. In all honesty- Logan hardly noticed, much too invested to recognize if Roman was actually paying attention or not.

Logan talked and talked, and Roman asked a few questions and nodded encouragingly as Logan flapped and rubbed his hands.

He eventually winded down, infodump ending with a few flaps, mostly happy but also a little desperate in an attempt to get the overwhelming love of the ocean that thrummed through him down to something more manageable.

“Logan,” Patton commented as Logan flapped, now finished talking. “Have you ever considered getting a fish tank?”

A minute ago, Logan hadn’t even noticed he was in the room. He’d thought he was alone with Roman. But now he was acutely aware of Patton’s presence.

“What?” he asked, not quite processing the words as he continued to flap and rock slightly.

Patton smiled at him, and Logan recognized that as good, happy. Patton was happy. That was good, Logan liked when Patton was happy.

“Have you ever thought about getting a fish tank before?”

Logan’s flapping stopped immediately, but the rocking increased.

“No,” he said.

“Really?” Roman asked, “You’ve never considered it?” Roman’s eyes were... different and his tone was… something. Logan thought he should recognize both of what those things meant but he was suddenly overwhelmed in a whole different way. “It sounds like a neat idea.”

“No,” Logan said, voice solid, firm. Roman frowned at him, turning his head slightly and now Logan and Roman were making eye contact and it was so intense and Logan could feel the pressure building in him and he got up from the couch as quick as possible.

“No,” he insisted once more, before escaping to the office.

Logan fell in love with the ocean at five years old. He fell in love with fish a year earlier, at age four. Space joined in when he turned six.

The ocean and space were two particular special interests that Logan hung onto for his entire life. Space was more in the background, a special interest to fall back on when nothing else held his attention, but the ocean had always been at the forefront.

The ocean was amazing, it was brilliant, it was mysterious, and it was beautiful.

At age five, Logan read every fish book that he could get his hands on. Some were too complicated for him yet, but he was a strong reader for his age, and devouring books about the ocean encouraged that.

He quickly learned that if the ocean was amazing, and brilliant, and mysterious, and beautiful, that meant that fish were wonderful, and fascinating, and captivating, and calming.

They also had extraordinary lives. They lived in the ocean which meant that they lived underwater which meant that they didn’t have to talk to anyone.

For Logan, that sounded so fantastically wonderful. What Logan would give to never have to talk to anyone ever again. He already didn’t talk much, but his parents were so insistent on it and sometimes he had to in school and if he didn’t, he got in trouble.

But Logan didn’t like talking. It was awkward and it grated on his ears and even though Logan’s words were clear, he didn’t think he was very good at it. He never seemed to say things right. He knew he was pronouncing the words correctly, but the other kids would always give him looks and laughed and walked away and Logan didn’t know what any of it meant.

So he didn’t talk to the other kids a lot.

He didn’t talk a lot in general.

Fish didn’t have to talk at all. How amazing was that? How freeing.

There was something about the ocean that Logan was instantly drawn to, and it easily became one of Logan’s first ever special interests.

He talked about it constantly.

He talked about the waves and tides, about coral reefs and the deep ocean. He told his family about the Mariana Trench and about how so much of the ocean hadn’t even been explored yet. He talked about dolphins and turtles and sharks and eels and rays.

But most of all, he talked about fish. He talked about their colors and their movements and habitats and he learned words like ‘mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship.’

Logan fell in love, and Logan fell in love hard.

Nobody expected him to fall in love at such a young age, and certainly not with fish of all things, but Logan did.

His parents were at first enthusiastic. They fostered Logan’s interest, excited to see him so far ahead of his classmates in reading. Logan struggled with social interactions, but for now that was brushed over because he had just started school and was still young. It would take a few months before the concern set in. He talked about fish a lot and all of Logan’s family found it annoying because Logan would only talk about fish. But it meant that he was reading so it was considered acceptable. For now.

But everyone had their tipping points.

And one day Logan came home to a little glass bowl with a decent sized goldfish sitting in it.

Logan’s parents had complimented themselves on their genius. Taking care of a fish would teach Logan responsibility, and hopefully a pet would satisfy his fish fixation, leading him to talk less about them. And if he got bored of the fish, well it could easily be flushed down a toilet.

And Logan came home. And there was a goldfish. And a little glass bowl.

Logan immediately rushed over to it. His parents smiled on, waiting for his excited reaction and hopeful end to long rants.

“It can’t breathe!” he said, fear etched across his face, “Mom. Dad. The fish can’t breathe!”

“What?” his mom said, and skittered over to join him, peering at the fish in the bowl. It was huddled at the bottom, and while unmoving, seemed to be fine and was breathing evenly. “What? Lolo, the fish is fine.”

“No!” Logan cried, and oh wow, he really was crying now, “No! It can’t breathe! It’s in a bowl!”

“Well of course?” Logan’s dad spoke up, “Fish live in the water Logan. In bowls.” It was information he knew his son knew, but for some reason he couldn’t help but remind him. After all, Logan’s reaction didn’t make any sense.

“No!” Logan cried some more, and he slapped his hands down at the table hard. He did it again. “No! The fish can’t breathe. It’s going to die. You’re going to kill the fish.”

“Logan, honey the fish is fine, come here,” his mom said, trying in a desperate attempt to soothe her son. She reached out to grab him, but when she did he shrieked.

“Noooo!” he screamed, “No! Don’t touch me! You can't put a fish in a bowl! Bowls are bad for them! It needs a tank and a filter and a heater and space to swim. You’re killing it. Bowls are bad for fish. I’ve told you this. Why did you put the fish in a bowl? You’re killing it!”

“Logan honey, the bowl is fine. The fish is fine,” Logan’s mom said, ignoring her son’s words as she looked at her husband.

“Logan!” his dad’s voice boomed and Logan stilled for the most part, still crying but no longer screaming as he rocked on his feet. “Your mom and I got you a very nice gift. You’re being rude and ridiculous. This behavior isn’t acceptable. Say thank you.”

“But the fish is dying! It’s hurting! You’re killing it!” he screamed right back in their faces.

This last scream was enough for Logan’s father and he reached forward, grabbing his son by his arm. Logan tried to wrench away, but his father’s hand held stiff. Logan screamed when he realized he couldn’t move.

His hand was touching Logan and he was grabbing Logan and Logan wanted him to stop he didn’t want people to touch him and the fish was dying it was hurting didn’t his parents understand that? They were being cruel and they weren’t listening to him and his dad’s hand was grabbing him and he couldn’t move and the skin under his dad’s hand itched and someone was touching him and he didn’t want someone touching him and he was screaming and he was crying and his dad didn’t let go and-

And Logan kicked his dad firmly on the shin.

His dad’s hand dropped immediately, likely out of surprise than any real pain.

“Logan!” his mom admonished. “We do not kick people!”

But Logan didn’t hear here, just continued shaking and crying and screaming and at least no one was touching him anymore but he couldn’t handle it he couldn't handle it the fish was dying, Logan was dying didn’t they understand that?

Logan was dying.

His father grabbed his arm again and Logan screamed louder than ever before.

Veera’s voice could barely be heard around it saying, “Mom?”

To which she quickly responded, “Go to your room, Veera.”

“Mom?”

“Now, Veera.”

Logan continued to scream and now his dad was tugging him forward and it was all Logan could do to follow because he didn’t even know what was going on anymore. And he was choking on tears and snot and his breath and it was too much it was too much it was all too much.

Eventually, his father pushed him into his room and shut the door quickly behind him, locking the door.

The click of the lock rang out even over Logan’s screams and he desperately twisted the knob. It didn’t budge.

He started to throw his body against it in a frantic attempt to get out even though he knew it was already futile.

What were his parents doing? Didn’t they get it? Fish couldn’t live in fishbowls. They’d get sick and die. It was bad for them.

Logan’s room was closing around him and it was so small and he was breathing but he wouldn’t be for long because it was so tiny and he didn’t have a filter and he was cold because he didn’t have a heater and he didn’t have enough space to swim around and Logan was a curious fish and he needed space to swim.

Fish died in fishbowls.

The door still didn’t open, so Logan eventually took to sitting in the middle of his room. And his clothes were still touching him and his dad’s hand was touching him and he couldn’t handle touching right now. So Logan took off his clothes and he curled into a ball and he rocked and screamed because he didn’t know what to do.

And fish died in fishbowls.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Remus,” Roman calls after the retreating figure, tearing away from his conversation for just a moment, “Wait up a second.”

Remus turns around from where he had been by the door and catches Roman’s eye for a moment. He nods and sits in the back of the theater, allowing Roman to turn back and discuss set features with a few people.

The conversation doesn’t take too long, and eventually Roman’s jogging over to Remus, who quirks an eyebrow and stands.

“What’s up?” Remus asks.

Roman heistates and wrings his hands together, shifting from foot to foot. Remus watches him do so, edge of panic creeping into his thoughts ever so slightly. Roman’s acting odd and unusual and Remus doesn’t know why, but his brain is bound to fill in millions of undesirable reasons.

The Shadow appears in the background, behind Roman in the far corner, and Remus struggles to keep his breath even. He tries to remind himself that The Shadow himself doesn’t mean anything. He’s not real, he’s not an omen, he can’t predict the future.

Bad things tend to happen after The Shadow shows up.

But that doesn’t mean The Shadow is sentient or anything more than a hallucination. All it means is that Remus is taking in variables from the situation, such as Roman’s unusual body language and his brain is allowing that to warp into a recurring hallucination.

It isn’t an omen.

Roman is still looking at him, but this time with a slight frown, and seeming expectant. He follows Remus’s line of sight towards where he was watching The Shadow. Remus blinks and quickly brings his attention back to Roman, ignoring the hallucination. Roman also brings his attention back, obviously not finding what Remus was looking at.

“Sorry,” Remus offers, “I missed what you said. Got distracted.”

Roman nods, “No worries. I uh- well I was just saying that uhm- well my dads are coming up this weeked, and I know I’ve mentioned- well one of my dads knew our mom for a bit. He knows more about her than either of us. I thought- well I know you wanted more information about her. And he’s going to be in town, so…”

Roman trails off, still shifting and playing with his fingers.

“So meet the parents, sibling version? Some odd form of parent trap?” Remus offers, trying to keep his tone light and his voice steady.

Internally though, his heart is racing. He’s not sure why.

It could be out of fear.

After all, Roman and him have been getting closer and interacting more with each other. They aren’t super close and there's still so much to learn about each other but Remus thinks he can safely call Roman his friend, maybe even someone he trusts. But meeting Roman’s dads is a whole different story. It would make sense if he was afraid.

Or maybe it’s excitement.

Because Remus never got to have closure with his mom. The only goodbye he got was getting unfairly ripped from her care and never returned. His searches to find her had continuously shown up empty, and he started to question how much of what he remembered about her was even real. Finding out she had died years ago had been devastating, but maybe meeting Roman’s dad will give Remus a better insight into who she was.

It might be love and joy.

Roman’s offer to meet his dads and allow Remus access to more information about his mother is kind and generous. Remus holds so much appreciation to Roman for allowing Remus into this part of his life and for letting Remus ask questions and seek out answers.

Potentially, Remus is even feeling sadness.

It’s a nice offer, letting Remus talk to Roman’s dad and learn more about his mom, but it’s also a stark reminder of everything he has lost. It’s a reminder that he will never get to see her again and only get to hear second hand stories about her. It hurts to know that she’s gone and Remus never had the chance to reconnect with her.

Really, Remus feels a lot.

“I…” Remus stutters, not knowing quite what to say.

“You don’t have to,” Roman is quick to reassure. He shrugs. “I just thought that it, y'know, might be something that interested you. Just uh- text me to let you know what you decide and we’ll go from there.”

Remus, still processing everything, just gives a small nod, and briefly notes that The Shadow disappears. Roman nods in return, and leaves. Remus follows soon after, and then makes a split second decision and goes running after Roman to catch him before he drives off.

“Hey Roman!” he shouts, as Roman’s clamoring into his car.

“Yes?” Roman asks, pausing with the door open.

“Yes,” Roman says, “Yeah, I would like to meet your dads.”

Roman releases a smile, looking surprisingly pleased, “Awesome,” he says, “They fly in this weekend and stay five days. Just uh- text me some of the times you’re free and we’ll figure out when?”

Remus agrees, and he lets Roman leave. He takes a deep breath and returns to his car.

-

Roman takes a deep breath before answering the door.

He’s not nervous- not exactly. It’s more- he wants this to go well for Remus. Roman misses his mom, sure, but it’s a more detached absence. He wishes she had been able to be in his life, that he really got to meet and interact with her. Roman doesn’t have memories of his mom.

Remus does.

Remus remembers their mom's face, her voice, her smile. All things Roman has only heard about or seen in pictures.

Roman misses what he could have had.

Remus misses what he had.

It’s different.

He wants to give Remus what he needs in regards to closure, but he’s not quite sure how to do that. And when his dad had offered to talk to Remus- Roman had thought it would be a good idea.

Now here’s to that idea.

He opens the door, and as expected, Remus stands there, shifting slightly on his feet. Roman notes briefly that this is another thing they have in common, sort of shuffling in place while waiting.

“Hey, come on in,” Roman greets him warmly.

Remus nods, and enters.

It’s the first time he’s been in his house, Roman realizes. They’ve gotten together a few times, but mostly out and about and Roman’s seen Remus’s apartment but he hasn’t been to his house yet.

Roman suddenly doesn’t know what to do. This is the first time his brother- his brother- has ever been in his house.

In seconds all his plans float away from him.

Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it?

“Hey Remus,” Patton greets, coming up behind Roman and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly.

“Do you want something to drink?” Patton asks Remus.

“Oh. Uh sure?” Remus asks, “water?”

“Okay, I'll bring it to the living room, alright?” Patton smiles and turns to Roman. “Roman, love you better hurry, I’m pretty sure your dads brought baby photos and the longer you take the more they plan to share with Remus.”

“God dammit,” Roman swears. He turns to face the direction of the living room, “My baby pictures don’t even have anything to do with our mom! We have literally one photo of us together. One!”

Roman waits to hear if his dads have anything to say back, but they’re quiet and Roman isn’t even sure if they heard him. He sighs loudly, before remembering his audience. His eyes go wide and he quickly turns back to Remus.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. You’re Christian, right? I don’t like to even imply Allah and damnation together so I’ve gotten used to that- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Remus responds, “I’m pretty religious but honestly I don’t mind when others say that stuff. It’s a common vernacular phrase and like you said- you don’t mean anything by it. To me it’s the intent that matters.”

“Okay…” Roman hesitates.

“I have water,” Patton calls from further in the house.

Roman snaps back to attention. Right. Water. Living room. Dads. Remus. Mom. Time to talk.

“The living room is this way,” Roman says, and the two of them travel further into the house.

When they enter the living room, both of his dads gazes instantly turn to Remus. The stand and as they’re shaking hands and greeting each other Roman is reminded of the fact that he doesn’t look like his dads.

It’s not that Roman doesn’t know that. He’s adopted, and it’s always been a basic fact that he doesn’t look like his fathers or siblings.

But it’s suddenly strange to be standing next to the people he’s known since he was a baby and look nothing like them while also standing next to his brother who he’s known for less than a year with physical similarities that are impossible to miss.

It’s an odd experience to say the least.

“I’m going to do some work in the office,” Patton says as he sets down water on the table. He shoots Roman a look that practically screams, ‘I’m here for you, just call if you need me.’

Albamdullilah, Roman loves Patton so fucking much.

Eventually, Patton leaves the room and the rest of them sit as they start talking.

Roman mostly observes, as does his dad as Remus and his father talk. It’s interesting to listen to them. His father’s accented voice weaving stories of a woman he didn’t even know for a year.

Which is another strange thing to think about. Roman had always viewed his father as an expert on his mother, considering Roman had only known her for five minutes and his dad never met her. But his father really hadn’t known his mother long at all.

Remus doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact, eagerly soaking in the information Roman’s father has, as well as shooting back a multitude of questions. They look at pictures together and Roman is once more reminded of the blood relation between himself, the women in the photo, and the man sitting next to him.

“The three of you have the same smile,” his dad comments, as his father nods in firm agreement.

Roman can’t help but smile in reaction to the statement, and he sees Remus do the same next to him.

“There it is,” his dad says, snapping his fingers, “That’s the one.”