Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Listen.

Thomas never intended to blow the old guys door off it's hinges. It just happened.

It all happened so fast.

Superhero's were normal here. Well now a days it was rare that those two words were used in a sentence together. But 20 years ago, Thomas was reassured that they used to walk the streets with pride. Most people who could afford several thousand dollars of schooling fees would go to get properly trained with the academy.

Anyone who didn't was illegitimate. Almost as bad as the villains themselves. While that view used to be dependent on the person, after an accident that left a beloved superhero severely injured, and the other revealed to have no training, things changed. The world went quiet

Thomas wasn't one of those people who thought like that, and frankly he couldn't afford a schooling fee, so here he was, wandering the neighborhood with a flyer clutched in his hands. The houses all looked the same. Clean-cut grass, perfect pavement and beige walls.

Boring.

Unbelievably boring.

"Okay, that should be it right there." Thomas mutters, looking over at the small gray house with painted flower beds and an uneven driveway. The grass was slightly overgrown, but the flower beds were some of the neatest gardens Thomas had ever seen.

"Just knock on the door, he doesn't bite. He shouldn't bite, at least. God, I hope he doesn't bite," Thomas mutters, folding up the paper and sticking it in his pocket.

It was like he set off a land mine, the minute he started to walk up towards the house, people started to get out of the vehicles that lined the streets, rushing towards him in a flurry of shouts and fancy business clothes.

"What is your relation to Storm Cloud!"

"Do you have any thoughts on the recent threats made by the Dragon Witch?!"

"Do you think he'll come out of hiding or will he remain a reclouse leading to possible damage of Gainsville?"

They all yelled, questions overlapping as they surrounded him on the sidewalk, cameras flashing as microphones were shoved in his face. The teen stared at them wide eyed, his protests of confusion getting caught in his throat as he heard something slam in the background.

Thomas let out a small noise as tried to move, anything to get out of the circle of people.

"Hey! Do y'all have anything better to do than trespass at 10 in the morning!" A gruff voice yelled, the circle parting when an older man in his late 30's marched forward. He wore black jeans and a old t-shirt covered in paint and sawdust. He had messy dark hair and scary green and brown eyes. He looked exhausted.

The circle began to back up as the man marched forward, gesturing for them to back up." If you start surrounding my house again, I will call the police. Go away!" He says, before turning his gaze to Thomas, his face softening ever so slightly as he gestured to the porch.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" He asks gruffly, walking towards the front of the house. For a second Thomas swore he heard a small crackle as the man walked, maybe he was hearing stuff.

"I um... Yeah. I think I'm okay," He says, following behind him, sitting down when the older man gestured to the chair.

"Looks like they tore your shirt. Do you need water or something?" He asks again, gesturing to Thomas's ratty t-shirt and jeans. They were well-loved for sure.

"No, no. I'm good. Are you Virgil?" He asks and the man goes quiet.

"Are you sure I- Oh not you too," He says, turning around as he starts walking towards his door.

"Wait please. Just hear me out,"

"I've done enough listening. I'm tired of this, I'm not someone you can mooch off of," The man says, going to close the door in Thomas's face.

"Wait! I'm like you,"Thomas says, sticking out his hand to stop the door from closing, not expecting the front door to fly off its hinges, the older man going with it.

There was silence for a long time before anything was said. Virgil groaned, laying against the base of the stairs. Thomas panted looking from his extended hand to the hinges of the door that were bent in the shape of a C.

"Haven't seen strength like that in a long time," The older man mutters, slowly standing up.

"I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I don't really know how to control it yet. Which was why I was hoping you could help," Thomas almost begged.

"How am I going to help you kid? I'm the exact opposite of who you should be going too. Why aren't you at the academy," He asks and Thomas scoffs.

"I can't afford that. He said to give this to you and you'd understand." Thomas says, handing him the poster. It was a black and white poster of two men. The first one looked slightly older with curls and a large cape. He had a grand smile on his face, his hand rested on the other ones shoulder.

The other man was definitely younger. He was small and thin with a mask that covered most of his key facial features. The sleeves of his dark suit were rolled up, revealing lightning-like markings that ran from his fingertips to his elbows. In his left hand, he held what looked like a metal bo-staff. The caption read ' Dynamic Duo Princey and The Storm cloud: Can he reform him for the better?"

Virgil's face fell." Who did?" He asks, although it was clear he already knew who this was from.

"Roman. He said hi, by the way,"

Judging by the face it had been a very long time since Virgil had heard that name.

Chapter Text

The older man paused, sighing heavily as he brushed off the dust on his pants. Thomas just watched as he folded up the poster, not looking at the words on the back just yet. He then turned around and walked towards the kitchen, leaving him in the doorway.

"You already broke the door, you can come in," His voice called as Thomas's eyes widened. Was it really that easy.

"Oh thank you," Thomas says, before he starts to pick up the door, trying to carefully bend back the hinge, sighing when it snapped in his hands.

"Leave it, kid," his voice says, and Thomas sighs, setting down the broken hinge before walking into the house. It somehow looked very well lived in and empty at the same time. One remote, one blanket, and a stack of papers sat on the coffee table.

"Do you have any allergies?" The older man asks and the teen looked up, looking beyond confused.

"What?"

"You look hungry. Do you have any allergies?" He asked, and Thomas didn't know how to explain the reason why he didn't know.

"Not that I know of. You don't have to." Thomas says, although right on cue, his stomach growled pretty loudly.

"I think your stomach says otherwise, he says, not turning back to look at the teen. Was he stalling? Perhaps adding something to his food, like a truth serum. Now that he had a chance, actually, to relax, he started to take in the man's features. He had the same lightning bolt markings that started at his fingertips, although now that he wasn't wearing a long-sleeve shirt, he saw that they extended past his elbows. They were faded, as if they hadn't been used in a long time.

In the weeks Roman had watched over him, he described Virgil a plenty. Although things had obviously changed because the two hadn't spoken in literal decades. When Roman described him, he sounded sad. It was clear the man had deeply cared for the latter, but they no longer talked.

"So you aren't mad?" he asks, looking a little confused when Virgil opens the cabinet to grab plates. His cabinets were practically empty: four cups, three plates, and two sets of utensils. It must've been pretty lonely to live here.

"About you obliterating my door? Not really,"He says, finally turning around, handing the teen a sandwich and a glass of milk.

"Why not?" He says, trying not to scarf down the sandwich too fast. But god was he hungry.

"I've got too many questions," The older man replied, noticing that the teen was staring at his arms, but said nothing about it.

"Like what?" Thomas asks.

"Where are your parents? How do you know Roman? Where are you from? Because even if you aren't in the academy, you're like what, 15? You should be in school."

"16,"

"My point still stands," The older man points out, grabbing a flannel to cover up with.

"It's on the back of the flyer. Roman said he'd call and explain everything. I just have to tell him I got here okay," Thomas says, frowning as he tries to remember where he placed his phone. He hadn't had a phone for very long, so making sure he had it on him was still new to him.

"You set it on the coffee table," Virgil notes, sighing as he pulls the flyer back out again, making a face as he reads whatever is on the back of it.

"Oh, right. Thank you," Thomas says, going to put away his dish in the empty sink before grabbing his phone.

'Hey, made it safe. I can't really tell if Vee likes me much because I accidentally broke his door, but he fed me.'

"Sit, relax. I've gotta make a call apparently. If I come back here and see you trying to clean or pick up that door, so help me-" The older man threatened and the kid smilled at him. That was on brand for him, maybe Roman wrote about it because how the hell did Virgil know he would do it.

"I won't," he says, sitting on the couch slowly, because he wanted to soak in the warmth of the empty home for as long as he could. Virgil's footsteps faded, and Thomas started to look around again, pausing when he saw a few sheets of paper that were clearly meant to be letters.

Each started and then scribbled out at various points. The last one he found was short but actually complete.

Dear Remus,

I don't really know how to start this. I mean, I'm pretty sure you live in the same area. I miss you a lot. I know I could just text you, but this felt less scary for some reason. We left it off on a rough note and I'm sorry.

Hopefully, you don't burn this. I mean, I can't stop you if I do.

Love, Virgil.

The paper was crumpled up and had a few tear stains on it. Thomas set down the letter, frown a little. Remus? As in Roman's younger brother Remus?

That made things a lot more complicated.

Chapter Text

Virgil almost wished he had stayed in bed that morning. It probably wouldn't have gone any differently, but a guy can hope, right?

Virgil glanced from the letter in his hands to the teen who just sat there on his couch. It had been a very long time since he had another person in the house with him, let alone someone of that age. That was his fault.

"Sit, relax. I've got to make a call, apparently. If I come back here and see you trying to clean or pick up that door, so help me-" He threatens, and the teen turns around, his big brown eyes looking mainly confused. Something about this kid was off. As if he had been through a lot, most kids that age shouldn't.

"I won't," The kid says, and Virgil nods, walking towards the back of the house, pulling open the porch door, and stepping outside. He hadn't realized how hard his heart had been pounding until he stopped and just took a moment, his eyes drifting back to the letter.

Hello my friend,

It's been quite some time since we've spoken, which I will admit makes me sad. I hope you are doing alright, storm cloud. You probably have questions, and lucky for you, I have answers!

If Thomas hasn't already said/asked, I've asked you to train him. I know that look you have on your face, and I need to remind you that you were and are far more capable than what the academy can give you. You have patience. That kid has been through some stuff, and I honestly trust you more than any stupid school to train him.

You have my number if you have any questions just call me. Please it'd be lovely to hear from an old friend.

-Roman

Virgil breathed in deeply as he pulled out his phone, clicking on FaceTime. Roman always preferred when they FaceTimed, but he honestly didn't know if he could handle seeing an old friend's face.

Roman beat him to it, though, because then suddenly the FaceTime was popping up on his phone, and his friend's contact photo that he hadn't seen in 10 years. The older man yelped, throwing the phone, the sound of his ringtone filling the air.

Virgil pressed a hand to his chest; the brief flash of Roman's scream of pain from that night echoed throughout his head. The pain and the fear that he had felt as he was cradled in Remus's arms, Roman's unmoving body beside his.

That wasn't happening, though.

Virgil sighs, picking up his phone and hitting accept, his hands shaking as his friend's face appeared on the phone. He looked exactly the same and somehow wildly different all at the same time. His curls had started to go slightly gray, his freckled skin was still covered in battle scars, but now his skin was slightly more wrinkled.

"Hello Vee," Roman says with a twinkle in his eyes as Virgil swallowed hard, nearly gagging at the nickname. He didn't deserve the kindness, considering all that he had done, not after everything he had ruined.

"Just Virgil is fine," He says, breathing in deeply as he sits down. Roman frowned, before he moved from what he assumed was the kitchen down to the living room, the wheelchair creaked as he moved.

They were in the same house. It had hardly changed since Virgil had last been there, although it was the last time Virgil truly remembered being in that house. Roman had the ability to walk.

"Oh come on, vee I'm not mad at you," Roman says, and Virgil cringed. He should've been. Roman couldn't walk anymore because of him.

"Virgil," He corrects again.

"How are you Virgil? I haven't seen you in so long," Roman asks, his tone gentle.

" Why did you send him here?" Virgil asks, dodging that question too.

"Because you'd be able to train him a lot better. You read the letter right?" he asks and Virgil nods, biting his nails.

"Yeah dude it was pretty cyrptic. Why me?" he asks again and Roman sighs.

"There have been some things happening at the academy that have resulted in some untimely deaths of young superheroes. His powers are intense and very powerful. I fear they were exploiting that," Roman says, and Virgil let out a sharp laugh. He had been saying that for literal years, and he had the markings to prove it.

"Yeah, I can definetly tell. Roman, I should be the one to train him though. Not after-"

"I never blamed you for that, Vee. None of that was your fault. Come on please, for the Thomas's sake," Roman practically begged, looking back as the door opened and then there was another face beside Roman's

He was the same as Virgil. That gray streak he had had since they met had only grown more silvery. He had the same wild eyes and glorious mustache. Virgil's breath caught in his throat as he stared at his former lover, Remus.

He was still as handsome as the day he left.

"Remus," Virgil whispered breathlessly.

"Virgil," Remus uttered in the same tone, before straightening when another voice from the back says.

"Did I hear that correctly?" It was Logan's voice. Logan never disliked him, but hearing his voice only made him feel so much worse.

"I gotta go,"

"Virgil wait,"

"I'll train him, Roman. Don't worry," Virgil says, before hanging up and putting his head in his hands. What the hell did he just agree to?

Chapter Text

He wasn't given much time to think about what the letters meant. The older man was gone for maybe 15 minutes before he quietly came back inside, clearing his throat as he walked into the living room.

Thomas jumped as Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Relax," He says, calmly walking towards the broken door, grabbing the bent hinge in both of his hands, pressing them together firmly. As he pressed his hands together, the markings on his arms and his brown eye turning purple as he heated up the metal.

Thomas watched in awe as he warmed his hands enough to bend the metal, before grabbing the door taking a few minutes before he figured out to put it back together. Thomas could tell his hands were shaking, but honestly he was just amazed by the fact that he just bent the metal with his hands.

"Woah,"

"Don't get used to that," Virgil warns, not facing him right away. "How early can you get here tomorrow? Do I have to call your parents or something?" He asks and Thomas shook his head, swallowing thickly.

"No, you don't have to worry about that. Wait, does that mean you'll train me?!" Thomas asks excitedly and Virgil sighs, nodding.

"Yeah, but there are some ground rules," He says and Thomas nods.

"You arrive here on time. You aren't going to go prodding on what happened to me and Roman. If I find out you are, this is done. We are not rushing into this so don't go rushing downtown because you think you can handle this by yourself. Got it?"He asks and Thomas nods, breathing in deeply.

"Yeah that seems easy enough," He says, briefly eying the letter that sat on the coffee table.

"Where am I dropping you off at?" The older man asks and for a second Thomas debated telling him the truth but then decieded against it.

"I can walk back home. I come right after school," Thomas says, feeling guilty for lying straight to his face. Thomas didn't go to school, but maybe he could tell him that later. That didn't feel like a first time meeting conversation.

"Sounds good to me. You better keep up your grades as well. That's the other thing. Schooling comes first," Virgil says and Thomas nods, he really didn't have to worry about that.

"Thank you. I promise you won't regret it," The teen says and the older man nods.

"I hope not," He admits.

---------

He hated lines. Especially long ones. He had been standing in this line for 2 hours, but honestly this line meant whether he was a warm place to sleep tonight or if he was sleeping in the park again. Thomas's parents passed away when he was 6. Up until 3 years ago, he had been passed around in the foster care system getting tossed around like a hot potato.

At the age of 13 he decieded he was sick of inconsistency and he ran away. Up until Roman and Logan took him in for a few months he had been living on the street. Thomas could really go back to their house if he wanted to, but they were both under the impression that Thomas also had school. He didn't know how to tell them that he didn't have a place to go.

"Here you go, we have sleeping bags and toiletries avaliable inside," One of the volunteers says, handing him a number. Thomas nods, thanking her before walking inside. Warmth flooded his body as he stepped into the large hall full of people.

He usually just kept to himself; most people who had the energy to care got concerned as to why a kid who should've been a sophomore in high school was sleeping in a homeless shelter. But with Virgil, this chance meant he could have a place to live, food on the table, clean clothing.

He'd take it, he had to.

His phone pinged as he grabbed his sleeping bag, sitting down when he found an open cot.

'How is school going so far?'

Occasionally, Logan would check in about that stuff. Thomas was pretty sure he was catching onto his lies, but he didn't really have the energy to think about that right now.

'It's going okay, I got an A- in chem again,' He replied, smiling when Logan replied almost instantly.

'That is very good. I'm astounded by your progress with that subject,' Logan replied, and Thomas grinned, setting down his phone.

If he did enough with the training, he could make a living and go to school. That was his goal. He wanted to make his lie about school and where he lived a reality.

Chapter Text

Virgil was waiting for him on the porch the next day. He wore a pair of paint covered blue jeans and a black hoodie. He didn't look up right away, sipping his coffee as Thomas stood in front of the porch.

"Don't break my door today," The older man says simply, still not looking up.

"I'll try my best," Thomas admits, looking confused when he saw a sandwich sitting on the little table next to him.

"If we are going to train, you won't do it on an empty stomach," Virgil says, finally looking up at him. He just looked tired, not angry like Thomas was expecting him to be.

"You don't have to,"

"You will have food, water and shelter while here as long as you hold up to our agreement. It's a tough world out there and I don't need you passing out because the mystery meat at school was not worth the stomach issues," Virgil says, before standing up and walking inside.

Maybe he already knew? Did Roman tell him?

"Oh I- uh- I appreciate it," Thomas says, grabbing the plate and following the older man inside.

"Did school get out early today?" Virgil asks from somewhere towards the kitchen. Thomas froze, looking at his phone, mentally pinching himself for not checking first.

It was 1:30.

"Uh yeah, I got study hall at the end of the day," Thomas lied and old man nods, walking back out wearing leather gloves, one metal and one wooden stick held in his hands.

"Sticks?" Thomas asks and Virgil shook his head, hand him a pair of gloves and the wooden stick.

"It's called a Bo staff. This is what I used to fight with," Virgil says and Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"But yours is metal, why is mine wood?" he asks, holding the wooden staff in his hands.

"Because metal is used as a conductor, if I use wood while fighting, I'll set it on fire," Virgil says, simply and Thomas's eyes widen. He had really only seen Virgil use his powers to fix the door, but from the way Roman talked about him, he was very powerful. Maybe he could convince to join him in the fight.

"Wait does that mean I get to see you use it your lightning?"

"Not a chance. It's a precaution so I don't go to jail for setting a teenager on fire or electrocuting you," The older man replies, and the teen's smile dropped. Well, that got dark fast.

"Aw that would've been cool," Thomas says, running after the older man who opened the door to his back yard. The gardening gear and paint all of his clothes made so much more sense. There were rows of garden beds filled with brightly colored flowers and vegtables.

"You are toeing the line there kid," Virgil says, rolling up his sleeves, before he just stood there and waited.

"What do I do?" He asks, once he had a good grip on the staff.

" Adjust your left hand first and then swing," Virgil says, ducking when Thomas swung, nearly losing his balance when he did.

"What is the point of this,"

"Balance. You need to be able to fight and stay on your feet. Not to mention it'll mediate whatever is going on with your strength. If you can fight with something as fragile as a wooden stick then we are going to get onto actual fighting," Virgil says, swiping at Thomas, smacking him lightly on the arm. It didn't hurt at all

"Okay sounds easy enough," He says and almost as soon as he said those words he was one the ground. Thomas groaned, opening his eyes to see the older man standing over him, his hands on his hips. Okay the sass wasn't needed with that one.

"It's probably easier if you were standing instead of laying on the ground," he replied before hauling him up.

"Yeah, I know that"

"Try again,"

---------

So, he did for the next 4 hours (with a food and water break in between). He very quickly learned that Virgil was much better at this then he looked. He was fast and strong, he was reckless and slow. They were also now down 4 Bo staffs due to Thomas snapping them on accident.

Eventually after Thomas got tired of being hauled off the ground, he decided to call it a day. He was exhausted and sore. He also had to make it back to make it in time to get in line for the shelter.

"We'll try again tomorrow. Get some rest," Virgil says, standing at the door as Thomas finished packing up his stuff.

"Yeah. I can't wait to actually be able to fight bad guys. It's going to be cool," Thomas says, frowning when he saw a flash of something across Virgil's face, regret.

"Slow down. Let's make sure you can fight and stay on your feet first," he says, waving goodbye to the teen who nods.

"Bye, thank you!" He says before he began his walk back down the street.

-----------

Virgil sighs, shutting the door behind him once the teen left. It was weird having another person with him. It was nice, but it wouldn't last. He would ask at some point, they always do. Something about the kid bothered him though. The clothes, getting off of school 2 hours early. No backpack.

"I'm going to regret this," Virgil mutters, pulling out his phone and hitting Roman's contact, his throat going dry in a way he hated.

" Hey, sorry for calling you so late. What can you tell me about Thomas? I've got some concerns."