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greenninjagal-blog · 4 months

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Dead Men Break No Codes pt1

I've been playing too many escape rooms recently. Fic be upon ye :D

Summary: Rookie Fbi agent, Roman is a certified genius who's time to shine is right now, while a serial killer's taken up taunting the police with puzzles leading them to the bodies of their victims! Someone should probably warn him about being so good at his job.

Word Count: 12020

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybinaa @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Chapter One: Odd Man Out

The letter found at the latest crime scene isn’t directly addressed to Roman but based on the entire crime scene team’s reaction, it might as well have been.

Roman had barely held onto the card for more than a few minutes, just enough that he could gage the type of paper, the ink color, the number of pages, the smell—all the nitty gritty details that might help them solve the riddles before someone else died—before he sent it off to the labs for further testing. Roman’s notes along with photos of each of the three pages of the banal opinions were displayed through a projector on the wall of the conference room they were in so everyone could see them, but the longer Roman stared at it all, the more he thought that he might have been going slightly stir crazy.

“I stand by what I said,” Virgil says from the corner where he’s strangling a stress ball to the point of it disintegrating in his hands. “Someone needs to get this guy a fucking hobby. Who even uses the word “effulgent” anymore?”

“I think murdering people is his hobby,” Roman comments as he scribbles through yet another code breaking attempt that led nowhere and provided nothing but a hatred for the English alphabet.

It’s obvious there's some type of code in it: previous crime scenes and puzzles aside, no one uses the words Verisimilitude and Brummagem without it being intentional, and certainly not the guy who’s killed ten people in the past three weeks. There are underlined words that spell out "your year of creation is key" and bolded words that read out “From Capitals to Rome” and all of it was tied together with a stunning, swooping bit of calligraphy that's left him with a headache after staring at it so long. Perfect punctuation, no extra doodles or dots: the letter itself talks scathingly about modern adaptations of Sherlock Holmes and detectives and what it means to be a genius in a world that doesn’t appreciate geniuses. Roman’s done the math: thirty-three sentences, averaging ten words across all of them, no direct address, but signed off with a cute “Plex”.

Which was short for “Perplex” because their serial killer thought they were clever.

If Roman had come across this guy in any other situation, he might have grown a grudging respect for him. Might have asked him out for drinks, even! Some of the puzzles that they’d come across are downright dazzling and ingenious and challenging and reminded Roman of his childhood so much they were nostalgic. If Roman ignored the code and read the letter as it was, he was left with a strangely twisted form of sick sympathy: he’d been a genius in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and trying to connect with people there had been like trying to squeeze himself into a pair of shoes he’d outgrown when he was four.

He’d been bored by schoolwork, already outpacing the teachers, too curious to wait until the next class to find answers which left him ahead of his peers. There weren’t thrilling enough mystery books in the library and every movie had ended in the most predictable way ever. He’d received the scorn of his own friends when he breezed through assignments that they struggled with at the same rate he’d received their adoration in any sort of academic competition or group project. Reading the letter in front of him, which was, at its core, someone else’s observations when they rang that close to Roman’s own internal laments, left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

What a horrible thing,—Roman thinks throwing his pen across the room to where the trashcan had been at one point and reaching for another— to have found more fucking kindship with a murderer than with the rest of his team.

He’d only been with this FBI team for a few months, and Roman’s ability to deftly stick his foot in his mouth had already put him at odds with most of the people he was supposed to be working with. The habit of thinking far too fast wasn’t a new thing for Roman to be dealing with, but Roman still forgot that not everyone was aware of just how fast he thought until he was blurting out a harmless comment he forgot could be taken as an insult.

His team leader—a man by the name of Logan Ackroyd—had bluntly told Roman that if he couldn’t keep his mouth in line there wouldn’t be a place for him on the team come the next week and Roman almost quit on the spot to avoid having to go through the utter embarrassment of being fired for his inability to play well with others, when he’d gotten multiple recommendations from high profile FBI agents who’d guaranteed Logan that Roman lived up to the rumors.

Logan had told him that he didn’t bother accepting fresh academy graduates usually, but the sheer volume of letters from colleagues had won Roman a chance to prove he was good enough to stay on permanently. And after six months, Roman is still standing with that Damocles sword over his head, with no sign of Logan changing his mind.

Logan’s right hand, Patton Hart, assures him that Logan means well, even if he doesn’t say it in so many (or any) words.

Patton radiates the gentle air of a tired, but well-meaning father although Roman’s never heard of him having any children and sometimes his existence is all that keeps Roman from crying the moment he home. He’s never been afraid to cut Logan off in the middle of a lecture or remind everyone they’re supposed to be fighting the serial killers not each other…as long as he’s paying attention.

Roman’s no stranger to getting caught up in his thoughts, but Patton is exactly like those cats who meow at dark corners when there’s nothing there; his crystal blue eyes soften with a distant gaze, seeing something that no one else can see for so long that once an actual gunfight broke out around them and Patton didn’t notice at all. Each conversation with Patton left Roman feeling as though he was being seen through instead of being looked at, but that was a small price to pay since Patton won’t take his words the wrong way no matter what he says.

In comparison, Virgil Storm is the person that Roman clashes with the most. Roman had been through enough Psych classes to hazard a guess that Virgil takes Roman’s entire existence as a threat to his own position: Roman is younger, prettier, healthier, smarter, and he had come with heralds of recommendation letters from the FBI academy professors. The only thing Virgil has over him is two years of field experiences that never quite seem to be enough for him to feel secure. Thus, every time Roman disagreed with him, Virgil had bitten back like it was a personal attack. Roman had nearly been written up twice because of their arguments when Virgil got to walk away with barely even a glance.

Janus Ekans, the last member of the team, is approachable in the same way that a live grenade was approachable: he’s a press liaison who sweet-talked reporters and consoled victims and made children laugh with funny faces while the adults talked, and then he turned around threatened to cut Roman’s brakes if he hummed another bar of the catchy pop song that was stuck in his head.

((Jokes on him though, the catchy pop song that had been stuck in his head had been the key to the code for the fourth victim.))

Janus’s brand of kindness always came with strings attached, or a manipulative ulterior motive. Roman had learned a healthy dose of skepticism of early morning coffees and a casual offer of finishing a report for him; the result was not worth having to sit through another workplace conduct seminar for Janus.

But for all of the conflicts with them, Roman wants to be part of this team, wants to be part of this mission, wants to know them and be known by them. It’s just… hard. Roman’s used to the feeling of distance between him and other people, compared it idly to a glass wall that he couldn’t figure out how to break, but something about how Janus and Virgil toast shots at the bar after a case, or how Patton always knows what to say to someone, or how Logan always predicts accurately what route an escaping suspect will take—something about how Roman got shot on his last case with them and woke up to find that the rest of his team had been taking turns watching over him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and it made Roman burn with the desire to be better for them.

And well…since Roman hasn’t been any good at the talkingpart of it, he figured that being a stellar coworker might be a better angle to go for.

((Remus laughed so hard at the idea on a call last month while Roman was working through his physical therapy exercises that Roman had hung up on him.))

It’s been….an attempt. Roman hasn’t exactly had the time to focus on it with the current case going on.

The police had called for help after the very first body, which was rare. Logan had explained on the way to the crime scene that there had been a letter sent to the local police that contained a grid of numbers and a warning that someone would get hurt if the police didn’t solve it in twenty-four hours. An identical copy had appeared at the crime scene, which had linked the two events together in a way that local police didn’t get paid enough for.

Logan had told Roman to focus on photographing details of the scene, but Roman had frozen the moment that his viewfinder had focused on the note, his mind recognizing the pattern from the billions he’d created in middle school.

Roman and Virgil had both spoken the same address at the same time: Roman because he had solved the cipher in the letter after reading it the first time, and Virgil because he’d pulled a long piece of paper with the address written on it out of the victims strangled throat with a pair of tweezers.

The address had ended up being an empty building with a “For Lease” sign in the window a few blocks away, and their arrival had revealed nothing except for another puzzle with a pinned note asking if they were going to actually try this time.

Roman had solved the next one, before Janus had even finished reading it and they had arrived at the next location before the next kidnapped victim had even been aware she’d been kidnapped, dazed and drugged and barely able to tell them her name. The murderer hadn’t been there, and Logan had ordered an evacuation with a posted discrete perimeter, with the hope that they could catch the murderer when they returned to kill their victim, but all ten officers hadn’t reported seeing anyone.

Instead, three days after that, the next letter had been delivered to the precinct via mailman who had no clue where the envelope had come from and hadn’t thought too much of it before making his next delivery. The killer seemed to have taken Roman’s quick solving as an offense or a challenge considering each of the puzzles had gotten harder and harder with the deadlines steady as ever. Roman had run up the clock trying to solve them fast enough to get his team to the scene before the victims were too injured to be saved, forget getting them in time to catch the perpetrator. The last woman had coded in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from her sustained injuries and still they hadn’t gotten any more of an idea who this killer was.

Brown hair, blond hair, long and groomed, a buzz cut, bearded, scarred, mole, green eyes, brown eyes, black eyes—every person that Roman managed to save had a different, conflicting description to offer. Every abduction had happened conveniently on corners were there weren’t cameras and none of the victims seemed to have anything in common: they were mostly young women with two cases of being young men, of various ethnicities and social classes, from all seven nearby counties. Had a gun, had a bat, didn’t see anything before the attack, was drugged, was knocked unconscious—even the corpses that they had recovered didn’t have any more information: there was no sign of fighting back, and every method of death was arbitrarily chosen as if the killer was spinning a wheel to decide how the next victim was going to go out.

Virgil, Patton, and Janus’s working profile was: “knows the area well”, “knows the police and FBI really well”, “easily overlooked”, and “desperate to prove they’re smarter than everyone else”.

Any event hosting riddles, puzzles, or trivia had received a visit from the FBI, but most had never seen anyone sweep the games as outrageously as the profile suggested nor had they had any unhappy customers that had caused a scene as much as a disgruntled, embarrassed genius like this would have. The narrow list of names all had accountable alibis and the team had been shoved back to square one until the next puzzle had appeared.

((They shared a music type, and a fondness for certain poets. Roman wouldn’t have solved half of the puzzles as fast if he hadn’t dabbled into the same extracurriculars of photography and art appreciation. He’d babbled to Virgil about the history of jigsaw puzzles when he put together a fifty-piece puzzle with nineteen pieces missing just so he could use the picture to identify the wharf area where they would find the next victim.))

It had felt like, at first, Roman had been assigned a task that would help, something that he excelled at that would do something to alleviate the stress of the situation and help people. While he’d gone through the programs and passed his tests with flying colors, Roman is still the youngest on the FBI team and his experience with catching serial killers is a laughable compared to the others—but after the third puzzle where Roman’s bizarre wealth of knowledge and prompt, problem-solving processes came in clutch, Logan had assigned the puzzles as Roman’s main task and refocused Janus, Patton, and Virgil on profiling the killer and victims and the area.

Roman thinks there’s a bit more to it as well, but Logan hadn’t deigned to share it with him and Roman just can’t afford to devote any of his brain to things other than finding codes at this point.

He hadn’t actually been back to his apartment in a week. He’d slept in this very room with blankets Virgil had dragged from his car, eaten take-out food grabbed by Patton, forced to shower by Janus with his bag of emergency toiletries until Logan had made the trip to Roman’s to pick up new clothes for his extended stay.

Roman was certain there were rules against all of this, policies and whatnot for the amount of overtime he was pulling and the clearly unhealthy sleep schedule and eating regime, but every time he closed his eyes, he remembered that first crime scene and the bulge of paper being delicately pulled from the strangled throat of a dead woman who deserved better and—

Even if it means his bed is gathering dust, even if he can’t remember what he last watched on TV, even if it means that he’ll been able to charge rent to the new life forms growing out of his fridge when this is over. He’d give up everything just to make sure that no other victims died without hope of being saved. All nine of the people he hadn’t gotten to save in time deserved at least to have their killer stopped.

That being said, the only member of his team keeping pace with his puzzle solving work still is Logan: Patton had run to the lab to check on the results of fingerprints (there hadn’t been any on the letters before, but Patton is an optimist at heart); Janus went to talk to one of the victims family after a call stating they thought they remembered something from the night before the victim went missing, and Virgil had tried his hardest for the first three hours before Roman had to break it to him for the nth time that Roman had already tried the codebreaking technique he was suggesting. He’s nearly jittery with the eager to have something to punch by now.

Logan is sitting primly in the seat across from Roman, his dark eyes tracing the calligraphy of the words looking for patterns that Roman hasn’t already tracked down and tried.

The digital clock at the head of the table is steadily counting down, and every time Roman blinks he sees the bloodied crime scene again: the lifeless eyes, the clinically broken bones, the bruises and the gashes and he thinks of the new missing girl who might be suffering the same fate if Roman doesn’t figure this out.

"There's thicker ink on the word Capital," Logan says, drawing Roman’s attention back to the first page of the letter. Roman had noted it briefly on his fourth review, even written down a list of capitals in the states and used the date of their establishments, their "year of creation" to identify words in the letter but nothing had come of it. Roman had moved off from it hours ago hoping that something else in the letter would circle back to it with more directions on what it meant.

"Let’s return to the concept that it refers to the capital letters," Logan says.

"Which spell out nothing, forward or backward or anagrammed," Virgil says from his chair in the corner towards the back of the room where he’d insisted he was sitting to get a better look at the “whole picture.”

"And we tried all possible Caesar shifts?” Logan says.

"I’ve run them through every Caesar shift 1 through 26. Then I tried the established years of all capitals in the States." Roman says combing through his papers to find his work. "It came up with nothing. So, I tossed them through a Trimethius Tableau, which also got me nothing, so then I tried the Trimethius Tableau with a key word, and uhm…”

Roman trails off as he scrambles through the stack of papers next to him and then gives up and offers the entire stack to Logan.

“You tried it with the word Capital?” Logan says.

“I tried it with every word that appears in the letter,” Roman says. “I didn’t bother writing down half of them so please don’t ask for proof. When that didn’t work, I tried all the Capitals from the entire world and then I tried the missing woman’s name first and last, the killers self-proclaimed name, and the spelled-out number of all our individual ages including the victim’s and the age range that the profile suggests for the killer and Sherlock Holmes. Nothing.”

Logan accepts the papers to analyze it himself or double check the numbers and letters, which Roman would find offensive if he had the energy to feel anything other than dread and defeat. Theres a girl’s life on the line and Roman’s matched wits with a piece of paper and failed at the only thing he’s been good at recently. The clock hits hour twenty-two on the killer’s timetable and Roman feels a burn in his eyes as he rubs them so hard he witnesses undiscovered colors on the back of his eyelids.

“Patton just texted,” Virgil said, waving his phone. “The ink is Speedball India Ink which you can get at any art supply but it’s for those fancy calligraphy pens. The techs think the nib was a… Bruase Steno, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Beginner’s nib,” Roman says, tiredly. “It holds a lot of ink in it, pretty sturdy, and good for downstrokes. Allows for a bigger font size than some others.”

“Is there anything you don’t know about?” Virgil says blandly. “He also says the paper from one of those Canson Mix Media sketchbooks you can buy at basically any retail store. I doubt by now that has any bearing on anything, but I figured I pass it along.”

Logan and Roman both nod to show they heard it. Roman predicted as much in his notes, although he’d been more of the idea the nib was a Nikko G based on the size of the font. It’s been a while since he had the time to work on his calligraphy, since Remus “borrowed” his pen set last year.

“I checked for a Rail Fence and a Playfair," Roman says. “Tried both Horizontal and Vertical Two-Squares.”

“I mapped out all of the ‘I’s in the letter to see if they spelled out something in dot-only morse code,” Virgil says.

“Did they?” Logan asks with the tone of a very tired parent.

“No, but you’re welcome that I at least tried it.”

Roman tunes out Logan’s responding sigh-and-lecture bit. There’s a girl missing probably already fighting for her life against injuries that had killed ten others before. Roman could be the only spot of hope for her, and he’s staring at the word ‘Mélange’, wondering if “year of creation” refers to the year that the word first came to use.

Janus had sniffed distastefully at the letter when he’d first read it, claiming that the murderer’s vocabulary was just another attempt to show them that he was smarter than all of them. Janus, who’d studied language profiling and had two papers published on the topic, had begrudgingly affirmed that all the words were being used in a sensible way.

Roman twirls his pen between his fingers reading over his notes again.

He’d been so sure on his second read of the letter that Sherlock Holmes was going to be part of the answer. “Your year of creation” had sounded so much like a bid for the year of publication, which had meant he only needed to figure out what media form it was based on. “From Capitals to Rome” hadn’t spurred anything exciting in his memory: he didn’t recall any of Author Canon Doyle’s original writings putting Holmes in Rome, although he’d jolted down a few books he knew of by other authors, and none of the TV show or movies had been filmed in the iconic city.

If it meant the distance between a capital and Rome, well, London was the only place that Roman was confident in writing down, but 1873km didn’t even match up with any other years and certainly nothing further in the letter that would give an address.

But then Rome could refer to a Caesar Cipher, like Logan had said. Which had inspired a whole other rabbit hole of possibilities and Roman had fallen down it with much less fun than Alice.

Why use words that no one else does conversationally? Roman, as a certified genius, already struggles with having those around him keep up with a conversation so throwing in uncommon words was a waste of breath or, in this case, paper. So why is their killer risking the message of the letter not being understood? Is it really just to prove that this mystery killer was smarter than them? Or is the meaning of the letter as of little value to the killer as the lives of the victims they were snuffing out?

Roman had studied killers with a superiority complex. Most of them could have continued killing for decades and never been caught if they hadn’t felt compelled to have others be aware of how much smarter they were.

But then Roman stares at this letter talking about Sherlock Holmes and he doesn’t see someone who was overconfident and riding the high of the chase. They’re creative and clever enough that each of his letters are multitasking: sharing (supposedly inconsequential) knowledge about himself as well as acting as a code to lead them to where the missing girl is. But Roman’s decently sure that Logan’s already figured that one out. After all, how much help is the fact that the killer likes Sherlock Holmes going to be in finding out their real identity?

It isn’t Roman’s task to profile the serial killer. It’s not his problem and it shouldn’t be his worry and Roman doesn’t have the time to focus on the undertone of loneliness and isolation when there’s a girl’s life on the line.

“I see things here are going admirably,” Janus says as he flounces into the room. He’s dressed in black dress pants and a pale-yellow button down that looks tasteful and elegant. His usual grace accompanies his movements as he drops into a vacant chair and helps himself to a coffee cup that someone left on the table hours ago. He has a ring on his fourth finger, although he’d confessed in a drunken stupor after their first case that he’d never even kissed a prospective partner. ((And then the following day Janus had cornered Roman in the station bathroom and told him that if he told anyone about that Roman’s body would never be recovered, but whatever. Drama Queen.))

“Have you cracked the code yet? Solved all our problems?” Janus asks.

“Oh, yes,” Virgil answers him. “We were waiting for you to get back in order to figure out world hunger, though.”

“Eat the Rich,” the man wearing a $900 suit says without a trace of hesitation.

“Did the victim’s sister give you anything?” Logan asks, pushing away Roman’s stack of failed attempts.

Janus clicks his tongue. “I’m going to assume you remember that the sister told us previously that she’d been communicating to her sister via SnapChat the night she disappeared. She said that she saw someone in the background of the pictures that she didn’t think too much of it at the time, but now she’s wondering if it was our killer stalking his victim through the store. I made a pit stop to the grocery store and took another look through their footage, and found the person in question—black hoodie, black face mask—but it was just another shopper. According to timestamps, he checked out before our victim and went straight to his car and left.”

“Presumably to go home,” Virgil extrapolates, extremely helpfully.

“And we suspect that the killer grabbed her before she got to her car,” Logan hums affirmatively. Which Roman guessed was about as close as he got to announcing his approval.

Janus picks up one of Roman’s papers and scans it with faked interest. “So? How is Encyclopedia Brown doing? Has he come up for air in the past hour?”

“Do you even know what an encyclopedia is?” Roman asks, distractedly.

“Of course,” Janus says. “I found reading them to be quite riveting in my childhood. Didn’t you?”

“I was more of a phonebook, yellow pages type of kid,” Roman says.

“What’s a phone book?” Virgil cuts in.

“It’s a phone directory with the phone numbers of everyone in a certain area. The yellow pages were reserved for businesses, listed by category rather than alphabetical. Why don’t you know that?” Logan says. Then he frowned and turned back to Roman. “Why were you reading those as a child?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, old man.”

"I turned 49 this year, Roman," Logan says blandly.

Roman had a really good response to that, he did. Something snippety about how Logan acted like a professor double his age, or asking how his birthday party of birdwatchers went, or if he's picked out an adult day care he wants to be sent to once he reaches the big five-oh. Just for the sick pleasure of seeing Logan physically leave the room to go print out the official papers to fire Roman on the spot.

"What’s going on at 15 Maple Street?"

Virgil startles like a cat, nearly flipping out of his chair at the voice right behind him.

Remus—dressed in a biker jacket, spiked boots, and gunmetal piercings—grins with all his teeth unflinching even when Virgil’s fist brushes by his cheek in an aborted attempt at throat-punching Roman's twin brother.

“Is it some kind of orgy? Y’all gonna invite me?” he asks, raising a Slurpee cup to his mouth and taking a sip.

“Who the fuck?!” Virgil says, snapping his neck to look at Roman as if he thought Roman had gotten up put on a fake mustache and then tried to jump scare him. “Wh-wha…?”

When they were younger, Roman had described Remus as his funhouse mirror reflection: they shared the same nose, the same face structure, the same dark brown eyes and the same untamable brown hair; but where their appearances had been identical inverses of each other—Remus’s cowlick rolled to the left and Roman’s went to the right—their personalities had a drastic split. Remus is also a certified genius, same as Roman, but where Roman had gotten banned from the local escape rooms for solving them in under five minutes, Remus had gotten banned from them for brute forcing answers until something clicked.

If Remus had to break something to get the answer, he was having fun. Replay-ability was never a thought in his mind growing up and turned their childhood home’s game closet into a graveyard. He talked faster than he thought, often blurting out answers or questions or impulsive thoughts before someone else had finished talking.

Nine-year-old Roman had loathed most of these things about Remus, but it had only taken a year for Roman to realize that in their small town, Remus was the only one who could possibly keep up with his wits. Remus had been the one to tell him to take up the codebreaking classes hosted by an ex-FBI agent who had ended up being so impressed with Roman that the man had sponsored him through all his subsequent courses and written him three recommendation letters personally to Logan to get him his current job.

The job had taken Roman nine states away, but Remus and him had kept near weekly calls where Remus offered him feedback on Roman’s newest attempt at writing a novel, and Roman play tested the clues for puzzles in Remus’s escape room games.

Near weekly had turned into a stretch of silence though, when cases came up. Remus had just told him to call him whenever the cases were over instead of stressing over finding time to talk. His schedule was always more flexible.

But it shouldn’t have been flexible enough for Remus to be standing in the FBI headquarters.

“Remus,” Roman says, standing before Virgil decides to enact his shapeshifting alien emergency plan. “What are you doing here?”

“Learn to pick up your phone sometime, asshole,” Remus says, flicking his neon yellow visitor badge to the left of Virgil’s body for everyone to see. “If I had known that you were going to leave me at an airport for three fucking hours, I would have just canceled my flight and spent my vacation mapping out the sewers back home.”

“Vacation?” Roman repeats. “OH FUCK! What day is it?!”

Roman dives for his phone, only realizing when he frantically taps the screen that it’s dead and probably has been dead for a while. Remus rolls his eyes flicking a lazy salute at Logan and Janus and welcoming himself into the room.

“Name’s Remus,” Remus says, “I’m this dipshit’s twin brother. Currently single, but I charge five for a hand job if you want one.”

“Charming,” Janus says, running a finger around the rim off his coffee cup.

“You mentioned Maple Street.” Logan says. “Ignoring that you are not supposed to be in here and this is confidential work, where did you come up with that?”

"I mean, I assumed it’s a Maple Street," Remus says. "Every state has a Maple Street, right? I stopped doing the conversion at the P."

“Elaborate.”

“Buy me dinner first, Daddy,” Remus says and Janus chokes on his coffee so hard it almost comes out of his nose and Roman can feel his employee termination paperwork being drafted up mentally in Logan’s mind.

Still Remus shrugs, waves a hand towards the projector, and obliges. “The letter is about Sherlock Holmes, right? Its pretentious as all shit so the writer is only going to care about the original Arthor Canon Doyle characterizations. “The year of your creation” is a snob’s way of saying publishing date. So, you’re looking for a Sherlock Holmes book and you’re going to care about the year it originally came out. Still with me? I can walk you back if you got lost, old timer.”

“Remus,” Roman says, which sounds remarkably like please shut up before you get me fired.

“Damn, you got boring in FBI school. Fine. You care about ciphers, right? There’s only four from the original books that actually appear, even though Holmes is said to be a gifted codebreaker. This ain’t the Dancing Man code, and it’s not the flashing lights from Red Circle. Your other two options are The Book Code from Valley of Fear in which you’d be fucked six ways to Saturday with an unlubed corkscrew and not in a way that you’d enjoy or—”

Virgil makes a sharp disgusted noise form the back of the room, and Remus grins with satisfaction at getting a reaction out of him. He tilts his head back to look the agents, mouth open to make things as bad as he can.

“Wait! Gloria Scott,” Roman says catching on to what he did. “Fuck! You’re right! It’s Gloria Scott. But not whole words. Did you go by letters?”

Remus tsks and swirls his drink. “You’re a genius, Ro. You tell me.”

“That’s why it says to go ‘From the Capitals!’”

“Tell me you didn’t think it meant actual capitals. Did you list them all out? I’m disowning you.”

“Get bent,” Roman says on instinct as he scribbles out the letters of importance.

“Get laid.”

“I have. Jealous? And then a Caesar with 1-8-9-3?”

“Did you know that off the top of your head? Fucking nerd.”

“That’s an E, V, I—”

“It’s faster to start it from the end,” Remus sings.

“Did they screw up on the eighth sentence or am I doing math wrong?”

“I told you go from the end.”

“I don’t like going backwards!”

“It’s already backwards, bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Geek. You used to be good at this. Why is it taking you so long?”

“Shut up. Did you get Mom gaudy heels she wanted for her birthday?”

“The ones with the cat faces on them? Fuck no! I got her a candle like I do every year.”

“Son of the year award.”

“They were over a hundred fucking dollars! —That’s an F, dumbass, not a G.— And I can gift her a whole litter of cats for that amount!”

“Agreed. I’ll get the accessories; you get the cats?”

“Deal. I want naming rights.”

“PG-13 rated at the max. Mom will kill us otherwise. So, it was a mistake on the eighth sentence.”

“Yeah! A goddamn embarrassment. This is already a cringe ass attempt to seem good at encoding—”

A humming uhhhh? cuts through the rest of Remus’s statement and Roman is relieved to see Remus also does a mental reset as he remembers where they are. Namely, standing in the conference room in the FBI headquarters shooting comments back and forth at each other in front of Roman’s team.

Virgil is staring at both of them, head on a swivel that leaves him looking hopelessly horrified, as if he just watched them give birth. The last time Roman saw Virgil look so nauseated, he’d gotten a major concussion after being jumped by three gang members in the back of warehouse they had thought a bioterrorist was renting.

There had been a bubbling excitement in Roman’s chest that felt right in the way that all his conversations with Remus always feel so right. He didn’t have to slow down or reword or even watch his wording because it was Remus and Remus always knew exactly how to take anything Roman said. Twin Telepathy and all that.

But the moment he sees the utter bafflement on Logan and Janus’s faces that part of him shrivels up and dies, an embarrassed, awful death.

Virgil, however, finds his voice before Roman can apologize. “Hardy Boys! Wanna explain that in English? Where are you getting Maple Street from?”

“Fifteen Maple Street,” Roman corrects. “Come to Fifteen Maple Street, Detective.”

“Do-tective,” Remus says. “I’ve met kids with better spelling!”

Roman doesn’t outright elbow him in the side but it’s a close thing. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I know where that is. Its two blocks from my—”

“Is the Gloria Scott referring to The Adventures of the Gloria Scott?” Janus cuts him off sharply and Roman blinks. Remus frowns and takes another sip of his Slurpee, until the resulting slorpppp nearly drowns out Roman’s response if Roman hadn’t reached out and snapped it out of his hand.

“Yeah,” Roman says. “Published in 1893. It’s the short story where Holmes claims to have first realized that his deduction hobby could be used professionally. The code in it—spoilers—is that every third word is taken and spells out its own sentence. But in this case ‘From Capitals’ is referring to the third word of the sentence instead of every third word. Then if you take the first letter of each of the word and put it in a Caesar shift, with the first one being a one-shift, the second letter being an eight-shift, then nine-shift, then three, then back to one….”

Roman holds up the paper where he wrote down the final product. “And then you read it backwards.”

The Conference room is slightly too quiet for Roman’s taste, but his hands are shaking with nerves he didn’t know he had. The clock in the corner still reads an hour and thirty minutes and Roman feels like he’s taken his first actual breath for the first time in years.

"Did you do that in your head?" Logan says, looking at Remus. "As you walked in here?"

“Well, not really,” Remus says, casually swinging his badge around one of his fingers. “I’m not wearing my glasses, so I didn’t see it until I got halfway across the floor. And I had to look up the year of publish for it because I’m not the type of freak who knows years like that.”

Roman flips him the bird under the table where Logan won’t see it.

"Holy shit,” Virgil says. “You both are fucking insane. Actually, fucking insane. How did you even think to do that?”

Remus laughs. "That’s just a party trick. We used more advanced ciphers when selling test answers in seventh grade."

"There was no "we" in that!" Roman says quickly. "I was not involved in that!"

Remus glances at the papers next to Virgil raising an eyebrow at the penmanship. "Did you try to map out the dots over the I's like it’s a dot only morse code? That’s so cute!"

Virgil crumples his paper into a ball and throws it across the room. "Can I punch him for real this time? I’m going to punch him."

Roman doesn’t bother explain that comments like that just fuel Remus on. The bullies in their small town had learned to leave both of them alone, because Remus laughed when they broke his arm. Remus liked the sharp taste of pain and the metallic smell of blood and the way that his vision blurred and blacked out.

Instead, Roman reaches for his jacket. “Come on. There’s still two hours on the clock. We can beat rush out traffic and make it there in ten minutes!”

“No,” Logan says and Roman mentally stumbles over a chair and then down a flight of stairs. “I want you to stay here. If for some reason this location ends up being wrong, I want you and your brother both to be here already looking for another answer. Do not argue with me on this.”

Roman’s voice dies a little in his throat, shriveling up and itching like a cough that he doesn’t want to admit to having. Logan doesn’t even grace him with an actual full glance, as if Roman’s compliance is expected just as much as his acceptance. Janus and Virgil share a look that Roman can’t quite read, although from the pursing of Virgil’s lips something about Logan’s decision doesn’t sit right with him.

Janus, however, looks relieved before he can school his features into a neutral expression.

“I’m certain this is the location,” Roman says tentatively. “Sir.”

“I do not like placing all of my figurative eggs in one figurative basket,” Logan says, already halfway out the door. “Safety is my priority. Virgil, Janus: with me.”

Both of the other two agents scramble after Logan; Virgil not even bothering to put his jacket back on as he bolts out the door and Janus clicking his tongue in that way that speaks of his loathing for being told what to do.

Roman drops his coat back on the chair and flops back down. Remus frowns at the doors for a second longer, but Roman can’t imagine what he’s thinking—or if it’s anything different from what Roman himself has already thought about this FBI gig.

Roman can appreciate how Logan is looking at the bigger picture, covering all his bases, leaving little room for the killer to add to their kill count, but at the end of the day those words still sound a lot more like “You’re still not good enough, Roman, and I’m still considering if you deserve a place with this team.”

***

“You’re seriously still not going to tell him?” Virgil hisses as soon as the elevator doors close. “He deserves to know at this point! We’re seven incidents into this!”

“There’s actually only been six that can’t simple coincidence,” Janus corrects, even though that is not the fucking point that Virgil meant and he knows it. Six is still Six-Too-Fucking-Many and the fact that Janus is even making the argument has Virgil’s skin crawling. He meets Virgil’s eyes in the reflection of the stainless-steel elevator wall and Virgil sneers at him while Janus raises an elegant middle finger.

Logan, although he must have seen it, doesn’t bother to reprimand either of them. He stares at the ticking digital screen detailing the floors as they race towards the garage and keeps his face in a stern neutral expression. Virgil isn’t trained in micro expressions, so the fact that he notices the crease in the corner of Logan’s lip is probably very telling for how stressed he is about all of this.

“Call Patton. I want him to meet us at the location with whatever police he has contact with. No sirens. If this killer is there, I don’t want to alert him anymore than we already have.”

“You’re changing the topic,” Virgil says. “Sir.”

“Agent Storm. As of right now, his best use is solving the puzzles where we can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t need to know; it will only cause him to panic, and we cannot afford that at this stage. He’s too… instrumental.”

Instrumental. Virgil almost laughs at Logan’s fucking audacity. Instrumental.

“Are you going to tell his brother?” Janus says, boredly, scrolling through his phone for Patton’s number. “Twin brother. Did anyone know he was a twin? I didn’t and I believe I’m offended.”

Virgil did know. Although knowing is an entirely different beast from seeing Roman’s face with a mustache and his body with a grunge aesthetic and his voice with a proficiency for the absolute worse strings of words in the human language. He almost looked like Roman-in-a-Halloween-Costume, expect for the part where he opened his mouth. But the worst part of it was how when Remus and Roman had been standing next to each other shooting back and forth completely at ease, Virgil had felt as though he was seeing doubles and neither version of his friend was the right one.

Something about Roman so easily relaxed into the conversation, a lightness to his words, a brightness to his eyes—something about how Roman looked comfortable as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders when his twin had shown up….

It threw him off and Virgil doesn’t think he’s found his balance again yet. And the whole “Unspoken Agreement” was not helping matters at-fucking-all.

“I want a background check on him, emphasis on his whereabouts in the past three weeks. If he’s not involved, then I’ll consider reading him in. Although, there’s a high probability he already suspects it,” Logan says. “You were not subtle about cutting Roman off at all.”

Janus feigns an offended scoff, as he puts his phone to his ear and the line starts ringing. “I didn’t see you saying anything.”

Virgil digs his nails into the strap of his bag. “If Roman were a civilian, you wouldn’t be treating him like this. You know you wouldn’t. You would have read him in and—”

“Virgil,” Logan says sharply.

“How long are you going to keep punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault?!”

Logan’s hand snaps out and he knocks the safety switch into activation. The elevator jerks to a stop so suddenly that Janus fumbles his phone, and Virgil has to grab the railing to keep himself steady. When he looks up again Logan’s eyes are trained on him with a fury that Virgil’s never seen before.

Still, he forces himself to raise his chin in defiance, meeting that gaze head on even with his brain shrieking at him to backdown.

“Do not accuse me of confusing the safety of my agents for a petty grudge,” Logan says. “I will have your badge, Virgil. My reluctance to tell him comes from the need to have our smartest agent focused on these deranged puzzles instead of whether or not the rest of us are capable of doing out jobs, not from my irritation over being blackmailed into taking him onto my team. He will do his job, and you will do yours and when this is over, I will personally debrief him. Am I clear?”

Virgil’s jaw creaks from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw, but he nods.

For a second, barely a blink, Logan’s expression softens again. “Thank you, Virgil, for being concerned about him. I know you don’t appreciate withholding information from your teammates.”

It’s hard to feel like he’s doing anything good when they all saw how Roman’s face dropped earlier. Logan turns back to the doors and flips the safety switch again, allowing the elevator to continue its descent. Virgil lets out the quietest breath he can manage, but based on Janus’s uneasy glance back at him, it wasn’t quiet enough.

“Well! I guess that means that Roman solved the letter!” Patton’s voice chirps from the phone in Janus’s hand.

“Yes,” Logan says loud enough for Patton to hear him. “Janus will fill you in.”

“Aye-Aye Captain!”

The elevator dings and the mechanical voice reads out the basement floor, but Logan doesn’t wait for it to finish speaking. He’s already shoving his way out of the elevator to the BMW registered to their team, with all the confidence and authority of someone who would leave them both behind if Virgil and Janus didn’t rush after him.

Virgil turns to Janus, but Janus is greeting Patton with his particular brand of waspish backhanded compliments that Patton likes to laugh at. He pretends he doesn’t see Virgil’s look at all, stubbornly facing forward marching after Logan. His voice bounces off the underground parking lot concrete, updating their other senior agent on the details and plan and the request for a background check as if Virgil’s very real concerns about Roman was just another instance of him blowing the situation out of proportion. Virgil lets out a shaky breath as the elevator doors roll close behind him.

“He can handle it. He’s Roman. Of course, he can handle it,” he repeats as a mantra and hitches his bag over his shoulder.

Despite that, Virgil sends a soft, silent prayer to whatever might be out there watching, that they aren’t running into as much of a trap as it feels like they are.

***

When the call comes Roman nearly lunges across the table to accept it.

Remus is, per usual, a very interesting and ambitious conversation partner: he does not and has not ever required an actual person to respond to him. Roman tested it once when they were younger and he wanted to have a whole ten minutes of silence—put a hoodie over a pile of clothes while Remus is speed running a video game, gradually stop answering with more than a few hums, and then dip out. It had been hours later when Remus woke him by jumping on his bed in revenge.

That’s not to say that Roman isn’t thrilled to talk with him! But Roman is the type of person who would rather catch up with his brother’s endless thrilling tales of research and experimentation in the comfort of his own home, take out on the coffee table and a stream of true crime YouTube episodes on his TV in the background. Roman had been excited to ask him about where he’d gotten his inspirations for his 1920’s speakeasy parlor escape room because Remus had never really dipped into history themes when he could have haunted houses and murder movies instead.

The oppressive atmosphere in the FBI headquarters, with empty conference room chairs, stacks of papers to recycled, and a projector showing the ramblings of serial killer, paled in comparison to the thought of Roman’s crappy couch and greasy pizza from across town.

And now small part of Roman is worried that maybe they did miss something in the letter. As certain as he is about this, there is a part of him that keeps whispering Logan’s right to hold you back, you failed, you were helpless until Remus showed up—

So, when the call comes, Roman is nearly vaulting the table to answer it via the conference call.

“You would have told me just to shut up!” Remus says with no real heat.

Roman doesn’t bother responding to him. He’s sure that Remus already knows what Roman was thinking anyway; it wasn’t like Remus was a fan of a conference rooms after the amount of time he spent in them with Mom and Dad on either side of him as his teachers tried to explain that just because Remus was bored out of his mind in their classes, it didn’t mean he had the right to start dismantling desks or doodling on the walls with sharpies or designing paper airplanes with precision that most aviators couldn’t claim.

“Roman Sanders, speaking,” Roman says, as soon as he hits the answer button. “Remus is in the room.”

“Are you or your brother familiar with one Andy Clupeidae?” Logan’s voice says.

“Uh,” Roman glances towards Remus but he also just shrugs chewing on his straw. “Not that I’m aware of, sir. Would you like me to start a background search on them?”

“Not necessary, I already have Janus on it.”

“Weird ass fucking last name,” Remus comments. “I would have remembered it. What’s their deal? Or are you on Tinder? If he’s got a picture of him holding a fish up, you can guarantee that he’s been lying about length sizes for a whi—”

“It’s the name of a man that we just apprehended in the middle of strangling the victim,” Logan says, dry tone scathing even through the phone speaker. Remus has the rare decency to cringe slightly. “I trust that you can keep that information to yourself, Remus.”

“We got him?” Roman says, hope swelling in his chest like a balloon throttling his voice box. “Like—we actually caught him? Red handed and everything?!”

“We have a suspect in custody,” Logan says. “There are…a few things that don’t settle correctly into the profile. But when we arrived, he was already inside the building, hands on the throat of the victim, and he had in his possession a letter that contains what appears to be the next puzzle for you to solve. The victim is already on the way to the hospital with Janus on standby for when she regains lucidity. Patton will be taking the letter to the labs, and while Virgil and I get ready for the interrogation.”

Roman swears the air tastes ridiculously sweet, too sweet, in a way that’s making it hard to breathe. Remus is staring at him worriedly, but all Roman can think is we did it, we got him, we stopped him.

“There are still several things that need to happen before we can declare this case closed,” Logan warns. “I’ll see you both in half an hour.”

Roman nods although Logan definitely can’t see him. He’d probably be embarrassed if Logan could see him and his stupid dopey grin.

“And Roman? Remus? …you both did a good job.”

Roman doesn’t even hear the telltale click of the call ending. He’s too busy covering his mouth and trying not to scream at the top of his lung. Pure relief washes through him, rushing through his trembling fingers and weak knees until he’s nearly lightheaded with elation.

“Are you okay?” Remus asks steadying Roman with a hand on his arm. “Are you going to orgasm right now?”

“Shut up,” Roman says with half the amount of annoyance he means. He gets a grip of a nearby chair to ground himself and takes a deep breath to refocus. The hope in his chest tastes like a victory, like he’s done something great, even though all he’s done is his job.

Remus is still staring at him suspiciously and no amount of Roman’s smile is reassuring him apparently. His eyes are lined with that brand of eyeliner that he’s been using since they were tweens, making his hickory eyes even darker than usual, and more worried than he’s ever been. He makes one suspicious sweeping look around the room, as if checking for someone else despite the fact it’s been just the two of them for a while now, then he leans in to say something.

But before he can get it out, the conference phone rings again.

“Hardy Boys!” Virgil’s voice calls through the speaker, a little distorted. Roman grimaces at it, tapping his pen on the table a few times.

“Hey, Dark and Stormy,” Roman says, “Heard you caught the guy!”

“Is there anything you don’t know about?” Virgil says blandly.

“Well, I was going to congratulate you, and offer to buy drinks, but if you’re going to be an asshole about it….” Roman says.

Virgil might have responded but there’s a crackling on the line that cuts over whatever thing he’s going to say. Remus fake-gags out of the corner of Roman’s eye.

“Whatever,” Roman says. “Logan called just a minute ago and told me the news.”

“He also says—you’re welcome—to go home—”

“What the fuck type of phone service do you have?” Remus asks. “Dial up? How do you have any type of phone sex with this shit going on?”

“—I’m going to punch him."

Remus grins delightedly. “We’re gonna need to decide a safe word—”

Roman immediately bats the back of his head and Remus yelps, ducking away from the receiver and rubbing the spot that Roman hit with a pout. Roman sends him scowl, and Remus sticks his tongue out and mouths something that looks like its was a joke, dickwad! And Roman returns it with an appropriate middle finger.

“Hardy Boys!” Virgil’s voice says again, and Roman drums his pen on the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry about Remus. Please don’t complain to HR again. I don’t want to be written up for this one—”

Remus shoves Roman out of the way to get closer to the speaker again. “Who cares about that! Did Lead Agent DILF actually say it’s cool if Roman and I cut out of here? Cause if so, go ahead and tell him to approve Roman for a week vacation, too, because if you don’t, you’ll have to file for kidnapping. I have a list of places I’m going to make Roman take me to and it requires a minimum of three days off.”

“Remus!” Roman says. “You can’t just—"

“Someone needs to get this guy a fucking hobby— you’re welcome—to go home—”

“Alright, bye, Virgin!” Remus shouts and hits the end call button. He throws most of his weight back in the chair, stretching out his spine and arms in a wild chaotic movement that Roman couldn’t help but fondly roll his eyes at. He’s sure that the Virgin comment will come up again, likely in the form of a summons to the HR to talk about workplace harassment, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t Roman who said it, but all in all he can’t really be all that worried about it at the moment.

Roman sighs out, rubbing his aching neck.

“That was weird right?” Roman says. “You thought that was weird, too?”

Remus yawns so loud that his jaw cracks. “Who cares? I want pizza on your dime, and shitty ghost hunter videos on your TV. Your job is boring as fuck! Come on, I’ll drive! You can micronap in the passenger seat.”

“With you at the wheel? No chance,” Roman says, but he fishes his keys from his jacket and tosses them towards Remus anyway. Remus grins with all his teeth, the exact way that everyone would expect someone who frames all of their speeding tickets to smile. Roman yawns and waves for Remus to follow him towards the office desks where Roman’s stuff would be, pausing only long enough to switch off the projector and the clock and the lights.

Admittedly Roman doesn’t remember a lot of what happens after that. The adrenaline crash comes down pretty hard on him and the exhaustion swirls around him, the moment they get to the lobby and Remus chats up the receptionist and returns his visitor’s badge and compliments her hair. Roman focuses more on keeping his duffle over his shoulder and standing upright as this goes on.

He didn’t recall Logan bringing him all that much stuff from his apartment: he’d scribbled out a list of clothes that he liked and tried his best not to cringe too much at the idea of his superior officer seeing his uncleaned apartment.

Even when Remus was coming over, Roman made an effort to take out the trash and have the sheets in his guest room cleaned and fill the pantry with healthier snacks. Roman had put off doing the cleaning for a few days after he and Remus had confirmed the date, but then the case had come up and Roman had literally forgotten what month it was.

But he wasn’t too concerned with Remus making fun of him. The way that Remus was already side eyeing him and chatting away about the details of their hometown and his trip to visit Mom and Dad last weekend was telling Roman that Remus guessed just how tired Roman was at the moment.

The drive is a blur at best. As far as Roman remembers Remus obeyed the laws and parked legally. They argued over music for a few minutes, and then argued over if Remus could have made a light that he stopped for because Roman yelled at him. Then, on the way into Roman’s apartment building their argument turns into which YouTube ghost hunter series to watch while they ate dinner.

“Race ya!” Remus shouts, as he hits the platform for Roman’s level.

“Remus!” Roman hisses, “Wait, Remus!” He slings his bag over his shoulder and rushes the last few steps and catches the door before it closes but by then Remus is already charging down the hall.

“Remus people can hear into the hallway! Remus!”

“You’re just mad because you owe me ice cream now!” Remus calls and then proceeds to knock on Roman’s door several times over as if Roman is going to magically open it from the other side when he’s slowly trudging his way over.

“What was the point of running all the way down here just to have to wait for me to open the door?” Roman huffs. “You have a key anyway!”

“Had a key,” Remus shrugs, pressing as close as physically possible to Roman as he jiggles his key through the lock until it relents. “I don’t anymore!”

Roman lets Remus push through the door the moment it’s open, rolling his eyes. “Down a sewer grate, off the metro platform, confiscated by the TSA, or forgot it in that dumpster fire you call an apartment?”

“Got knocked overboard on a ferry ride I took a couple months ago! Right along with my house key and my mailbox key. The process to get a new one of both of those was a bitch and a half, by the way. Would not recommend.”

"Wait," Roman says, flicking on the lights to his apartment. It feels a bit like defeat doing it after Remus has made himself at home on the couch with his disgusting shoes up on Roman’s upholstery. But Roman finds himself a bit too tired to care about all the cleaning he has to do. "If you lost the keys to my apartment, what did you do with your bag? I know you didn’t come here empty handed— Please tell me you didn’t pick the locks; I have to pay out of pocket for those repairs."

But even as he says it Roman frowns at the lock. There are signs of tampering: a few scratches on the outside cylinder casing of the deadbolt that are too thick to be from Roman’s own key and exhaustion. But Remus almost sounds surprised by the idea, as if this was the first time, he’d ever thought of breaking into a place he may or may not have half permission to be in and even if it weren’t, Roman’s only mostly whining about the repairs because Remus’s lockpicking skills have been at a master level since they were in middle school.

"I just stood outside your place and hit the buzzers until someone just opened the door,” Remus says stretching out on the couch and cracking his neck with a poppoppop. “And then when I got to your apartment, I just knocked, and your wacko roommate let me in."

Roman laughs sardonically as he closes the door behind himself and tosses his bag at the shoe rack he needs to reorganize later. He’s untying his laces when he realizes that Remus hasn’t congratulated himself on his witty joke and told him the actual truth about how he got in. He glances up at his twin and catches the minimal silhouette of Remus plucking at something from Roman’s mess of a coffee table.

"Remus….I don’t have a roommate."

"Well, she wasn’t your fucking girlfriend, you gay fuck," Remus says. “Hey, what are you doing with one of these? You always said that you hated the way your recorded voice sounds.”

“Huh?”

In response Remus waves whatever it was that he picked up and experimentally clicks a button on the side of it.

“—I’m going to punch him,” Virgil’s unmistakable voice crackles out into the otherwise silent apartment.

Remus’s head snaps to the side looking at the recording in his hand with wild eyes and he scrambles back to his feet. Roman’s heart is pounding in his throat, his blood is rushing in his ears, and a whole lot of things are making sense in a way that Roman really, really did not like them making sense.

“Wha….What did you say that my roommate looked like?” Roman says. “Remus, what did she look like?”

"I don’t know! I wasn’t paying attention! I was pissed off that I had to pay for an uber and demanded to know where you were! She said you were at work and that you would be back soon. I tossed my bag in here and nearly knocked over the laundry she was folding…. My bag’s gone. Fuck, that had my favorite jeans in there. And my Switch!”

“Remus,” Roman says, trying to swallow back the panic in his throat.

“She was wearing your sweatpants,” he says. “Motherfucker, she was wearing your sweatpants and eating one of those personal tubs of Cherry Garcia ice cream that only you like while folding laundry... and she smelled like bleach. A lot of bleach.”

The walls of Roman’s apartment suddenly seem to be closing in on them both.

"Out," Roman says, strangled and pleading and reaching for his sidearm. "Out of my apartment! Wait outside and use my phone to call Logan and tell him everything. I’m going to see what else she touched—"

“Your phone’s dead dumbass andI am not going to leave you alone in this apartment where a serial killer might have been hiding out!” Remus says and it sounds remarkably like he’s also panicking. Roman doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Remus panic; Remus had always been a little too excited about his own lack of self-preservation, and there hadn’t ever been a situation that Remus hadn’t been able to handle and Roman decides that right here, right now, is a horrible time for him to learn to be scared.

Roman’s mouth opens to say something brilliant and focused, something that would make the dozens of FBI instructors he had proud of how calm he could be and how rational he could think, something that would convince Remus to listen to him and go outside away from possible dangers, something that would slow the rapidly building tidal wave of fear in his chest.

What comes out is a partial scream as one of the shadows in his apartment lunges at Remus from behind and slams solidly against his skull. Remus’s eyes go wide, then unfocused, and then his entire body drops like a concrete block in a pool.

Roman jolts towards him, but the sight of the person standing there stops him short: a young woman in black leggings and a pink Princess Peach T-shirt that Roman recognizes from his own closet, and Roman’s high school letterman over her shoulders. There’s Ruger LCP in her manicured hand, barrel pointed right down at Remus’s unmoving head, and she wedges her boot heel directly on his back, like a cat showing off the baby bird it’s killed.

Except the baby bird is Remus’s twin brother and Roman might be next.

He can’t think straight, can’t think at all; every time he tries to remember what protocol is for this, his brain takes a detour to how Remus crumpled like a soda can. Roman can’t tear his eyes from the gun at his twin’s head, not even to look at the intruder enough to memorize her features to tell someone if he makes it out of this. Remus is still as stone, as concrete, as a corpse and Roman can’t even tell if he’s still breathing, or if Roman’s already lost the person who’d always had his back in everything.

“I didn’t think you would be so quiet,” the killer says. Her tone is soft and warm and all the things that serial killers shouldn’t be. Oh, is that why all the victims had been younger and smaller? So that she could get control of them easily if they fought back? “Are you just so happy to see me? Surprised?”

"But….Andy Clupeidae," Roman says, voice trembling, his hand hovering over his gun holster, still not close enough to draw before she would get a chance to fire. "Clupeidae…. Fuck, that’s—That’s a family of fish, right? That’s why it sounded familiar.”

“Sardines, shads, and…herrings," the murderer says, wistfully proud of Roman. "The fact that he was wearing red today was just luck. Isn’t that funny?"

Roman chokes on his urge to laugh because it’s not and his wheezing, twisted, cramped lungs are fighting off hysteria. For someone who was a genius, who thought faster than most people could imagine, who passed every test the FBI threw at him with perfection, Roman can’t remember what he’s supposed to do.

He’s not even sure of what he can do.

His phone hesitates in back pocket, long dead, and as far as he knows no one would even think to check on them tonight. Even if he yelled for help, what would his neighbors do? Call the police? Come running to save him? Get murdered by the person in front of him who’s taken ten other lives like it was a game? Even if Roman ran, what would she do? Chase him? Or just kill Remus and make Roman live out the worst version of his life that he can imagine?

“I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet you, Roman,” the killer says, before he can get a handle of any of his thoughts. “Your team is so annoying, don’t you think? Every time I thought I would have gotten to talk to you alone, one of them always appeared….and then that awful man Logan Ackroyd made you stay at your office! I knew if I tried to visit you there, they wouldn’t understand! They would convince you I was wrong just like how everyone has always said I was wrong and bad!

“So, I stayed here, waiting for you the whole time…thinking you would be able to sneak back here and meet me like you’re supposed to! But your terrible team couldn’t even let you do that!”

((“Is the Gloria Scott referring to The Adventures of the Gloria Scott?” Janus cuts him off right before he says where he lives.))

((“No,” Logan said, “I want you to stay here.”))

((The look that Virgil and Janus shared before they left.))

“They knew.” Roman swallows hard. “They fucking knew and didn’t tell me—”

“It’s okay! I know it wasn’t your fault….” She says mistaking his horror for some other emotion Roman doesn’t even think he can fake. “I realized they just needed a reason to let you come home to me! You did so good solving my code! Even after this bitch showed up and started making fun of you and it!” She presses her boot down on Remus’s spine and Roman jerks reflectively forward before he can stop himself.

“Remus wasn’t—he didn’t—!” Roman stutters. “He wasn’t doing it maliciously! He’s just like that! Okay? You don’t have to hurt him!”

His eyes flick up to her face, hoping that maybe if Roman stops looking at him, Remus will shake off the hit to the head the same way he shook off water after Roman shoved him into the pool when they were kids: miraculously unhurt and smug in his movements, you really thought that could get me to shut up? HA!

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to defend him anymore. You’re never going to have to worry about anyone not taking you seriously ever again. I won’t let them, my detective.” She smiles at him, softly, so softly, as if she really believes she’s doing him a kindness.

Roman takes a step backwards, his back bumping against the closed door. The killer crowds forward, humming happily. “I’m so, so happy to finally meet someone just like me, Detective,” she says. “We’re going to be so happy together. Just you wait.”

[Chapter 2]

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #fbi agent #serial killers #Remus and Roman are good Brothers #Everyone actually adores Roman agenda #tw: guns #Kidnappings #The twins should get to be geniuses #because I said so

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hyperfixated-homo · 2 years

Note

ooh I'm gonna be super predictable but I adore big brother Virgil in any capacity, so if you wanna write that go wild. muah <3

Tired, but never of them

Virgil has a bad day. His little siblings comfort him in their own special way.

Ao3 Link

A/N: This took a while, sorry! Sibling stories are not my strong suit lmao. It’s not even really explicit that he’s the older one here, but you know that he is and I guess that’s what matters. Also I almost got to 2k words with this fic!! Yay me :D

———

He was having a bad day.

Everything had gone wrong from the moment he woke up. He was late for school because he needed to stay up all night to study for a test (which he missed, thanks to his lateness). Then he got a call from his boss and he had to leave his brothers alone in the house because obviously he didn't want to get fucking fired and lose their only source of income. Then it felt like the only customers at their shitty little convenience store were all angry moms and spoiled brats who would take forever to buy their stupid fucking candy and gum and then complain when he didn't give them a discount when they gave him dirty looks. Then in a tiring series of events:

Some kids from his school showed up and started fucking around with the displays.

One of them jokingly asked him out and then called him gay for not immediately saying no.

They all proceeded to laugh at him for being queer for like, half an hour (which he was, but they didn't know that so what was the point?).

A middle aged man yelled at him for five minutes because he wouldn't give him a free beer for an expired coupon that wasn't even for their store.

A kid started crying really fucking loudly in the corner (she didn't stop for fifteen minutes and her parents refused to leave the store. He didn't know if he felt more sorry for them or for himself).

Someone smashed a bottle on the floor trying to take it out of a six pack even though they had a massive sign that clearly stated that they didn't sell single bottles.

And then, to top it all off, one of the kids smoked a cigarette in the bathroom and set the place on fire.

So yeah. In conclusion; Virgil Sanders was having an absolutely horrible fucking day.

When he got home, it was already seven pm and he hadn't eaten since his rushed breakfast (the granola bars at the store didn't count for shit). He was exhausted and stressed out and so sick of everything that he didn't bother to say hi to his brothers when he got back, deciding instead to immediately go to his room and flop onto his bed.

He didn't even take off his shoes or jacket. He just laid there staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck he was doing with his life.

Everything sort of hurt, but not in the sharp way it hurts to get a scrape, or hit your head. It was more like a general soreness that spread throughout his entire body once he laid down. His stomach hurt. It always did when he got stressed or overworked, but it made him feel miserable.

He would need to redo his test. And have to explain to his science teacher why he had to redo the test. Would he need to do it alone? Was that better or worse than having to do that in a room full of people? He didn't know. But he was still thinking about it. For some reason. And probably would be for the entire evening. Fuck.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment and then let out a long sigh. He probably needed to make some food for his brothers. Fucking-

His brothers! Had they eaten anything for lunch? He hadn't had time to come back home after his second morning class, he didn't even check on them when he came home. What if they'd gotten in trouble? What if they thought that he hated them because he was in a bad mood and didn't talk to them? He knew that they got upset when he didn't pay attention to them, how could he just-

A knock sounded at his door. He called out (much more shakily than he would like to admit) for them to come in.

His door opened slowly and two big blue eyes popped out behind it.

"Hey Logan." Virgil croaked out (when did his throat get so dry?)

"...Hi." He sounded small, like he didn't want to say anything. Was he scared? Upset maybe? God they probably did think that he hated them-

"We made you some stuff."

Virgil blinked at him. That was most definitely not what he expected. "You made me things?" Logan nodded, almost shyly.

"Jay and Patton wanted me to give it to you because I'm the most quiet and they didn't know if you had a headache or not." The little seven year old explained, opening the door more and revealing a little tray behind him. Virgil couldn't quite make out the contents from his spot on the bed.

"Can I come in?" He asked. Virgil let him in, sitting up to talk about him better.

Logan picked up the tray and brought it over. Placing it on an empty spot on his bed, he pushed himself up and sat next to Virgil, putting his little hand over Virgil's.

Virgil damn near cried.

On the tray was a plate of pasta, some water, a little box of Pepto-Bismol, two cards and a little blue gem.

The pasta was clearly Patton's, heated warm enough to feel the heat in his stomach but not hot enough to burn. It was sprinkled with sliced ham and Parmesan, which was funny because Virgil was the only one who actually like Parmesan in this house. The ham and cheese combo was simple but it had become a sort of comfort food for Virgil, who had gotten used to making foods like that on a very low budget. When Patton started taking over some of the cooking a the ripe age of ten, he managed to make the recipe even better by adding melted cream (it was legendary; cheap, tasty and made the pasta so much better. Virgil was so amazed at his abilities that he upgraded him to the house chef on the spot).

The water and Pepto-Bismol were probably Janus' doing. Most of his siblings didn't know the difference between it and other over the counter medication like Advil or Tylenol. Janus had helped him do some research on which ones were safer after Virgil expressed concern about how much medicine this family needed (Seriously, between the twins’ chaotic habit of slamming into every possible surface of any place they go—plus Patton's leg injury and Logan's chronic pain, Janus' headaches and Virgil's stomachaches—the drugstore nearby basically knew them by name). Janus had probably taken the time to think about what type of pain he was in and somehow figured out exactly what medicine would make him feel better. He did that all the time, but it never failed to amaze Virgil.

The cards had so much detail both on the back and front that it could only have been the twins' work. There were drawings and doodles all over the paper, Roman's featuring chibi versions of his younger brothers giving Virgil a big hug, while Remus' showed some more realistic drawings that featured an odd amount of eyes and limbs. They were both equally endearing. What really took Virgil aback was the amount of stickers the two had put on their cards. They loved to collect stickers, but had a general rule that using them was strictly forbidden. They were meant for looking and not using. The two of them using so many made the cards feel really special, as strange as it was.

Opening the cards, Virgil was met with a pop up drawing of himself on Roman's card and a big monster of limbs and eyes and mouths on Remus' that was labeled "the bad day". He was a bit confused for a moment, but then Logan put the two together and he couldn't help but laugh.

When the pages were pressed against each other the pop-out figures it formed a scene where Virgil was a heroic knight, holding his sword out and fighting The Bad Day. It was so thoughtful and creative and them that it almost made Virgil choke up a little bit.

The final thing on the tray was a crystal, small enough to easily fit into his palm. It was smooth on the bottom and jutted out into a natural looking formation, the bumpy pattern giving it a wonderful texture and a frozen appearance. It was slightly transparent, and through it Virgil could see that the edges were a bright cyan, while the middles were a deeper shade of indigo.

It was a salt crystal, one that Logan had made himself at home after a class demonstration left him interested. He'd kept them afterwards and called them his comfort crystals, because the knowledge of their creation made him feel better when he was sad, and the texture was pleasantly stimulating to him.

The crystal on his tray now was one that they had made together. It was one of the first crystals that had ever actually formed (when Virgil realized that the reason they weren't forming was because it wasn't humid enough for it to crystalize). It was also the first one they'd dyed.

It was Logan's favorite comfort crystal.

"Sometimes I feel better when I'm just holding it," Logan murmured when Virgil picked it up "so you can borrow it for a bit."

It really wasn't much, but it meant everything to him. The pasta had too much ham and the glass wasn't filled all the way, and there were spelling mistakes in all the kind words in the cards and there was no way to put the crystal down so that it wouldn't start rolling when the bed moved but it was so, so perfect and oh fuck he was crying-

"Virge?" It wasn't from the little boy beside him, but rather his door. "Are you okay?"

Patton's concerned voice from the doorway was enough to make him sob. He walked in immediately and started going through breathing exercises to calm him down.

Virgil spluttered for a minute, trying to find a nice way to voice his thoughts without sounding like a complete idiot but eventually just said fuck it.

"'I'm not sad." He said in-between sobs "I just really, really love you guys, you know?"

Patton's concerned face split into a grin, and he squealed, pulling him up and into a hug. "I love you too!" He said, squeezing him tightly.

It took a while for Virgil finally calmed down enough to get out of the hug and wipe his eyes. When they broke from their hug, he could see the others standing in his doorway. It seemed that Logan had gone to grab them while Patton comforted him through his sob fest.

He snorted, slightly wetly, and said "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Instantly, he had two little balls of red and green in his arms, loudly asking if he's okay. Janus came over to pluck the food from its spot on the bed and put it somewhere safer, and Logan rejoined him by his side.

It was nice. They were nice. He could feel himself relax and calm down as the twins explained the thought process behind their cards a little better, the background noise doing wonders for his overstimulated mind. Patton and Janus sat down eventually, Janus on his right and Patton holding Logan on his left. They gave him back his pasta so that he could eat while they talked about their days.

They were so careful to not talk about anything that might trigger him. Every time he thought about it, it made him want to burst into tears again.

There was warmth on all sides, not trapping but simply surrounding him. And he felt safe.

It had been a bit of a bad day. And he was still a little tired, but he knew at the end of the day he could never be tired of his family.

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #older brother virgil #i dont know how to tag fics on tumblr #hurt/comfort #soft #shadow writes

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annaizscribbling · 1 year

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I sometimes feel guilty for using the same tropes whenever I write the sides,

Then I remember nobody else writes the same tropes so I'm actually doing everyone a favor

#tall buff older brother Virgil #unhinged magic seer remus #adorable hey deeply troubled roman #whump logan drag him though emotional hell #janus wise and smart but also deeply stupid and tired #patton emotionally intelligent but extremely burdened #that's it #Sander sides

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 1 year

Note

Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

I'm not sure if I'd ever write it, but @theeternalspace helped me brainstorm a fic involving Roman and Virgil. Like okay. You know that fandom trope in late '00s to mid 2010s fics where suddenly one of the characters is inexplicably a cat and the other character unknowingly takes them in? Yeah that but it's a superhero AU and Roman is a wannabe superhero (with no powers) and Virgil is his arch nemesis (really, a worrywart w/ superpowers who is trying to keep Roman from hurting himself).

One day, Roman runs into an actual supervillain--a crazy cat lady that has been turning people into cats. At some point Roman gets poked with the "makes people turn into cats" serum and manages to flee the crazy cat lady's grasp, but well. He still turns into a cat.

So he's exhausted from the ordeal and distraught not only failing to defeat the villain but also turning tail (haha get it?) and running away. He tries making it back to his own apartment, but ends up passing out underneath a porch of a townhouse to escape the rain (oh yeah, it's supposed to be raining).

He awakes up to find that some kind person took him inside a new toasty house and placed him on some soft blankets and what the FUCK why is it his arch nemesis, does he know who Roman actually is??

Meanwhile Virgil, absolutely NO clue that's Roman, saw a weak orange tabby stray cat on his doorstep and took him inside with the intention of taking him to the vet (there's an odd collar that looks more like a human necklace, but eh. the cat could be micro-chipped). He's had cats before so like, he's not surprised to see the orange tabby acting wary and hiding from him.

Anyways ofc Roman doesnt have a micro-chip but Virgil ends up keeping him and shenanigans occur from there. Mainly Roman slowly warming up to Virgil and realizing that he might not be an actual bad guy to begin with. And yes, the crazy cat lady's plots are foiled and Roman gets to be human again, happy ending and all.

#kat answers #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton would be the manager/owner of a coffeeshop virgil and roman both visit #Virgil is actually close friends with Patton but somehow Roman and Virgil just comically miss one another when they visit the coffeeshop #Remus and Logan are Roman's roommates who definitely freak when Roman goes missing #Janus is Virgil's older brother who does crimes and is the arch nemesis to the actual superhero of the city (Thomas)#Janus and Thomas have one of those hero villain relationships where they both want the same thing #but the hero (thomas) disagrees with the villain's methods #so sometimes they do end up working together (namely trouncing other unsavory villains from their city)#and sometimes Thomas turns a blind eye to Janus's operations

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xandriagreat · 1 year

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The Rest Of The Crew And The Governor/Greatest Criminal

This is part two of a post that I did last year (this post)

#sanders sides #the bad guys #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #mr. shark #mr shark #mr. piranha #mr piranha #ms tarantula #ms. tarantula #diane foxington #the Crimson Paw #the bad guys au #Sanders sides au #drawing #Roman and Remus are half brothers in this au

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brain-deadx0 · 2 years

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First Day of School

Part 5 of New Big Brother

Previous - Next Ao3

Summary: Remy and Virgil go back to school.

Warnings: Food, fire, Mitchell from cartoon therapy is in this, brief talk of violence but nothing too serious, let me know of anything I missed.

Remy woke to the quiet beeping of an alarm clock.

Great.

He suppressed a groan before rolling over and shutting it off. He was not looking forward to today.

Still, as much as he hated first days, and mornings in general, he pulled himself out of bed to get ready.

He was only partially surprised at this point when he went downstairs to see dad guy happily attempting to sing as he made… pancakes? Something mostly brown in a pan.

"Morning, Remy," dad guy grinned when he noticed him, "Ready for your first day of school?"

"I guess."

Dad guy sent him a sympathetic smile, "Yeah, first day at a new school can be a bit nerve wracking. But hey at least Emile will be there so you'll have a familiar face."

Remy shrugged. He and Emile had gotten to hang out a few times while watching Virgil, and the guy seemed chill enough, but there was no guarantee Emile would acknowledge his existence when they were at school.

"Remy!"

He let out a small grunt as Virgil slammed into him from behind, "Mornin' kid."

"Are you ready for the first day of school?" Virgil asked.

"Ready as I can be. What about you? Excited for the first day?"

"No," Virgil's nose scrunched in distaste, "But my friends family was gone all summer and he promised he'd be back by the first day of school."

"Cool."

"Yeah, his mom is from uh… Dad?"

"Germany," Dad guy reminded him.

"Yeah Germany! So they go there sometimes to see his mom's family. He always stays too long though." Virgil pouted.

"Now kiddo," Dad guy told him, "I know you miss your friend when he's gone but he likes seeing his family. And I know his mom really does too. Remember, she only gets to see her mom and dad and the rest of her family once or twice a year. Kinda like how Grammy and Pop pop only get to visit us once in a while."

"...I guess…" Virgil admitted, "But I'm still glad he's back."

Dad guy smiled, "I know kiddo. And I bet he's excited to see you again too." He said as he ruffled the kids hair, "Now let's get some breakfast."

Remy glanced over at the pan, "Uh… Mr. Sanders."

"Yeah?"

Remy pointed at the black smoke that was quickly starting to fill the kitchen.

"Uh oh!"

Dad guy rushed over to the smoking pan just as it burst into flames. Apparently this wasn't the first time because he just as quickly placed a lid over the top before taking it off the burner. After the fire was out he turned the stove off.

He looked back sheepishly, "Well. Eggos it is then."

…

After the backup breakfast, dad guy herded them out the door and into the car.

"Normally you'll have to take the bus, but we always do drop off and pick up on the first day." Dad guy told them with his signature smile as he glanced at them in the rear view.

"And birthdays!" Virgil added.

"And birthdays." Dad guy confirmed.

The drive to Southwest Side wasn't a long one thankfully and soon they were pulling into the drop off zone.

"Are you okay with me snapping a quick picture for your first day?" Dad guy asked before Remy got out, "It's fine if you don't want me to though." He added.

"Uh… If you want I guess?"

Dad guy smiled as he pulled out his phone, "Ok, just go ahead and hop out. All you gotta do is look back for a second so I can get a picture, okay?"

"Don't forget to smile!" Virgil added.

"Whatever you say, Victor." Remy said as he gave a small salute and climbed out of the car.

After getting a picture, Dad guy gave one last wave before driving away to take Virgil to his school.

'Okay,' Remy thought to himself as he pulled out his class schedule, 'time to figure out where the hell everything is.'

Thankfully dad guy dropped him off a bit early so he had time to theoretically find all the rooms.

"Remy, hey!"

Remy looked up at the familiar voice to see Emile waving and walking towards him, followed by two others, "'Sup."

"Glad I found you!" Emile grinned, "We were all gonna compare our schedules to see if we have classes together. These are a few of my friends."

"'Sup, names Kai, he/him." The first one introduced with a casual peace sign.

"Elliot, they/them." The other chimed in.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Remy, he/him."

"We're still waiting for a few of our other friends, but we'll see them later." Emile explained, "Until then do you want help finding your classes?"

"Sure,"

…

It was a good thing Emile and his friends were able to show Remy around the school that morning because apparently whoever designed Southwest Side happened to be the same person who designed the minotaur's maze. Seriously, who puts classes A1-15 next to classes D16-24?

Thankfully he also shared a few classes with each of them. It was a bit weird having someone save you a seat on the first day but Remy wasn't complaining. Especially when he was almost late to one class because some nut job put class numbers wherever the fuck they felt like.

Seriously, who designed this school?

Thankfully the lunchroom at least was easy to find. Emile and Kai waved him down when he got there before the three of them went to get their food.

"Where's Elliot?" Remy asked.

Kai rolled his eyes, "They went to save us a table with Mitchell."

"Who's Mitchell?"

"He's Elliot's boyfriend." Emile said.

"That's one way of describing him." Kai grumbled.

"Elliot can make their own choices, we're here to help support them." Emile recited.

"Do we have to be happy about it?"

"No."

"Good."

"Going out on a limb here and saying you guys don't like Mitchell?" Remy asked.

"You'll see soon enough." Kai told him as they finally got their lunch and headed for the tables.

It didn't take long to find them sitting at a table with three others. "Hey guys." Elliot smiled when they noticed them.

"You must be Remy." A very smiley person in plaid greeted, "It is so nice to meet you. My name is Sloane, he/him, and this," he pulled the person next to him into a tight side hug, "is my amazing boyfriend Corbin."

"PDA," Corbin chided, though he did have a small smile.

"Oh, right! Sorry." Sloane said as he quickly released his boyfriend and put a couple inches of space between them.

"It's nice to meet you, Remy." Corbin told him as he adjusted his glasses, "Emile's told us a bit about you."

"All good things of course." Emile assured.

"So Remy?" The guy next to Elliot asked, "Is that short for like, Remington or something?"

"Yeah actually," Remy admitted despite himself, "I don't really care for it though. Which is why I go by Remy."

"Oh no worries, no worries. I'm Mitchell by the way. Though call me Mitchie and I'll kick your ass." He grinned.

"Call me Remington I'll kick yours." Remy fired back with a matching grin.

Yeah he was starting to see why Kai and Emile didn't like this guy. His vibes were off and they barely got past introducing themselves.

"Please no butt kicking of any kind." Emile cut in.

"Except in Mario Kart." Kai added.

"Exactly." Emile smiled before jumping on the subject change, "Have you played it before?"

"Once or twice," Remy said, going along with it, "never really got to play many games though. Consoles are expensive."

The other four got up to join the lunch line while Remy, Emile, and Kai continued talking about video games. Admittedly it was mostly Emile and Kai, but to their credit they did try and keep Remy involved so he wasn't gonna fault them for it.

"We should all hang out at some point. I have a ton of games I think you'd be into." Kai told him, "Plus my mom let me set up a gaming room, well it's technically a "media room for everyone," but I'm the one who uses it the most so it's also my gaming room."

"Sounds good."

Overall the day wasn't a total loss. The teachers hadn't quite gotten to the seriously boring lessons yet since it was the first day. That paired with the fact that Emile's friends were pretty chill, other than Elliot's boyfriend, the day actually went by decently fast.

At the end of the day, Remy found himself hanging out with Emile, Kai, Corbin and Sloane in front of the school.

"Do you wanna ride?" Sloan asked when he and Corbin were about to leave, "We're going that way anyway."

"Nah I'm good. I'm getting picked up today." Remy told him.

"Oh ok, just let us know if you ever want or need a ride. We give Emile rides all the time."

"I'll keep that in mind." Remy told them.

As if being summoned by the mention of his existence, Dad guy's blue minivan pulled into the pickup zone.

"Speaking of, there's my ride now. I'll catch you guys tomorrow."

"Sounds good." "Later dude." "See you tomorrow." "Bye Remy!"

Remy quickly made his way to the car, not wanting to keep Dad guy waiting, before hopping in the back.

"Hey Remy, how was your first day?" Dad guy asked as soon as he was buckled in.

"It was fine." Remy shrugged.

"That's good. Did you hang out with Emile? You guys are in the same grade right?"

"Yeah."

"We still have some time before we gotta pick up Virgil. Wanna go get some food? You can pick where." Dad guy offered.

"I don't care. It's up to you." Remy told him, 'God please let this interaction end.'

"Ok, well do you have a preference? Burgers? Tacos? Sandwiches?"

"It's up to you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Dad guy hummed, "Ok well… what about some McDonalds? We can surprise Virgil with a happy meal, and if we're lucky maybe they have some ice cream."

"Okay."

Remy continued staring out the window as they presumably drove to McDonald's on the way to pick up Virgil.

…

They pulled up to the elementary school and saw a hoard of kids on the playground next to the pickup area behind the school. Teachers were running back and forth trying to corral the kids before their parents got there.

They got in the line and eventually reached an adult.

"Hi there," She smiled, "I just need your name and the kids name."

"Patton Sanders for Virgil Sanders."

The woman checked her clipboard before waving them ahead and talking into her radio.

Remy scanned the playground before spotting Virgil and another kid under one of the trees. An aid must've called for them because a moment later both kids were running over to a much more organized line of kids in the pickup zone.

It was a few more minutes before they pulled up to the zone but Virgil and his friend spotted them before the aid had to call them.

"Dad, can Logan come over today?" Virgil asked as soon as they reached the car.

"Sorry, Kiddo, not today. We'd have to ask his parents first. I can call them later though and maybe he can come over this weekend, ok?"

"Awww, ok." Virgil frowned for a moment before noticing Remy in the back seat, "Remy!"

"Sup kid."

"This is my best friend Logan. Logan, this is my new brother Remy." He introduced.

"Salutations," The kid said as he adjusted his glasses, "Virgil has told me a lot about you. It is nice to make your acquaintance, Remy."

"Nice to meet you too, Logan. Virgil was really excited to see you again." Remy told him.

"Alright, Kiddos," Dad guy said after a car honked behind them, "We gotta hurry up now. I'll call Logan's parents later okay?"

"Ok…" "That sounds sufficient." The two said in matching disappointment.

The two quickly said their goodbyes before Logan walked back towards the playground and Virgil climbed into the car seat next to Remy.

"I wish Logan could've come too." Virgil said as they pulled away.

"I know, kiddo." Dad guy told him, "But I have something to cheer you up."

"Really?"

Dad guy reached over to the passenger seat before awkwardly trying to pass the happy meal back without taking his eyes off the road.

Virgil gasped, "McDonalds!" He said before eagerly grabbing for the box.

"So how was your first day of first grade?" Dad guy asked as Virgil happily dug through the box.

"It was okay," Virgil told him, "Logan and me are in the same class again and our teacher seems nice. She even let us pick our own seats so me and Logan get to sit next to each other even!"

"That's great, Kiddo!" Dad guy grinned back at the kid through the mirror, "It's always nice to sit next to friends. Did you do anything special in class today?"

Remy stared out the window as Dad guy drove them back to the house. If he happened to ask the kid a few questions about his day that was no one's business but his own.

#brain dead writes #new big brother #look who finally wrote #sanders sides #sanders sides fan fic #patton sanders #remy sleep #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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soysaucevictim · 1 year

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I guess I feel like sharing those other pictures I took when I finished that set of bags I made for my set of Crofters jars.

(Warning for some grief talk in the read more segment to that post.)

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #artisan crafts #(it still sucks knowing i finished them on one of the worst days of my life... i knew i wouldn't be able to sleep after what happened)#(i was working on these for awhile beforehand... so i just finished them to keep my head screwed on)#(... in a bit of a grief spiral about it atm - about losing my brother...)#(... yeah.)#(in case it wasn't obv why i'm just so hyperfocused on creativitwins shit lately it's been to cope w/ that. even if it has been 2 yrs since

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loganslowdown4 · 2 years

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Logan: I’m not the most frequent reader of fantasy literature, but I’ve often encountered the idea of important weapons being named. Roman? Remus? Did you name your weapons?

Roman: (offended noises) Of course I did!

Remus: Yeah, duh nerd.

Patton: Oh that’s so CUTE! What are their names?

Roman: (striking a heroic pose) Dragonslayer.

Remus: (shrugging) Cuddles.

Roman: Wait-

Roman: Is that why whenever you asked “Do you want cuddles?” and I said yes, you’d hit me with that damn thing???

#poor Roman just wants hugs #and gets a mace to the face every time #stupid twin brothers lol #logan sanders #patton sanders #Roman sanders #Remus sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sander sides #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts remus #sanders sides incorrect quotes #incorrect sanders sides #creativitwins #ts creativitwins

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spoondoodles · 2 months

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I HAVE BEEN CONVINCED OF THE LOGINCE AGENDA

#spoondoodles #sanders sides #logan sanders #sanders sides fanart #ts sides #tss #roman sanders #logince #some HS AU i guess???? idk i was just vibing after reading multiple logince hs aus and they got in my head #just the dynamic of the flamboyant extrovert drama gay adopting his pet introverted nerd is v good imo #in the au in my mind logan and patton were childhood friends but roman befriended logan via annoying him and now they're low key inseparabl #everyone sees it but them b/c they have shared insecurity issues lmaoo they're too oblivious unfortunately #virgil is 5 seconds from snapping at any given moment but knows they'd never believe him if he told them they're in love #patton has a scrapbook of their school years together and so many are photos of logan and roman sleeping on each other #remus just enjoys teasing his brother and chemistry bestie over their obvious crushes they've separately sworn him to secrecy over #i think janus is the one that eventually gets thro to one of them tho idk how yet #anyway! more doodles incoming when my new tablet pen comes in i may have broken it during this drawing ;-;

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lily-janus · 2 years

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What I Wish We Can Be

Summary: Logan's story!

Characters: Logan, Fred (OC), Chris (OC), Patton.

Warnings: invasive questions, implied sex (not graphic at all), heavy angst, crying in public, alcohol mentions, internalized aphobia. Lemme know if I missed any.

Word count: 2,350

Woow! Finally done! Ngl this took me a while to write... but it's finished now! I really struggled to portray alloaro folks in the most validating and respectful way possible so I hope I didn't accidently offend anyone💛

P.S: I hope you don't mind me tugging you but this was the WIP I sent that paragraph from for the WIP game @naminethewitch

@aro-sides-week day 5 Aroace/alloaro/non-SAM-aro

...

Logan listened to the other's stories with great interest, everyone finding the term that fits for them in their own way. In Emile's case he was even questioning for years before he found a label that sat right with him.

He had to admit it was quite… inspiring, and a bit comforting if he's being honest, to hear others struggling with this when he originally felt like he was alone in his confusion.

He wonders… Can sharing his own experience be beneficial in easing his guilt? It's a theory worth testing, afterall, there are numerous studies that show how talking about things to a willing ear can help with processing emotions better.

He nodded decidedly to himself, fixing his glasses before raising his hand to catch Patton's attention.

"Hey there, fellow glasses wearer." Patton smiled at him. "Wanna go up next?"

"Indeed." He confirmed as he stood up.

"Well then, the floor's yours buddy!" Patton stepped aside from the center, giving Logan space to stand and face everyone.

"I do not wish to own this floor, but I am willing to share my own experience." He cleared his throat, fixed his tie and started his story…

-------------------------------------------------------

"Good morning sleepy-head."

Logan blinked as his mind regained awareness of his surroundings, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses before putting them on and bringing everything into focus.

"Morning" he said simply as he tossed the covers and started getting dressed.

"How'd you sleep? I had a great time last night!" Fred smiled at him from the doorway to the bedroom.

"I slept well, thank you for asking. Last night was indeed quite pleasurable." Logan agreed, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket and buttoning it up.

He noticed Fred has gone quiet and looked at him from the corner of his eye, noticing he's staring at him.

Fred noticed him looking and blushed. "Sorry you're just… really pretty."

"Oh um… thank you, you're quite attractive yourself." Logan said as he reached for his tie.

"Oh, let me help you with that, here." Fred walked over taking Logan's tie and standing before him. They locked eyes for a moment before Fred looked down to tie it around Logan's neck.

"You know I… I think I'll like seeing you again." Fred said hesitantly, tightening the knot and smoothing the tie when he's done.

"Are you saying you would like to copulate again?" Logan asked blantly.

Fred flushed. "Um… yeah… amongst… other things…" he stepped away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Logan frowned. "Other things?"

Fred sighed. "I'm trying to ask you out on a date… I think I like you and… it'll be nice to know you better." He smiled hopefully at Logan.

Logan stared. "Oh… I…" he wanted to say yes, he did enjoy himself last night and Fred was attractive but… he just couldn't see them going farther, he didn't feel interested in being with Fred in that sense.. but how can he convey that without hurting him?

"Fred." Logan started.

Fred looked up at him hopefully "yeah?"

"I enjoyed myself greatly last night and I can tell you're a very nice guy. I do like the idea of us getting to know each other better just… not in a romantic sense, I apologize." He tried to explain in the nicest way possible.

Fred bit his lip. "Oh… I see. I obviously think you're nice too and in a different context being friends would be nice but… I just think it'll be weird ya know? After we… ya know…" he blushed again at the recollection of last night's events.

He didn't sound too hurt so that's a good sign. "Well then, in that case, it seems our ways will be departing today." Logan said, reaching out his hand for Fred to shake.

Fred stared at the hand then snorted. "Are you always this formal with your hook ups?" He asked jokingly but shook his hand anyway. "Oh ah and…" he walked out of the bedroom for a few minutes before returning with a piece of paper he handed to Logan. "Here's my number in case you change your mind about the dating thing." He winked.

Logan gave him a half smile, taking the phone number and putting it in his pocket. Fred walked him to the door and they waved each other goodbye before he walked out and closed the door behind him.

…

"You did what?" His brother demanded when he finished telling him about this morning.

Logan frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

His brother stared at him in disbelief. "Wow, okay, let me walk you through what you told me."

"I don't see how walking will help-"

"Just… shut up, listen for a minute. You met a cute and attractive guy who's nice and thinks you're cute too. You hooked up with him, so far so good. Then, in the morning after he asks you out on a date because he wants to get to know you better and he might be developing feelings for you…. And you friend zone him? Have you lost your mind?!" His brother said in disbelief.

Logan's confusion deepened. " 'friend zone him'?"

His brother just groaned in frustration, shaking his head. "You're hopeless bro, why didn't you just say yes?"

"Because I wasn't interested… I don't understand, was I supposed to lie about the way I felt?" Logan tried to understand why his brother was so upset by this

"It's just one date, Lo-bro, how do you know you're not interested if you haven't even given the poor guy a chance?" His brother asked pointedly.

"I just… didn't see him in a romantic sense." Logan shrugged.

"You said you found him attractive!" His brother countered.

"Physically attractive it has nothing to do with romantic feelings and interest, I don't see why this bothers you so much." Logan said truthfully.

His brother sighed. "Bro, how long since you lost your virginity?"

Logan frowned. "10 years? I don't see how this is related-"

"And how many romantic partners have you had since then?" He cut him off.

"None." Logan said. "I don't see how this is-"

"You see why I'm worried about you now?" His brother interjected again.

"Um… no? I don't think I see the issue you seem to see." Logan said honestly.

"Logan… eventually you're going to need to find someone to settle down with and… with the way you're currently handling it… I don't see it happening. I just don't want you to end up like aunt Rose." His brother took his hand and squeezed it gently.

"What's wrong with aunt Rose?" Logan asked, desperately trying to understand.

"Nothing, she's great… she's just over 50 and living alone, you don't want that, do you?" His brother said.

"I mean… maybe not but… is that really that bad? You don't have to be with someone to be happy and aunt Rose looks pretty happy to me." Logan countered.

"Look, I'm just trying to help you so here's what you're going to do, you're going to call Fred and tell him you changed your mind-"

"But-"

"Let me finish, you go on one date with him okay? Just one, see how it feels, if it's nah then just say so and you'll never have to see him again, and if it feels like it might be going somewhere then great! You found your first boyfriend! Deal?" His brother looked at him expectantly.

"I don't know about this, Chris… It feels too much like lying for me to be comfortable with it." Logan hesitated.

"You're gonna have to step out of your comfort zone at least a little if you want to find a boyfriend, bro. It's not like one is going to waltz into your house one day." Chris pointed out. "All I'm asking for is one date."

Logan sighed. "Okay."

…

"Logan! Over here!" Fred waved him over with a smile. "I was so glad you called to change your mind! A little surprised but very glad."

Logan swallowed, he can already tell this is not going to work… but then again, Chris might have a point… he is inexperienced in that regard so maybe he shouldn't judge the situation so quickly.. Besides, it's not like he can turn him down again before the date even started.

He took a deep breath and sat in front of Fred, managing a slight smile. "Yeah I figured it's worth giving this a chance of at least one date.. just to 'test the waters' as the saying goes. Though I'm very inexperienced so this still might not work out." Logan said truthfully.

Fred raised an eyebrow playfully. "One date to win you over? Alright, I'll accept that challenge." He smirked slightly.

Logan chuckled at Fred's charm, he is pretty fun to be around.. Maybe this night will go by well.

After they placed their orders they started conversating. "So what do you work at?" Fred asked curiously. "Wait, wait, lemme guess… you're a teacher! No wait… a lawyer! Eh… something that requires that big vocabulary of yours and those formal ties you wear." Fred chuckled.

Logan smiled. "Close, I'm a professor at the local university here. Nice job, pays well, and I get to educate and lecture people which I always enjoyed since I can remember. What about you?" Logan took a sip from his wine as he waited for Fred's response.

"A professor! Huh… somehow that makes you even hotter." Fred giggled. "My job isn't nearly as impressive… I just own a small bar not far from here." He shrugged.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Owning your own business is quite the accomplishment, there are not many who will be able to achieve such a thing."

Fred blushed at the compliment. "Oh… ah, thanks… it's just a bar… I just like making people happy, you know? Help them let loose for a while… everyone needs that from time to time."

Logan nodded. "Indeed they do. Do you happen to have any good wine there?" He asked with interest, perhaps he can pay this place a visit sometime.

Fred's face brightened as he nodded. "Oh yeah! We have almost every kind of alcohol you can think of! I like to appeal to as many people as possible so I…" Fred happily chatted about his bar, how he trains his bartenders in making almost any drink out there and even encouraging them to make up their own.

Logan smiled as he nodded through his rumblings, being with Fred just felt so easy and effortless… he desperately wished he could feel those romantic feelings everyone keeps telling him about so their relationship can work in a way that appealed to the both of them… but those stubbornly stayed out of reach.

Fred already mentioned his disinterest in a platonic connection with Logan after their sexual encounter, so if Logan can't recipicate his romantic feelings towards him… they'll have to say goodbye…

"...You should come and see it, drinks are on the house." Fred winked at him, reaching a hand to grab Logan's and gently rub over his knuckles with his thumb, looking up at him with a bright blush. "...Perhaps on our next date?" He asked hopefully.

And it was the morning after their copulating all over again… but somehow way worse, because now he cared about him even more and wanted to keep seeing him… just - frustratingly so - not romantically like he does.

"Um…" Logan hesitated, how can he turn him down now?

"I get this might be scary since it's your first time but… now I know I really like you, Logan and… we can take it slow okay?" Fred's hand was still holding his and he gave it a light squeeze, smiling softly.

"I'm sorry I-" the waiter suddenly arrived with their check and Logan quickly grabbed it before Fred had a chance, glad for the momentary distraction as he put the credit card inside and handed it back to the waiter.

Fred's hopeful eyes were still on him. Logan's heart ached as he opened his mouth to say no to this sweet guy he wishes he could fall in love with. "I'm really sorry I just don't-" the words got stuck in his throat.

The waiter handed his credit card back to him with a receipt and Logan quickly snatched it and stood up.

"Logan?" Fred frowned at him with concern.

He needed space… he needed to think… he can't think…

His breath quickened. "I'm just… really busy…" he stammered and he was bolting away from there before he even realized it, only stopping when his legs couldn't carry him anymore and he leaned on a nearby wall, panting heavily.

-------------------------------------------------------

Logan didn't realize he was crying until Patton wiped his tears gently.

He backed away, embarrassed, furiously wiping his tears on his own. "I… I didn't have the courage to reach out to him again after that… he's probably better off without me anyway…" Logan struggled to finish the story and regain whatever little composure he had left.

"For the longest time I felt like I'm such a shallow 'jerk' who only likes people for their bodies I… I didn't know about… all the different kinds of attractions or how people can feel and not feel some of them… I didn't know what aromantic was or allosexual I just… felt broken and… guilty…"

Logan took a deep, calming breath, skimming through the faces looking back at him. Patton rubbed his shoulders gently in a comforting gesture.

"Hey, it's okay, I promise. Like I keep saying, this stuff is very confusing, thank you so much for sharing." He smiled sweetly at him. "Do you want to go back to your seat? Drink some water?"

Logan took another deep breath and nodded, going over to the table with water bottles behind the circle and taking one before sitting back at his seat. Feeling emotionally worn but also… relieved.

He supposes his original theory was correct then, a fact that made him smile slightly as he awaited the next person to speak up.

#aromantic #alloaro #sanders sides #logan-centric fic #arosidesweek2022 #tw internalized aphobia #cw alcohol mention #cw sex mention #Lily writes #did I base the entire conversation of Logan and his brother over a convo I had with my own brother years ago?#'course not heh...#I'm projecting hard over this fics guys you have no idea #patton sanders

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naminethewriter · 2 years

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Brothers and Secrets Chapter Six: Explanations

Masterpost | First | Previous

Summary: Remus set out on his backpacking trip across Europe with a route in mind but no set time frame. So when he suddenly calls Roman as he's about to go to bed and demands to be picked up from the airport, Roman is rightfully caught off guard. As it turns out, Remus has experienced more in those two years than his brother had thought, not only getting himself a boyfriend but also a house to live in with said boyfriend.

There are many things Roman finds suspicious about this new set of circumstances and as time goes on, the mysteries pile on. Remus is hiding something, but what? And how will his secrets impact not only Roman's life but that of their friends Patton and Janus as well?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The parlor had been turned into a living room at some point. There were two sofas and two armchairs placed around a coffee table, facing a fireplace above which the television had been placed. The fire was crackling, illuminating the room with a soft, orange glow. It was a cozy place that just may be Roman’s favorite room in the house.

Logan and Remus were nowhere to be seen as he entered with Patton. Virgil had taken one of the armchairs, while Janus sat one of the sofas, examining his fingernails as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Roman watched them with suspicion.

“Where’s my brother?”

“Getting something to drink and eat with Logan,” Janus replied without looking up. “To be good hosts, I suppose. Also, to maybe come down from his high, I believe.”

“So he was high?”

“In a way, yes.”

“What does that mean?” Now Janus finally looked up at him though his face was blank and unreadable.

“He was high but not in the way you think.” Before Roman could ask for clarification again, he was waved off. “They will explain in a moment, just sit down for now.” He huffed but followed the advice, gently pulling Patton with him towards the remaining empty sofa. Patton stayed close to him but Roman could see him glancing over towards Janus often. It was a given, the two were close and it must be a shock to him to see him acting like he did. And while Virgil was clearly not enthused by Janus’ presence, they didn’t know if it was because he was a witch or if it was a personal problem between them. Janus did know his name and the way he talked to Virgil spoke of familiarity.

No use pondering it for now, Roman decided. They were going to get their answers soon, hopefully.

It took but a minute for Logan and Remus to join them, the latter now walking on his own and seemingly a bit more present. Logan was instead carrying a tray with glasses, a water pitcher, a pitcher with some deep red liquid and a few bowls containing, most likely, snacks. He placed it on the coffee table within reach for everyone and poured some of the red drink into a glass and handed it to Remus. Then he sat down in the remaining armchair. Remus, who had accepted the glass without complaint, immediately placed himself in his lap. Knowing his brother and the way Logan barely reacted, Roman figured this was a habit that had been established early on in their relationship.

“Well then,” Logan started and immediately all eyes were on him. “These are… not the planned circumstances in which I would have chosen to gather all of us together, but I suppose this will do. My name is Logan Croft, it is a pleasure to meet you three, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Remus.” He nodded his head towards Roman, Patton and Janus before continuing. “This is Virgil” – he motioned to the armchair next to his own where Virgil sat and gave a quick, unenthusiastic wave – “who is a member of the same family as I am. He and I are what you would consider a vampire.” Roman’s eyes immediately flashed to his brother who had a guilty-looking smile on his face.

“You went out to Europe, alone, and hooked up with a vampire?” he asked, slowly, trying to keep his temper in check. Remus laughed nervously.

“Technically, I hooked up with two.”

“Not the point, Remus!”

“Sorry, okay! People told me about this club that supposedly was a hangout spot for the supernatural, what did you expect me to do? Not go?!”

“Yes! Or at least to stay away from creatures that could kill you and not sleep with them!”

“They’re not monsters, Ro!”

“Vampires are the definition of monster!”

“In stories, but this is real life!”

“Yes, real life where, until twenty minutes ago, I didn’t even know they existed!”

“Kiddos, please stop yelling,” Patton cut in, squeezing Roman’s hand, while Logan worked on calming Remus by gently stroking his arm. “I get why you’re concerned, Roman, but maybe let them explain some more first? We don’t know what ‘vampire’ and ‘witch’ mean in their context. And if Remus trusts them, maybe we should give them a chance?”

“Fine,” Roman huffed and Patton squeezed his hand again, this time in gratitude.

“Thank you… Patton, I believe?” Logan asked and Patton nodded.

“Nice to meet you, kiddo.”

“I am not a ‘kiddo’, I am several centuries old,” Logan replied, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. In his lap, Remus giggled.

“He calls pretty much everyone that, Logie, don’t think too much about it.”

“…Alright. Let me resume my explanation then. We are vampires in the sense that we do require human blood to survive and stop aging once we are turned. However, there is no need to kill for us to get the amount of blood we need to sustain ourselves. Mostly we find volunteers or, if there aren’t any available, take a smaller amount from multiple people and wipe their memory of the encounter. Remus and I are in a courtship which means that we are romantically interested in each other, and we are in a sort of trial period to see if our relationship is sustainable. If it is, there will be a discussion about whether turning him is an option and if not, if there are other types of immortality should be pursued or he can remain human. If our relationship is not sustainable, the family would see to it that he – and everyone involved with him – forgets about us ever meeting.”

“Which won’t happen!” Remus merrily declared, gaining a chuckle from Logan and a groan from Virgil.

“Forget about it how?” Roman questioned, ignoring his brother. He was trying his best to follow the explanation, but it was a lot of information at once.

“Well, there are a few methods. It depends on how many people know. In our case, at the moment it would only be you, Patton, and Remus so me and Virgil could hypnotize you without much problem. For larger groups we would ask for the help of, for example, a witch such as Janus since they are more efficient with magic than we are.” Now all eyes wandered over to the man in question who hummed in agreement.

“It would be in the realm of possibility, even if it’s not something I specialize in.”

“So, you really are a witch?” Patton whispered. Janus’ gaze softened as he seemed to take in just how confused his partner seemed.

“Yes, Pat, I am a witch. I’m also a lot older than you think.”

“How about you drop that shitty glamour spell if you’re coming clean,” Virgil spat. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Again, love that you’re just spilling my secrets for me, Virgil, you are such a dear.” They hissed at each other for a moment until Logan cleared his throat.

“I do not know what happened between you two, but please keep your animosity towards each other contained.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, she is a-“ Virgil began but was cut off by a loud snarl.

“I am a man currently, Virgil, and no matter how angry you are at me, I will not allow you to misgender me.”

“Oh,” Virgil said after an awkward pause. “I did not know that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Apology accepted,” Janus huffed, but seemingly placated.

“Wait, Janny, you’re genderfluid?! How much stuff were you keeping from me? Did I misgender you at any point?” Remus called, upset at the possibility.

“No, Remus,” Janus sighed. “I’ve lived a long time and there are times where my body starts to feel… uncomfortable. Switching sexes helps most of the time and since I use magic to do so I would’ve adjusted your memory so that you believed that I was the same the entire time. There was no need for it in so far, though. When Virgil and I last met I was still a woman, so I know it was a genuine mistake.”

“That is so fucking cool, can you teach me to do magic?”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Roman interrupted before Janus could answer. “Could we please get back to the point? I still have questions that I’d like to have answered.”

“Understandable. However, Virgil does have a point, I should show my true face.” With that a ripple started to move across Janus’ skin, starting at the hairline on his forehead and then steadily moving downwards. The vitiligo on the left side of his face disappeared and instead made room for scales that glimmered in the light cast by the fire. His left eye morphed from brown to green and his pupil became slanted.

“Fucking snake.” Roman could just hear Virgil mumbling and though he was really curious what happened between the two of them, there were other matters more important to him right now.

Soon after, the rippling stopped and Janus smiled.

“There we go, entirely me now.”

“Thank you for trusting us, Janus,” Logan said with another nod and Roman got the feeling that his brother’s boyfriend was used to moderating hostile discussions. He almost sounded like a therapist.

“Now that we have established the basics of our nature, what else is there that you wish to know about, Roman?”

“You said that you don’t need a lot of human blood to survive, and Virgil said you fed off of Remus earlier, correct?”

“Yes, that is true.”

“Then why was he acting like he was on drugs? Or lightheaded from blood loss?” Remus started giggling again and Logan sighed. Roman thought he might be blushing a bit, but it was hard to tell in the dim light.

“I assure you that I did not drink enough for your brother to be in any danger of collapsing. He was in that state because of a kind of toxin that enters his bloodstream while I feed that is meant to soothe the pain and keep him calm during the process, so he doesn’t hurt himself. The beetroot juice is for his iron intake, as a precaution. But I want to apologize to you again, Roman. If I had been more alert, I would have noticed Virgil’s arrival sooner and he wouldn’t have felt the need to attack you.”

“Yeah, sorry about grabbing you, I thought you were a hunter.” Virgil scratched his head and Roman could tell he was genuine in his apology, as was Logan.

“I understand and I accept your apology. But does that mean that there are hunters that come after you, like in stories?”

“Yes. There aren’t as much as there used to be and since the family was established, it has become easier to communicate about attacks and keep us and our homes safe.”

“The family was established?” Patton asked, confused. He had been quiet during the explanations so far though Roman had felt him tense during Janus’ reveal, but he seemed to be relaxing again now. Roman himself was too, he believed that the three of them didn’t have any ill intentions towards them or his brother. Still, there was more he needed to know before he could be sure.

“Indeed,” Logan confirmed. “A long time ago, even before I was born, vampires were more commonly known about and had the ruthless reputation many fictional stories still give us today. Whether or not they were like that or not, I don’t know but they were hunted fiercely. With their numbers dwindling, the rest gathered to establish some rules and fabricate their extinction.

“The rules were mainly meant to regulate the growth of the community, meaning they put a limit on how many could be turned and how to handle them, as well as keep our continued existence a secret by refraining from killing or injuring people. Over the years the title of ‘family’ emerged because it was an easy cover to use. A large group of people scattered over the world but still connected to each other. And it strengthened the sense of community, I believe.”

“What did you mean by ‘handle them’ when you talked about newly turned vampires?”

“The time immediately after the transformation is rough. You need to get used to new senses you didn’t have before, your body as a whole feels different, you can’t do things like you used to before and, of course, there’s the matter of feeding. If not instructed properly, young vampires are very likely to kill the people they drink from because of a lack of control. So it is up to the Sire – the one who turned them – to keep them under control and teach them to adjust to their new life. Usually, they stay together for several years until the young vampire can go live on their own. I personally have not sired anyone, but Virgil has. Speaking of, I was wondering how Elliot is doing?”

“They’re fine,” Virgil said, sounding annoyed at being the center of attention suddenly. “If they were here, they’d be delighted to give you an entire lecture about vampire history. They’re currently studying the subject under Elder Augustin in Ireland. I was planning on visiting them after I talked to Remy.”

“I see. Well, Remy left but a few days ago. He was heading to Emile.”

“Yeah, I figured. And considering how long he was stuck here, I’m guessing he’s gonna stay a while, so it’ll be easy to track him down.”

“Indeed.”

“Speaking of Remy,” Roman cut in, “I have a few questions. He is a vampire, too, right?”

“Yes.”

“But I saw him outside during the day and he drank coffee almost all the time. How much of vampires’ weaknesses are real?”

“Well, the sun isn’t deadly to us, for one. It does weaken us somewhat and most of our kind prefers the night and cooler temperatures, but it can’t do too much harm. Silver on the other hand is a bit more dangerous though simply touching it isn’t enough to do serious harm either, it does burn a bit however. The mirrors are technically true but only the old ones that were made with silver. I believe the wooden stakes would kill just about anyone, if they’re stabbed in the heart by it, and while we do heal a bit faster than humans, we are not immortal in that sense. As for food, we are able to eat but do not strictly need it to live. Drinking fluids besides blood is also not necessary per se but does help and lengthens the time one can go without feeding a little bit.”

“I see,” Roman hummed, trying to commit the information to memory.

“What about Emile,” Patton asked. “Is he a vampire as well? The two seemed to be together for a long time.” While he’d probably seen the least of Remy out of all of them, they’d taken a liking to each other, so they talked more one on one than Janus or Roman did.

“No, he’s a dryad. Which is why he couldn’t visit himself. He is able to leave the forest but not for too long, he’d weaken and slowly died otherwise. The little time they would have had wouldn’t be worth the risk, so Remy looked for a replacement instead,” Virgil explained.

There was a lull in conversation for the first time since they sat down and Remus yawned, quickly infecting Patton and then Roman.

“I believe it’s time to go to bed,” Logan said, stroking Remus hair as his boyfriend heavily leaned against him. “I hope we proved that we do not intend to hurt you and any further questions to our nature can be answered at a later date. Unless there is more you wish to ask of Janus.” The witch in question snorted.

“There isn’t much to tell. I do magic in a variety of ways, I could talk your ears off for days about it, but the important points are that I won’t hurt any of you, I still consider you my friends and I do not have a problem with vampires.” Patton looked doubtful.

“What about you and Virgil then?”

“It’s personal,” Virgil answered himself. “He screwed me over and I haven’t seen him since. I’ll stick around for a bit, I’m sure he can find some way to make it up to me.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Janus smiled in a way that clearly said that he had no intention of doing so. He and Virgil stared at each other for a moment before Roman spoke up again.

“There is one more thing I wanted to ask you, actually. You told me that you also had a family with weird traditions, too, in the car the first time we came here. Do witches have a similar group structure like the vampires?”

“There are convents, though I never belonged to one. What I was alluding to was that I was raised and taught by my mother who was a witch also, so I was born into this. Though I have no idea who my father was or what kind of creature he was. Maybe he was plain human, I don’t know and don’t really care.”

“Is your mother still alive?” Patton asked, obviously curious.

“She is. I don’t know where, but I would be notified if she passed, as she would be if I did.”

“That’s nice.” Patton smiled softly and once again yawned. “I’m getting really tired.”

“It’s past 2am, it’s natural that you would be tired. Let’s retreat for now and meet again in the morning. Virgil, you-”

“I’ll find an unoccupied bed. I’m pretty wiped, too, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left. Janus stood and stretched before offering his hand to Patton.

“I hope you don’t mind continuing to share a bed with me, my dear?”

“I can’t promise that I won’t freak out a bit in the morning if I can’t remember this immediately, but I don’t mind at all, Jan.”

“I can put the glamor back on until morning.”

“No, I’d rather you don’t, actually. I think you look great like this.”

“Thank you, darling. That means a lot.” They left hand in hand, both smiling softly. Remus watched them and giggled.

“I was worried for a moment, but they seem to be fine after all.”

“Indeed. I had not intended to unveil his nature to anyone besides you before talking to him, but I guess Virgil had no such qualms.”

“I mean, he did think the house was under attack and everyone already knew about the supernatural stuff.”

“Excellent point. Now, love, please stand up so I can clean up and we can go to bed?”

“Aww, but you’re so comfy!”

“Remus, please.”

“Fiiiiiine.” He got up and hopped over to his brother who seemed lost in thought. “You bring the stuff back; I’ll talk to Ro for a bit.”

“Very well. I’ll wait upstairs for you.”

“Okidoki!” Logan gathered the used glasses and took the tray, closing the door as he left the room. They sat in silence for a bit before Remus gently nudged his brother with his elbow.

“You good, Ro-bro?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just a lot to take in, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that. I learned most of that over the first three months of staying with them, so I had more time to process it, I guess.” Again, they were silent for a bit before Remus spoke again. “Sorry I kept this from you for so long. I wanted to tell you, like, immediately but Logan advised me not to. If we wouldn’t have worked out it would’ve been way easier to just erase my memories than hunt you down all the way out here just to get to you too, even if you didn’t believe me. They’re thorough like that.”

“It’s okay, Rem. I get it, it’s a complicated thing. I wish I wouldn’t have found out while being attacked in the middle of the night but it’s fine. You didn’t mean for that to happen, and I get why Virgil reacted like that.”

“Yeah, you don’t have a symbol so of course he would think that.” Roman glanced at Remus’ hand.

“The ring?”

“Uhuh, it’s magical and let’s other vampires know that I’m cool. So they don’t attack me and stuff.”

“Makes definitely more sense in this context.” They both chuckled. “I’m just glad you’re safe, Re. And as much as it annoys me to say, you’re a good judge of character so I’ll trust them if you do.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I saw the way you looked at Virgil in the hallway, you liked being pinned to the wall by him.”

“Shut up, you were barely lucid.”

“Nah, you were definitely turned on.”

“I said shut up!” Roman hit him with a pillow and his brother giggled again. He closed his eyes, exhausted. But there was one more question he had to ask before going to bed.

“Do you already know? If you want to be a vampire?”

“Not really. Doesn’t tickle me as much as I would’ve thought, to be honest. Becoming a witch though, now that would be sick.”

“I don’t think Janus was very enthused by the idea of teaching you.”

“Pff, I’ll wear him down, you’ll see. And if I can’t manage it alone, I’ll get Patton to help. He can’t resist his puppy-eyes.”

“Who can?” They chuckled again.

“…They will be fine, right?”

“I think so. Patton probably has more questions, but I don’t think much will change.”

“Queer-platonic partners forever, huh?”

“If Patton wants to, I’m sure Janus wouldn’t be opposed to sharing his secrets with him.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you interested in learning more? Besides your interest in Virgil, I mean.”

“Stop it.”

“Fine, fine. Answer the question though.”

“I don’t know. I learned about the possibility only about an hour ago and I’m kinda sleep deprived. Give me some time to process.”

“Fair. But whatever happens, you’re my brother and I love you most, okay?”

“You must be really tired if you’re willing to admit that,” Roman snorted. Remus elbowed him but smiled. “Love you, too, you idiot. Let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah, let’s.”

They went upstairs together to Roman’s room. They hugged and then Remus left further down the corridor to his and Logan’s room. Roman watched him before heading off to bed. A lot happened that night but he felt like he could fall asleep without worrying for the first time in over two years, knowing his brother was safe and happy.

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