Captain of the Good Dad Virgil Agenda @iclaimedtobethebetterbard - Tumblr Blog

if you're going my way, i'll go with you - chapter 13

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, minor/background OCs Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, Dukeceit, platonic Loceit and Intrulogical, platonic/parental Prinxiety and Logince Warnings: None for this chapter Word count: 3555

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Chapter 13

“Mmkay.” Virgil consulted what felt like an ever-growing list. “We placed the order for your super supplies with the school bookstore. I can have your other textbooks delivered.” He held up the pile of shopping bags strung on his arm. “We got you some more clothes so you’ll have a proper wardrobe.” He scrolled further down the list. “I think the next thing is probably gonna be toys?”

Roman looked taken aback. “Seriously?” He sounded even more skeptical than he looked, like he was certain this was some kind of mistake on Virgil’s part.

“Sure, buddy. What kinds of toys do you like?”

Roman hesitated. “Uh, I kind of like everything, I think?” He pondered for a moment. “I like making stuff. Like, crafts, and stuff.”

Virgil added a new item to the list—art supplies—and nodded. “How about some Legos?” he suggested.

This was clearly an excellent idea on his part; Roman absolutely lit up, his feet lifting ever-so-slightly off the ground in reflexive flight. All he said, though, with the intensity of the sun itself, was, “Yes.”

Virgil stifled a chuckle. “Perfect. Lego store, next stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” Logan retorted lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can skip me,” Janus responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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