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A Giant Miscommunication

Just Chill For A Moment

Once again co-written by @borrowedblue and @andtheyreonfire on the discord server!

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Roman gets caught in a snowstorm, and gets captured by a fierce giant (Virgil). He knows the giant is up to no good, but is it just him or does something seem off about his nefarious plans?

Word Count: 6294

Warnings: Freezing, potential hypothermia, miscommunication. Theorized but not occurring: Killing, treating people as a toy, boiling someone, preventing someone from sleeping, crushing. Also, there's a very uncomfortable few moments of non-sexual nudity. Nothing happens, nothing is even said/thought, but it's a little iffy.

The snowstorm had stopped. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally. It had been a bad one, too. Just because he wasn't as severely affected by the cold didn't mean that he had to like it.

There was a lot of snow in the ground, obviously, but there was also debris and broken branches scattered about. He hated to do it, but better to clean up while it was still light out. He sighed, and shrugged on his hoodie. It wouldn't be thick or warm enough to prevent the cold from seeping down to his skin, but he was literally thick-skinned, so he would be fine.

He stepped outside his little (relatively) house near the edge of the woods, and started gathering the branches and sticks, as well as whatever other debris he found. There was an entire bough of a tree that'd been broken off that was perfect for firewood. He grumbled as he had to go back around to set it aside, each step he took covering a few yards of distance. He made a small pile of garbage near the front door, and went back to clearing up his lawn. He gradually expanded his path, going further from his actual house with each pass-by, until he went to grab what looked like an overlarge candy wrapper, covered in a small pile of snow. He bent over, fingers just inches from brushing it,

"S-s-s-s-st-st-stop," the wrapper spoke, moving, which startled Virgil so badly that he dropped one of the sticks he was carrying. He squinted, and realized with growing horror, that the candy wrapper was no garbage, but it was actually a human! A human which looked none-too-good, which, he grimaced, if he'd been out in that storm…

He was nearly passed out, struggling to sit up, which coincidentally made him sink deeper into the snow. The little mound of snow was falling off with his movements, and he could see his face more easily. His skin was red with cold, and his eyes didn't seem to be able to focus well. Virgil bit his lip. Humans didn't often come this way, and he liked it that way just fine. The human didn't seem to want to be near him, either, based on how he was slowly trying to crawl away from him, and especially his hand. Plus, he himself didn't want any humans by him.

Yeah. It'd never really been a choice.

He reached his hand closer with a small sigh, resigning himself to a difficult time of dealing with a human, at least until the next storm cleared. The human made an ineffective dash to try and get away from him. But it wasn't very fast, he kept sinking into the snow, and Virgil was much too big to run away from when he was right there.

"Sorry," he mumbled as warning, and a sincere regret for having to pick him up when he so clearly didn't want to be.

And then the human passed out.

Virgil made a small distressed noise and instantly scooped him up into his palms. He was relieved when the human wriggled in his hands.

"No...no!" He was doubly relieved, because his voice was stronger than he'd expected, certainly stronger than it'd been before. He cupped his hands so that he wouldn't fall out as he stood. "Let me go!" He beat his fingers with tiny fists, which was distracting, and a little upsetting. Not much, because he knew what his reputation was, but a little.

"Hey," he hazarded, bringing his hands up to his mouth as he started back towards his house. "It's okay." The beating and yelling became faster. "It's gonna storm again, and you're freezing. I'll help you, it's okay." This didn't seem to have any effect. He was getting closer to his house, and he'd have to use his hand to open the door. He was sure that the human would try and escape. He mentally rolled his eyes as he carefully drifted his hands down to one of his pockets. "It'll be warm in here." He carefully opened up his hands, placing him delicately into his pocket. "I'll take you out soon," but his promise seemed to fall on deaf ears as his little guest gave a despaired wail. He grimaced, holding the pocket closed so that he couldn't escape, fall, and hurt himself. This was going to be difficult.

~~~~~

This was bad.

Roman had been trekking through the forest for quite some time before the storm hit. He immediately turned back towards the direction he'd come when he saw the first flakes start falling (nothing like a gentle snowfall; accompanied by wind, foreboding, overcast skies, and wet, heavy flakes,) hopeful that he'd be able to outpace it.

He hadn't.

He might have made it, but his phone had died, he'd somehow gotten turned around during his adventure, and he'd confidently strode off in the wrong direction, going through the forest towards the other side. By the time he realized that he was probably going the wrong way, the snow had already been up to his knees. He kept trudging on. There was no point in turning around now; he'd wasted so much time, it would take too long to try and right his mistake. Plus, when he squinted, he was sure that he could see light shining through from between the trees!

Of course, with his eagerness to get out of the forest and into some actual shelter, he neglected to remember the warning he'd gotten about the giant on the other side. Of his hatred of humans, his grisly features, and dark, sinister appearance. All of the tales in his head disappeared in the face of trying to get out of the storm. He kept going, unwilling to give in to the harsh weather. He eventually lost track of time and, so focused on the forest's light, he didn't notice his own lightheaded-ness.

He eventually made it, snow still coming down hard. He was relieved; he could finally stop walking. There was even a house nearby! It was big. It was so, so unnaturally big, and he finally remembered the rumors he'd heard. But he didn't have to walk anymore, and, that thought in mind, he collapsed right where he was.

The next thing he was aware of was a giant hand reaching for him. He called out, and was surprised when the demon listened to him. He attempted to make an escape. Where to, he didn't know, but he was captured immediately. He doesn't know what happened, but he must have passed out again, because from one blink to another, he was clutched in the behemoth's grip. He cried out, pleaded, tried attacking every part of the callus colossus that he could reach, but to no avail this time. He wound up trapped, stuffed into an enormous pocket without any care at all, like he was an interesting toy to be played with.

He probably was, to him.

He was a little dizzy, and a little tired, and a little more than a little cold, but he was determined to hang on. Quite literally; the fabric was swaying with the savage's footsteps. It was very soft and warm, though, so he allowed himself to lean into it. A little comfort while he could still get it.

He heard them enter his house, stepping over the threshold and the door closed shut. He didn't have a plan for how to get out of this. He usually would have by now, but his thinking felt slowed from the cold. He continued to fight against the pocket as the monster moved around his house, gathering things he's sure he didn't even want to know about.

He felt the ogre stop eventually, and tried to curl up and hide as an enormous hand invaded the pocket. It found him almost immediately. He tried biting it, as a last defense, but its owner didn't even flinch.

"Let me go!" He shouted to the best of his ability. He squirmed, a futile endeavor, he knew, but he couldn't just take being manhandled without attempting something. Plus, he was getting some feeling back into his extremities this way, the friction of his body against the fiend's warm hand helping to warm him up a little bit.

He was deposited on a table, hands creating walls around him so that he couldn't escape. Roman protested all the while, not stopping his struggles.

"Hey," the terrible terrifying titan addressed him. Roman swallowed, finally stilling. "This is probably gonna be uncomfortable," Roman shivered, and warily eyed him, one eye shut, arms held up weakly in front of him like a facsimile of defense. He wondered if he should close his eyes or not. This was going to be unpleasant, at best. "But I'm going to have to take your clothes." His eyes snapped open at that, suddenly wide awake, and sick to his stomach.

"Wh- No!" He paled, screaming as forcefully as he could. He didn't know what nefarious plans he had that involved him not having clothing, but he didn't need to; there was no good answer.

"I swear," the demonic creature lifted both hands up, as if in surrender. What garbage. "Your clothes are wet, and it's dangerous." Him taking his hands away meant nothing, when he could so easily force him into his whims. He grabbed what looked like a washcloth and a piece of string from beside him. "I even have something else for you to wear, see?" Roman shivered again, but he wasn't sure how much of it was from the cold. He couldn't find it in him to fight back. He was tired. He turned his head away, tears gathering in his eyes.

He felt the outermost layer of his garb tugged on, and he grit his teeth, but it wasn't pulled off. 'Great,' he thought, 'at least he's not in the habit of ruining clothing.' The fiend tugged again, laying the washcloth and string (both large compared to Roman) next to him. "Come on, please, you'll have an easier time if you just put that on yourself." He didn't want to hear anymore from him. He abruptly grabbed hold of his overcoat, and quickly divested himself of it, holding it out, still avoiding eye contact.

He let the coat drop onto the table when he felt the sadistic hand withdraw. "You just, you finish. I'll be… over there." Roman chanced a look, and the giant was pointing behind himself with his thumb. Sure enough, he sidled away, back distinctly turned. Roman took the opportunity to shed most of the clothing he had on, quickly finding a way to fold and put on the washcloth so that he was covered. He tied the string around himself like a belt, and had to sit down. Even that had exhausted him.

Well, it wasn't as if he could escape from his current position, anyway. In fact, he was sure that the villain knew that, which is probably why he left him alone in the first place. He thought he could lull him into a false sense of security.

He made himself useful by looking around the room, trying to find the exits, hiding places, or anything else that could possibly be of use to him. Predictably, anything that he could focus on that looked halfway decent was on the floor. He saw the wretch return, staring intently at the book in his hands. He loudly cleared his throat, "Hey, uh. I hope you're done?" He raised his head slowly. Roman hadn't moved, and he sighed when he saw him. Probably relieved that his plaything was still where he'd left it.

Sure enough, as soon as he was within reach, he got Roman with his reach. He was scooped up in a blanket that was in his hands, and oh gracious, was he going to smother him? Or maybe it was laced with some poison. Either way, he struggled with everything he had, the animal muttering utter nonsense about helping, warming him up, as if he even cared that he was shivering.

Oh. Huh. He guessed he was shivering. He hadn't even noticed.

"G'off, get off!" Roman shoved and kicked at the fingers holding him. And then purposely concentrated on keeping his tremors still, glaring at his captor. He gasped. Ha! Probably wasn't expecting such a feisty, determined prisoner.

But instead of letting him go (of course not), or holding him tighter (small miracles), he turned him around in his hands, mumbling furiously to himself, and began to manipulate his limbs. Roman groaned loudly, pained, and humiliated. He was moving his legs with his fingers in what seemed like a mockery of a dance, occasionally grabbing one arm, then the other to move it up and down. He thought he heard the words 'not good' which was probably in reference to how Roman was acting. So he was punishing him for not following his whims and desires, which he hadn't even told him. It was bad enough that he was being treated like this, but now apparently psychological warfare was being added to his fate.

He gave a shudder. The barbarian's ministrations stopped temporarily. He gave another shiver once the cold caught up with him again. The giant took the blanket, wrapping Roman up in it. He was preventing him from moving or using his arms at all, he realized. He was grabbed in those gigantic hands once more, and now he couldn't even fight back. He must have angered him greatly to be burritoed like this.

Well… well good! Let him get as many jabs in against him as he could! Before...before he couldn't. He had to admit, this particular punishment, aside from the restricted movement, wasn't as actively horrible as the previous one. A large thumb kept running down his side, trying to show him his place, he supposed, as the colossus switched thumbs to his other side. He carried him around the room a little, and Roman closed his eyes. The height was a little dizzying. He opened his eyes again and there was a kettle suddenly on the stove, heating up. He groaned again. Was he going to be boiled alive?

"What?!" The rogue shouted, "of course not!" His hand squeezed him a little bit a he spoke, and Roman's breath hitched. Then he brought him higher, turning him around a little. "This is for tea! I'm not putting you in a boiling pot!" Oh no, he could read minds, too.

"No, I- you're speaking out loud." Oh. Roman made sure to concentrate a little more on keeping his internal dialogue internal. Surely the bastard only told him out of shock. He was brought up even higher until he was face to face with his captor. He looked at him, turning him this way and that way, Roman wary of what it could mean. But all he did was mumble again to himself, before speaking to him. "You seem a little unfocused, but your eyes look clear." Roman tensed. He was slowly placed back down on the table, sat down, still in the blanket. "Can you keep your head still, and follow my finger with your eyes?"

…What the heck was he doing? He couldn't understand what his long game was. But he was much too tired to think of a plan around it, so he allowed his eyes to watch the finger go back and forth. He was pretty sure that he'd moved his head a bunch, too, but he didn't have to listen to everything that he ordered him to do.

The beast nodded once. "Okay. That looks good, I think." The kettle whistled then, and he turned to grab it. Roman was still sure that he was going to be burned with the water somehow.

All of a sudden he was blinking, flat on his back, and the giant's head was in front of him, lowered down to his eyeline. "Hey," he could practically feel his breath, and he mentally balked at his proximity to his mouth. "You can't fall asleep." Roman had to try and contain his tears again. Was he truly not going to let him rest? He knew the dangers of not sleeping. But before he could think too much on that, a him-sized cup of tea was set down on the table. "Okay, just a second." Roman looked up at him blearily, in time to see his hands reaching right for him. He was to be a tea bag, then?

But before he deposited him into the cup, his fingers gently rested on his arms, rubbing them back and forth. His breath hitched as the digits touched him. This giant creature had so much power over him. He was so much bigger, and Roman, already too small and weak in comparison, was even further weakened by his current state. He could just crush him without second thought. He was starting to think going into the cup wouldn't be so bad. It looked nice and warm, and, he reasoned, as the cretin moved on to rub at his legs, it didn't look actively boiling anymore. Roman sighed, he wasn't even making excuses for his actions anymore, which was nice. He just wanted all of it to stop; the handling, the touching, the mind games, the looming sense of doom.

Roman let out a dry sob at his thoughts, he was so overwhelmed by everything. He thought he was beginning to enjoy the feeling of whatever he was doing. Was he developing Stockholm Syndrome so readily? Or maybe he had started to accept his fate, that he well and truly was at this brute's mercy, and wouldn't be getting out of this. So, if he found a little comfort in his warm ministrations on his cold limbs, why fight it? He was too sick with exhaustion to fight anyone; even if that someone was himself. He closed his eyes again.

He was once again roused, "Hey-" but he'd already opened his eyes at the cessation of touch. He saw those giant shoulders relax. He was wary of what was to come, but it felt more resigned than before. His fingers returned, gently poking at his shoulders to get at his back, raising him forward. Roman curled in on himself a little bit, but otherwise did nothing. "Okay, just hold on. Stay right there," the giant implored. He took out a smaller looking vessel, he had no idea what it actually was, in all honesty, his vision was swimming, he just wanted to sleep, but he could soon see it more clearly as the giant dipped it into the tea cup, and offered it to him on upturned fingers. He smelled the sweet liquid, and gingerly took it, staring at the gigantic expression, for any signs that he'd done something wrong, but instead he got a quirked up lip in response to his possession of what was apparently the equivalent of a mug for him.

It was poisoned, wasn't it.

Yet. It smelled truly amazing. And felt warm. And, honestly, maybe it was his fever, which he most assuredly had, the giant man hadn't actually seemed to do anything truly terrible to him. And he'd certainly had the opportunity. In fact, there would be no benefit to poisoning him, because there were so many other ways he could go about it. He swirled it around idly, and then took a sip.

It tasted safe. More than that, it tasted delicious. He heard the giant give a sigh for some reason, he'd have looked, but he was already taking another sip, and another, and it felt so good, like it was warming up his insides. It was only as he was three quarters of the way into it that he remembered where he was. He was shocked into stillness, stiffly looking up at his captor. Who was just. Sitting there. Watching him. With crinkled eyes and a lazy smirk. That should have been incredibly intimidating. He drank some more. It really was warming his insides.

"Slow down a little; pace yourself, don't drink too much at once." The giant rumbled. "You can take more when you're done with that cup." He listened, not looking directly at him, and kept the idea in mind. He was already mostly done with his current cup. This seemed like the best tea he's ever had, poisoned or not. He noticed the giant had started his own cup, at the table. He soon drained his own, and began to stand up. The giant's hands were immediately on either side of him, hovering. He ignored them, continuing, and managed to stand up on his own. He was wobbly on his feet, but went over to the cup to fill his tiny version again. The hands retreated. He sat, (read: half-fell) onto the table. He closed his eyes until he finished this cup, too, as though he could prevent himself from seeing the situation he found himself in. Avoid seeing the conclusion that he didn't want to admit to himself. By the time he was done, the giant had retrieved another few pieces of cloth, and formed a makeshift bed where he'd been before. He half-smiled, and put his cup down, and started over towards it, half-crawling.

The hands immediately came back, but he waved them off to the best of his ability. They retreated, but didn't disappear. Well. That was probably fine, then. "How do you feel?"

"Mm," was the only thing he could manage to vocalize. He was having difficulty saying anything, nevermind when he was trying to walk anywhere.

"... Does anything hurt?" The giant pressed again. Roman shook his head lightly. Too hard and he was at risk of getting dizzy. "You still cold?" He thought about this, collapsing onto the covers of his downsized dream den. He wasn't. The seemingly ever-present chill having finally receded. He shook his head again. "You wanna go to sleep?" Roman hesitated briefly, then nodded. The giant smiled a bit lopsided at him, and then nodded back. "Okay. Go on ahead." He took the opportunity, immediately arranging himself to be comfortable under the blankets.

He noticed the giant starting to pick up some of the things on the table around him, but oddly he wasn't frightened at all. He seemed to just be tidying up. He really actually just seemed to want Roman to get better. He'd have to right the wrongs he'd assumed of him. And with that thought, he couldn't stay awake any longer, and fell asleep.

~~~~~

He woke again, and it was to the sound of the kettle whistling. He blinked himself awake further, sitting up and stretching. He was confused. At first, it was confusion at where he was, and why everything was huge, but then as awareness and his memory returned, along with a healthy dose of embarrassment, the confusion turned to the kettle. Didn't the giant just make tea? Why was he boiling more water so soon?

Actually, where was the giant? And why did he feel so rested after a short nap?

One of his questions was answered quickly, as he became aware of footsteps about half a second before he saw the giant in the door.

"You're awake?" The giant asked.

"Aah!" Roman screamed at the same time, instinctively bringing the covers up to his neck. The giant blinked in shock, before lowering his head, eyes looking away from him. He seemed to slouch a little, too, his shoulders coming up in a hunch.

"Um. I have more tea." He nodded towards the kettle. "If you want." Well, he wasn't as cold as he was before, but it had been good tea.

"Oh," he lowered the blanket down. "Yes, please." The giant glanced his way, before going over and taking the kettle off the fire, and gathering the tea cup from the side of the sink, along with Roman's own. Roman shifted in his seat, before breaching the silence, "If I may ask, why are you making more so soon?" The giant almost jumped at his question, turning around, eyes wide and staring at him. He looked at him for a few seconds. Roman was on the cusp of being uncomfortable, and shifted again, but he seemed to find the words after that.

"I-" his eyes were searching Roman, but this time the giant was the one that seemed uncomfortable. "How long do you think you slept?"

"Not long?" Roman considered it. "An hour, maybe?" The giant's eyes shifted back and forth, biting his lower lip like there was something that Roman was missing.

"Try almost an entire day." Roman gaped.

"Surely, you can't be serious."

"I am serious." A beat, then, mumbled, "and don't call me Shirley." He inhaled, opening a cabinet, and grabbed a tea bag, placing it in his cup. He poured the water in to let it steep, before turning around and facing Roman.

Roman met his gaze face-on as he explained. "I found you before sunset, yeah?" Roman gave a half-nod. That sounded right, but he'd been pretty out of it, and otherwise preoccupied. "So, by the time I," the giant hesitated, "by the time you got into bed, it was like, an hour or so after that?" He looked away again. The giant cleared his throat. "Anyway, you must've slept right through the night, because it's like nine thirty now." Roman blinked. That all added up.

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I guess that explains why I feel so much more well-rested than I expected." The giant didn't respond, instead occupying himself with bringing the tea to the table. "I certainly didn't intend to be out for that long." He set the tea cup on the table rather abruptly, making Roman flinch, despite himself, arm coming back down at his side, and the giant's head whipped up to look at him.

"I didn't poison the tea, I swear!" He looked frantic again, distressed as he'd looked at a few points last night, as he hadn't looked since he'd woken up. Roman held out his hands, shaking his head.

"No, no!" He assured. "I didn't think that, I promise that wasn't what I was saying." The giant relaxed a little, and Roman mumbled to himself, "At least, not now…" He frowned. His recollection of the previous night was coming back with almost alarming clarity. The giant filled up Roman's mug, sat down, and handed it to him on his fingertips again.

"Well, here you go." Roman took the mug, and then set it down beside himself, as he stood up. He knew what he had to do. The giant looked mildly confused, and Roman cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, my good sir," because as much as this was important for him to do, old habits died hard. "I have come to the realization that due to everything that's occurred between us thus far, I owe you my gratitude, and my sincerest apologies for the way I acted towards you." Now it was the giant's turn to wave his hands.

"No, that's fine, don't-"

"Excuse me, let me finish!" He stamped his foot and glared at the giant, who only looked more confused, a big eyebrow raised, and he sank back further into his chair.

"Thank you." He nodded his head once. "As I was saying; what you did for me last night was nothing short of a selfless, heroic, brave series of acts that undoubtedly saved my life," Roman started off, without a hint of hesitation. The giant, however, seemed to become flushed as he spoke, opening his mouth a few times as if to protest, but he remained silent. "You were diligent, attentive, and did all you could to help me feel better." He swallowed, and forced himself to keep eye contact with him. "And, despite all that, as you may have noticed, I was… not receptive to your care." He noticed the giant's lip twitch upwards. "I, admittedly, was not in the best state of mind, true, but unfortunately that was not the cause of most of my unease around you."

He hung his head with shame, and then resumed looking up at him, his hand over his heart as if to prove his earnest sincerity. "The truth is that I defined you solely by your size, and judged you thusly. That I thought you to be a vicious monster, set on consuming me, or making me your plaything, a mere toy to control for your entertainment." The giant looked unsettled, half-frowning, and not quite looking at him anymore. "But I know now that it's not true! That you're a caring, sweet, doting-"

"Please stop," he had put his hands over his eyes now, pink tint present once more.

"-thorough, incredible, thoroughly incredible-"

"For fuck's sake-"

"-and a far too humble, wonderful person. Even if you are immeasurably larger than I," he concluded firmly. "And, I am so very, very sorry for not seeing any of that last night." The giant peeked through his fingers, and Roman bowed his head, what needed saying finally complete. He seemed to see that Roman had stopped talking, and he let his hands drift down.

"Okay. Well. That was possibly the most grandiose way anyone could have said 'I'm sorry, thanks,' but, uh." He ducked his head, finger rubbing at his cheek. "We're cool. Thanks." He gave him a small smile, and Roman beamed back, sitting back down. He grabbed his mug and took a sip, sighing in enjoyment.

"Oh, um." He shifted a little. "I'm Roman, by the way." He smiled sheepishly. "What's-" but the giant answered before he could even hesitate his way to asking.

"Virgil," he nodded. "Nice to officially meet you, Roman." He grinned, as he took his own sip.

"And you!" Roman grinned back. He turned back to his tea. "You know, I'll bet this would be scrumptious with lemon." Virgil raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure, I'll just grab one the size of your entire body for your thimble of tea." He raised his glass in a mock salute. "To several gallons of lemon juice!" Roman rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm not asking you to give me any," he waved his hand, "I'm just saying, in general. This is for your benefit, here." Virgil snorted. And then Roman's stomach growled. He flushed as Virgil's eyes widened, looking at him. "Oh. Right." He chuckled. "I guess it's been a while since I've eaten."

"Hold on," he screeched his chair out from the table. "I'll get you some- uh. Geez, what's good for your size- uh, is, like, toast or something okay?" He worried, glancing back and forth around the kitchen like the answer would appear, before settling on Roman again.

"... Do you have anything to put on the toast?" He asked cheekily. Virgil snorted again.

"I'm not room service, here."

"Is that a 'no'?"

"You're so demanding," Virgil rolled his eyes. "What a rude, talkative houseguest. I can't believe I preferred you when you were quiet and feverish." Roman gasped.

"Excuse you, I'm a delight!" And Virgil burst out laughing. "Hey! Don't laugh at me! I'm a perfectly polite, poignant prince!" He only laughed harder.

"Alright, alright," he allowed after a moment, still laughing. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, "You're not allergic to anything, are you?" Roman shook his head. "Okay, let me get the toast ready, then I think I have something you're gonna like."

Roman sat, sipping at his drink, and watched as Virgil got the bread, and put it in his toaster. He noticed he checked the plug, and the settings a few times, and he idly wondered where he got a toaster in his size. Or, for that matter, that pre-sliced bagged bread.

"Oh!" Virgil startled him out of his musings, and then seemed hesitant "I've, uh, got your clothes?" Roman frowned, and looked down at himself. Still in the washcloth.

"Oh," he tried very hard not to be embarrassed, and to act like he definitely remembered his current attire the whole time. "Ah, yes. Thank you." He was sure that suddenly avoiding eye contact was a great way to show confidence. Virgil nodded, briefly left, and came back into the room to drop them off by Roman. The toast popped up in that moment, and Virgil took the opportune time to grab a plate, a jar of something colorful, and a knife that, while bigger than Roman, was blunt. Some form of butter knife, then.

"I'll just, do this in the other room, yeah?" He jerked his thumb behind him. "You know, so you can, uh," he gestured a few more times, fumbling over his words. "Get dressed." Roman nodded.

"Thank you, yes." He nodded again. "Thank you." They nodded at each other awkwardly again a few more times, before Virgil turned and left, toast and accouterments in hand. Roman got dressed quickly (his clothes had been washed and dried, and they felt great. One more thing to thank Virgil for, he supposed.) It was a further ten minutes until Virgil came back, knocking on the door frame.

"Hey, are- Roman, you okay if I come in?" He put down his empty mug.

"Yes!" He cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting in Virgil's direction. His head peeked in a few moments later, a bemused expression on his face.

"Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the ringing in my ears." He came the rest of the way in, toast plate lightly clunking on the table. He realized abruptly that the jar, and now subsequently the toast, had held-

"Is that jam?" He asked, eyes wide, mouth curved into an excited smile.

"Jelly, actually." He set the jar on the table, Roman hesitated.

"You know, that jar looks awfully familiar," he mused. "Like I've seen that brand somewhere."

"I guess you could say it bears a strong resemblance?" Virgil tapped the picture of the cartoon bear on the label earning him a quick exhale of air from Roman.

"That was pretty bad," he informed him, amused despite himself. Virgil shrugged, smug. "Luckily, shruggy smuggy, I care about the jelly too much." He made overexaggerated grabby hands so that he'd get the message. Virgil rolled his eyes and pushed the plate slightly towards him. Then they both paused, and met eyes.

"Should I-"

"How do-"

They both spoke at the same time, stopped, and chuckled.

"Maybe I'll just tear off a piece?" Roman nodded at the suggestion.

"That should be fine." Virgil picked up a slice, starting to tear at a corner.

"So, I could just give you the crust, that's fine, right?" Virgil asked casually, tearing a larger chunk. Roman gasped.

"No, that is not fine!" He glared. "I'm not your garbage disposal!" Virgil just laughed as he finished tearing Roman's toast.

"You're so dramatic, oh my god." He held out the decidedly not-all-crust bit of toast. It was a little larger than a slice he'd usually have, but nothing overly cumbersome. "Darn, there goes my plan to give you all my onion peels." Roman huffed, and then took a bite, freezing in place. Virgil took a moment to notice, then started leaning forward. "Are you-"

"Oh my goodness, you giant Grumptious, this spread is simply scrumptious!" He finished chewing and immediately took another bite. He'd have to use this brand from now on. Virgil relaxed, and leaned back, biting into his own portion. They spent the rest of breakfast like that, chatting and laughing and eating, and enjoying each others' company. Time passed. Breakfast ended.

Roman cleared his throat. "Well! This was lovely," he started, genuine, "but. I should get going." Virgil's face fell, but he bobbed his head, as if he were trying to hide it.

"The snow is still kinda deep," he looked up, voice sounding a lot like how Roman felt. "Do you want help getting there?" Then, before he could respond. "Uh, well, not all the way there. I don't like to get too close to the towns," he rubbed his arm. "It doesn't tend to go well." Roman grimaced. He could imagine. He could imagine very well, in fact, just look at how he, himself acted. He didn't want to put Virgil at any sort of risk, but it was pretty far.

"Well, if you're sure," he confirmed, Virgil nodded. "Maybe just halfway, then?"

"Okay. Let me just get ready." He stood up, and brought his plate to the sink. "I'll bring something to help you with the cold."

"Thank you." He paused. "Virgil?" He turned, expectant. "Thank you. For everything." Virgil started waving it off, but Roman continued. "And, I'm sorry again. I know," he contemplated his phrasing. "I know why you're reluctant to be around humans, around people like me, but I'll tell everyone-"

"Please don't." Virgil interrupted. "The more people hear I'm not just a rumor, the more they start believing everything else they've heard about giants, me especially, and well." He exhaled. "It's never good. So please just. Don't?" He looked at Roman, wary.

"Okay," he nodded after a moment. "I'll come visit, though. If," he got uncharacteristically shy, "if you're okay with that."

"Yeah," Virgil smiled. "I think I'd like that a lot." And Roman vowed to himself, as he stared at his smile, smiling back, that he'd come visit him soon.

He just didn't realize how soon he'd be back.

Funniest original line:

Vel: tiny fren is like “could a sick person do this???” *falls off a table*

Fun fact, we didn't decide who the human was while we wrote it. It originally ended after that second set of tildes.

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