“Stop squirming, I don’t want to drop you!” + “Let me go!” with borrower roman & human virgil?
Paint Water
Summary: Roman takes an accidental dip into Virgil’s paint water. Who knew a human could be so very annoying?
Warnings: Swearing, arguing.
Pairing: Platonic Prinxiety
Characters: Roman, Virgil
Word count: 1841 words
A/n: I’ve finally done something with this prompt! I’ve been wanting to use it for ages, but writer’s block said no >:( Though, I have finally managed to get around it!
——————————
The artist dipped the paintbrush into the dark blue he had pulled out, before pressing it onto the canvas and following along with the penciled-in lines he’d drawn out a couple days prior. Virgil had had trouble deciding at first if this painting was going to be worth all the time and effort. After fussing with the lines enough, nearly erasing everything and then redoing it, he had decided it wasn’t going to get any better.
Besides, if the creation was atrocious and he really hated it, he could hide it in the spare bedroom for when his relatives came to visit.
His eyes followed the line of paint, his free hand absently tapping his thigh in time with the music in his headphones. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, if someone were to walk in on him like this.
A mug of lukewarm coffee sat forgotten to his side. It was half empty anyway, and Virgil was pretty sure he’d accidentally dipped his brush into it instead of the cup of water he had designated for cleaning his brushes off. So he wasn’t willing, nor was he eager, to take the risk of getting a mouthful of cold coffee that probably tasted like acrylic paint.
He could just get up and make himself another mug if he really wanted to anyway, it wasn’t difficult.
Virgil pulled back after a moment, eyes flicking over the canvas, picking out small little flaws that only he would really notice. Asking someone if they thought the flower in the bottom corner of the painting looked odd, they would most likely respond with a vehement “no! Your artwork is astounding, there’s nothing wrong with any of it!” Which was nice, admittedly, but not helpful for advancing his career or perfecting his technique. Truth be told though, Virgil knew he was the hardest person to please when critiquing his own work.
He leaned over to the side, adjusting his spot on the stool for a moment, before dipping the brush off into the water—and he knew it was his water for a fact. He pulled the brush back before forcing the water out of the bristles against the side of his easel and wiping the excess off on his jeans. They were already stained with colours, so a little more never hurt anyone.
For his next colour, he went for a charcoal black aiming to use it for the sky above the landscape. The picture itself was of a garden at midnight. The moon was high in the night sky, stars surrounded it. The light, he was hoping, would eventually look like it was glinting off of the stone fountain in the centre of the piece. Virgil was a skilled artist, he took the least bit of pride in that, but getting those minuscule details could be difficult and frustrating. Not to mention, if they weren’t done right, could make the whole piece look ridiculous.
Just as he was leaning back in to the start on the corner of the canvas, a wet splash hit the outside of his leg and soaked into his jeans. He hadn’t bumped the table accidentally, had he?
Virgil turned to see the cause of the mess, only to see the water in the paint cup rippling. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t bumped the table when little air bubbles began to surface and pop.
The artist pulled his headphones out before letting them rest over his shoulders. Leaning forward on his knees, he tried to peer into the water that had taken on a colour of its own. Mixes of grey, blue, black and purple all in one. It was a pretty ugly colour.
Not a moment later a familiar face popped out of the water, treading it to the best of his ability and Virgil had to stifle a snort. The borrower in question coughed and used a hand to wipe the paint from his face.
“Swimming are we?” The human teased, blatantly amused. Which earned an indignant noise from the man currently stuck in the mug.
“Not on purpose!” Roman snipped back, trying to keep his head above the water’s surface.
Virgil set his paint brush down on the edge of the table, making sure that the fresh paint on the end wouldn’t drip onto the tabletop. He then reached over and grabbed the cup and brought it over. He kept his hand as steady as possible, not wanting to slosh the borrower around any more than he already was. “Need a hand?”
Roman only snorted in his direction, his head bobbing under the water for a moment. “I can get out just fine,” he huffed, “just put the cup back down on the tabletop and you’ll see!”
“You keep going under, that doesn’t exactly instill me with confidence that you can actually get out on your own.” Virgil lifted the cup a little higher, silently noting that the thing itself had to be about seven inches. Which was a good three inches taller than the man currently treading within its confines. There was actually no way he could get out on his own.
“If you’d stop moving the cup, I’d be absolutely fine.”
Virgil quirked a brow. “Sure.”
With that as an implied warning, he lowered the cup back down so it was resting comfortably on the top of his knee. He then reached into the cup and, Roman, seeing what was coming, ducked back down into the water.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He fished after the borrower trying to evade him for only a moment. Thanks to the slippery texture of the paint coating Roman’s clothes and Virgil’s fingertips, said borrower was able to continuously manage to slip his grip a couple times.
Virgil’s brows furrowed in concentration and slight frustration. He eventually settled on scooping two fingers under Roman’s arms was the better option. It took a second before he finally managed to pull him out of the water. Before long, he had a sopping wet Roman glaring at him.
“Now, was that so hard?” Virgil remarked after a moment, watching as Roman swiped at the paint on his face as best as he could from his position.
“Don’t patronize me.” He kicked his legs, managing to fling some water into the artist’s face.
“Real mature.” Virgil scrunched his nose, eyes closed to prevent the water from getting in his eyes. He set the cup of water back onto the table before using the hem of his sleeve to wipe the droplets off. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the way Roman was smirking at him. As if he had won this battle.
Please, that was hardly a win.
“Now,” Roman said, as if this was nothing more than a slight hindrance in his nightly excursion, “let me go, you giant pain in the ass. I could have very easily have gotten out of that mess by myself!”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “No you couldn’t have.”
Roman scoffed, attempting to wrench himself free. Even though he was far enough from the ground that a fall like that would be lethal, the idiot. “I absolutely could have. You just don’t believe me because you don’t want to admit you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong,” Virgil told him. “You’re about this big—” He used his free hand to measure out Roman’s somewhat accurate height before putting that against the bottom of the paint water’s mug. “—and you’re about this big compared to the cup. So, I think I’m pretty safe in saying you couldn’t have gotten out.”
“You just have no faith in me,” he huffed, trying to feign ignorance. Roman then scowled, trying to budge himself again. This time making enough progress that Virgil quickly brought his second hand up as a safety net.
“Careful you little pocket prince.” The human artist could feel the way his heart rate had spiked slightly from the scare. “A fall from this height wouldn’t be good for you.”
“If you’d just put me down, we wouldn’t have to worry about that then would we?”
“If you would stop moping we wouldn’t have to worry about it either. Just stop moving.”
“I shouldn’t have to stop moving if you would just listen to me!”
“I am listening to you. I just don’t want you to die prematurely, you idiot.”
“No you’re not! If you were, you’d have put me down by now.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off an oncoming headache. All he had wanted to do was get at least halfway done on his painting and now, here he was, arguing with a person the size of a mouse. “Just stop squirming, I really don’t want to drop you. You’re soaking wet Roman, which, believe it or not, makes it really hard to keep a steady hold of you.” He then let out a sigh, pushing out the frustration that was welling inside him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
That question seemed to catch Roman off guard, as he stopped trying to pull himself free and looked back at him. “What?”
“Christ help me,” Virgil mumbled under his breath, before addressing the man still in his hold. “You fell into my paint cup from who know’s how high up. Does anything on you hurt?”
Roman blinked brilliantly at him a moment, before shaking his head. “No.”
Virgil relaxed the slightest bit. “Good. Now,” he motioned back to the cup of water sitting harmlessly on the table. “Do you want to go back into the cup to prove that you can actually get out?”
When he started to move his hand over, Roman twitched away from it. “No! No, no, don’t you dare!”
“That’s what I thought.”
So, instead of the cup, Virgil let Roman off onto the table beside it. He was just about to go back to painting when he noticed the borrower beginning to shiver slightly in the cool air of the apartment. He quirked a brow, but didn’t say anything at first. Truth be told, the water was pretty cold when he’d scooped Roman out, so to have his entire body drenched like that mustn’t be comfortable either.
He wiped his hand off on his pants. “Are you cold?”
Roman’s arms tightened around himself. His shivering increased. “No.”
Virgil found a smirk creasing his features. “You’re a horrible liar,” he said, stretching to release some of the tension in his back. Sitting hunched over on a stool for hours on end probably wasn’t the best for his posture. He glanced the mug of forgotten coffee. “I was about to make myself a fresh cup of coffee anyway, you want some?”
Roman hesitated only a fraction of a second. “Yes.”
Virgil gave a nod to show he’d heard. Just as he was getting up to leave the room and get some extra clothes for the shivering borrower, he heard Roman’s voice speak up;
“Are you ever going to let me live this down?”
Virgil laughed, but it wasn’t mean. “Not a chance.”
The sound of a baby crying broke through the tentative silence they’d managed to finally settle in that night. The bedroom was dark, as the hope had been they’d finally managed to lay down and get some sleep. However, it seemed their baby demanded otherwise.
The second thing Patton heard was a long-suffering sigh from his husband. He understood why, they’d only just managed to get their son to sleep before settling down in their own bed.
The bed then began to shake under the movement of his partner making the effort to sit up– only for Patton to beat him to it. He laid a hand on Logan’s chest, making the other man pause in his exhausted efforts. Dark eyes glinted in question as they met his own, and Patton didn’t need to see him to know what Logan was silently asking him.
“I got him,” was the only thing he said, his hand finding Logan’s in the darkness. “Go back to sleep.”
He fumbled for his glasses for a moment before pushing the blankets off of him and getting up. The slight bit of light creeping in through between the window curtains allowed Patton enough to see his way through the bedroom without tripping over anything—not that there was anything laying on the ground anywhere, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t trip over his own two feet.
He noticed the air in the hallway was chilly compared to the warm bed he’d come from. Quietly rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made his way down the hall to the bedroom door where the cries were coming from.
Patton pushed open the door and his son’s distress only grew louder. The little nightlight in the corner of the room allowed better visibility. The crib sat pushed up against the wall, the mobile hanging lazily above the wailing child.
“Oh Virgil,” Patton cooed, leaning over the side of the crib, just as big brown eyes looked up to him. Though, tears trailed down Virgil’s flushed cheeks uncontrollably. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
He didn’t expect to be answered vocally, of course not. But a part of him really wished they were at the stage where Virgil could vocalize what was wrong instead of just crying.
So, to do whatever he could do to soothe him, Patton reached down into the crib and scooped the wailing baby into his arms. It was almost the minute Virgil was comfortably cradled in his father’s hold, did he stop. Patton made a soft noise upon this realization. The baby sniffled but he wasn’t as obviously upset anymore.
“You just wanted to be held, didn’t you?” Patton rocked the little one and Virgil’s eyes slid closed again and broke into a large yawn, hiccuping softly from time to time.
Patton knew that trying to put him back down in the crib would end in disaster, but sitting in the rocking chair in the other corner of the room also wasn’t an attractive choice either. He’d fallen asleep in it before—and would probably fall asleep in it again—even though it really wasn’t worth the stiff neck in the morning.
“Well then,” he said quietly, a small laugh escaping him. “Looks like you’re going to come and sleep with me and daddy tonight, huh?”
Virgil only hiccuped in response.
Patton smiled fondly down at the little bundle in his arms. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
With that settled, he made his way back down the hallway. He nudged the bedroom door back open and quietly shut it behind him, trying his best not to disturb Logan if he’d managed to fall back asleep. However, when he reached the bed, he noticed said man watching him from under the covers.
He didn’t say anything when Logan pushed the comforter down a little further, exposing himself to the cool night air. Logan shuffled a moment, making a little more space for the newest addition to their family and gave Patton the option to settle the little one down so he could actually get back into bed.
The minute Patton tried to shift him even the slightest amount, Virgil whimpered. Though he didn’t want to put him down, Logan quickly took over and tucked Virgil close to him, before letting the child grab a hold of his fingers—a decent way to keep him distracted long enough for Patton to get situated, at least.
Patton pulled his glasses off and set them on the bedside table to his right. He then got back into bed and settled down comfortably, turned on his side to face Virgil and Logan, who was already drifting off himself. The baby yawned again, drowsily blinking his way out of consciousness.
“He didn’t want to sleep alone,” Patton whispered after noticing the quirked brow his husband gave him.
“Mm,” was the only response he got from Logan.
Though, he could tell he wasn’t all that upset by having the infant there with them. Now that everyone was settled, Patton could feel the exhaustion creeping back up on him too. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Logan’s face, who reacted slightly enough to lean into it. Settling back into the covers, he let his eyes slip closed.
I hope this isn't too random or demeaning or something, especially after what happened, but.... do you have- could you write something fluffy? It can be anything, just, please...
Of Wedding Rings and Quiet Questions
Warnings: Swearing, brief kissing.
Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety
Characters: Roman, Virgil
Word Count: 777 words
A/n: Hi anon! I know I’m a bit late getting this done, but I hope you can still enjoy it anyways! <3
——————————
“Did you ever imagine us getting to this point?”
Virgil’s attention shifted from the stars glittering high above them to the man he was laying side by side with. “What?”
Roman wasn’t looking at him, instead admiring the ring on his left finger as if it was the first time he’d seen it—as if Virgil had just presented it to him tonight, and not seven months ago.
When Virgil studied him a moment more, he saw the ghost of a smile on his face, the way his eyes were fond and warm.
“Did you ever imagine us getting here?” Roman repeated, though his voice was significantly softer. “To be getting married in three months.”
There had been a couple times where Virgil had imagined this sort of future, though he had never allowed the thought to linger. He had been so sure that Roman would have left by now, just like everyone inevitably had and does. Letting someone in and then having them leave without a word was one of the most painful things that could happen to someone. To be entirely honest, he wasn’t sure what would be better; to have that explanation or be stuck wondering what you did wrong.
But of the few times he had allowed the thoughts to linger…they were always warm. They had brought a sense of safety and security along with them. As cliche as it was, it was nice to think that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy too.
Virgil rolled over onto his side, propped up by his elbow, his eyes scanning Roman’s face. His gaze followed every dip and slope of his sharp features, before his eyes met Roman’s. “To be honest, I don’t really know what I thought.”
Roman’s smile widened into something bright, genuine and unabashed, though Virgil could also see the hint of something glittering behind his eyes. “I may be a hopeless romantic—”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
“But, I knew there was something different about you,” Roman continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I don’t exactly know what it was. The broody attitude, the snarky exterior, perhaps the fact that you fought with me on every little thing that literally did not matter—”
Virgil snorted. “You say that as if you didn’t do the same thing,” he leaned a little closer to his fiance. “As if you still don’t argue with me about stupid shit that doesn’t matter.”
“You are such a mood killer, mi amor,” Roman lamented, though his tone of voice betrayed him. Besides, Virgil knew he wasn’t really all that upset about it. “The point I’m trying to make is that there was something about you that just made you different. I knew we would be different.”
Virgil hummed. He reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from Roman’s eyes, only for his hand to be caught by said man’s and held gently in place. Soft enough that he could pull away if he truly wanted to. His fingertips brushed against the slight stubble lining Roman’s jaw. “Are you trying to tell me you saw us getting married?”
“No,” he said, watching Virgil’s eyes with earnest. “But I hoped we would.”
Virgil found himself laughing. It wasn’t loud or mocking, but surprised. “You’re absolutely disgusting.”
“I know.” Roman released his hand, but before Virgil could take it back, he felt Roman’s arms snake around his waist and pull him right down. Close enough that their noses nearly touched. Heat immediately flushed into Virgil’s cheeks at the proximity, nevermind how many times they’d been this close before. “But I know that somewhere in that dark little soul of yours, you like it.”
Virgil didn’t answer him vocally and instead leaned down to steal the next words from Roman’s lips. When they parted a moment later, Roman gave him a grin that said he knew exactly what he had been doing. And he’d pretty much gotten exactly what he wanted from it, too.
“Besides,” Roman then said, his breath warm. “I look really good in a tux.”
“Oh fuck off,” Virgil pushed away from him and Roman laughed. He returned to his previous position on his back. “You call me a mood killer. You’re such a hypocrite.”
The quiet held for a moment more, but it didn’t take long for Roman’s hand to find his own and their fingers interlaced silently.
Maybe he hadn’t let himself imagine this reality for very long, but getting to lay in the presence of someone that you trusted wholeheartedly—and someone that had made it very obvious that he wasn’t going to leave—was a feeling Virgil wouldn’t give up for the world.
For the bad thing happens bingo prompts: broken wrist and analogical? could you make it g/t too, somehow?
Student Struggles
Summary: He knew it was illogical and ridiculous to make such an emotionally biased decision. Yet, Logan did it anyway.
Warnings: Broken limb (non graphic), humans treated as lesser, main character referred to as an “it” (non malicious), fear.
Pairings: Platonic Analogical
Characters: Logan, Virgil
Word Count: 3463 words
——————————
It was a precarious predicament.
It certainly wasn’t everyday he tried to sneak out of his university’s anthropology lab harbouring an injured and terrified human in his pocket.
As one of the more respected senior’s of his class, most of the professors that were still there hardly paid Logan another look as he left the lab for the evening.
Still, that didn’t change the fact that he was nervous. Smuggling a human out of the lab without a professor’s explicit permission was an offence punishable by suspension. The suspension itself wouldn’t last much longer than a couple days, but it would leave a bad mark on his crystal clean school record. It would change the reputation he had with his professors—all of which he had so carefully tailored right from his first year in the program.
In fact, most of them greeted him warmly. Asking about his classes earlier, wishing him a good weekend and giving a teasing reminder to study for the upcoming midterms. None of these conversations lasted longer than a few minutes and normally, Logan would have been glad to speak with them. But as of that moment, the longer he was stuck there standing with them, the larger the chance was of him being found out. He knew his professors were very well trained in spotting things that seemed off—an example would be students sitting in the very back row, the furthest away from the lecturer and still getting called out for not paying enough attention.
Long story short, if Logan got caught he was risking his entire future in this field.
A part of him still questioned if this whole thing was even worth the risk. Humans got hurt all the time in his practicum; especially when other students weren’t being careful enough. It happened, so why was this one any different?
Why was the human that had looked up at him with wide frightened eyes any different than the others?
Still, whether or not it was worth the risk, Logan was too far into it now to backtrack. Retracing his steps back to the lab may be considered suspicious, so it was all or nothing whether he wanted it to be or not. Besides, he was also positive that the doors would be locked anyhow, so backpedaling would be pointless. Not that he didn’t have a key to get back in if he truly needed to.
Logan ducked around another professor expertly and he went unnoticed, as the professor in question seemed to be engaged in a particularly interesting conversation.
Or so he thought.
Just as he was about to push the door to the building open, he heard the man bidding his quick farewells for the night before easily catching up with the student.
“Logan,” his professor greeted him with a grin, pushing the other door open before Logan had the chance to escape.
“Dr. Coleman,” he replied after a moment, shouldering his book bag a little more securely.
“You seem to be in quite the rush,” Dr. Coleman said, pulling his coat closer as the cool autumn air swept in through the doors. “Mind if I join you to the parking lot?”
As if he had a choice. Logan only gave a nod.
The squirming in his pocket started up again, this time with more vigor. Slightly paranoid that the little motions would show through the soft fabric, Logan make the quick decision to fully wrap his hand around the human—keeping it still and silent. While that stopped the slight movement from the outside, he could still feel the terrified motions pushing helplessly against his fingertips. Trying fruitlessly to budge his fingers. Of course, to no avail.
While he did feel bad about physically restraining it when it was so obviously in distress, Logan really couldn’t risk being found out this far into the endeavor.
He only hoped the little thing’s heart wouldn’t stop entirely.
However, during the entire ordeal he kept his features mindfully neutral, careful to keep from alerting Dr. Coleman of his current plight.
Dr. Coleman didn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes flickered over the student and Logan pretended not to notice. Acting off would only make the professor suspicious. Something he really did not need right now.
The professor only hummed softly before turning his attention forward, toward the cars sitting silently under the streetlights illuminating the parking lot in a warm yellow glow. Logan must have spent more time in the lab than he had meant to, if twilight was already falling.
“Busy night tonight, I assume?” Dr. Coleman finally broke the silence and Logan only shrugged nonchalantly.
“You could say that,” he relented. While it technically wasn’t untrue, it wouldn’t be school work like the professor would assume.
Dr. Coleman snickered, reaching into his pocket to draw out his car keys. He clicked the buttons and his car’s headlights flashed in response. “Getting some studying done?”
In a way.
Logan forced himself to relax a little, knowing that the professor had no idea of his little stowaway. “Certainly. Can never be too over prepared for an exam.”
“True,” Dr. Coleman stuck his hands into his pockets. Logan felt relief wash over him when the professor reached his own vehicle. This was the very type of interaction he had been trying so hard to avoid. “This is why you’re one of my favourite students, Logan.”
The praise was nice, but really not what he needed right now. “I appreciate that, Dr. Coleman. But I really do have to get going, as pleasant as this conversation has been.”
As stinted as it had been too, it seemed. Usually, talking with Dr. Coleman didn’t take that much energy. He had engaged the professor in many heated debates over his four years of study. And he would be glad to engage in those types of conversations once more! Just as soon as the human was no longer on his person and in range of being confiscated, only to be placed right back into the same area where it had gotten hurt in the first place.
Whether or not this whole thing was the correct course of action, Logan was sick of witnessing humans getting injured and then being disposed of as if their injuries made them completely useless.
If given the proper treatment and time to heal, they would have a far less percentage of humans succumbing to their injuries or illnesses.
It was unfortunate that so many of his peers thought of the small creatures as disposable. While, no, it was not difficult for professionals to retrieve more right out of their lives on earth, it didn’t make the practice any less morbid or underhanded. Anthropology students should be learning how to assist humans in healing and recovering, not tossing them the minute they were no longer “perfect” in their eyes.
“Fair enough,” Dr. Coleman said, stepping back and placing a hand on the door handle of his car. “I won’t keep you from your studies any longer. Have a good night and take care of yourself. Don’t you be pulling all-nighters, understand?”
“I understand,” Logan repeated back as if on instinct. It wouldn’t stop him from doing it, but it was…nice, he supposed, to know that the professor cared.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends that wouldn’t check up on him, he did, but it was different when it was someone that was higher status than you were. Held more sway over what happened in the department. Dr. Coleman was the dean of the anthropology department and he had a lot of power.
The professor nodded his head with a grin, before pulling open his car and stepping in.
Logan let out a breath and turned on his heel. Quickening his pace to his own vehicle, he fished in his bag for his keys. He found them after a moment of struggling one-handed and unlocked his car. He slid inside just as Dr. Coleman’s headlights flashed over him and the professor pulled out of the parking lot, disappearing over the hill leading down to the highway.
Letting his head rest back against the seat’s headrest, he finally released the human from the confines of his hand. Using his now freed one, he ran them through his hair before pulling his glasses off.
What was he even doing?
So what if there was a cruel practice going on at the school underneath everyone’s noses? Just because he was privy to it didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. He was just one person. Logan had friends that were very much human rights activists and into studies and politics concerning the creatures, but none of their campaigns had really gotten the traction necessary to make a true difference. It was a difficult field of study to be in when there were people opposing everything you did.
While Logan always made sure his interactions with the creatures were careful and calculated, a part of him wished he could say the same thing for his classmates.
You would think, at a senior level of study, students would be taking it more seriously. Many of them did, but many of them still used this advantage to handle the humans they dealt with rough and carelessly. To which, the creature would get injured and would then be gone by next morning.
The human currently stuck within the confines of his pocket had been one of the unlucky ones. Injured thanks to a student who had been working in the lab outside of class just a few feet away from Logan—who had conducting his own experiments—they’d dropped the human from a dangerous height on accident, causing the little one to cry out.
His classmate had panicked immediately, obviously unsure of what to do or where to go from there. They’d even gone as far as to check over at Logan to gauge if he’d seen anything and snitch. The student had then gathered the human up as if nothing had happened. They’d packed their papers, shoved it all into their backpack and then deposited the human right back into the large glass terrarium in the middle of the lab, just waiting for someone else to find the injured creature in the morning and get rid of it.
Logan didn’t even have any connection to the human currently struggling to right itself in the soft fabric. Hadn’t conducted any studies with it, observed it or anything else of the such. He’d only heard the helpless cry and decided he wasn’t going to let it suffer in its own agony all night.
The move was illogical and he knew that. Yet, he was still risking absolutely everything for this one little human. His future career was banking on the hope he never got found out.
Logan slipped his glasses back on before sliding the keys into the ignition.
“The amount of trouble you could get me in is unbelievable,” he mused after a moment, unsure if he was talking to the human or not. Either way, the only reaction he got for his efforts was more struggling. So, pulling the gear shift out of park, he made his way back home.
—
“Oh, would you stop fighting me for five seconds,” the student groused, quickly managing to corral the human between his hands again without fully touching him. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done that by now? Or perhaps, better yet, just left you back in the lab’s terrarium for someone else to find?”
The human only twitched away from his hands, just as he had been doing for the past fifteen minutes. Logan really didn’t want to have to pin him down to get the fidgety creature to be still, but he was quickly running out of options and patience.
“I don’t want to restrain you,” Logan’s voice finally seemed to get the human’s flickering attention. However, now the human’s eyes were locked solely on him, with an uncanny ability to follow his every miniature movement with unwavering attention. It was, all things considered, slightly disturbing to be watched so intensely with such obvious fright and distrust. “But I will if you force my hand.”
The human’s face contorted in an expression that resembled a sneer, before he tucked his injured wrist closer to his chest.
Logan pulled his hands back to himself, watching quietly as the human flinched further into himself. It was very much obvious the little one was touch shy and Logan really wanted to refrain from handling him as much as possible– lest he frighten the human so bad his little heart stopped altogether. “You must understand that leaving your wrist like that will only do you more harm than good. I can assist you in starting your healing progress.”
The human seemed open enough to the idea and Logan carefully extended his fingertips forward, a blatant show of nonaggression and allowing the creature to come to him in its own time. Giving the human the slightest semblance of control may make this entire interaction even the tiniest bit easier on them both.
Its eyes flickered uneasily from its wrist back to Logan’s outstretched hand. It twisted to look over its shoulders, as if searching out an escape route. It hadn’t worked before and Logan knew trying to escape wouldn’t work again. His reaction time was much faster than the human’s, so it wouldn’t make it very far anyhow.
The human in question turned back to Logan, almost as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to act like any other careless student that was ready to mishandle him. The human’s wrist was thin as it was, but now that it was injured (and Logan speculated, broken), it was even more vulnerable than before. Giving up a vulnerable piece of you was a frightening thing and Logan could hardly imagine looking at it from any other perspective but his own. Though, he could safely assume that he, himself, would not be very fond of this situation either if their positions had happened to be switched.
Truthfully, there would be nothing about the human’s life Logan would enjoy. Depending on whether or not he came straight from the earth’s surface and nicked directly from his own life, or if he had been born into a breeding facility.
In all reality, he understood the hesitance in letting him assist. If the human had been handled as recklessly as Logan theorized he had, coming face to face with someone that wouldn’t mishandle him purposefully would be unknown, suspicious and daunting new territory.
“I’m not going to ask you to trust me,” he said finally, the human’s eyes flickered up to meet his own. Surprise lingered in those colourful eyes. “I know you’re frightened and that’s alright. It may be hard to believe, but I really can help you. Only if you’ll allow me, of course. Though, I do think you and I both know that sleeping on that hurt wrist of yours would be uncomfortable at least.”
The human’s good hand clenched, showing Logan the inner battle the little one was facing.
Wanting to ease a little more of it’s stress, he quietly urged; “I will not hurt you, you have my word.”
A moment passed and the human hesitantly stepped forward, his wrist extended enough for Logan to start bandaging.
—
“Why’d you do it?”
The sudden voice very nearly startled Logan out of his thoughts. Virgil had been sitting so quietly next to him, that he’d almost forgotten the human was even there in the first place.
When Logan’s attention fell down to said human, Virgil wasn’t looking at him. He was instead focused intently on his wrist, carefully wrapped in bandages and hanging in a makeshift sling, the best either of them could have done. Logan had almost no experience bandaging such a small subject, so getting it done and in a place where he was satisfied with it was difficult. And Virgil had been working one-handed, so getting the sling to hold properly had been a fight all in itself.
Though, the question was what really nabbed Logan’s attention. “Do what?”
Virgil gave him a look—Logan was getting very familiar with Virgil’s looks and they all usually meant something different—which was a mix between annoyance and genuine confusion, as if Logan really didn’t understand what he meant; which was untrue “Smuggled me out of the lab,” he clarified a moment later, his fingers trailing over the white piece of fabric wrapped around his arm and shoulder again. “You didn’t have to do it, we both know that. I just want to know why you did.”
That was the true question, wasn’t it?
An inquiry that had been on Logan’s mind since that night’s ordeal.
In all honesty, Logan wasn’t entirely sure what had metaphorically possessed him in that particular moment. And while he wanted to be able to give Virgil a straight answer, he didn’t have one.
Logan sat back in his chair, hands resting idly in his lap. The silence was thoughtful, if a bit awkward. As far as they had come in their acquaintanceship (maybe even going as far as saying tentative friendship), there were still pauses that felt tense and heavy. Virgil had certainly come a long way from the first time they had met and Logan was grateful for it, since he was no longer having one-sided conversations.
There were, of course, some topics that Virgil was still too sensitive about to really learn anything, but they were getting there. Logan really hoped that he would eventually get to learn more about what it was like for the human, and be able to go off of that firsthand information to do something. However, until then building his trust was Logan’s priority.
“I don’t exactly have an answer for you,” Logan said after a moment’s pause of brief deliberation. He knew that giving Virgil solid answers was more preferable, since it would ease his anxiety. But this topic was one where Logan, regrettably, didn’t have any solid answers to give.
“Oh.” There was that dejected slump of Virgil’s shoulders, a position Logan was also very familiar with when dealing with him. Disappointment was clear in Virgil’s tone, but he made no move to push for further answers.
Logan felt as though he had let him down somehow. Which was certainly not something he would let stand. He took a long moment, carefully mulling over and debating his next words. “I suppose I did what I did because I couldn’t stand the way they were treating you anymore.” Now that seemed to have drawn Virgil’s attention right back up to him, though he had a brow quirked in question. So, Logan continued. “I know we didn’t have a working relationship prior to my thoughtless, albeit successful, actions. Though, I do feel… better, knowing that you’re safe here.”
Going from whatever kind of relationship they had established here now, Logan couldn’t bear the idea of someone else getting their hands on Virgil. Especially if they meant him any harm. While he could be mean and sharp, there was that anxious and unsure side to him, which proved that a lot of his bark was worse than his bite.
It also did give him peace of mind that Virgil was safe in his care. No more mishandling, no more purposeful injuries and no more testing with stuff that shouldn’t be anywhere near a human.
Virgil’s nose scrunched. “That makes no sense.”
“I suppose it doesn’t,” Logan relented, the ghost of a smile gracing his features. He leaned forwards once more, returning to his laptop to type again. “Though, I’m sure it’s nice for you to know your arm will heal properly.”
Virgil shrugged his good shoulder, leaning back on his hand and looking up toward the student. “Still hurts,” he mused.
Logan hummed. “I’d be surprised if it didn’t.”
The two fell back into a more comfortable quiet. It was broken periodically by soft conversation, but it was mostly filled by the sound of Logan’s keyboard click clacking.
“…thanks,” Virgil eventually said, gently enough that Logan had almost entirely missed it. He paused his typing and his eyes flickered over Virgil’s form, whom of which was tucked comfortably into his hoodie, his eyes looking anywhere other than Logan. “For doing it, I mean. Even though you didn’t have to.”
Logan didn’t force Virgil to meet his eyes, as that would only put unnecessary stress on him. “You’re welcome,” he replied, “I find that your company is quite pleasant.”
While the consequences of his actions were still a very real threat, Logan couldn’t find it in himself to regret his decision.
An ordinary enough looking man stabs Macbeth through the heart. Nothing happens. Macbeth laughs. “You fool, don’t you know that no man can kill me?!”
The man smiles. “Of course I know. Just give it time.” Macbeth rolls his eyes and sends the man to the dungeons.
Three hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty seconds later, Macbeth abruptly feels a stabbing pain. He keels over, dying. With his final burst of energy he manages to hobble to the dungeon and ask the man how he did that.
Warnings: Kidnapping, fear. (I think that’s it, but let me know!)
Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety
Characters: Virgil, Roman
Word Count: 1613 words
——————————
It had been about a day since the prince had been nicked directly from the castle gardens.
The ground had disappeared under his feet, guards shouting curses and drawing their weapons, his crown toppling from his brow and hitting the ground.
His legs kicking the air uselessly, trying to find a way out of the dragon’s claws and drop back to the ground. Though the higher he had been taken, the more Virgil realized he really didn’t want to be dropped. At all. It would have been a lethal drop. He had, admittedly, let out a pitiful noise at the height and maybe Virgil had been hallucinating with terror at that point, but he could have sworn that the dragon’s talons had closed in slightly more on his arms—only it wasn’t painfully. It was almost like it was trying to prevent him from slipping accidentally.
That and there wasn’t even a chance that the kingdom’s army could do anything without risking the prince a serious injury. They could aim at the great beast all they wanted, but if the dragon made a sudden dip or if they didn’t have a perfect or clear shot, the arrow could end up hitting the royal instead.
A part of him still didn’t truly believe that it had actually happened, but if it weren’t for the large red dragon snoozing quietly in the corner of the cave he was currently sat in, he would be lying to himself.
Virgil had been waiting for the past day for something to happen.
Nothing had happened.
Well, nothing was a relative term he supposed.
He had tried to escape a good handful of times. Each and every time his plans had been foiled and he had been caught in the act. The back of his tunic was scruffed between very long and very sharp teeth (that could very easily tear him to shreds) and heaved him right back over to the same spot on the dragon’s hoard he had been deposited on earlier.
He had just kept doing it, right up until the moment he thought the dragon was truly getting upset with him. That was a boundary he was not willing to push, especially not since his life was on the line. He had stopped trying to escape and eventually just started looking around the cave and the hoard in turn. The dragon had seemed content with that and had finally decided to take a little rest as night began to fall.
So, now Virgil just nervously twiddled with the overly ornate sleeves of his tunic, playing with the golden thread before it began to unravel under his fingertips.
His eyes anxiously flicking back and forth between the giant sleeping fire-breathing lizard and the opening of the cave not thirty feet away. The same opening of the cave that showed a beautiful inky black night sky, smattered with stars. A part of him longed to be back out there, but the other part of him knew that if he tried, the dragon would only manage to nab him again.
The dragon was big, Virgil was not.
But, another part of him suggested, if you make it out and make it back to the kingdom, you’d be far safer there.
Virgil nibbled his lower lip.
Well, the dragon did look like it was out for the night. So, before he knew it, Virgil was pushing himself to his feet on the unstable ground of the dragon’s pile of gold.
Freezing up completely as a few stray coins shifted and slid forward creating slight clattering noises, he waited with bated breath to see if anything else would happen. When the dragon did nothing but shift in its sleep, Virgil took that as his go ahead. The prince’s eyes were locked forward, but would flicker between the dragon and freedom every once in a while.
His pace was agonizingly slow, but if that was what got him out of here, then that was what worked.
He could see the outside right there, teasing him. It was a taunt, sharp as a barb.
Come and get me, your highness, it seemed to whisper, you’ll never make it.
Virgil could feel the cool air brushing against his skin. It felt freer out there, certainly more spacious and away from the fire-breathing menace currently keeping him trapped here.
Slow step after slow step brought him closer and closer to getting back to his kingdom and his people alive.
He knew his brother would not be faring well. He would be sick with worry. The king would have immediately sent out a search and rescue party to retrieve the stolen prince, but they had no leads on his whereabouts.
Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if the royal knights never found him.
If he were being truly honest, Virgil didn’t even know where in the kingdom he was, if he was even in the same country.
The sound of a snort from behind him made his shoulders tense.
It didn’t take a genius to know that he had been spotted. He heard coins clattering to the ground and papers and silks fluttering to the floor. The sound of claws clicking against stone caught his attention just as the rumbling from behind him only grew louder and more prominent. It wasn’t long before he felt the hot breath over his shoulders. Another displeased huff blew his hair forward and he turned to look up over his shoulder and the pale red eyes looking back down at him.
Virgil smiled sheepishly up at the dragon and the dragon’s eyes narrowed, before they rolled.
It was such a human expression, it was almost uncanny.
“Let’s not be too hasty now,” the prince said, taking a step forward to test the waters.
The dragon only leaned down and opened its jaw just enough to snag the back of Virgil’s tunic and heft him off the ground and off his feet once more, as if he weighed nothing. Though, compared to the strength of a dragon, Virgil probably did weigh nothing.
“Oh come on!” He growled, trying to wriggle free. He only managed to get himself twisted around as he swayed back and forth in pace with the dragon’s steps.
The dragon huffed at him, blowing more hot air around his shoulders.
Virgil attempted to kick his legs backward and hit the dragon in the throat. He knew it wouldn’t do anything since its scales seemed to be thicker than a knight’s armour, but it didn’t stop him from trying to cause even the slightest bit of discomfort. “You can’t really blame me for trying can you?”
A low rumbling sound vibrated through him and Virgil took at that at face value, even though he didn’t understand what was being said to him.
“Fine!” The prince snipped, “fine. Whatever, have it your way.”
Virgil wasn’t sure if the dragon could understand him, but either way talking to it made him feel better. As if he wasn’t so alone in this prison.
However, instead of being set back down on the same pile of gold and relics and collectibles, he was settled down into the crevice of where the dragon had been resting beforehand. Before he could make another run for it, though Virgil was a bit too confused by this change to really do anything, the dragon was laying back down and curling completely around him. Virgil was entirely encircled by the dragon itself and there was no hope of getting away from here unnoticed.
He groaned at this, pushing at the dragon’s softer underbelly, trying to squirm free.
The dragon responded to this by stretching out its wing and covering him even more. It curled the slightest bit closer to him, before staying there. It seemed that the dragon knew enough about how small and fragile humans were that it didn’t curl too tight around him.
Virgil gasped in response to that, before relenting. It was putting up a futile fight, he knew that. But still.
“You don’t have to be such a big jerk about it,” the prince grumbled, trying to struggle at least a little bit more. He felt the dragon rumble something around him and Virgil ceased his useless struggles. It wasn’t getting him anywhere anyway. “You didn’t win anything by the way. You’re just being the childish one here.”
The dragon snorted, and this time it almost sounded like Virgil was being laughed at. Was he being mocked?
“Oh, you think that’s funny?” He was given another grumbling response. “Please. You think you’re all that just because you can pick me up and carry me around wherever you want, huh? That’s just being power hungry and I do not appreciate it.”
The dragon didn’t response this time and Virgil took that as a win.
He might be completely trapped like this, but at least it was warm. And it was..kind of comfortable. To be real, it was more comfortable than trying to nap on the piles of cold gold. He was going to have to find some silks or something if he was really going to be here so long.
Virgil could worry about that some other time though. The warmth that was encircling him was rather nice and, the longer he listened to the sounds around him, he oddly enough found himself fairly at ease. The steady breathing from around him, the steady thundering heartbeat from behind him. He felt…safe.
Which was weird. He was probably in one of the most dangerous positions a prince could be in and he felt relatively fine.
As he let his eyes slip closed, he found his mind wandering into a dreamless sleep.
