If he was fully honest, they freaked him out a little. Just sat and stared from far away and when he cautiously got closer, they ran off. They hissed and clawed at him for no reason and were so freakishly quiet that Roman never saw them coming and besides, they made his nose itch.
But him not being a cat person didn't mean he couldn't date one. Virgil almost seemed part cat too, really—he wasn't exactly talkative, shied away from affection and left remarks with a bite that Roman found obnoxious until he fell head over heels for them. Winning Virgil over had taken patience and more chill than Roman liked to exercise, but it was worth it—every second Roman spent in Virgil's arms paid back the months of pining tenfold.
And Roman had convinced Virgil; how much harder could his cat be?
—
Virgil took Roman's jacket, flipping the hallway light switch. Curiously, Roman glanced around, his eyes catching on a pile of letters and postcards that Virgil quickly stood in front of, on a beaten-up plastic cat carrier that sat in the corner like a war relic, on—finally—the massive gray and black wad of fur on the couch that was glaring at him through glowing yellow eyes.
Roman took a step back.
He wasn't scared—he was very appropriately cautious about the murderous backpack-sized dust hare that his boyfriend was now lifting off its perch. The cat sat calmly in Virgil's arms, its tail slowly swinging, unblinking, unmoving, as Virgil pressed a gentle kiss to its head. Roman looked it in the eyes and wondered if cats could smell fear.
"Salem," Virgil said in the softest voice Roman had ever heard leaving his mouth, "say hello to Roman."
Still staring daggers at Roman, Salem slowly blinked. Roman gave the cat, then Virgil, a tense smile. Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.
Roman stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the cat, slowly stretching out his hand, letting it sniff his finger first. Salem ignored Roman's peace offering, still sat still as a fuzzy gargoyle. Hesitantly, Roman brushed over his head—Salem pulled away and Roman jerked back as if he had been struck by lightning.
Virgil snorted, then burst out laughing—Salem yowled at him and he let the cat fall to the ground (it landed on its feet, gave Roman a venomous glare and sped off into the kitchen). "Sorry—" He shook his head, miserably failing to suppress laughter as Roman glared at him. "I just, I thought you didn't want to come over because you hated me or something—you could have told me you're scared of Salem!"
"You're rude," Roman complained. His cheeks were burning—he made a point of ignoring Virgil's amused glance.
"Mm." Virgil offered him a hand. Their fingers interlaced, and he gave Roman's hand a small squeeze. "I'll help you win him over; Salem can be kinda grumpy but he'll come around." He kissed Roman's temple. "Don't worry."
"Rich coming from you," Roman teased, stealing a kiss back from Virgil's lips. He sighed. "Fine, I'll give the little demon a chance. Only because I love you so much."
"Thanks." Virgil gave Roman a shy smile, as if he couldn't help himself. "Love you too."
—
"Virgil?" Roman called from the living room, his voice shaky and pitched. Virgil set his bowl aside, rushing out of the kitchen to find his boyfriend frozen with nerves, his hands hovering over Salem as he climbed onto Roman's lap.
Virgil grinned. "You good?" Roman made a frantic, wide-eyed gesture, and Virgil laughed. "He likes you!"
Salem curled into a cat donut on Roman's legs, softly kneading his thigh. Hesitantly, Roman brushed a finger over his head, then pulled his hand away. He glanced back at Virgil.
"Scratch behind his ears." Roman did, and Salem purred, leaning into his hand. Virgil chuckled as Roman continued carefully, as if the cat would shatter under his fingertips if he was too harsh. He gave Virgil an anxious look.
Virgil kissed his forehead. "You're doing great."
Roman grinned. "Aren't I always?" Salem dug a claw into his leg and he yelped.
Virgil snorted, petting Salem's head. "Of course you are."
With another kiss, Virgil left to continue making popcorn—but he had no doubt Roman and Salem would be fine. After all, he knew they would come around.
"This is boring," Roman announced loudly, slamming the book before him closed.
Janus looked up from his own copy, a smile gracing his lips. "I thought you'd enjoy Othello, Drama Club."
Roman hummed dismissively. "We finally have time together, and we spend it doing homework." He huffed. "Don't you think we have better things to do?"
"Like what?"
"Like this." Roman kissed Janus' cheek. "And this—" Another kiss, slightly lower. "—and this—" One on his cheekbone, one almost on his jaw. "—and—"
Janus caught Roman's lips with his own, smiling into the kiss as Roman softened, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as if Janus would slip away from him if he didn't hold on. Janus pulled Roman into his lap, his hand lightly brushing over the small of his back—Roman's surprise made him gentle, letting Janus take the lead until their lips parted so they could breathe.
"What if I read to you?"
"Hm?" Puzzled, Roman frowned at him—his chest was still rising and falling heavily; he melted into Janus' touch. Almost certainly reading was the last thing on his mind.
"Would that make it less boring?"
Roman thought it over. "Maybe."
"Let's try it." Janus shifted Roman in his arms and Roman went along with the motion, resting his head on Janus' shoulder and pressing a kiss to his jaw. Laughing softly, Janus nudged Roman away. "You have to focus, though."
Roman sighed. "How could I focus when this view is so pretty?"
"Flirt," said Janus, booping Roman's nose. He flipped open the page he had been interrupted on. "It gives me wonder great as my content to see you here before me—"
"I already read that bit, slowpoke," Roman laughed.
"Well, we can't all be savants, now can we? Now let me read."
"Mm." Roman nestled into the crook of Janus' neck, his hair lightly tickling his cheek as his eyes idly scanned the page Janus was reading from.
Shifting the arm he held around his boyfriend, Janus let his fingers run up and down Roman's forearm along with the even beat of each verse. "O my soul's joy, if after every tempest come such calmness..."
Even though the material hadn't changed, Roman found that from Janus' lips, even the dullest verse was captivating as ever.
Patton closed his eyes, smiling into the sun—he would have a ton of new freckles tomorrow; they were a part of beach days; but Janus loved them and so Patton could too.
Speaking of Janus—Patton turned to face his boyfriend, or what he could see of him in the shade the parasol cast, huddled under it like a vampire afraid of burning to a crisp. Patton laughed. "Come on, honeybun—let's go swimming!"
"Over my dead body."
Patton tugged at Janus' hands until he fell backwards into the sand, Janus still not moving an inch. He pouted. An eyebrow raised, Janus watched, fondly amused. "Already given up?"
"Why did we even come here if you're just sitting around?" Patton complained. "You can do that at home." He made his best puppy eyes at Janus, unable to force back his smile when Janus blushed and averted his eyes. "We're at the beach to have fun, snickerdoodle, so let's do something!"
Dramatically, Janus sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he sighed. "Only because I love you."
Patton brightened. "I love you too!" Finally, Janus allowed him to pull him up and past his little cone of shade. "If you don't want to swim, how about we build a sandcastle?"
Janus made a show out of rolling his eyes and sighing extensively, but he was smiling wide enough to make his dimples pop—he was enjoying himself too; he just wouldn't admit it yet. "If I must," he drawled. "A sandcastle sounds alright."
Patton cheered and tugged Janus closer to the water, where the sand was easier to build with—this beach day was going to be fun after all.
Janus nearly jumped out of his skin as Roman shrieked, rushing into the bedroom to find his husband cross-legged on the bed in front of his laptop, hands flapping so hard Janus was worried he might hurt himself. "Did they look at each other again?" he asked sarcastically (he couldn't help it) and got an incoherent squeal in response.
Roman paused his stimming for long enough that Janus could sit beside him without the danger of being hit in the face and squint at characters he vaguely remembered from Roman's infodumps and the few episodes he had seen moments of—they were facing each other, close enough to kiss—which, as Roman pressed play, they did (rather underwhelmingly in Janus' opinion).
Janus glanced back at his husband, who was watching them with stars in his eyes, looking so overwhelmingly happy that Janus couldn't find it in himself to care about the countless rewatches of those ten seconds he would bear witness to. "Congratulations," Janus said, and tried not to sound too unenthusiastic about it.
"My ship is sailing," Roman announced, his smile so wide his cheeks had to hurt, his hand still flapping at his side. His smile fell for a second, turning hesitant. "Sorry, I know you don't care, but—"
"No!" Janus blurted. "No, please tell me about them; I'd love to hear it."
The spark returned to Roman's eyes as he started his infodump, beaming with pure joy—Janus may not have cared about the show, but there was nothing better than seeing Roman this happy and if he had to sit through a whole TEDtalk to cause that smile, then so be it.
Logan looked up from his laptop, searching for the direction of Roman's voice.
"Beloved," Roman called again (ah, front door), "we have a bit of a situation."
Slowly, Logan stood up. "What is it?" he called back, following the sound of his voice.
"Virgil brought us a gift." Roman was standing in front of the closed screen door, staring down at the cat (without his glasses, Logan could barely identify more than a large black blob) and the small grey bundle in front of it. It wasn't a mouse (Roman wouldn't have stayed quite as calm then), and it certainly wasn't a bird (not enough feathers). Logan knelt down, squinting at the little heap of fur, and found a kitten.
"Oh."
The kitten couldn't have been more than a few days old, its eyes still closed and its ears folded against its head. Logan frowned. "Is it...?"
"It's breathing, I think," Roman assured him. "We can't just leave it there, right?"
"Well, Virgil seems to have assumed parenthood." Logan stood up again, meaning to adjust his glasses and meeting thin air instead. "I suppose we can adopt it?"
Beaming, Roman nodded—he opened the screen door and Virgil stood up, taking the kitten by the scruff of its neck (it squeaked softly as he did) and carrying it inside. "I'll call the vet," Roman said, trying his hardest not to sound all too pleased.
Logan hummed absent-mindedly—Virgil hopped onto the couch, gently placing the little one beside him before curling up around it. Roman let out a barely-contained squeak of joy, and Logan rolled his eyes fondly. "Go on."
"We're parents," Roman announced, wrapping his arms around Logan's shoulders and pressing a smack of a kiss to his cheek.
"We already own a cat," Logan reminded him.
"Yes, but this is different—look at how small it is!" Roman cooed. "Oh, what was I going to—right, call the vet!" Another kiss and he let go, pulling out his phone. "We'll need kitten food too—what do kittens eat?"
Logan laughed softly. "I'll research it." With those words, he returned to his laptop—no matter his amusement at his husband's elation, Logan couldn't deny he, too, was excited to welcome such an unexpected family member.
Uhh ship thing what about analogical (romantic or platonic) and the word " soft" maybe?
Amused, Logan brushed Virgil's bangs to the side, smiling at the utter bliss in his expression. "Virgil, have I lost you?"
Virgil didn't look up from where his face was buried in Logan's unicorn onesie, softly rubbing his cheek on the fabric. "You're soft," he explained shortly, his voice muffled. "Feels good."
As Virgil's arms tightened around his waist, Logan laughed lightly. "I suppose I'll have to wear this more often."
"Mm."
Gently shaking his head, Logan continued petting Virgil's hair, his focus captured by his book again. Silly clothing like this did have its perks.
"I think I'd have been a prince. Back then, I mean." Roman balanced on what was left of the wall, Patton watching from the rock he was sitting on, his legs swinging. "Learning to fight and rule and dance—" He spun on the sole of his sneakers, sending pebbles tumbling, and Patton giggled.
"You're already on the right path, Angelina Ballerina."
Roman huffed out a laugh, giving Patton a crooked smile, and Patton felt soft and sunny and warm inside. His arms outstretched, Roman kept walking among the ruins. The sunlight caught on the ivy climbing up the stones and cast green beams across his face, his tongue sticking out as he concentrated in the same way it had always done. Patton watched the breeze ruffle his hair, watched Roman's tongue flit over his lips again and wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
"Who would you be?" Roman asked and Patton returned to reality, blinking as his focus shifted.
"Huh?"
"You know—in the olden days. If I'm a prince, what are you?"
Patton hummed. "Maybe a prince too." He shook his head. "Probably not, though. More like some kind of kitchen boy."
Roman nodded. He hopped off the wall and in three steps, he was in front of Patton, holding out his hand. "As the prince, I'd like to invite the kitchen boy to the royal ball."
"Me?" Patton gasped. "Your Highness, what an honor!" He took Roman's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet. "Sadly, though, I never learned to dance."
Roman winked. "I can show you." He waved to an imaginary band, then began humming in its place—a simple harmony, three beats to follow—and loosely held Patton's hand in his as he danced.
Patton's eyes were glued to Roman's sneakers, mirroring the steps he took, following his lead. The rhythm was easier to find than he would have thought; the wind whistled around them and added to Roman's song and Patton felt light and free and far away.
"There, you're doing it!" Roman laughed brightly and spun Patton around, startling the butterflies gently fluttering in his stomach. "You're a natural!"
Patton giggled sheepishly, then missed a step and stumbled—Roman caught him before he fell, pulling him close (so, so close), an arm around his waist.
Patton blushed.
"Careful, Pat," Roman teased, winking in that charming Roman way that made Patton's knees weak. "We wouldn't want you to fall for me."
Patton forced a shrill laugh. "'Course not! Wouldn't that be silly?"
Don't overdo it.
Roman laughed too, setting Patton back on his feet, then pulling his phone from his pocket. "Now"—soft piano music played from his back pocket as he offered Patton his hand—"may I have this dance?"
Beaming, Patton let Roman pull him into the dance, following his lead. Oh, he knew it was all fantasy, but even if they were joking Patton couldn't help wishing Roman would sweep him off his feet more often.
"No." Virgil froze. "No—no, Logan, please don't do this to me."
Taking a deep breath, Logan adjusted his glasses. "I'm sorry." He met Virgil's eyes and almost changed his mind—but he couldn't; he couldn't turn back now, not when he was so close. "I love you, but I have to do this." Virgil's hand was near-gone, and Logan just couldn't take the risk—no matter how much he hated it. A last breath, then Logan played his card.
