Sanders Sides: Janus, Logan
A Vague AU Writing Prompt: @wildhorsewolf asked: Guess I'm a parent now with Janus being the dad and Logan being the kid
Blurb: Janus has no interest in being a parental figure to a kid, but trying to convince the universe of that is another thing entirely.
Fic Type: Familial Soulmate!AU
Overall Fic Warnings: Mentions of Scars
Taglist in Reblog.
To most souls, a food court was a necessary evil. Loud. Lots of people. But plenty of food options all together in one place. Perfect for those who liked a variety of choices or those who had picky eaters in tow.
It was a place to meet up with friends, family, or business associates. A place where one could sit back and observe society at work. To see people at their best...and most definitely at their worst.
There was something soothing about the chaos that Janus enjoyed...as a spectator. He could never imagine being right in the middle of it.
Not unless he was doing what he was doing right now. Trying to hide in plain sight in the middle of a crowd.
After all. He was thirty now. Single. Childless.
Obviously a menace to society in a universe that seemed obsessed with everyone being part of a ‘family.’
A Universe that had decreed that all adults who remained childless by the age of thirty, would then be subjected to being bombarded with children in need of a proper parent figure to bond with in their lives.
He exhaled, absently brushing against the raised scar on his cheek, barely looking up as a child burst out wailing nearby.
He’d checked earlier. That particular wailer hadn’t had the golden sparks. It meant he was safe.
For now.
He ran a hand through his hair, flipping another page in his notebook before he continued scrawling on the page. Maybe Virgil had actually been onto something when he said he was vanishing into the wilderness of Europe for the rest of his life.
Sure, Janus had laughed six months ago when his best friend had turned thirty and begun complaining about all the kids coming out of the woodwork to ask him to be their Dad.
It’d seemed impossible at the time. To have children want to come up to Mr. Shadows Incarnate and expect Virgil to put them to bed and tell a bedtime story.
Now though, he understood why Vee had become more reluctant to leave his house as the year had worn on.
Because the mini spawns really had come out of nowhere once his own thirtieth birthday hit.
And it was awful.
Wherever he went, it was inevitable that some child would approach him, shimmering golden sparks floating around them indicating that they were looking for a Parent Bond.
It was also as inevitable that he would scare them away just as quickly.
After all, his halfmoon scar and creepy yellow eyes had caused plenty of kids to scream and run with a single look years before his thirtieth birthday.
No, at least Virgil had a bit of that shy emo charm that made him more approachable, even if the merest appearance of anyone under four feet had his best friend going pale as a corpse and ducking out before the kid could take more than two steps towards him.
Privately he was certain Virgil would find a kid perfect for him before the year was out, despite his best friend’s attempt to avoid the inevitable.
He knew Virge would make a good dad. Compassionate. Protective. His best friend had a dozen other traits that would benefit him when the right child flared with him.
Unlike Janus.
Who could make a grown man cry with less than four words and a glower.
No. He couldn’t imagine having any child coming to him in the middle of the night expecting comfort.
He knew he was intimidating.
He knew he could be scary.
It wouldn’t be fair to subject a child to that on a daily basis.
Honestly, it felt like a slap to the face that no matter how much he achieved, how many degrees he got, or businesses he owned, or careers he pursued, or money he made…
The universe felt that one couldn’t be complete unless said person also had a screaming, slobbering, dirty child in tow.
Janus ran a hand through his hair, again brushing the crescent scar on his cheek as he looked up long enough to watch a cluster of mothers with their dozen and a half children in strollers rush by, seeking salvation at the nearest set of golden arches with at least four of the kids already screaming for their happy meal toy.
Even if he did make a connection with any kid brave enough to approach him...Janus could never imagine trying to coerce a screaming brat into eating their chicken nuggets all by himself. Could never stand to walk around with food, slobber or worse, vomit stains on his best suits like a badge of honor. Could never be patient enough to listen to the long and rambling and pointless stories he’d heard multiple parents suffer through while observing them here in the food court.
No. There was no way Janus would allow the universe a say in how he ran these next five years of his life.
He had goals.
Life plans.
And he didn’t need some interfering Being with an obviously unhealthy parent complex ruining that.
The scrapping of a chair being pulled back broke through the gentle hum the noise the chaos of the food court had receded to, causing Janus to look up from his paper in time to see a boy, wearing a faded black long sleeved shirt with matching glasses and thankfully older than the screaming toddler throwing french fries six tables over, plop down in the seat across from him.
A child. With golden sparks shimmering in the air around him.
Oh goodie.
Janus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. And here he’d thought that the fact that he’d caused a pair of twin girls, a baby, three boys, six preteens, and four other children under the age of five to scream in terror and/or burst into tears before the lunch rush had even started would have been enough for the universe to call it quits for the day on attempting a Parent Bond.
“I have a prospersition for you.” The boy said, making eye contact.
Janus blinked, pen pausing mid stroke as he raised an eyebrow to the child. Prosper...prosper? Oh. “A prop-osition?” He asked, careful to pronounce the word correctly.
The boy nodded once, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Prop-osition” he repeated, saying it properly this time. “Will you listen to it? Please?”
Oh, now there was a please? The kid hadn’t even said hello. Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering the raised scar on his cheek, eyes darting about without much hope for any sign of a frantic adult looking for their wayward offspring as he sat back, tapping his pen on the table. “I’m busy.”
The boy’s eyes flashed. “No you’re not.”
Janus scoffed, gesturing to his papers. “I assure you that I a--”
“Are doing what you do every Friday. You’re not busy. You just sit here. All day. Reading. Writing.”
Observant. Janus frowned, again glancing around for a guardian figure. He didn’t think children thought much beyond eating, sleeping, and playing with their peers. “That is considered being busy by most people, I don’t have time to tal--”
The boy shifted to his knees, the golden sparks dancing around him as he carefully placed eight quarters on the table before pushing the pile over to him. “For your time.” He said, looking up to meet Jansus’s eyes once more.
Clever. Not quite the amount he usually took for a consultation, but he doubted a child could come up with that much cash. Still. It was the first time one of these golden sparked spawns of the devil decided to pay him instead of screaming bloody murder.
Janus exhaled, laying down his pen, sitting up as he clasped his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “I’m listening.” Though he doubted anything good would come from this proposition. He could already predict the direction this would go.
The boy relaxed, though he stayed half kneeling on his chair. “I need you,” his mouth twisted slightly, grey eyes glittering. “to pretend to be my Father.”
Father? Ha. Called it. “No.”
Golden sparks flared as the boy lifted his chin. “You didn’t even ask ‘Why.’”
He smirked, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as he pushed the coins back. “I don’t need to.” It was obvious why the kid wanted to play pretend. After all, the sparks surrounding him were only visible to those like Janus. Single. Between the age of thirty and thirty-five. Childless. If the kid needed a fake dad...well this wasn’t his first rodeo with the concept. “You either need protection from some bullies, which--” He gestured to himself. “You think I look scary enough to intimidate them.” Though not scary enough to keep the kid from bugging him in the first place. “Or else you have lied to your friends about who your Dad is or what he does and so--”
“You’re wrong.”
Janus cut off, tilting his head. “Am I?” He was certain he wasn’t.
“You are.” The boy kept eye contact, grey blue eyes hard as stone.
It would be an intimidating gaze once he grew older, Janus was sure. “Enlighten me.”
The boy pushed the coins back across the table. “The Aquarium is having a Father/Son day today. I want to go.”
Not what he meant by enlighten, but he’d humor the kid. “So?”
The boy rolled his eyes, shifting to his knees so he could better rest his arms on the table. “I can’t exactly partisiis--partissee--par--”
“Participate?”
He nodded. “I can’t exactly participate if I go by myself, dummy.”
Dummy? Who just helped the kid pronounce ‘participate?’
Janus shoved the quarters back to the boy before picking up his pen, tapping it against the table. He could see the kid’s problem though. It made sense why the aquarium wouldn’t want to let hordes of little demon spawn run around tapping on the glass, licking the floors, and breaking things unsupervised. “I’m not spending fifty dollars to play your Dad, kid, just so you can look at some fish.”
A pet store would work just as well and wouldn’t cost a dime. If he was willing to go along with this.
Which he wasn’t.
He didn’t even like fish. Not since that stupid childhood fishing accident that had given him the lovely scar on his face in the first place.
No way would he willingly go along with some brat to a place filled to the brim with the creatures.
Despite how brilliant of a scheme it was. One Janus would have used himself though under different circumstances.
Though he supposed, if he felt like admitting it, which he didn’t, but he still---it….hurt in a way, that the kid, even having the sparks, just wanted to use him to get in to see some boring fish instead of trying out a real Trial with him to see if they had any sort of parental bond.
It was a stupid feeling.
He should be used to being used.
The boy adjusted his frames, barely blinking as he shoved the quarters back across the table, staring Janus down. “Adults get in for only ten dollars today. Kids get in free. If.” He emphasized the word. “Their Father brings them.” He shifted in his seat, pulling out a twenty and slid it across the table. “For your ticket.” He said simply, eyes flashing. “I’m only asking for your time. I don’t want to go on a Trial with you. I don’t need or want a Dad. I just need an adult with the time on his hands to pretend to be one and let me esplore the place for two measlely hours.”
Double ouch. At least some kids attempted to do an actual Trial Run with him to see if their sparks would Flare before being so blunt in telling him he wouldn’t be their Dad.
Janus frowned, already shaking his head. “Kid, I don’t--”
The boy pulled out another twenty, placing it on the table. “Two hours.” He said simply.
“You don’t even know me--” Sure, he knew the boy knew he was in the Trial stage of life since the stupid floating sparks thing, even if he couldn’t see his own, went both ways. But that didn’t mean that he should just shove--
The boy placed a third twenty on the table.
Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering his scar as he glared at the child. “You’re seriously bribing me? Where did you even get that much cash?” Hopefully it wasn’t stolen, but he’d applaud the boy for being so prolific in his thievery.
“Not important.” The boy stated, pulling out a fourth twenty without breaking eye contact.
Why was he being so persistent?! Any other child would have run away by now.
“Why me?” He demanded, leaning forward, sneering in a way he knew made his eyes look even more creepy. “Why not bribe some other--”
The boy hesitated, a fifth twenty already in his fingers as his steely gazed wavered. “If I tell you why, will you go with me to the Aquarium?”
That was hardly a fair exchange. The answer could be super simple and he’d be stuck with the kid for two hours. “I’m going to stick with my ‘I’m scary theory,’” Janus said instead, gesturing to his face. That was the usual reason kids gave in most circumstances.
The boy frowned, lifting his chin. “I can be scary enough on my own without your help.” He said shoving the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing an angry red corded scar that wrapped around his arm from wrist to shoulder. “We match, kinda. Your scar looks similar. Makes it easier to pretend that you’re my Dad. That we were in the same accident.” He pushed the pile of money towards him. “And if anyone suspects you aren’t my birth father, then the sparks will show them that we’re on a Trial and that our scars mean we’re meant to be.”
Meant to be.
It took a lot of effort to not touch the crescent mark on his cheek. To ignore the fluttering in his chest at those words.
They’re just pretty little lies.
Sure, there were ongoing theories that families all shared a similar trait that marked them. Whether that was having a mole on the same part of their stomach, sharing a taste in mustard, having an allergy to hay, hair having the same cowlick, or having similar looking scars--Janus kept his hands firmly on the table as he pulled his eyes back up to meet the kids.
It was hearsay though. Nothing had ever been proven. Not when the sparks flaring between parent and child was a far more accurate indicator that they were meant to be a family.
No, he highly doubted anyone would Flare with him during this five year tortrue period. Not even this kid despite the sparks dancing between them.
Janus took a steadying breath. It was fine. He didn’t need a family. Not even a pretend one for two hours. He was better off alone now that Virgil had harred off to who knew where. “How long do I have to wait before you run out of twenties and give up?” He said, keeping his voice cool. “Because I’m not taking your bribe, kid, regardless of the amount. You’d be better off hiring a nanny or something.”
Though he was curious just how much the boy thought it would take to convince him to go along with this farce.
The kid made a face. “I don’t want to be coddled the entire time.” He snapped, the fifth twenty vanishing as he shoved his sleeve down. “All anyone ever does is treat me like I’m breakable since--” he gestured to his arm, the scars once more hidden. “And I’m sick of it. You look like you’d happily let me fall off a bridge if I wasn’t careful and I just...I just--” He shook his head. “I need to not be cared about for a bit.”
Let him fall off a bridge? Ouch. Janus focused on relaxing his clenched hands, one finger at a time. “So you have a death wish? I’m not gonna be complacent to--”
The boy growled, slamming his hands on the table, steel grey eyes hardening even as they shimmered with unshed tears. “No. I just want to look at the fish.” He hissed. “I want to esplore. Learn. SEE. Without having a grown-up hovering over me like I’m freaking china. All you would have to do is stay near enough to keep any other metaling adults away. That’s all I want. For two hours. To be treated like a normal kid.” His hand clenched as he took a breath, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you of all people would understand that.” He whispered, eyes flickering to the scar and back.
It took a lot of effort to not touch his face. To maintain eye contact.
Sure.
He understood.
Janus had wasted years chasing that particular dream throughout high school and well into his first couple of years at college.
It had all been for nothing.
People judged the book by the cover. Few ever took the time to look deeper.
And it sucked that Janus was being forced to reckon with the fact that if he didn’t go with this kid and pretend to be his Dad, he’d be like every other adult unwilling to give the boy a chance to be ‘normal.’
…Great. Just. Great.
He’d just been guilted into spending two hours looking at the fish.
Janus broke eye contact, cursing under his breath as he shoved his papers into his book bag and stood, grabbing his jacket and hat off the chair.
Maybe he should follow Virgil’s lead and disappear into the wilderness for the next four and a half years if the kids were going to start pulling this type of act on him.
“You got a name, kid?” He asked, fishing out a single twenty from the stack before shoving the pile back at the boy. Enough for the ticket. That’s it.
The boy caught his breath, eyes going wide. “You mean--”
How could eyes hard as steel one second go so soft like freshly fallen ash the next?
You know what. He didn’t want to know. If the kid knew how to do puppy dog eyes, then he knew how. That was that, but after today Janus would not be falling for them again.
“Name.” He repeated, impatiently gesturing for the boy to follow him as he tugged his hat down over his eyes. “Else I’ll make one up and I guarantee you will not like it.”
The boy was by his side in a flash, golden sparks swirling. “Logan.” He said, adjusting his glasses with a small smile. “My name is Logan.”
logan indulging in his childish intrests, and letting himself go to a childish state, when someone opens his door. Janus. Deceit. The keeper of secrets. He already has kept most of logan's secrets relatively secure. but this one? he can't put more weight on him.
I don't know if this is a prompt request but if it is, I sincerely apologize cause I'm not accepting any for now.
I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind but the idea's still interesting as heck though, so. . .
- I imagine this happens after a very particularly event or maybe even a stressful week.
- Logan's way of winding down will be reverting back to things he (and Thomas) adored as kids like doing puzzles, reading books, observing bugs, etc.
- Sometimes he'll lose track of the passage of time and won't even notice that he's been in such a state for so long, to the point of reverting back to a childish state of mind, like you said. Whether he's still in his adult form or has actually reverted into being a physical child, I'll leave it to you.
- Janus finds him like this once. At first, he honestly thought Logan was just messing with him but nope! Logan is legitimately there, in his room, begging Janus to finish this puzzle with him, on the floor, in their onesies.
- Janus is surprisingly good at handling Logan like this. He knows a lot of secrets from every side and he always knows what to do about each one and how to approach it. This one is no different. Logan isn't exactly acting like a full child. Or maybe that's just because Logan as a child is still intelligent and independent af. Either way, Janus is chalking up to be a pretty excellent babysitter (more like a friend than babysitter 'cause childlike!Logan doesn't need anyone)
- Just. . . just imagine a childlike Logan being so inquisitive about Janus's snake features. He's asking if he's cold-blooded, 'till where the scales go, if he molts, etc. Janus is getting tired of it but he still answers the questions anyway.
- Janus tucking him into bed? Mayhaps?
- When this whole thing blows over Logan's definitely embarrassed af, for sure. He wants to beg Janus not to tell a soul, but he also knows better than to outright beg. So it's just a weird, awkward thing between them where Logan tries to pass it off as nothing, Janus tries to make sense of it, and Logan is internally dying of embarrassment.
- Janus would tease him about it but they both know he's still gonna keep this secret without Logan asking him to.
I'm sure there's potential for angst here somewhere but instead I said "fluff and crack" SKSKSKS
❝ if you wanna talk, i’m here. ❞ gimme that prinxeity
Summary: School can be rough, especially when one’s peers already see them as the “odd one out.” It only gets worse when Virgil’s headphones get snipped. After trying to stand up for himself and instead gets painted in the wrong light, the school calls his Dad—but Roman only gets one side of the story.
Pairings: Parental/Familial Prinxiety.
Warnings: Bullying mention, crying, brief mention of an anxiety attack, thoughts of being left, fear of parental rejection, brief mention of physical violence, brief mention of an absent parent, negative self-talk. (I think that’s it, but let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count: 2849 words.
A/n: I have been yearning to write something like this for ages and I have finally gotten around to doing it. It was a fun little write that turned out a little longer than I anticipated, but I had fun nonetheless.
Enjoy!
— — — — — —
“I can’t believe someone actually chose you.”
“I think it was more of a mistake. Not like he really knew you before he chose you.”
“You’re such a sourpuss. It’s like you never have anything nice to say. What happened that made you so miserable?”
Virgil had huddled down further into his jacket, the words stinging far more than he expected them to. The bus ride had been miserable and the day at school had been so much worse.
Some jerk had snipped the wire in his headphones while he was wearing them, thinking it would be so funny, which had then resulted in Virgil punching the kid in the jaw. Which then resulted in being sent to the principal’s office because the kid was a crybaby. Said principal didn’t even listen to a word he had to say, trying defend himself and explain the full story, but had instead only been lectured on what he had done wrong.
Then his Dad had been called and had been given the wrong half of the story. He was kind of surprised that the principal hadn’t asked his parent to come in. Maybe it was because it was the end of the day.
Virgil wasn’t worried about his Dad freaking out, he knew he would probably just get that disappointed look in his eyes that made Virgil’s stomach squirm in regret. So, he wouldn’t even acknowledge him.
“Physically violent and an orphan. Wow, I’m surprised anyone even gave you a second glance.”
“Weird eyes, bitter, resentful and a jerk. Huh. Who knew someone like you could be loved by someone as nice as your so-called ‘Dad’?”
Pulling his hood up higher over his head, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stayed silent the entire bus ride home. Even with Patton trying to talk to him, get his mind off of everything that had happened that day.
“I’m sure your Dad won’t be too mad once he gets your side of the story,” Patton had tried to comfort him, “he seems pretty understanding and really, you were defending yourself.”
Virgil wasn’t so positive, but he did appreciate that Patton was trying. Even Logan had tried to say something encouraging, but Virgil had only turned away from him. His friends had shared a soft look. Virgil hadn’t given them a lot of details about the incident, but Patton had had an itching feeling that the kid Virgil had gone after, was the same kid that had been bullying him for ages.
Logan and Patton had both gotten off at their respective stop, but not before trying to at least make Virgil feel the least bit better.
“Thank guys, but it’s not necessary.”
“Virge, you know we love you. Just… everything’ll be alright, okay? We’ll see you on Monday. Right?”
“…yeah.”
Then the bus had pulled away and Virgil was one of the last three kids to be dropped off. He stayed hidden away in the back of the bus before it was finally his stop. The whole trip was absolutely miserable without music. He was just miserable in general. His knuckles hurt, his chest felt weighted and he felt guilt sinking into his stomach like a rock, making his unease ten times worse.
The tween stepped off the bus after giving the driver a quiet “thanks” before adjusting his bag and heading on his way.
As soon as he could see his house in the distance, he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. It was sour and bitter and Virgil had half a mind to bolt in the opposite direction. That way Roman wouldn’t have to be faced with his disappointment of a son.
No, you’re not running away like a coward. You’re not a baby. Go in there, ignore Dad like the big kid you are and leave it at that.
He fiddled with his hands, picking at the skin around his nails as he stepped up the stairs and onto the front porch. Dad’s truck was in the driveway, which meant Dad was home. Feeling sicker with every step he took, he opened the door and stepped inside.
The minute Roman heard the door open, he peeked around the corner of the kitchen from where he was finishing up with the dishes from lunch. Spotting the tween toeing off his shoes at the door, he wiped his hands off on the dishrag before heading into the mudroom.
“Hey bud, how was—”
Virgil’s shoulders tensed as soon as he heard his voice and it seemed the minute his shoes were off, he made a beeline straight for the stairwell. His hood was up and his head was ducked down.
“—school.”
Letting out a small sigh, Roman tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He had a feeling this would happen, but he had expected at least a word or two from the kid before he bolted.
Roman knew he would need to talk to him, but he didn’t think it was going to be this difficult. He knew Virgil had a hard time opening up—the nice woman at the orphanage had told him that too; to be kind and patient and understanding. To let the tween come to him in his own time, but when he had gotten that call earlier, it already warranted that they would need to talk.
First, though, Roman needed to know the full story. The principal had only told him what Virgil had done and not what the other kid had done to deserve it. It wasn’t like Virgil to just act out like that. There had to be some sort of motivating force.
Though, he also knew he should give Virgil some space for a little bit. He’d give him an hour before going up to ask what’s going on.
So, he leaned down, tidied the shoe area before turning back around and finishing up with the dishes.
—
The hour had passed and there hadn’t been a sound from upstairs. Not a creak in the floorboard, opening or closing of a door, no angsty teen music blasting through the speaker to drown out the world.
It was starting to worry him, Roman wasn’t going to deny that.
Deciding that enough was enough, he slid the bookmark into place to mark the page before setting it down on the coffee table in front of him.
Turning the banister and heading up the stairs felt as though there was a weight on his chest. There had to be so much going through Virgil’s mind right now. What was he worried about? Roman had seen the kid go through some rough anxiety attacks on his own because he didn’t feel safe enough coming to him yet. It almost made Roman feel as though he had done something wrong as his father these past two years.
Oh God, had he done something to make Virgil feel unsafe when expressing his anxieties? If he had, he needed to find a way to remedy that immediately.
Roman refused to be the father that his kid was afraid of.
He was not going to be like his own father.
He stood outside Virgil’s door for half a moment, just listening. For anything really. Laboured breaths, sobs, choked noises, music.
It took a moment, but he could hear Virgil heaving quietly, as if he was stifling it.
Raising a hand, Roman knocked on the door gently enough not to startle the tween too much. “Virgil? Are you alright?”
The soft sounds stopped and Roman felt his stomach drop. His own anxiety spiked slightly at that. There was some quick shuffling from inside and he worried his lower lip. He wanted to open the door and make sure Virgil was alright, but he also didn’t want to invade his safe place without permission. The only time he had ever done that was when Virgil had woken up screaming in the middle of the night when Roman had first brought him in.
“I– I’m fine, Roman,” the choked voice came suddenly.
Immediately he knew something was very much not right. Virgil almost never called him by his name unless he was trying to distance himself.
He was frightened that something was going to happen to him.
It was something he had done when Roman had first adopted him. Virgil had refused to call him “dad” to keep himself from getting attached just in case Roman decided to send him back.
(Which he would never do in the first place!)
“Virgil,” Roman started after a moment, trying to sort through everything that was going through his head. “Can I come in?”
There was a long hesitation after he had asked that. The silence seemed heavy and uncomfortable but he needed to ask.
“It is more than okay if you say no,” he continued after a heartbeat, wanting to make sure that Virgil knew his opinion was very much important to him. “I will respect your decision. But I just want to make sure you’re alright, okay?”
There was more shuffling from behind the door and Roman was more than ready to take his leave and wait until Virgil came to get him for help. Before he could do anything of the like however, there was the sound of the door unlocking and footsteps leading away from the door itself. Roman took that as permission to enter the room.
When he did, the blinds were drawn shut tightly so no light could come in from the outside. The nightlight he had bought for the kid was flicked on in the corner of the room. That only happened nowadays when Virgil wanted some semblance of comfort, since that nightlight had granted him many nights of comfort when he had first been brought into the home.
The next thing Roman noticed was Virgil himself, sitting curled up on his bed with his hood up and his face pressed into his arms. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs.
His features softened further and stepped quietly into the room after gently shutting the door behind him.
Roman didn’t say anything until he was sat on the edge of the bed, just an arms length away from the tween keeping his knees tucked up close to his chest, as if to protect himself.
“I think I know what this is about,” he started softly, keeping his hands to himself, but leaning comfortably enough on the bed to show that he was there, so if Virgil eventually looked up he wouldn’t be startled by his parent’s proximity. He brought a leg up to lean on comfortably. “I’m not going to force you to say anything, but if you wanna talk, I’m here.”
Virgil sniffled, but didn’t seem to react to him more than that.
Roman took a breath. “I want to start this off by saying I’m not mad.”
That shocked the tween enough to actually look up at him, blinking tears from his multi-coloured eyes. He hiccuped softly, not bothering to wipe at the tear trails leaking down. “You– you’re not?”
Such a sad voice, it broke Roman’s heart is what it did. Virgil was so afraid of being punished, that having some sort of positive result come out of a situation like this was almost unheard of. “No,” he reassured him, keeping his eyes steady with Virgil’s and keeping his voice level and calm. “I’m not mad at you because I feel like I didn’t get the whole story from your principal when I got that call.”
“You didn’t!” Virgil was very adamant about that, not wanting to be painted as the villain in this. He wasn’t a bad kid, he wasn’t! And he didn’t want Roman to think he was, because if his Dad believed it then that meant he wouldn’t be able to stay. And God, Virgil’s life had only gotten better since Roman had adopted him. “He didn’t tell you even half of it. It’s typical.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, tilting his head away from the adult.
“Then why don’t you tell me what happened,” Roman prompted him gently, giving a nod to show that he was really listening.
Virgil worried his lower lip before uncurling slightly. Just enough so that he was sitting cross-legged and actually facing Roman. However, his hood was still up and his hands were fiddling with the ends of his jacket sleeves and the loose threads there. He took a breath to steady his voice before sniffling again.
“There’s this kid, uh, he’s been…been bothering me for awhile now.” He quickly continued before Roman had the chance to say anything to that. “And today, I guess he just thought it’d be funny if he–” Virgil choked on a sob, trying to stifle it and Roman ached so badly to reach over and touch him, to offer physical comfort but he wouldn’t until Virgil was reaching out to him first. “He thought it’d be funny to cut the wires of my headphones while I was wearing them and then I just- I just…”
His hands clenched slightly and Roman got the picture quite clearly.
“You reacted before you knew what you were doing,” Roman finished for him, clasping his hands together and ducking his head to try and meet Virgil’s eyes, but the tween was avoiding looking at him altogether.
“God, I’m—” he sucked in a sharp breath, nearly choking on it, “I’m sorry I’m such a screw up. You take me in an-and show me all this love and I just go and— and throw all that away. I’m such a failure.”
“Hey now,” Roman quickly cut that line of thought off immediately, sitting up a bit straighter at that. “You are not a screw up and you are not a failure.”
Virgil shook his head, seemingly too lost in his thoughts at this point to listen clearly. “…god knows why you ever wanted me.”
“I have always wanted you.” There was such a surprising firmness behind the statement that Virgil finally looked up at him. Roman moved a little bit closer to him, but not enough to encroach on his sacred space. “I have never once doubted that, do you understand me?” After a second, he got a tentative nod. “Punching some kid in the face may not have been your proudest moment, but that doesn’t make me want you any less. We all make mistakes Virgil, and that’s okay. You got emotional because what that kid did was downright horrendous and uncalled for. I’ve made mistakes, too. And I can promise you that they’re almost all worse than punching some punk jerk in the face.”
Virgil scrubbed his eyes at that. “What could you have possibly done that’s worse?”
Roman cracked a small grin at that. “My brother and I got into some dumb shenanigans when we were your age and older,” he told him. “Some of the things we did could have gotten us arrested if we had been caught. So you getting suspended from school for a couple days is okay.”
“You and Uncle Remus almost got arrested?”
“Could have,” Roman corrected, wanting to make sure that he drove home the fact that neither of them had ever been caught in the act. “Now, I’m not going to say that I’m okay with you punching other kids and getting suspended, nor will I endorse that behaviour. But I want you to know that I’m not mad.”
Virgil’s expression crumpled further and before long, he was crawling forward and burying his face in Roman’s chest. The adult responded immediately by pulling the tween into his lap and holding him close. He pushed Virgil’s hood down before letting his fingers card through the dark brown hair and dyed tips in a repeated and hopefully soothing motion.
“You’re a good kid, Virgil,” Roman promised him, even as Virgil heaved in his arms, clinging to his father with all he had. “And I know that. This does not change a thing.”
That almost seemed to make the tween cry harder, so he spent about ten minutes just soothing the boy in his arms. Quietly rocking them back and forth in a gentle and loving motion. Giving Virgil that softness that he craved without truly ever asking for it straight out.
“...thanks, Dad.” Virgil’s voice was soft and hoarse and Roman may not have heard it if Virgil wasn’t pressed right up against him.
“Of course.” It was sentimental and meaningful, before; “am I the best dad or what?”
Virgil laughed wetly, pulling away and wiping at his eyes again. But they were drier this time. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“What?” Roman gasped, feigning offense. “Well, would I be the best dad if I took you out to get some more headphones?”
Pausing in his motions of swiping at his face to clear more of the wetness away, Virgil blinked to him in the darkness of the bedroom. “…maybe.”
Roman nodded his head toward the door. “Come on then. How about this; you clean yourself up and then we head out in about twenty minutes and get you a brand new pair, alright?”
Summary: Logan is ADHD. Songfic of Toxic Thoughts by Faith Marie. This is kind of a vent fic. If you don’t understand anything, feel free to ask!
Word Count: 1,607
Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01 @spoopy-turtle @lizluvscupcakes @more-fandon-than-friends
Logan crumpled the paper with only a few lines on it, tossing it behind him and letting it fall among the others. He didn’t turn back to pick it up, no matter how bothersome it was going to be later. He didn’t even look at it, just started on the next page. He didn’t notice the room growing dark around him, the only light coming from the hash yellow of his desk lamp.
He stared at the next page, his brain filling with thoughts of failure but unwilling to stop. He felt trapped in an endless cycle of failure but had no way of getting out. He put his pen to paper, knowing what he wanted but not knowing how to get it to come out in a manner that others could understand. So, he tried. He tried again and again and again, he tried to get his words down on the page in a meaningful way.
A knock at the door sounded but Logan didn’t hear it. He didn’t notice anything except the music blasting through his headphones and the words on the pages, the words scattered on the floor. A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, slipping the headphones down and letting the music fill the room. Piano and violin, cello and oboe, Bach’s carefully planned sheets coming to life within the confines of modern technology now being set free.
Looking up, he was met with a dark room and a father standing by his side, looking over his work as he waited for a response from his son. “Dad? Did you need something?”
Virgil looked at him, a soft smile sitting on his face. “Just the evening reminder to eat, college student.”
A sinking feeling hit Logan’s stomach. It was more than just the realization that he was hungry, it was the feeling that always came when he was reminded what stage of life he was in. It was the feeling that came when he was reminded of the standards he set for himself that he was failing to meet, the understanding that he was at least three years behind his peers in both social and academic standards, no matter that he was already working through his general education prerequisites at sixteen, no matter that he was still in high school but was already starting on college. He knew he was behind, it was his driving force for most of his academic career as soon as he learned that fact. He wished he was told more about himself at a younger age, told that it was okay to not want friends, to know he was behind in social skills. He knew it wasn’t his father’s fault, after all, how could the most recent foster (adopted now) parent tell him anything during his childhood.
“Logan?” Virgil’s voice dragged him out of his thought process, reminded him of the hole in his stomach that needed to be filled with food.
Logan looked up at Virgil, putting his pen down. “Yeah, food sounds good.”
Virgil nodded. “Okay. You want anything in particular?”
Logan did. He really wanted mac-n-cheese. He also really wanted not to be a burden so just shook his head. He knew it was irrational and illogical to not tell Virgil his wants. He knew it was no use as Virgil wouldn’t see him as a burden and would love to make him food. He also knew that bad habits die hard.
Virgil nodded, his smile growing. “How about grilled cheese? Is that okay?”
Logan nodded. Grilled cheese was his other comfort food. “That’s fine.”
Virgil frowned. “Are you sure?”
Logan felt frustration bubble up inside of him like tar, something he could easily get stuck in if he wasn’t careful. He took a subtle deep breath. “Yeah, it’s great.”
Virgil nodded. “Okay. Do you want to come down while I make it or do you want me to get you when it’s done?”
Logan thought about it. He knew he would get dragged back into his hyperfixation if he was allowed to stay here. He also knew that he might lose the train of thought if he were to stop. Finally, he shrugged and stood. He couldn’t find the words anyways so why worry about losing the train of thought that never left the station. He followed Virgil back downstairs and watched as he grabbed the things he needed to make food.
“So,” Virgil attempted to make small talk, “what were you working on?”
“I need to write a poem for my english lit. class.”
Virgil nodded. “Butter or olive oil?”
“Butter. I just can’t think of any words. It’s like there’s too few parameters and too many at once.”
Virgil hummed in thought. “First thing’s first. What are the parameters?”
“It needs to be in iambic pentameter. Other than that, there’s nothing! No set subject, no set length, nothing!” He moved around the island, grabbing a glass and the juice.
Virgil looked over at him. “Would you get me a glass of that too, please?”
Logan nodded and grabbed another. “I just don’t understand why professors will assign something with so little instructions. Am I supposed to have figured out how to be self sufficient after the rest of the school system drained it out of me?”
Virgil snorted. “That’s a bit drastic, even for me, Lo.” He turned, grabbing another few slices of bread while briefly looking at his child. “It could also just be that most neurotypical people understand how to follow the bare minimum of instructions. Do you need me to pick a subject or length?”
Logan shook his head. “No, I’ll need to do it eventually and I might as well learn now.”
Virgil sighed, turning the stove off and coming to rest a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Look, when I adopted you, I knew things like this were going to happen. I knew what I was getting into even before I decided to foster you. Your thoughts and feelings are valid. It might take you a bit longer than your peers to understand yourself and that’s fine. Life isn’t a race and you are in no way a failure for taking things at your own pace.”
Logan’s shoulders shook, tears rolling down his face as he tried to screw the cap back onto the juice bottle. Virgil gently took his hands and turned his son to face him, giving him a hug. He ran his hands up and down Logan’s back in a soothing manner. “Yes, you deserve to take life at your own pace. But you also deserve to be alright, to sleep at night. You shouldn’t have to wonder why you are different and I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you sooner. I’m sorry you had to go through life thinking you weren’t good enough. You are allowed to feel the emotions you do.”
Logan clung to him, tears wetting Virgil’s shirt but neither cared. Virgil hugged him tightly but not enough that he got sensory overload. Logan held on as if he were falling and Virgil was his lifeline. When he finally calmed down, neither pulled away. Virgil still hugged him, not caring about the cold food. Logan basked in the feeling of being loved and safe.
When they did pull away, Virgil allowed Logan to do it first. He pulled his hoodie off and threw it over Logan’s shoulders, dwarfing the skinny teen in the bulky fabric. “I’m gonna finish making dinner. How about you pick out a movie and we can watch it. Your homework can wait.”
Logan nodded, moving from the counter to the living room and kneeling by the movie rack. “How about The Sound of Music?” He called.
“Sounds good to me.” Virgil called back.
Logan smiled, walking back in and hopping onto the counter. Virgil looked over at him and smirked. “That kind of day, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I think your new puzzle box came in the mail while you were at school.” Virgil nodded toward the table with a package sitting on it. “Maybe you can try to solve it while we watch the movie.”
Logan smiled. “You know, most parents wouldn’t be this chill with things like this.”
“Like what?”
“Homework being put off for no reason-”
“You are mentally exhausted and are heading toward burnout. You need other activities to recharge your batteries.”
“Other parents also wouldn’t deliberately suggest something else for their child to do when spending time together. Most would complain about the child not paying attention.”
Virgil smiled as he plated. “Yeah, well, I’m not the typical parent and you’re not the typical child. I adjust to your needs, you shouldn’t have to adjust to my whims.”
Logan’s eyes misted over and he slid off the counter to grab his plate and the package, stuffing it under his arm to grab his drink and carry everything into the living room for a family night. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen scribbling the idea that just came to him onto the paper so he doesn’t forget.
Virgil walked into the room and sighed. “I thought I said homework could wait.”
Logan shrugged. “Inspiration comes when it comes.”
Virgil nodded. “Fair.” He set his things down and put the movie in as Logan put his thoughts down on paper.
The rest of the evening was calm, eventually both ending up in the same corner of the couch as they bonded. It made Logan realize that maybe perfection might be unattainable but it’s something to strive for, even if the ultimate goal is to see the proud smile cross Virgil’s face again.
contents and warnings: parental analogical, romantic moxiety, background romantic romile, human au, fluff, child!logan
ao3 link
___
Virgil smiled softly as he gazed at his son- god he still couldn't believe he had finally gotten married to pat and adopted a kid, no matter how long it had been he still couldn’t believe it. he watched as Logan huffed angrily before wrapping his arms around himself in resignation.
Virgil hummed curiously before stepping away from where he had been leaning on the banister of the stairs and walking slowly over to the child, but before he could see what he had done to the piece of paper he had been supposedly doodling on, he stopped, not wanting to see it if Logan didn’t want to share, but he did speak “hey Logan, what happened?” He asked with the softest voice he possibly could manage.
Logan just grumbled again as he pointed at the piece of paper, and Logan may have been only six but Virgil was sure to hell this kid was the angriest a six year old could be,
“Can I look?” virgil tried hesitantly.
Logan nodded “fine” he said begrudgingly.
so Virgil carefully looked it over, and realized Logan had been trying to make a story, he smiled softly “if you want help writing plots we can give Roman a call?”
Logan paused, briefly considering his options, “is he the loud one who always comes with uncle Emile?”
Virgil laughed at Logan’s description of Roman “yeah he’s the loud one, but he’s also a writer and just an artist in general, he’ll be able to help if you have an ‘artistic’ problem.”
Logan hummed, clearly trying to show how much he’s thinking this over, “fine!” He declared.
Virgil huffed softly “good, I hope you find out how to resolve your serious issue.”
Logan nodded seriously before getting up and trying to get him to call Roman impatiently “come on papa, call him now!”
Virgil chuckled at the child’s impatience but started entering his password into his phone regardless “of course.”
And after a couple moments he called Roman and gave Logan his phone, then Virgil just watched as Logan and Roman had a conversation with Logan occasionally saying ‘that’s brilliant’ to himself, only once saying it correctly.
Soon Logan just quickly said thank you before hanging up on Roman and scurrying back to the piece of paper with a Bunch of words written on it and erasing a small part.
Soon Logan beamed as he realized he had fixed his mistake in it ‘not being factual enough’ for his six year old taste.
Virgil chuckled softly before going and mussing the kids hair, and ignoring Logans complaints about it he spoke, “I knew you could do it, I’m so proud of you, kid.”
Truthfully he had no clue what a lot of the words on the paper said, but Logan was proud of it and his beam at Virgil made Virgil know he said the write thing for once.
Summary: Roman, a dedicated servant to tooth fairy kind, has no idea what awaits him when he is caught one night by a curious young boy by the name of Logan.
Word Count: 3,840
Check out more of my work at @hiddendreamerwriting
Being a Tooth Fairy was a noble profession, in Roman’s opinion. It was his job to travel all around the world, flying into children’s bedrooms and exchanging their baby teeth beneath a pillow for some sort of reward. Often this was some form of currency, but it could be other things as well. Sometimes children would leave him notes, and Roman was one of the few fae who would take the time to respond. He knew that childhood imagination was a wondrous thing and Roman did everything he could to keep it alive.
Roman was such a dedicated and loyal public servant to fairy kind, that as he was painstakingly writing out the answers to a very long list of questions in his signature golden ink, Roman did not see the figure creeping up with a jar until it was too late.
“Gotcha!” The child declared, causing Roman to jump as he suddenly found himself surrounded by glass. Roman turned, pressing himself against the wall. No matter- he had close calls before. As soon as the child turned the jar over Roman would dash out the window, out into the night. But, it seemed the boy had thought of this. Rather than turn the jar the kid immediately dashed to Roman’s exit, shutting the glass panes.
…well, that would make things a bit more difficult.
Roman let out a grunt, tossed to the side as now the boy returned, turning over the jar so that he could peer inside with amazement.
“Are you really the thooth fairy?” He asked, a slight lisp present due to the obvious hole in his smile thanks to the tooth tucked into Roman’s bag.
“Well I’m certainly not the easter bunny.” Roman huffed. Despite his sarcastic answer, the child’s eyes lit up.
“Why do you collect the theeth?” The kid immediately began prattling off questions. “Why do you leave money? How do you fly? Where do you live? Are there other fairies?”
“Okay, okay!” Roman put up his hands, urging the young boy to stop. “I get it, you’ve got a lot of questions. But I already answered the ones on your paper, and I really have to get going. I need to visit the other children of the world too, you know. You wouldn’t want your friends to wake up upset, now would you?”
“I don’t talk to other kids.” The child wrinkled his nose. “I refuse to a-knowledge them.”
“...of course you don’t.” The fairy sighed. Well, so much for guilt tripping.
Roman yelped, finding himself tumbling head over heels as without warning the boy turned the jar upside-down again, depositing Roman in his little hand. Before Roman could reorient himself the fingers wrapped around his form, surprisingly gentle but efficient in their mission to keep him contained. Roman squirmed, fluttering his wings desperately to try to pull himself out as they were the only appendages still free.
“Woah.” The boy let out a noise of awe, reaching out with his other hand to grab the tip of Roman’s right wing.
“C-careful!” Roman warned, freezing instantly at the touch lest his struggles cause the wing to rip. “Those are very delicate, young man.”
“I know.” The child said, but Roman felt the touch on his wings get softer. “Like butterflies. I read about them.”
“Then you should know not to touch.” Roman shuddered, feeling the fingertips trace down his wing and onto his back. “Or else you’ll rub off all the dust and I won’t be able to fly.” This was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had the right effect.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Tooth Fairy.” The boy winced, pulling his fingers back with a hiss as though he had burned them. “Are they alright? I...I didn’t know.”
“Well, I don’t know…” Roman feigned injury, giving them a weak flap. “I’ll have to give them a test flight.”
The child, though intelligent, was still young enough to be gullible. He opened his hand, and the moment he did Roman shot up into the air.
“Hey! Wait!” The child tried to make a grab at him, but Roman was too quick as he made a dash for the window, throwing his arms wide to dust the panes ajar and let in the night air.
“Please, come back!” The kid pleaded, following him to the windowsill and reaching out desperately. Behind him, the bedroom door opened, allowing the hallway light to flood in.
“Logan?” A tired voice said. “Who are you talking to?”
Roman didn’t stick around to find out, knowing he had wasted enough time tonight already. He flew off into the darkness, feeling thankful when the distant nursery was soon out of sight and out of mind.
Roman, if he were a fairy of sounder mind, might have requested to switch sections with someone. However, Roman was unafraid, knowing to be prepared when sure enough another tooth was lost at the Sander’s household. This time, it was Logan’s older brother, and because it wasn’t the culprit himself Roman was foolish enough to let his guard down.
As Roman was reaching underneath the pillow to collect the tooth, the pillow was suddenly flipped over, smothering Roman and pinning him to the bed. Roman tried to scream, but his yells were muffled by the fluffy contraption. A moment later he was mercifully yanked out by his leg, dangling upside down in front of the teen who was supposed to be asleep.
“Huh.” The teen looked surprised, staring down at Roman’s struggles through unkempt violet bangs. “What do ya know, Logan was telling the truth.”
“Unhand me!” Roman commanded, much more ill at ease with an older child. He looked far too old to still be losing teeth.
“Nah.” The boy gave a smirk. “It’s much more fun to watch you dangle. Besides, you’re the one who’s trespassing and stealing human remains.”
“Alright, you don’t have to be so macabre, macbeth.” Roman huffed. Humans never seemed to understand the delicate art of tooth collection.
“So what’s your deal, anyways?” The teen asked, sitting up. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Roman.” Roman explained. “And I have important business to attend to, young man, so I must insist you release me at once.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The boy rolled his eyes, standing up. He flipped the fairy, still upside down but now holding both his legs in a secure grip just as Logan had done a month ago. “You’re not going anywhere until you apologize for making Logan cry.”
Roman paused, not expecting that statement. “I...I did not intend to upset him.” Roman frowned. Even if the child had caught him, Roman couldn’t fault the young boy for being curious, and considering it was Roman’s job to bring joy to children it felt disheartening to know he had disappointed the boy.
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” The teen lowered his voice, speaking softly as he looked out into the hall to check that the coast was clear. “Look, I get you’ve got your whole magic rules and whatever, but would it really have killed you to talk to him? That’s all he wants, you know.”
“Yes, I noticed, he’s quite the chatterbox.” Roman observed with what was almost an amused chuckle, swaying back and forth as his captor was on the move. “It seems to keep up a conversation that boy will just talk your ear off for you.”
“Only at home.” The teen corrected, sneaking down the hall with a grim expression. “He’s not good at opening up, so at school he’s really quiet. The kid doesn’t have any friends.”
“He mentioned that.” Roman said in realization, the memory coming back to him. “It sounded like he just thought his classmates were beneath him.”
“Well hey, I’d put up that shield too if I kept being pushed to the side.” Pushing open one of the bedroom doors, Roman was brought into the familiar nursery room from before. Or at least, that’s what he assumed. It was hard to tell when he was upside-down, and frankly Roman was beginning to find the sensation of all the blood rushing to his head quite unpleasant.
The older brother walked over to the bed, where Logan was fast asleep. His glasses were placed lovingly on the nightstand, where Roman remembered painstakingly writing his response to Logan’s note. In sleep, the boy looked far more peaceful.
Well, not for long. In true brotherly fashion the teen grabbed a spare pillow and whacked it across Logan’s face. The younger sibling gasped, eyes bursting open as he scrambled to grab his glasses.
“Hey nerd, your imaginary friend’s back.” Roman found himself now dangled directly above the bed, looking down at a shocked Logan.
“Virgil!” Logan immediately protested, concern filling those little brown eyes. “You can’t hold him like that, put him down!”
“Sure thing.” Virgil gave a smirk, and suddenly Roman found himself tumbling through the air. He didn’t even have time to attempt a take off before he was once again snatched up, this time by much smaller fingers.
“Are you alright?” Logan asked, having caught the fairy.
“I-yes, Logan, I'm fine.” Roman took careful note of the way the fingers stayed securely wrapped around his middle like a seatbelt, as well as the way Virgil was now casually moving to lean against the window. What little brats.
No, Roman took that thought back immediately. They were making his job difficult, of course, but he could sense their hearts were in the right place.
“Okay, um, well…” Logan seemed almost nervous, reaching into his bedside drawer with his non-fairy hand. He set down a large notebook on the bed, flipping it open to reveal a crude set of notes that seemed to be all about fairy lore.
“That’s quite a bit of research you’ve got there.” Roman gave an impressive sound, causing Logan to look quite pleased with himself. It was almost as though Logan had thought of nothing else since his last visit. The boy continued to flip through, back to a section labelled ‘QUESTIONS’. Roman let out a low whistle. That was… a lot of questions.
“Alright, look.” Roman cut Logan off before he even began. “I can see you’ve got a lot of questions here. But you have to understand, I can’t stay here all night.”
Logan’s face fell. “But…” He looked to his brother pleadingly, who in turn scowled at Roman.
“How about, I make you a deal.” Roman raised his hands in surrender, knowing when he was caught. “I’ll be back here for every tooth that’s lost. I can answer one question for each tooth.”
Logan opened his mouth, mentally trying to count the teeth with his tongue as he looked at the number of questions on the page.
“That doesn’t seem very fair.” Virgil argued. “Especially when we could just force you to stay here forever.”
“Virgil, I thought you said I had ‘ta let him go?” Logan frowned, clearly experiencing mixed signals. Roman was surprised at this knowledge, as he had taken Virgil to be the more manipulative of the two.
“Logan, we don’t tell him that.” Virgil groaned, putting his hand on his forehead.
“Oh. Apologies.” Logan looked embarrassed.
“It’s one question, or no questions.” Roman’s tone was firm. “And since tonight was Virgil’s tooth, it’s your question tonight, sunken scowl.”
“How do we know you’ll come back and keep your promise?” Virgil narrowed his gaze. Roman raised his pinky finger, but this only seemed to confuse Virgil. “What is that, what are you doing?”
“The most powerful promise in the entire realm.” Roman said seriously.
Logan, being seven, recognized the gesture at once, and carefully wrapped his much larger pinky around the fairy’s for an interlocking pinky promise.
“Oh good lord.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m too old for this stuff.”
“Yes, I’d imagine.” Roman concurred, taking back his hand so he could glance into the bag. “I do believe this is your last baby tooth.”
“So Virgil won’t see you again?” Logan tilted his head.
“Well I certainly won’t be making any house calls.” Roman snorted. “Now come on then, you both got a question in. No more freebies.”
“Alright, let him go.” Virgil conceded, stepping to the side and pushing the window open. With reluctance Logan opened his fingers, and Roman shot him a grateful smile.
“Take care.” Roman paused in front of the teen, giving him a nod before flying out the window.
True to his word, Roman returned a few months later to retrieve Logan’s next tooth. The boy was sitting on the floor waiting for him, rubbing his eyes sleepily and trying desperately to keep awake.
“Logan, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Roman raised an eyebrow, walking across the blanketed surface and reaching beneath the pillow.
“I was waiting for you.” Logan yawned. “Virgil said you wouldn’t answer my questions if I wasn’t awake.”
Well, now Roman felt bad for leaving this until later in the evening. He had wanted to complete his other runs first, knowing now that the Sander’s home might take a while.
“Did you pull this out?” Roman asked, examining the tooth. It was a bit bloodied still, as though it hadn’t been ready to fall out on its own.
“...no.” Logan shifted, not meeting Roman’s eye when the fairy gave him a stern look. “Virgil pulled it out.”
“No more yanking out your teeth.” Roman sighed, wiping it off with one of his rags before placing it gently in the bag. “Goodness gracious, doesn’t that hurt?”
“Not really.” Logan shrugged, his tongue dancing over the new hole in his mouth. “I wanted to see you again. It’s been ages, and you only come for teeth.”
“Well you’re just going to have to learn to be more patient.” Roman huffed. “Fairies don’t like bloody teeth, you know.”
Logan seemed to take this information to heart, as the next time Roman visited the tooth was already washed and polished.
“Do you like it?” Logan rubbed at his eyes, seeming to have bags beneath them.
“Yes, it’s very nice.” Roman assured him, taking it and putting it away.
“I still don’t see why you like them so much.” Logan admitted. “It’s just a tooth.”
“It’s not just a tooth, it’s a sign you’re growing up.” Roman raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Is that your question?”
“No cheating, that wasn’t a question.” Logan frowned. “I didn’t say it with a questioning tone.”
“I don’t know, it sounded pretty questioning to me…” Roman laughed, hearing Logan give a small cry when he pretended to go towards the window. Sleep deprivation seemed to make the child even more fun to mess with. “Alright, alright, I yield. Ask your question.”
As time went on, Roman found himself almost looking forward to these visits as much as Logan himself. Roman would rearrange his schedule so that he could spend more and more time with the child, curious to know more as Roman found himself growing attached.
Eventually, Logan felt secure enough in his visits to actually go to sleep before the fairy arrived, knowing Roman would wake him. Roman didn’t dare try to skip out on a question and face Virgil’s wrath again. He didn’t want to skip out on a question, anyways. There were only so many baby teeth in a human’s mouth, and Roman was quickly collecting them all. Soon there would be none left for Logan to put under his pillow.
“What happens when somebody loses all their baby teeth?” Logan asked one night, trying to look up at the fairy sat atop his head. “Do tooth fairies still visit them?”
“No, tooth fairies are just for children.” Roman explained. “Adults don’t need us.”
“But what if adults want tooth fairies?” Logan pressed on. “Or what if an adult loses a tooth. I’ve read about it happening.” (Logan had read a lot about teeth by this point). “What if an adult puts that tooth under their pillow?”
Roman gave Logan a look, knowing what the adolescent was trying to plan. “Logan, don’t go knocking out your own teeth. It doesn’t work like that; we only collect baby teeth.”
“It was worth a question.” Logan shrugged. “I wish it did work like that, then you could stay forever.”
“No, you’d still run out of teeth.” Roman reminded him. “And then you’d just be a toothless blob, like a goldfish. A goldfish who can’t even talk. Are you going to flop into the sea as well?”
Logan stuck his tongue out in disgust at the idea of no teeth. “Goldfish don’t live in the ocean...do they?”
“How should I know?” Roman shrugged, laying down in Logan’s hair. “I only know teeth.”
The next visit Logan brought along a book of oceanography he had borrowed from the school library.
“Goldfish have teeth.” Logan informed Roman, only moments after the fairy flew in on the nightly breeze. He pointed down at the diagram in the pages. “And they don’t live in the ocean.”
“I suppose you’ll just have to be a toothless goldfish then.” Roman sighed dramatically.
“No, I’d be a toothless person.” Logan corrected.
“Nope, only a goldfish, there’s no other way.” Roman flopped onto the book, laying his hand across his forehead as if pretending to faint. “Logan, the poor saltwater, tooth-lacking goldfish, I knew him well.”
Logan rolled his eyes, bending the book closed just enough to force Roman to sit up before Logan laid back, tilting the book vertically so Roman gently slid down onto his chest.
“You’re very dramatic.” Logan observed.
“I’d be offended if you hadn’t realized that.” Roman quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not trying to be subtle.” Logan chuckled, and it bounced Roman slightly in a pleasant manner.
Logan learned a lot of things about Roman through his stream of questions. But likewise, Roman learned a lot about the boy he saw on and off for almost six years. He learned that Logan was one of the smartest twelve-year-olds around, but had trouble articulating himself when it came to emotions. He learned that Logan loved to read, and would show off this skill whenever Roman allowed him the chance.
Roman also learned something very important about himself: he had grown to love Logan.
Roman glanced out the window, noticing the moon was already high in the sky. It shone down into the nursery and coated the room in a soft glow.
The pillow beneath Roman shifted as the human child moaned in his sleep, rolling over so he was now facing Roman. His warm breath rustled Roman’s wings, which idly flickered. Roman took another look at Logan’s face, so peaceful in rest. Roman wanted to stay and watch him longer, but he knew it was time to go. The fairy had stayed long enough tonight, wanting to comfort the upset child.
“Can you stay a bit longer?” Logan had pleaded timidly, and Roman knew he would have moved planets for this boy.
“Of course.” Roman had wiped his tears away, giving Logan a small kiss on the nose.
It had been quite a rough visit, neither one acknowledging the elephant in the room. Roman wasn’t sure if Logan had understood what was going on entirely or if this was just residual sadness from the fact that Virgil had recently left for college. Roman knew Virgil was a good kid as well, and was often Logan’s only human friend. To lose both of them might break Logan.
Roman sighed, looking down at the tooth in his hand. It was a molar, clearly well taken care of when it was still attached. It seemed Logan had finally listened to him about the importance of brushing. Roman held it tenderly, not unlike a baby bird.
It was Logan’s last baby tooth.
There was some more rustling next to him, and Roman could tell Logan was in an uneasy bout of sleep. Roman got up, brushing each hair tenderly from Logan’s forehead as he massaged the youngest Sander’s head, hoping to rub away all the aching in that overactive imagination.
“Shh.” Roman murmured, giving Logan a hug as best a fairy could. How he longed to give Logan a proper embrace. “Goodnight, sweet prince.”
When Logan settled back down Roman allowed himself one more look at the boy’s face, memorizing the details so that he would never forget. Slowly Roman turned, floating up towards the window.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
Roman winced, turning to see Logan staring back at him blearily. He was a fool to think he could escape so easily.
“Yes.” Roman gave a small nod, watching as Logan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Still tired, it was clear that Logan was not fully awake.
“When will you be back?” Logan yawned, and it broke Roman’s heart.
“As- as soon as I can.” Roman assured him, hoping the child didn’t notice how his voice cracked. He knew this would be the last time he ever visited Logan Sanders.
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye.” Logan realized.
“I thought you were asleep.” Roman gently returned, pressing against the human’s shoulder. “Go back to bed, it’s late.”
Logan allowed himself to be pushed back to a lying position, his eyes drifting shut. Roman pulled the blanket up, tucking Logan in.
“...goodbye.” Roman said finally, giving Logan one last kiss on his forehead.
“M’bye.” Logan mumbled, a small smile forming on his features at Roman’s touch.
Roman flew out, stopping to pause at the windowsill and look at his boy one last time. Roman smiled fondly. Logan was a good kid; if he could survive childhood, Roman knew he would be a good adult as well. Roman wished he could be there to see it, but there comes a time when all children must outgrow their teeth and their tooth fairies. It was just the way of the world.
The tooth fairy looked around, taking in the site of the nursery. It had evolved over time, slowly shaping to Logan’s interests. Bookshelves lined the walls and various nerdy posters decorated the space. Roman snorted, noting the diagram on gum decay. Logan’s parents had never understood their child’s growing fascination with teeth, but Roman suspected he had played a large part in that. Logan could certainly make a decent dentist one day.
The thought of Logan all grown up made Roman pause. Would Logan remember him? Roman had never stopped to consider it. Most adults outgrew their childhood fantasies, but this was more than a fantasy. Roman knew he certainly would never forget Logan.
“So long, Logan.” Roman said softly, giving the wall a gentle pat. He finally took the plunge, flying off into the night. He wondered idly if that was the last time he would ever see the Sander’s nursery- the notion was certainly a strange one, especially after spending so many glorious nights there. Roman would be sad to see it go.
Then again, there was always the possibility of Logan having children of his own.
